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maemi324 · 4 years

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Burned

Hello all you lovely people! Today I come to you bearing gifts!

the gift that is this fic, which is quite possibly the longest fanfic I’ve ever done. Period. I’ve written more for a personal story of mine, but this one…this just takes the cake.

14 pages, 6988 words. That may not sound like a lot, but for me it was a huge thing, and I’m actually pretty proud of it.

this was inspired by the song “Burn the Witch” by Shawn James, which I highly recommend listening to towards the end of this.

So this involves witches, as you might have guessed. I did do some research on this, referencing a few holidays. With that being said, this is not the fic to go to looking for accurate information about Pagan Holidays, their differences, similarities and all the right customs. This is all mixed in with some fictional things that I felt helped the story flow. If you want an accurate description of their holidays, practices, beliefs, please go do your own research, or ask someone that knows about them, as that person is not me.

With that out of the way! here are some mentions of some characters in here!

Aizawa, Present Mic, All Might, All for One, Shigaraki, LOV (vague description), Ochaco, Iida, Todoroki, mama Midoriya

Warnings: Character Deaths (kind of) vague descriptions of death, witch hunt, stakes, fire. OOC Shigaraki probably, and Izuku. If there are more warnings needed let me know. Only edited by me. May edit later. Right now i just wanna post this guy.

@katsukikitten, @what-the-censored-xd I hope you enjoy!

You were standing beside your mother, hanging onto her skirts as she placed a flower crown in your hair, your small hands reaching to gently feel their soft petals.

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.

It was the brightest summer you could remember, the first thing you could remember actually.

You could see your father, as well as some of your parents’ friends, all gathering wood into this large pile to be lit that night. You felt a thrum of something run through your fingers as your hands fell back to your sides. Excitedly you tugged on your mother’s skirts.

She’d just placed a crown upon a friend’s head, looking down at you with that sweet smile that had you giggling.

“What has you so giggly darling?”

She bent down to your level, nearly falling over as you thrust your zinging hand in the general direction of her face. She carefully pushed your fingers back, a gasp at her lips as soft yellow hues glowed from your fingertips, your other hand still preoccupied with the soft flower petals.

“Well would you look at that! I knew you’d be getting it soon!” She pressed kisses all over your face, the last one landing on your forehead. Her attention was pulled from you as someone called out to her, a young woman, no older than your own mother, with hair so dark it was almost green, carrying someone who’s hair matched hers.

“Inko! You made it!” She hugged the woman- now named Inko- closely, only pulling back after a tight squeeze.

“Thank you for inviting us! Are you sure it’s alright that we’re here? These aren’t, well, really our traditions to do-”

“Nonsense! You’re family, you are just as welcome here now as any other part of the year. Now who is this young one?” You watched as she motioned to the, what you could now see was a young boy, who had the brightest green eyes you had ever seen, with a magic all their own.

“This is my son, Izuku, my pride and joy,” She nuzzled his cheek, pressing a kiss there. In an attempt to get him to smile she blew a raspberry on his cheek, which had him giggling, but his eyes remained trained on your mother. “He’s a little shy around strangers however”

“ That’s the same little one I saw last year? Goodness, he’s grown so much!”

“Oh I know! It seems like only yesterday I just had him!

You frowned, you wanted mama’s attention! It was like she’d forgotten you were there. You tugged on her skirts with a whine, hardly mollified when she only gave you her hand. You pressed it against your cheek.

“And this is the lady of the day?” Inko set down Izuku in favor of looking you over.

“Yes indeed, our little Birthday girl, (Y/N)” She smiled down at you letting go of your hand, “Why don’t you show Izuku how to make a flower crown, hm?”

At the idea of doing something fun your mood brightened immediately, offering your hand to him. He instead looked up at his mother, now adorned with her own flower crown, who gave him a light push towards you.

He nervously gave you his hand and you pulled him over to the circle of people braiding flowers together.

Somehow, that little moment blossomed into friendship. As the hours passed, he’d opened up, little by little, much like the flowers in your hand had when first blooming. He told you stories from his village, tales of a heroic man- a knight you would later remember- under the name of “All Might”.

As he talked, he paid close attention to how your hands moved as he made his crown. While it wasn’t perfect, he placed the small crown over the one your mother had given you, saying it wasn’t any good. You told him right then and there you were proud to wear it. You had yet to finish yours, so you asked him to continue his stories as you worked. It may have been all he talked about for the first hour since then, but you were keen to hear his tales, eyes sparkling with something wonderful as his freckled cheeks turned pink at the sound of your laughter.

He was also incredibly interested in your traditions. You were too young to have them all memorized by heart, but you did know that at every celebration, you, and others of your kind in the area, came to this specific clearing in the woods.

The area had been used for as long as any elder could remember, slowly built into a circle with a place for the fire in the center, steps built into the hill as makeshift seats, the grass around the area lush and green, the best to dance around the fire in. During this celebration in particular you adorned crowns of flowers and built the fire, dancing and offering praise to the gods. Hardly any from the village came to these celebrations, but they did not condemn your ways and kept to their own.

You danced and played the day away, the other children chasing after you in good fun. Giggles and loud shrieks filled the air, air soft and warm with the scent of the lavender fields so close by.

Of course, you were both so young then, by the time the stars were high in the sky, the both of you were out like lights, leaning against one another with a blanket draped over your laps. You only remember briefly waking as you were cuddled next to someone in your bed. You paid no mind as your father kissed your forehead, leaving you with a whisper of ‘goodnight’. You snuggled back into the person beside you, green hair tickling your nose as you slipped back into sleep.

When you awoke the next morning, breakfast lingering in the air. Your heart clenched sadly as you were alone. Had yesterday been a dream? Where had your new friend gone? You scrambled out of bed into the main room, Izuku sitting next to his mother, stuffing a sweet bread your father had made into his mouth, whilst Inko and your mother talked about the previous night.

Since then, Izuku and his mother had returned to every holiday, the Autumn equinox, Samhain, the Winter solstice, every single one. You would count down the days, a small piece of charcoal to mark on your wall until the day he arrived.

With every visit came more tales of knights and their battles, He’d even started writing them down, so that way no one would forget them and their deeds. You had joked that with a memory like his, he would never forget.

During the time in between visits, you learned how to help manage your father’s shop. He taught you which herbs and plants had medicinal properties, how to bring a potion to the right temperature and keep it there, hands glowing a soft blue.

Your mother taught you the other properties of magic, warding away evil and the right way to banish an evil that had long sunk its roots into it’s target, hands glowing a soft purple. You were all too happy to learn from them, how to help people with a kind hand and a soft smile.

But there were times your heart had wanted to be cruel, to be angry. When all you wanted to do was place something wicked on the boys that ran around your village and teased you. Especially when they had torn apart a necklace your mother had given you.

It wasn’t rare by any means, but your mother had given it to you and thus it was special.

You told your mother as such after hours of searching for the pendant, with little to no luck of even finding the chain. She had nearly dropped the jar of spices into the soup she had been making.

“Curses are not things to be taken lightly darling,” She sat you down at the table, your feet kicking in an irritated fashion, toes barely touching the floor. “They are dangerous, and not for the faint of heart. But most importantly, that is not what our magic is for” she tilted your pouting face up to hers, so she could look you in the eye, her other hand taking your smaller one into hers. “Our magic is to help and heal. Those of our magic who choose otherwise have…They have died, or worse even. So promise me you’ll never curse or hex anyone. Alright?”

“I promise mum,” you sighed, anger dissipating into a strange form of disappointment and forced contentment. She let go of your hand with a smile, a confused expression on your face as you opened your hand to find the necklace sitting on your palm as if it had been there for hours.

That promise only lasted a short time. The next time Izuku had visited, the boys began to pick on him as well, he was shorter and smaller than they were, a prime target. That was all easily ignorable, taking his hand and leading him off somewhere else. The last straw had been a kick to his dream.

“You’ll never be a real knight, no matter how hard you try! You’re too much of a mama’s boy, too weak!”

You could have sworn you’d seen red, though Izuku begged you not to do anything. It was only his asking that spared the boys a beating they would not come out of unscathed.

So instead, come nightfall, you had slipped from your bed, careful not to step on Izuku as you passed. You snuck into the shop, grabbing one of your father’s bowls and setting out into the forest. You picked at your ingredients with haste, mashing them together with water and a stone. You uttered the foulest curse your young mind could think of; giving the boys a taste of being so close but never there. An itch they couldn’t scratch, they would never be able to scratch, no matter how sharp their nails.

Pleased with your work, you washed out the now empty bowl. You ignored the sickly feeling in your stomach, setting the bowl back in its place. You closed the door as softly as you could, sneaking back into bed.

However, that morning you awoke to your skin feeling itchy, the sensation unrelenting no matter how hard your nails scratched. Your whimpers of panic woke Izuku, eyes wide with panic of his own, he dove out the door and ran for your mother.

That’s how you found yourself alone, with your mother, the offending bowl in question as well as one that had an ointment of some kind in it, your mother smearing it over your red skin.

“I hope you’ve learned something from this,” her voice held just the barest hint of amusement, though only just barely. “Poison ivy isn’t exactly a walk in the park” she finished with your arms and moved on to your back.

“If you weren’t careful however,” her voice turned hard, your body tensing at the shift in tone, “This could have turned out far worse. Far more dangerous. Magic isn’t a game, there are real consequences to your actions, just as there are in any other parts of life” You nodded your head solemnly, the back of your mind thanking just about everything for the relief the ointment brought.

Of course you had to learn the hard way the effects of going against your own nature.

You’d spent that Summer Solstice wrapped up with an ointment, dealing with Izuku’s annoying little smirk.

“I appreciate the thought (Y/N),” He whispered to you, the two of you sat a ways from the fire as you watched the others dance, “You wanted to defend me, but please, don’t go around cursing people, for my sake if not yours” he laughed, swatting your hand away from your own arm as you tried to itch it.

“Yeah, yeah, see if I ever do anything nice for you ever again” you groused, no heat behind your words. You were best friends, you’d do anything for him, just like he would you.

It was on your seventeenth birthday, a coming of age for a young witch, when you learned how far those feelings would go.

It was one hell of a birthday, you thought, sitting behind the wagon full of flowers that had yet to be formed into crowns, crying pitifully. The young girls of the village had teased you, your dress was so short compared to the usual style, even the sleeves! Your ankles were on full display and your feet were bare.

You hardly minded their comments, their concerns didn’t matter. It was your coming of age celebration as well as the Solstice. Everything was perfect, you’d even woken up early, gotten all your chores done and had enough time to have a relaxing bath beforehand. Their sense of fashion didn’t matter compared to your traditions. Not only that, but your mother had made the dress herself, it was soft and comfortable.

It was only when the other witches your age had decided that the color you wore wasn’t appropriate for the celebration, in these ‘modern’ times, far too dark and disrespectful. While they had etched a seed of self consciousness into your mind, you carried on, your mother had chosen this color specifically for you and the celebration at hand. The colors were fine! In your irritation, you stomped away hardly looking where you were going, falling face first and sliding into a patch of mud, probably leftover from yesterday’s rain.

You looked up from your predicament, one of the others dogs lifting up its leg to pee near you but not on you. At that angle it hardly mattered. The giggles from younger children were harsh enough, grating on your ears, whispers from some of the elders of this being a bad omen. But what was the worst of it all? The concern in Izuku’s eyes. He’d made a beeline towards you, but before he could reach you, you had sprinted off, just away from everyone.

You didn’t know why his eyes made it all the worse, that look never would have bothered you before, right?

The sun was starting to set, the wood was almost arranged perfectly to burn all night long.

You wiped your eyes, glaring down at the mud now on your hands.

“I thought I might find you here”

You jumped, heart launching itself into overdrive as you whirled around only to see Izuku.

“Oh! Izuku…you scared me” you placed a hand over your heart, as if it would slow to a normal pace if you did so. “Shouldn’t you be helping with the fire?” you asked, scooting over so he could sit next to you.

“What kind of a friend would I be if I let you be here by yourself?” he asked, his gaze patiently waiting to meet yours, as soon as you had the courage to.

“You seemed alright with me being here up until now” you muttered. A flash of hurt appeared in his eyes, you immediately regret your harsh tone.

“W-Well, I had wanted to let you cool down before I just got in your space-”

“No, that was unfair of me Izuku, I’m sorry. I just…everything was supposed to be perfect. Or realistically perfect. Falling flat on my face in mud wasn’t exactly a part of the plan” you wiped your hands off on what little remained of your dress. “Or being considered a possible bad omen”

“I know what that’s like, remember on my fifteenth birthday, when I was helping carry all those crates?” You had to hold back a snort, as you recalled the story.

Your father had arranged for you to meet a supplier of a rare type of herb, as well as a few crates of spices for one of the shopkeepers in the village. The poor man had fallen ill this year and had somehow convinced his supplier to meet him halfway instead of going to the nearest town.

Izuku had been visiting at the time and, of course, offered to help you. You had just gotten over the main hill, you could see the people of your village milling about. You turned to look over at Izuku, only to watch as he fell face first onto the ground, tripping over a root. The barrels of spices went rolling down the hill, him rolling after them.

The barrels landed with a crash against some boxes stacked near the well, Izuku was hardly so lucky as he had rolled right into the wells wall.

“You were so lucky that you came out of that with only a broken arm” you laughed softly, a huff of laughter escaping him as well.

“At least the spices were alright, I’d have felt so bad if they’d all gone to waste because of my clumsiness” he placed a hand over yours, not even minding the dirt and tears that clung to it.

“It’s not quite the same as a ‘bad omen’, it’s also probably a little thoughtless of me to say ‘ forget them’ when they’re a huge part of your culture, your traditions. But…I want you to know that, they could call you any and all these bad things under the sun…and your parents wouldn’t believe them for a minute…I wouldn’t believe them for a minute.”

He stood up then, pulling you gently along with him. You allowed him, though your eyes were too preoccupied with seeing what everyone else is doing. Most were gathered around the fire, listening as one of the elders spoke, others talking and laughing amongst themselves, their cups full of sweet liquid.

He led you down to the river, the water warmed by the long summer day, softly babbling as the wildlife went about their ways. He sat you down on one of the rocks, taking one in front of you for himself.

“What are we doing over here Izuku?”

He didn’t answer you, reaching into one of his pockets and dunking a cloth into the water.

“Isn’t that your handkerchief?” you ask, face molded into disgust as the cloth came closer to you.

“What? No, well yes, but this one is an extra one, it’s clean I promise” he gently placed his hand on your chin, tilting your face up as he wiped the muck off of your face.

His touch was soft but firm, eyes only taking in his work as your own counted the freckles that danced along his cheeks, the way he bit his lip in concentration. Somewhere in the deepest part of your mind and the very center of your heart, you knew why that look had your cheeks turning red and your heart hammering in your chest. But at the forefront of your mind, you couldn’t tell why.

The two of you were silent as he continued his pattern, dunking the cloth into the water, washing out the dirt and wringing out the water to carefully wash away the dirt on your face.

It doesn’t take him long however, to finish with his task, washing and wringing out the cloth for the last time. His eyes finally meet yours, offering a gentle smile that only widened as he booped your nose with the cloth, the face you made sending pink butterflies through his stomach. You couldn’t help but laugh as well, his good mood far too contagious.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, his hand still holding your face as he took in your smile. You only hummed in agreement, internally mourning the loss of warmth from his hand as he pocketed the cloth.

“Thank you, Izuku, that was…you are too kind for this world, I think” You stood up from the rock, you couldn’t stay down by the river all night. Your dress may have been ruined, you’d have to apologize to mother for it, but someone must have brought an extra. Or so you hoped.

Hand in hand, you walked back to the clearing, trying to slip past the majority of the party to get to your mother, only for a gentle hand to stop you both in your tracks.

One of the elders, Mrs.Tachibana, looked up at you with kind eyes. She was mostly known for her talent for seeing into the future. That’s what the majority said it was, she described it as, ‘ getting a feeling I’ll need such and such object today’ only for it to come in handy at the oddest of times.

“I’m sorry Mrs.Tachibana, did I bump into you?” She shook her head at your question.

“Oh no dear, but I do have something for you. I had made it for my daughter, but it seems she made her own dress this time. I think It’s a good color for you!” She carefully handed the dress to you, to which you handed to Izuku, your body was covered in mud! You weren’t about to dirty some other dress.

“Oh are you sure-”

“Oh yes of course dear, no one else is going to be wearing it tonight!”

You quickly changed behind a tapestry your mother had been working on, feeling much better and cleaner in this new dress, it was a little on the short end, but just barely past what your mother’s dress had been.

You walk back out to find Izuku waiting for you, the fire having been lit. The music was hardly loud, but the drums struck a chord within your heart that pulsed with energy, a need to sing along, to move to the beat. You bound over to him, taking his hand in yours.

“I see you’re feeling better” He mused, his foot tapping to the beat.

“Much better. Come dance with me?” You tugged gently on his hand toward the fire.

“You know I’m not the best dancer (Y/N)” He warned, as if you didn’t have years of experiencing it first hand. You shrugged your shoulders, even though he was far from good, he was most definitely not a disaster.

“Is that a No?” You swayed back and forth on your heels, looking up at him with what you hoped was a sweet enough look to get what you liked. He let go of your hand, for a moment you feared you’d pushed your luck too far, suddenly his hands were on your waist, lifting you into the air as he spun you into the dancing circle, your shriek of surprise worth the slight pain of him stepping on his own toes as he brought you back down.

You danced the night away together, hardly pausing for a break, you didn’t need to for whatever reason. You just wanted his arms around you, spinning you this way and that, lifting you in time with the music that had your stomach doing somersaults that tickled.

He felt the same, your laughter had his heart soaring, the smile on your face shooting Cupid’s arrows right through his heart. He tripped and stumbled every so often, but it was all worth it if it meant you were having a good time.

The two of you finally stopped to take a break, the moon high in the sky. You pulled him towards the river once again, the cool air there was bound to cool you off.

You sat down in the grass, pulling him down with you as you laughed at his startled expression.

“Well I’d say you did quite well with dancing!”

“Oh do you really? Even with all my fumbles?”

“Eh, you just added a few new steps!”

“A few new steps she says!” He barked out a laugh, tears gathering in his eyes, your own giggles twisting into his like sweet music.

Your laughter died out naturally, the music of crickets and rushing water kept you company, the drums from the music thumping distantly. He leaned back, looking up to the sky, you followed suit, your shoulder pressed against his as you pointed up at the stars.

“I think I’ll draw a new image in the stars. Just for tonight” You traced the shape with your fingers, Izuku mirroring your actions to see if he could get the shape.

“And, what are you going to call this new one?”

“Hmm…I’m not sure yet. It’s a process”

Your brow furrowed as you thought, the thoughts clear in your eyes, oh he was hopeless.

You jumped slightly at the feel of his hand cupping your jaw. His eyes were full of an emotion you couldn’t name, but it set your skin ablaze.

“I’ve had a great time tonight” you murmur, eyes wide and watching. What was he going to do?

“I have too,” he matched your volume, thumb idly stroking your cheek gently.

“I’ve actually thought about this for a while, but I was…afraid to ask you, in case I somehow ruined our friendship. But…the thing is (Y/N), I know our friendship is strong enough to withstand that. I want more than a friendship with you, I…I want to be with you all the time. I wanna be there on your good days, bad days, those days where everything and nothing are going on at once, I want it all,” he took a deep breath, steadying his shaking limbs and resolving his nerves.

“What do you say (Y/N)? Be my Love?”

Your eyes had watered considerably, your own hand holding his, you couldn’t help but nod.

“I was starting to think that my feelings were one sided,” you laughed, tears dripping down your cheeks. “I would love nothing more than to be yours”

He leaned into your space, so carefully, his hand gently pulling you closer until your lips met his, soft and warm, just like yours. You slowly pulled back, only to be gently pulled back in again, over and over until you were used to one another’s rhythm, kisses becoming slower and longer.

His tongue softly asked for entrance, and you readily allowed him access. He tasted of the sweet drink that had been served, goosebumps raised along your skin as he leaned you backwards into the grass, his eyes half lidded as adoration danced along the pinks of his cheeks.

He was careful not to press you too hard into the ground as he kissed you again, your tongues dancing as your hand gripped the hair at the base of his skull. The groan that rumbled through his chest and that particular rough pass of his lips had your toes curling.

He parted from you again, staring at your kiss bruised lips, wet and so inviting looking, moving slowly towards your (E/C) colored eyes, finding the same emotion fluttering in his heart. Carefully he sat up, you following after him with a smile on your face. You sat together, curled into one another as you watched the stars.

It had been four years since that Solstice, the two of you now adults. A year or two after becoming lovers, Izuku had finally found someone to train him into becoming a knight, a real hero. It meant that you would see him less, but he would always write to you when he could.

You were saddened at the news, but also so proud. Finally after all these years, his dream was coming true. He promised you that he would always come back to you, that once he had become a knight, able to help you build your own healing stand in the main city, He’d properly ask you to marry him. You knew he always kept his promises, one way or another.

How could you deny him his dream? You couldn’t truthfully.

That brought you here, scratching out another day along the tally you made. Only a few more days until Izuku came back. You helped your father run the shop now, almost fully taking over as the village healer.

You braced the day with a smile as the regulars came in, the usual ointments for Mrs.Tachibana, some medicine to the mother of some poor twins who had caught some sickness during the seasons change to spring, a wooden spoon covered in semi-crystalized honey for the wailing babe, their teeth slowly but surely coming in.

The morning rush could hardly be considered as such, your doors opening right at the first peak of dawn. You waved off the last of the morning patrons in no time at all.

You bend down to grab a few herbs, mixing something to help soothe Mr.Yamada’s vocal chords. You hear the door push open, pulling you from your line of thought, your eyes meeting bright green.

“Izuku!” you cry, rushing over to him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the tightest hug you could manage. He’d grown so much taller than you last remembered- well just bigger in general!

He’d bulked up considerably- he joked he wanted to get better at giving hugs along with being a Knight- and was now a full two heads taller than you. You only pull back to place your hands on his jaw, pulling him down to kiss you properly.

“Did I surprise you?” he laughed, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

“Yes! You weren’t due back for a few more days! Oh I’m so happy your home!” You stood back up on your toes to press more kisses to his face. “Tell me everything!”

He told you all about the training he went through- hell as he called it, eyes looking back with a slight fondness that only nostalgia could bring- the antics he and some other knights in training had gotten into. His teacher, Aizawa, was a hard man, but ultimately soft hearted in his own way. He couldn’t wait for you to meet the friends he had made, and you were excited to see them.

“I have heard some…other things though” he hesitated, leaning against the counter as you finished Mr.Yamada’s medicine, the yellow glow from your hands dimming until it was no more. “In the city they’re telling stories of witches…and not good ones either.” you hummed in agreement, concern laced into your features.

You’d heard of rumors of witches in nearby towns and villages. At first, nothing was seemingly worrisome about it. So some covens had decided to announce their place in the world, big deal.

Until the rumors had become something dark. Stories of sacrifices, hexes and curses upon innocent bystanders, children. Soon there were rumors of witches in every town, every village.

“Even the people here have started to become…nervous” beforehand, the villagers not a part of your coven had nothing to fear from you, you’d never given them any reason to. But these new witches, witches that were said to be everywhere, brought fear into your community.

“I’m worried Izuku, they’ve started burning people in the next few towns…I’m not sure what we could do, a show of our magic could scare them into a frenzy, but not doing anything could be just as bad. They even have a witch hunter!” you set down the pestle gently, Izuku taking your hand in his.

“I’m worried too. But for right now, the best we can do is wait and see how things go. No matter what, I’ll always be here, you won’t go through this alone.” your heart fluttered warmly at his words, pressing a kiss to his hand.

The next few days did little to raise or diminish your worries. You walked about the village, showing him what all had changed in his absence, ignoring the stares of the same village girls that had teased your dress all those years ago.

It wasn’t until the third week that had changed. Even that morning, the dew felt strung and the air was hot and still. Your father had asked you the night before to gather some lavender from the fields in the morning, he was running low on stock.

The two of you agreed, baskets in hand you walked to the fields.

The breeze began to pick up as you climbed up the hills, the sweet scent dancing around you as you looked up into your lovers eyes.

“Is it just me, or have the lavender fields gotten smaller?” he joked, sitting beside you as you carefully snipped away at the plant, making sure to cut the stalk specifically so the flower could regrow.

“No, I think you’ve just gotten taller.” You mused, handing him the stalks to carefully separate the leaves and the flowers themselves.

It was a tense silence as you worked, though you couldn’t tell what was on his. On yours however, was the frequent news of witches being killed. But not only witches, but innocent people as well, for the slightest and most ridiculous thing. Spoiled milk, your neighbor suddenly falling ill after accidentally tripping over your shoe?

These people wouldn’t know a witch if one kicked them in the ass.

“I think,” Izuku startled you from your thoughts, “It would be best if tonight, you and your family leave with me. At least until all of this calms down.” There would be no reasoning with the public, not with the mass hysteria and distrust of everyone.

“I would agree, but papa would never give up his shop, we’ve been there for years, generations even” you handed him a few more stalks.

“We’ll have to convince him somehow. I had hoped things would die down, considering the evidence and logic-”

“Since when have the masses and logic ever seen eye to eye?” you quip back, brow raised into bittersweet amusement.

“Since never, but I had hoped…Well It doesn’t really matter what I’d hoped. What I’m thinking now is, I write to my fellow knights in training for help. To help move your coven safely” He started to mumble, various questions littering his mind, how fast could a letter get there?

Their letters had been casual, while important, they weren’t of any dire emergency. Would his friends believe him? No of course they would, once he proved to them the logic of things. The masses may not be so…sensitive to logic, but his fellow knights were not the masses.

It takes you until sunset to gather enough petals to fill the basket, though the two of you were hardly in any hurry. You walked back to the village, the tense air having loosened just ever so slightly.

All the relaxation the lavender provided was gone the second black smoke was visible over the hill. Lavender forgotten, you ran to the village, the smoke billowing from two stakes. You raced down the hill, passing the well.

No…No gods please no!

On one stake was the remnants of your mother, her eyes open towards the sky as her body drew no more breath. Beside her was your father, eyes closed. A cry of rage and sorrow rang loose, distant from your ears as strong, familiar arms wrapped around you. You screamed and kicked, clawed at his arms. Your throat felt raw as you cried, eyes looking for someone, anyone to blame.

You’d only heard descriptions of him, hairdo pale it was blue, with eyes as red as the blood of innocents he condemned- Tomura Shigaraki.

“Let their souls be cleansed of this evil, so they may find rest at the side of the great one, All for One” his voice was horrid, nasal and cruel, the imagery of snakes filling the back of your mind. He didn’t believe a word he was saying, so evident by the snarl at his lip he called a smile, twisted pleasure saturating his eyes.

“Ah, the main event has arrived!” he snapped his fingers motioning towards you and Izuku, his guards making their way over to you.

One man pulled you from Izuku’s grasp, two men grabbing Izuku by the arms. He swore, headbutting one of the guards, kicking back on the others shin. “You let go of her!” he growled, another pair tackling him down to the ground to restrain him.

“You evil, wicked thing! How dare you kill these innocent people, how dare-” you shrieked and shrieked as you struggled against your captor, another guard capturing your other arm.

“You may struggle now witch! The evil within fights back! But don’t worry, you’ll soon be cleansed.”

Despite your struggles, the both of you are taken into one of the old jails, hidden underground.

The place was dusty from lack of use, the packed earth against the stone kept it cool. You were leaned up against the bars, Izuku leaning against the same ones across from you. He couldn’t hold you like he wanted, the bars too small for anything else but his hands.

“I should have thought about this harder…I should have made a plan sooner” he murmured, breaking the silence. “If I hadn’t wasted time, then maybe-”

“Don’t” your voice was clipped and harsh. You hadn’t meant to be, regret adding to the myriad of emotions pulsing around your broken heart. “Mum and Papa wouldn’t want you to…to talk like that.” you wipe a tear as best as you can, your hand reaching to find his again.

“It’s no one’s fault but that damned Shigaraki” you hiss, “ He’s the witch hunter. He’s selling the world a story and they’re all buying it.” you could feel his lips pressed against your forehead. You shift so you are on your knees, holding onto the bars for balance, you kiss him, deeply, trying to memorize the taste of him one last time.

You stay like that, murmuring sweet nothings to one another, for who knows how long. You only know that it is all too soon when they open the doors again, dragging you out to the stake. Izuku struggles against the guards as they force him into a kneeling position beside Shigaraki.

Your heart hammers in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you struggle against your bonds. What you wouldn’t give to become the witch they so feared, maybe then your parents would be alive. Maybe then you and your betrothed would have a chance of surviving.

The fire starts all too quickly, Izuku’s agonized screams of horror sharp in your mind as tears run down your cheeks. Your last image of him couldn’t be of his eyes filled with hopelessness.

“I love you Izuku! I love you so much, We’ll be together again I swear it-”

“Silence Witch! Your spells have no power here!”

You ignored them, screaming louder, a cool burning sensation wrapping around the ring finger of your left hand, “I will find you! I don’t care how long it takes, we will be together!”

“I love you (Y/N)!” he cries back, a cool burning sensation around his left ring finger was left unnoticed. He was focused entirely on you. Until his world went black.

The guard righted himself, adjusting his hands behind his back, Izuku sat there, his head tilted forward, unconscious. Your heart finally severed, the only explanation for the black ink that spilled from it, tainting all in its path. The wind howled as a sudden storm raged above you, hair twisting this way and that, fueled by the wild look in your eyes, satisfaction found within the fear of Shigaraki’s red irises.

Your magic wasn’t made for curses or hexes. But with your heart broken, the once golden light of your magic turned vengeful, bubbling and vicious. Even as the smoke rose, your voice boomed across the village.

“May your days be numbered!” the crowd gasped, your voice multiplied, as if thousands were speaking at once, your eyes roaming across all of those who had cheered for you and your parents demise, of all those who died before you.

“May your last passing hours be filled with my ghostly visage, as all your loved ones choke on my ashes they thought long swept away! May you die in fear, knowing your bloodline will end with your hatred!”

The smoke from your pyre weaved around the guilty villagers, more thickly located around Shigaraki and his group. Your vision was turning spotty, but you didn’t care, you weren’t done. If you had to die, you were going out on your own terms.

“To those of you who survive, may you always see my shadow at the end of your beds as you sleep! May your Children curse your name! For your evil, your wickedness! For your Injustice!”

The storm raged on, even as you choked your last breath, your vision turning dark.

I’ll be with you soon my love…

.X.

You blinked, your eyes wet with unshed tears as you glanced around the room, your friends, Ochaco, Iida, and Todoroki were all behind you, looking at you with wide eyes. Next to you sat your boyfriend of two years, now in your third year at UA. His eyes were also wet, slowly turning to gaze towards you.

You had all decided to go to the fair that had opened up. Towards the end of your merriment, you spotted a fortune teller of a sort, and decided to go inside. Everything had been fairly light hearted and fun, until the two of you sat down for your turn. The fortune teller was shocked, the past had something important for you to see, and by all that was good you were going to see it.

You looked down at the promise ring Izuku bought you. It burned with the same cool sensation as you remembered…saw past you. It felt like…a small part of you had been unlocked, as if some part of you had been missing for all of these years.

“We found each other after all”

He gave you a gentle smile, one you returned.

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ihatetaxes99 · 4 years

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Well, hello all once again. Considering that the last time I discussed BNHA, it was in an overwhelmingly negative context, I've decided it would be a good plan to actually talk about an aspect of the series that makes me really happy and one that I constantly eagerly await new content for. And yes, it's none other than the good old League of Villains.

So, since I have nothing better to do, I've decided to discuss each and every Leaguer in order of my favourite to least favourite (although I at the very least appreciate all of them.) Keep in mind that the rejected Vanguard Action Squad members who were either written out of the story during the Training Camp arc or shortly afterwards will not appear on my list (Although Muscular and Moonfish and hopefully Mustard do seem to be making a return), nor will I discuss the additional members that came with the formation for the PLF, because although I really like Re-Destro in particular, none of them really give me enough to work with and I'd be writing like two sentences for someone like Geten, which would just be a slap in the face to people who do care about his character. Also, Doctor Garaki and All for One also won't appear. Basically just the core members who have been present with the League from the Training Camp up until the War will be featured.

Anyway, I've wasted enough time, let us proceed without any further ado.

Tenko Shimura [Tomura Shigaraki] - Yes, it really shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone to see good old Shig ranked at the very top of my list. Yes, as I have said before, Tomura tends to flip between being my favourite and second favourite overall character, but the reason I have listed him as the best League member is simply put, his development. My God, it is absolutely sublime. I legitimately adore it. When we first saw Tomura emerge from the underbelly of society during the USJ arc, he was a pampered, whimpering brat, a manchild who threw tantrums after he lost and essentially threatened to kill everyone, ranging from random children to his butler. I mean, can that even be compared to the same person who took command of an army, broke past his potential and meticulously pulled apart every threat he's stared down? Here's some food for thought, Shigaraki has never lost to another villain. He emerged the clear victor when facing Chisaki and the Meta Liberation Army and in the long term, proved to usurp Stain's legacy and make it his own. The growth is just amazing and Shigaraki is genuinely a more interesting character to follow than our door mat of a protagonist. I have very rarely seen an antagonist start out as exceptionally weak, essentially being a comedy villain of the week, and slowly growing in power, intellect and ferocity. Just a fantastic character overall.

Atsuhiro Sako [Mister Compress] - Alrighty, now we get down to the interesting stuff! Mister Compress is, without a doubt, my favourite Boku No Hero Academia character, he holds the top spot more consistently than Shig does. But why is that? After all, Sako had done essentially nothing from the Training Camp up until his reveal. Well, you see, I am of the belief that a character need not be particularly deep as long as they have an engrossing personality. And Mister has that in spades. I am a huge fan of characters who know how to articulate themselves well, so of course Atsuhiro's constant metaphors and showman persona appealed to me instantly. But not just that, his design (and no, I'm not just talking about how hot we now know him to be) is just brilliant. The top hat, the masks that change to reflect his general emotion at the time, his bolo tie, he has a fucking badass prosthetic for Christ's sake. And remember, as the great Joseph Joestar proved, prosthetic hands in fiction are kickass. I just love him, even as a character who never contributed all that much overall, and I certainly hope for his return in some capacity following the shocking twist of him actually doing something during the war.

Jin Bubaigawara [Twice] - Rest in peace my friend, rest in peace indeed. But really, what can be said about good old Jin? Well, he was fantastic, easily one of the best in the League. A truly sympathetic figure within the group, someone who we the audience could truly feel sad for. Out of everybody, Twice likely went through the worst of the trauma and at the end of the day, he just wanted to fit in somewhere, anywhere. He wanted friendships. And friendships he found in Mister and Toga, and to a lesser extent, Dabi, and a boss he truly respected could be found in Shigaraki. I was, as many others were, completely torn by Jin's death. This was the first major death of the war, and as we soon found out, unfortunately one of the only few overall (sorry, I know I promised to be positive, the war arc just really went to shit after chapter 294, which by the way was so far the last really good chapter to me.) Alas, the death made sense; Twice's arc was complete, he had overcome his fears and finally found a place of belonging. If any villain were to die, it made sense that he was the one. Truly a legendary character, one of the greats.

Himiko Toga - Ah, yes, the blood-soaked minx that has proven herself a constant thorn in the side of UA, whether they know it or not. Her whereabouts are currently unknown (maybe she's doing something involving Mister? Please, Hori?), but from what she has featured in, I have certainly loved her every appearance. Initially a typical psychotic "yandere UwU" girl, she's certainly evolved over time. Her proactive nature was revealed during the License Exam arc, In the Overhaul arc, we saw her care for others, during the MLA skirmish, we saw her backstory and motives made a little clearer and finally, during the war, she was pushed to her breaking point, in a rare example of a character from Oceaniz' War arc video who actually belonged in the tier he assigned them to. Yes, Ms. Toga has been one of those characters who has been given so much screen time due to her popularity that it has definitely benefited her in the long run, at the expense of characters like Mister and Spinner. She's not my favourite Leaguer, but still a brilliant character in her own right.

Shuichi Iguchi [Spinner] - Well, nearing the end of the list, we approach the first character that I am leaning more towards just liking as opposed to really liking. Spinner for the longest time, did fuck all. Actually, he's still basically done fuck all. Mostly a self-admitted aimless Stain fanboy who provides running commentary. But, remember what I said about a good personality making up for a weak presence? Well, Iguchi is not quite as strong as Sako in that regard, but the little lizard boy has certainly grown on me. We've seen him grow into the moral centre of the League, being the only other member aside from Mister Compress to presumably have a body count of zero, and as I mentioned above, has even admitted to himself and Shigaraki that he's a hollow fanatic of Stain, that he leapt on the bandwagon because he thought it would give him purpose in his meandering life. And ultimately, it did, as Shuichi has evolved to becoming one of the most positive members of the team. I mean, for God's sake, he even pleads with All for One to rescue Compress and Toga before they fled the battlefield, that alone skyrocketed my respect for him as a character.

Touya Todoroki [Dabi] - Well… Here we are… The only League of Villains member that I would generally say I dislike. And that's not to say I don't see the merits to him, I'm just not huge on it. Dabi is the League's edgy boi, he dresses up in a way that only a blind person would approve of, is too cool for anybody else and is essentially a big bundle of daddy issues. Now, the recently-released Chapter 301 absolutely tanked my respect for him as a character, with him being portrayed as an awkward, foul-tempered brat, but I never have held him in the highest regard. The whole bad boy shtick just isn't my thing, Dabi is a shining example of the opposite of my belief about a character; I really dislike his personality, but he contributes enough to the overall plot that I wouldn't quite consider him a bad character. I don't know, he's a weird one, and not one I've ever been fond of. Different strokes for different folks, I guess. I mean, when even pre-Overhaul arc Shigaraki calls you out on being a rude piece of shit, you know there's a problem somewhere.

Well, those are my collected thoughts on the members of the League of Villains. Maybe I'll do another one of these sometime, talking about the Vanguard members, maybe combined in a double feature with All for One and Garaki. Another time, perhaps. Another time…

Moral of the story, the villains are the best BNHA characters, fight me on this.

#bnha #bnha manga #boku no hero spoilers #league of villains #tomurashigaraki #atsuhiro sako #jin bubaigawara #twice #mister compress #himiko toga #shuichi iguchi #spinner #dabi #touya #rankings #I mean it I will fight you on the grounds of thr villaina being the best #tenko shimura #For the record Mustard is the best member of the Vanguard Action Squad #and Re-Destro is the best MLA member

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teenslib · 4 years

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IT’S FINALLY DONE! Every year, the Rainbow Book List Committee has more books to review, because literature is slowing getting queerer, and children’s and YA lit are at the forefront of that change. This year, our committee of 13 people had to review nearly 500 eligible titles, and 130 (well, 129) were good enough and queer enough to make the list. There were so many terrific books that we got a special dispensation to create TWO Top Ten lists--the first time the committee has done so! The Top Tens are below, and please visit the link above for the full list.

I’m proud of our committee’s focus on diversity--along lines of race, ethnicity, queer identity, and even genre. At least half of the Top Ten Books for Young Readers and seven of the Top Ten for Teen Readers are about characters of color, and most of those were written by authors of color. We also tried to feature as many different letters of the alphabet soup as possible. I’ve noted the racial and LGBTQIA+ rep for the books that I’ve read.

Here are the Top Ten Books for Young Readers:

Ana on the Edge by Sass, A.J. Ages 8 to 12. Sports Fiction/Figure Skating. MC is nonbinary and Jewish-Chinese-American. Ana is a champion figure-skater. She hates her new princess-themed program, but how can she tell her mother that, when it cost so much money? And why does it bother her so much, anyway? When she finds the word ‘nonbinary,’ she realizes why the program doesn’t fit, but she still has a lot of work to do repairing relationships that have suffered in the meantime.

The Deep & Dark Blue by Smith, Niki. Ages 8 to 12. Fantasy. One of 2 MCs is a trans girl, all characters appear to be Southeast Asian. A pair of twins flee after a political coup that puts their lives at risk. They decide to disguise themselves as Hanna and Grayce, two girls living in the Communion of the Blue, an order of weaving women who spin magic like wool. What one twin doesn’t know is that, for the other, being Grayce isn’t a disguise. This is a beautiful story about self-discovery, acceptance, and affirmation.

Drawing on Walls: A Story of Keith Haring by Burgess, Matthew and Josh Cochran (Illustrator). Ages 6 to 14. Biography. MC is a white gay man. This colorful picture-book biography traces the life and art of Keith Haring.

The Every Body Book: LGBTQ+ Inclusive Guide for Kids about Sex, Gender, Bodies, and Families by Simon, Rachel E. and Noah Grigni (Illustrator). Ages 8 to 12. Nonfiction/Health. Various identities and races included. Filled with self-affirming information, The Every Body Book uses inclusive language, illustrations, and facts to cover a number of important topics for young people including consent, relationships, gender, sex, puberty, and hormones.

King and the Dragonflies by Callender, Kacen. Ages 8 to 12. Realistic Fiction. MC is a gay black boy, his best friend is a gay white boy. King’s family–especially his father–have strong opinions about what it means to be a Black man, and they don’t allow for being gay. But King admires his friend Sandy for escaping an abusive home and living his truth no matter what. If King comes out, too, can his father learn to change?

Magic Fish by Nguyen, Trung Le. Ages 12 and up. Realistic Fiction/Fantasy. MC is a gay Vietnamese-American boy. A young Vietnamese-American boy literally can’t find the words to tell his parents that he’s gay, but cross-cultural fairytales help bridge the language barrier in this beautifully-illustrated graphic novel.

My Maddy by Pitman, Gayle E. and Violet Tobacco (Illustrator). Ages 4-8. Realistic Fiction. MC’s parent is nonbinary, MC and her parent are white. My Maddy is a heartwarming story about a young girl and her parent. Readers learn that not all parents are boys or girls; some parents are just themselves. In this young girl’s case, that parent is her Maddy, a loving, caring parent who lives outside the gender binary.

My Rainbow by Neal, DeShanna, Trinity Neal, and Art Twink (Illustrator). Ages 4-8. Realistic Fiction. MC is an autistic black trans girl. Autistic trans girl Trinity wants to have long hair, but growing it out is too itchy! None of the wigs in the store are quite right, so Mom makes Trinity a special rainbow wig.

Our Subway Baby by Mercurio, Peter and Leo Espinosa (Illustrator). Ages 4 to 8. Adoption Non-fiction. MCs are white gay men, the baby they adopt is Black. Loving illustrations help tell the story of how an infant abandoned in a NYC subway station was adopted by the man who found him and his partner.

Snapdragon by Leyh, Kat. Snapdragon. Ages 10 to 14. Fantasy. Haven’t read this one yet, so I can’t comment on its representation. Snap gets to know the town witch and discovers that she may in fact have real magic and a secret connection to Snap’s family’s past.

And here are the Top Ten Books for Teen Readers:

All Boys Aren’t Blue: A Memoir-Manifesto by Johnson, George M. Ages 14 to 18. Memoir. Author/MC is a gay Black man. “Memoir-manifesto” is a well-chosen label for this book, which relates stories from the author’s childhood and young adulthood and contextualizes them within a queer Black experience. Although the author’s family is loving and supportive, pervasive heteronormativity, queerphobia, and anti-Black racism threaten his mental, emotional, and physical safety.

Camp by Rosen, L.C. Ages 14 and up. Realistic Fiction. MC and his love interest are gay Jewish boys. For Randy, going away to Camp Outland is a breath of fresh air, a time to be exactly who Randy can’t always be at school. But this year will be different. This year, Randy won’t be the flamboyant theater kid, this year Randy will be exactly the type of bro Hudson would want to date. Changing a thing or too will be necessary for Randy to succeed, even if that means leaving some friends behind.

Cemetery Boys by Thomas, Aiden. Ages 13 and up. Paranormal/Romance. MC is a trans Latino, his love interest is a gay Latino. Yadriel accidentally summons the wrong ghost in an attempt to prove himself a real brujo to his family who struggle to accept his gender identity. Though he thinks he is summoning the ghost of his cousin, he actually summons the ghost of Julian Diaz, and finds himself with not one, but two, mysterious deaths to investigate.

Circus Rose by Cornwell, Betsy. Ages 12 and up. Fantasy. One MC is white and one is mixed-race, one is a lesbian and one is questioning. Ivory and Rosie are twins and half-sisters, born to a bearded woman who refused to choose between her lovers, and raised in their mother’s circus. After a long foreign tour, they come home to find themselves under attack by religious zealots. As tragedy follows tragedy, will Ivory be able to save her circus family?

Elatsoe by Little Badger, Darcie and Rovina Cai (Illustrator). Ages 12 and up. Mystery. MC is an aro/ace Lipan Apache girl. In this OwnVoices novel, Elatsoe is on a mission to discover who killed her beloved cousin, and why. If not for her cousin, then she is doing this for her people, the Indigenous Lipan Apache tribe. Elatsoe has the ability to raise ghosts from the dead, a tradition that has been passed down through generations. On this journey it will take vulnerability, wit, and the legends of her people for Elatsoe to understand all that is hidden in the small town of Willowbee.

I’ll Be the One by Lee, Lyla. Ages 13 and up. Realistic Fiction. MC is a bi Korean-American girl, her love interest is a bi Korean boy. Skye Shin dreams of becoming the world’s first plus-sized K-pop star, and a reality TV competition may just be her chance. To win, she’ll have to deal with fatphobic beauty standards, fierce competition, and intense media scrutiny–as well as unexpected attraction to one of her competitors.

Miss Meteor by Mejia, Tehlor Kay and Anna-Marie McLemore. Ages 14 and up. Magical Realism. (I haven’t read this one, but I think both MCs are WLW Latinas.) Lita is a star – literally. After falling to earth several years ago, she’s now living life as a teenage girl. When the annual Miss Meteor pageant rolls around, Lita decides to enter – but will her ex-best friend Chicky be willing to help her? Will the pageant help her forget about the past and imagine a new future? Lita learns that winning isn’t about being perfect, it’s about showing your true self to the world – even the parts that no one else understands.

You Should See Me in a Crown by Johnson, Leah. Ages 12 and up. Realistic Fiction. MC is a black WLW (woman-loving-woman). In this affectionate rom-com, Liz Lighty finds herself an unlikely candidate for prom queen at her affluent suburban school. Shy, awkward, Black, and low-income, Liz has never felt like she belonged, and she can’t wait to leave for her dream college. But when her scholarship falls through, it seems her last resort is to win prom queen, and the scholarship money that comes with it. Liz’s plan is complicated when new girl Mack decides to run for prom queen also…and ends up running away with Liz’s heart.

War Girls by Onyebuchi, Tochi. Ages 12 and up. Science Fiction/Afro-Futurism. Both MCs are Nigerian, one is a WLW. In a not-so-distant future, climate change and nuclear disasters have made much of the earth unlivable. In the midst of war in Nigeria, two sisters, Onyii and Ify, are torn apart and face two very different futures. As their lives progress through years of untold violence and political unrest, battles with deadly mechs and cyborg soldiers outfitted with artificial limbs and organs, they are brought together again and again and must come to terms with how the war has impacted their lives.

When We Were Magic by Gailey, Sarah. Ages 14 and up. Contemporary Fantasy. MC is a white bi/questioning girl with gay dads, her friends are racially, ethnically, and queerily diverse. This firecracker of a novel follows a group of friends who attempt to correct the accidental murder of a classmate. When We Were Magic combines magic, friendship, and awkward moments to create a captivating story. Each character brings their own uniqueness to the strong group of friends, but despite their differences, their loyalty remains. Author Sarah Gailey has written another page turning novel, with the quirky strange content to boot.

#Rainbow Book List #LGBT literature #queer books #queer YA #queer children's books #Book Recommendations #we need diverse books

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papers4me · 4 years

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Fruits Basket, SE02, Ep23

Love is in the air is the theme of this ep! All kinds of luv~ for everybody!~ kyo/tohru (main), yuki/machi(new!!), rin/haru(on going), Arisa/Kureno (dead-end?), hiro/kisa (babies to luvers...), hana/tohru/arisa (sisters love!) yuki/kakeru (friendship), momiji/tohru (cutest friendship!) kyo/haru (underrated friendship), hana/kyo/arisa (living to tease*torment* you friendship!XD), kyo/kazuma (parental love!), Haru/kisa (big brother care), yuki’s fanclub (toxic love), hana/food (OTP). What an ep!! One of a kind where you start off crying of laughter & end up crying from broken heart!

-Arisa’s second outburst:

The best thing abt this play is that you can’t tell if they’re following a script or not for the most part. XD, However, for some it IS clear when they bring in their personal feelings. Arisa was fine acting her role with improvised jokes on kyo’s expense. However, due to kyo’s refusal to meet the princess, she got angry to the point of screaming in front of the whole school & visitors? The outburst was treated seriously with climatic music, audience reaction, fellow actors surprise & narrator-san pointing out it IS personal & not scripted. But afterwards arisa is fine. Even though I’m not into love at first sight, I acknowledge it exists in fiction & in reality. No problem. But the extreme intensity of kureno/Arisa’s love is higher than everybody’s without enough basis from those two meetings they had before... Sure, she can fall in love with him, wish him to meet her.. but her outburst is too much, too painful, too heartbreaking. However if you look at her outburst as a plot device to get kureno involved once again & complicate things, bingo, you get why it was planted there. Momiji’s footage will reach him. cool. but too forced in my opinion.. everything abt their interaction is too forced, from her first outburst at his few words that got her to cry her heart out & leave the restaurant & get nearly kissed on the lips to her second outburst in front of the entire school. Arisa likes ppl who are tohru-like. The narrative hints that kureno is tohru-like. First, his clumsiness, second? being content with his unjust life? what is tohru-like abt him so far that gets arisa to scream her heart out? I’m sure we’ll see more of his tohru-like qualities. but so far, it comes across too forced for me.

-Machi SEES the real yuki:

It seems that the confirmation that any female is heading to yuki’s heart is to be bullied by yuki’s fans. lol. Machi not seeing yuki as a prince is her unique thing. Everybody including tohru see him as a prince & put him in a pedestal. In the play yuki descended from the sky, emerged from underground, said deep lines & glowed. Yet, machi saw thro the acting. I was cheering for yuki to step in & put these toxic girls at their place. Machi can be saved by kakeru’s indirect plan, sure, but this toxic behavior has been going since ep1. tohru was saved from them by hana & arisa. Bullying is always used as a plot device in furuba & unfortunately a comedic gag (there’s an entire ep dedicated for the fanclub). Sure furuba isn’t going to fix every issue or even provide solutions. It can’t. it shouldn’t. bullying is one hell of hard issue to solve. furuba wants to use bullying for plot. no problem. but also decides to comment on it quickly? yuki & kakeru’s argument abt the proper reaction towards bullying with each one of them taking an opposite opinion while machi herself is being bullied behind them felt too philosophical & untimely. Only for all this to end with a gag. Yuki is stuck paying the consequence cuz they’re his fans?.. ok. I’d love if the entire scene didn’t involve this argument. For example, yuki finding the girls, him listening to machi’s opinion abt him, him about to step in & defend her, then kakeru makes a prank abt photo-session with yuki, unknowingly saving the situation. Cuz the whole point of the scene is for yuki to know machi is different & sees the real him! Not that I hate how things played out, it is just furuba’s treatment of the issue of bullying is always weird to me. Similar to its treatment of violence, sometimes it’s serious, sometimes it’s comedy.

-Tohru’s best visual presentation ( show-NOT-tell): YES!

I’ve complained plenty abt furuba not treating tohru with enough visual presentation when it comes to hints for her issues or thoughts. but NOT today! This ep is tohru’s heaven! Tohru was torn apart between too many things & she didn’t inner monologue abt anything, YET, the visual imagery was enough to talk in her behalf!!! They showed tohru’s reaction to arisa, they showed tohru noticing haru/rin connection, they showed tohru react to Hana’s words without showing any of her inner thoughts & it works 100%. I’m so satisfied with this kind of treatment. You can show tons of silent emotions & trust the audience to make the correct conclusions without making your character spoon feed the audience on what they’re feeling. Hana’s “ do you plan to keep on deceiving yourself, locked in the castle, until you die?” is too close for comfort! it triggered kyo to react & say exactly his reasoning behind his decision without bringing the real world “ So what if I do? Does it hurt anyone else?” Kyo is sick of believing that he’s causing harm to his loved ones (mother, father, kazuma, kyoko, tohru). He agrees to be locked till death cuz this way no one will be harmed. ONLY him. he thinks he DESERVE it for existing & causing harm to these same ppl. His response prompts tohru to forget herself & react. What did tohru say? ( you are loved? you need to live? don’t hurt yourself? ) NO. It is NOT abt kyo. it IS abt HER!!! It is the (true form ) scene again but this time symbolically with 10 times harsher consequences!!! kyo’s true form’s final scene is NOT abt kyo deciding to stay, it IS abt tohru saying what she wants. That day tohru talked abt HERSELF. “ I want to listen to your complaints cuz u listened to me”. “ I want us to stay together” By demanding things & acknowledging herself, she got kyo to come back. This time, too, she react cuz SHE wants kyo to stay. “ I wouldn’t..” It is ME. I’ll be hurt if you’re locked. it is abt ME. I need you. I want you. I’m too scared to loose you. You’ve been my true support for long time now. Don’t Leave me, too!!!. Tohru stops herself cuz tohru doesn’t allow herself to want things or even acknowledge that she is worthy of things!! Just focus on her dialogue with others “ if I’m not troubling you, it is forward of me, please allow me” she’s talking to her friends! tohru has the lowest self esteem in furuba!

-Kyo, being an expert on reading tohru, knew the rest of the line. Kyo notices she’s in love with him. but again sinners don;t deserve love! You can’t love monsters? you’ll end up hurt!! hello!! tohru bled in the true form ep. he can’t hurt her again!!! NO way!! Enough causing her pain & tears. “ I wont take anything away from you again” he said in ep, 9. So, kyo forces himself to NOT see the truth. Forces his eyes to close tight. He’s an expert on that. Last ep, his eyes were forced to open to the reality that he doesn’t really hate yuki, but hates himself. Now, you want him to un-hate himself a little & acknowledge tohru’s love? if he did, where will it lead to? they’ll both confess & live together without him telling her abt kyoko?? that’s deceit! Him telling her abt kyko? she won’t forgive him, she’ll hate him! it is better to leave with happy memories than leave after causing tohru harm. Heck! tohru forgiving him or not IS not the issue, at all. the issue is HIM. he can’t forgive himself. he’s unforgivable!

-The most tragic Foreshadowing: (Symbolism DONE Right!)

They meet after the semi-confession, things are not the same anymore! they try to awkwardly get back to normal. Kyo says “ it couldn’t be, (I won’t let my self think it)” we know why. tohru says “ I wont (let my self think it)” WHY?!!! what is the show hiding for tohru? we know kyo’s issue. it is the BEST untold issue!! but tohru? What is stopping her more than her denying herself? it gotta be convincing & deep. otherwise, the writer would ruin the best complicated emotional dilemma that she is building her climax on! I know I’ll like what’s in store for tohru. No way such writer will miss on this. This will be EPIC. The tear between them is one of furuba’s greatest visual symbolism. One image only causing enough heartache to balance & take away the laughter from the entire ep!! One image leaving you with a punch in the gut. leaving you frustrated as to “Nooooooo~ stop! get back together”. I’m not usually into romance as I’m not a romantic person, but furuba has weaved this tale of emotionally abused children with traumatic experiences & tied them together with faint romantic direction & one of the best slow burns in anime! steadily building up their romantic connection without making it forced or in your face or apparent. I still can’t pinpoint when it first happened! Well-done writer & anime team. 10/10 scene!

Side Notes:

Narrator-san is the BEST! He kept everybody in check! & did it in style!

I’d like to thank the director for bringing their A+ animators to this ep! Kyo mostly looks hot & handsome but not HD, but there’s this kyo animator that kills the kyo animation!! kyo’d have three long strands of hair on his nose & his eyes would have more light animation than the mono-light. You can TELL the eps they bring this animator on! (such as Se01,Ep5, kagura ep, etc. ) & tohru!!!! my girl was done right!!!! no weird animation, no extra small baby hands, no shoulders that start around chest area, no bangs that are drawn like they suddenly ran out of brown ink mid coloring! lol. yuki is pretty & HD in every ep & so is hana!!

Hana is the prettiest furuba character hands down!

Let’s be honest, yuki could’ve said 1+1=2 & the school would’ve celebrated his wisdom! XD. I kinda wish he’d deliberately say sth stupid jst for the heck of it. part of breaking the perfect yuki image. XD.

The opening gag of the men ogling kisa is the most unnecessary scene in furuba, eww~ Not funny!

why is every character MUST be part of romantic couple in furuba? Even children? & they have their own mini love complications with jealousy & misunderstanding, pinning & all. lol

Kazuma. that’s it. that’s the note.

Hana was mocking fiction tropes (animosity in families, traditions pressuring youth, helpless heroine, love at first sight! XD, romance for romance, happily ever after romance, main male protagonist loving main female protg, magical beings saving the day). Best play ever!

why does it feel like kyo just came from war? XD. He was in last ep. perhaps cuz he was absent for most of the season after kagura’s ep, with cameos here & there, few lines & not much focus. But they made up for it & brought his face expressions game up! from annoyed, cat ears, love struck, teased, blushing, a white cartoon-ish cat with an orange cat inside his mouth, shirtless hot, childish jealousy for his papa, his fangs, his cat reflexes. Name it & you bet there’s a kyo face for it. XD.

Speaking of funny faces, prince yuki got one today! all thanks to machi. that’s what I call women power! XD.

What is this weird skin-colored thingi? school mascot?

I love that hiro is questioning the play. XD

momiji is back, I feel that it’s been long as I last saw him!

haru is hot. Haru is kind.

I love the small awkward tension between kyo/tohru as they met after the play, tohru’s faint sweat drops as she does her closed eyes smile & kyo’s sweat drop as he takes the food from her & talks abt shisho.

Shisho & kyo mini manga. is it published yet?

kyo & hana’s interactions are life!!!! XD.

Ayame deserves praise! costumes on point!!

Hana wins the one liners game. sorry haru, XD.

You know it is serious when kyo monologues! I used to think, it happens ONCE a season (ture form SE01,Ep24, akito confrontation, SE02,Ep,9)!! but he got one or two inner monologues lines today, if you count him repeating tohru’s line! Sh*t is going down! Will I hear more before the season ends???!! or will the honor goes to tohru?!! I can’t even imagine what’ll happen next!!!!

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #excited paper #happy paper #SE02 #tohru honda #queen hanajima

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liquor-and-intellect · 5 years

Text

Clouded- Part 2

In which Jules might or might not have feelings for her best friend, Harry, who is getting engaged to another girl and everything just becomes… more complicated.

friends to lovers to enemies to lovers- it’s complicated

part one

Here’s a huge part 2. I hope you all like it!!!

There was this one time when I was younger where I had burned myself.

A lanky braced-face boy that I had the biggest crush on had asked my friend to the school dance and that was all she had talked about for the lunch hour. I was crushed, heartbroken and alone sitting in front of my fireplace while my parents were next door at the Styles’ home for their usual small-town gossip over wine.

The fire was warm and brilliant. The flames rising and licking at the air, the orange and red bleeding into one another.

I had sat there then and wondered if it was really hot. I wondered if the flames would hurt me or if it was just a work of fiction. Maybe it was one of those myths parents just told their children to sound wiser.

I realize now that what I did next was completely idiotic. That people died in house fires and that flames were determined and powerful and didn't spare anything in their path. So why would it choose to not burn me?

I guess I never got that far because when I tried to grab the flames, my hand was immediately caught and licked followed by a scorching burn. I had yanked it out and ran towards the kitchen and stuck my hand into the cool water flowing from the sink.

The relief was instant. The cold water running down and across my hand to soothe the ache and pain that only a fire could cause.

That was how I felt now.

I felt the water healing all the hurt and grief I had put myself through. Harry was the stream, flowing through me and mending the wounds I didn't know I had.

His arms immediately wrapped around me, pulling me as close as I could get and kissing me so passionately that— I swear— I felt my heart leaping out of my chest and running towards the door. I've never felt this way before- this was the click I talked about but never experienced.

His hands slid down my sides, leaving ripples of goosebumps in their wake. The both of us breaking and sparking against one another, like a welder putting a torch to metal. It was so wonderful it hurt.

There was no speaking, just the two of us in each other’s embrace, letting out all the love we had built up over every single year. His nose dragged down the length of my neck, stopping to let his lips leave a tender kiss on the edge of my collarbone. But the cold was too much and I pulled his lips right back to mine.

Letting him slide into me was slow, exotic and passionate. It was a breath of fresh air after years of swimming through water. It was like my lungs were filling up for the first time after I’d spent a lifetime learning how to be okay with shallow breaths. There was an irony as he rocked into me and the orgasm bubbled in my stomach. It felt refreshing.

I was a bundle of emotions being let loose when we hit our climaxes together. This was everything I realized I wanted in life. I wanted to feel like this every single day, to kiss him on his bare chest like I was doing and watch his eyes close and reopen to look right into mine as he was engulfed in pleasure, riding out his high in between my hips. I wanted to be his today, tomorrow and the rest of his life because you didn't kiss someone and feel like this and let it slip through your hands.

His fingers skimmed up the sides of my waist so gently it was almost not there, but I felt it and felt my heart skip over beats it should have been given. This was everything.

***

My eyes fluttered open the next morning. The absence of arms around me had woken me up, I was left feeling the cold wrap itself around my body. I had been too preoccupied last night to turn the heater on.

I had fallen asleep with Harry's arms wrapped around my waist, my back pressed against his bare chest and his breath slightly blowing my hair. It was the best sleep I had gotten all year.

I had my back to him, but I could still hear Harry walking around in the bathroom that branches out from my room. He had pulled himself away from me about ten minutes ago and I have been laying here with the biggest smile on my face.

It had been one of the best nights of my life. I loved him. I realized that now. I loved Harry more than just a best friend, it's been there my entire life, but it took one night to allow me to fully see it.

I heard footsteps pad across the floor to stop at the edge of the bed. I could feel his eyes on me, burning into my bare spine.

I rolled over to face him, letting the white sheet fall around me. I couldn't hold back the smile that broke on my face as I laid on my side and took in his appearance. His usually perfect hair was sticking to the side and the morning light was hitting his tattooed chest with ease. I let my eyes wander up from his black boxers to his unreadable green eyes that were staring at me.

“Good morning,” I giggled, high and girlish-like. I tucked my hand underneath my head.

Something twitched in his jaw and he tore his eyes away from me. He didn't smile back.

“What's wrong?” I asked, sitting up on my elbow to get a better look at him, the smile slipping off my face like water off a burn.

He eyed the bed sheet that was falling from my chest, the muscles in his jaw tense.

“Jules, I-” his voice cracked and he refused to meet my eyes.

I stared at him, feeling my euphoric high slowly diminish.

“I'm going to propose to Elaine,” he said, finding every ounce of courage he could muster and holding his chin a little higher than before.

I looked down so he wouldn't have to see my heart being torn from my chest cavity. I pulled the blankets of the bed tightly around me, feeling so utterly small and exposed.

“I-” his voice cracked again and he took a deep breath before continuing. “I'm going to propose to her and we’re going to get married.”

“Harry, stop-” I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself. I couldn’t listen to this.

I saw sympathy flash in his eyes before he pushed it away. “No, Julia, I have to say this.” He never called me Julia.

I felt my breath becoming tighter.

“I'm going to marry Elaine and we are going to be happy and no one will ever find out about this,” he said.

I closed my eyes, feeling the tears in the back of my throat. Stop, stop, stop. I needed him to stop talking and for me to wake up from this. Not when I had found everything I needed, not when I've come to face my feelings.

“Please, stop. I'm begging you,” I whimpered, wanting to put my hands over my ears like child but deciding against it.

When I opened my eyes again, he was looking out my window, breathing deeply as his eyes glistened.

He took a deep breath. “I need to go,” he whispered.

“Harry-”

He shook his head. “You're only going to make it harder on yourself, Jules. Please just let me leave and we can talk about this later.” He didn't look at me as he grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom.

While he was in there I took the chance to quickly push a sweatshirt and leggings over my bare body, tying the drawstring when I heard the door open again.

I turned to look at him with expectant eyes. He couldn't leave like this.

“I'll see you later,” he muttered.

I ran down the hall after him, we'd been in this situation only last night. “Harry! Please you can't leave like this!” I yelled.

“What do you want me to say, Jules!” He turned around and yelled back. I haven't seen him this mad in years. “That I regret it? That I just cheated on my fucking girlfriend when I was ring shopping for her only yesterday? No matter what I say it's going to hurt you! I'm trying to do the least painful thing for the both of us.”

“Really?” I yelled back, my anger flaring. “Please. Telling me that you and Elaine are going to be happy is sparing my feelings? And here I was admitting to myself that I love you, Harry! And— and you're walking out!” I shut my mouth immediately. I had said too much. There, my heart was now on the floor in front of us and he could willingly push it underneath his boot.

And he did.

“Jules, I only love you like a friend,” he said, his voice low and dangerous and already ripping me to shreds. “And you feel the same way about me, you're just confused.” Then he turned and walked out, the door hinges still squeaking because he never fixed them.

...

Harry never called me. He never came over so we could “talk about it”. He did, though, propose to Elaine. When she had posted a picture of the extravagant diamond ring on Instagram, the press went crazy. “Here,” they published in Buzzfeed articles. “we have one of the most beautiful couples of the year!”

Or my favorite question that Elaine had answered, “What is it like to have such a gorgeous and talented man putting a ring on your finger?”

To which she answered, “It's such a blessing! I couldn't ask for anyone else.”

And here I was crying over the friendship that I had lost.

I don't know what I was thinking. That he would give up this gorgeous girl who was talented and successful for someone like me from his small childhood town? Someone that had seen all his bad nights when he was bullied? The bad haircut when he was 12?

I sighed, glancing down to the dirty sweats I was wearing. I had sulked for two days straight after he left and then moped for five days after that and I was done feeling sorry for myself. I sat up from my desk in my bedroom where I had been rereading the notes from today's lecture ten times because each time I spaced out and started to think of what Elaine and Harry's children would look like— then I would hurt again.

I yanked my stained sweatshirt off and pulled on a long sleeved shirt and ripped dark jeans. I had been inside for too many hours this evening and I needed to get my mind off of this. I grabbed my coat and boots and walked down the steps of my apartment complex.

The air was chilly as I rode my bike down the sidewalk, the breeze whipping through my loose hair and burning the tips of my ears.

The coffee shop I drove up to was on the corner of the University campus, the lights already lit up on the street. I pushed my bike into the bicycle rack, wrapping the chain tight around it and walking to the entrance. Before the front door was a magazine stand with a picture of Elaine and Harry. “Harry Styles: Engaged!” it read.

“Seriously?” I said out loud before I could stop myself. “Does everyone in the fucking world need to know?”

“I'm not so positive, but I don't think magazines will talk back,” said a voice from behind me.

I whipped my head around to see a man around my age, his hands on his bike and his brown laptop bag slung around his body. He had soft blonde hair and rosy cheeks, his blue eyes looking at me with an easy presence.

I sighed and looked down. “This is embarrassing...” I said, hiding my face in my hands. “I promise this isn’t…” I waved at my appearance and the magazines. “normal for me.” I lightly laughed at the half-hearted joke.

“Well I hope not,” he chuckled back, giving me a bright smile. “My name’s Charles by the way.” He stuck his hand out.

I gave the smallest smile I could conjure up. “Julia,” I offered and shook his hand.

“Do you want to get some coffee with me, Julia?” he asked, his eyes bright in the lamp lit street.

I looked down, immediately thinking of Harry's green eyes and how this Charles guy didn't have green eyes. It had only been a week since we slept with each other and I realized I loved him, that wasn't long at all.

It was long enough for Harry though, my subconscious provoked, he's already planning a wedding.

It wasn't like I was going to date the guy... Just coffee.

“Yeah... Yeah I'd like that,” I told him and walked inside behind him.

We ended up sitting in the back with our overflowing cappuccinos, classical music playing above us and the tapping of fingers across keyboards surrounding us.

“You go to the university?” he asked over the rim of his coffee cup.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I replied. “going for psychology.”

“What kind?”

I pursed my lips. “Not sure yet...I'm thinking children's therapist. Not sure if I want to work with little ones all day or not.” I chuckled.

“Not a children person? Come on,” he said.

I shrugged. “I can be. I'd like to take care of someone else's rather my own.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You'd be a lovely mum.”

I laughed, taken off guard by his assumption. “You don't even know me.”

He shrugged. “I'd think someone who yells at a magazine stand would be the most wonderful mother.”

I took a sip of coffee. “I think you had a twisted childhood.”

Charles sat back in his chair, eyeing me. “Give me you verdict then, therapist.”

I crossed my arms over the table and narrowed my eyes. “Hmm.” I said thoughtfully, glancing down at the horoscope reading on the back of the newspaper that sat on the table. “I say you've got some baggage you have just got to let go of. Parents will be parents and there's nothing you can do,” I said sarcastically, shrugging my shoulders.

He nodded. “Okay, okay. My turn.” He narrowed his eyes at me, tapping his chin with his finger. “You have just got to realize that no matter what they say, the little paper magazine is not responsible for what was printed onto it so don't yell at it. They’re sensitive.”

I laughed, covering my face with my hands. This is the first time I've actually smiled this week.

“Yeah okay,” I said through giggles.

I stayed with him for the next hour, sipping our coffee until it was all gone before I realized it was already ten o'clock.

“I've got an early class in the morning,” I told him glancing at my watch and standing up. “I really should go.”

His smile slipped, but he stood up as well. “Yeah, I should really get going too... But uh-” he scratched the back of his head. “can I have your number? Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

I wasn't sure if I wanted to date exactly, but I humored myself and typed my number into his phone. What harm would it do?

I rode my bike down the moonlit sidewalk, coasting up to my apartment. The road was quiet and the night air was chillier than the day. It felt nice getting out finally, nice to be away from my thoughts for a couple of hours.

I had just walked in and closed the door when my phone started ringing in my back pocket, reading it was Elaine.

Oh shit.

My eyebrows knitted together. Why was she calling me?

I cleared my throat. “Hello?” I answered. There was no way she would have found out about Harry and I… was there?

“Hi there, Julia!” she chirped through the phone.

I closed my eyes, her happiness pained me more than seeing the newspapers. “Hi...” I replied, assuming she didn’t know.

Something shifted on the other end, as if she were moving papers. “I just wanted to know if you were free— maybe tomorrow evening?”

I know I for sure was free but that didn’t mean she should know. “Um... I don't know...” I muttered.

“Oh! That's okay we can work around it,” she told me, a smile clearly in her voice. “can you get with me the next day? I know its such short notice but I wanted to talk to you about the wedding. You're one of Harry's best friends and I wanted your input.”

I closed my eyes and rested my head against my hallway wall. I wanted to say no so badly but... I felt that with everything I had done, it was the least I could do.

“Yeah, that's lovely,” I replied, my voice terse. “I... I can do it tomorrow evening if it's after five.” I made up a random time on the spot, so she didn't think I had lied.

“Yay!” she squealed and I grimaced as I pulled the phone away from my ear an inch. “Great. I'll see you then. Can you meet me at Harry's?” My heart clenched, of course she would be staying with him while she was in London, she didn't have a place here. Jealousy was pulsing in my chest, making my eyes water.

“Yeah.”

“Okay see you then.” she sing-songed.

“Wait—Elaine,” I said before I could stop myself.

“Yes?”

I lowered my voice, “Will Harry be there?” I swallowed a lump in my throat.

She groaned. “No, he'll be with the boys. I'm sorry. I know you probably wanted to see him.”

Yeah, something like that.

...

I took an exam in class the next morning, breezing right through it. Maybe because of the fact that I had locked myself inside my room with my textbooks for one week straight. I had to do something to take my mind of off him and studying seemed to be the solution.

When I left the class, I went back to my place, sitting on the couch and regretting my decision to go over to see Elaine at Harry's. It was possibly one of the stupidest decisions I had made yet.

I don't know where Harry and I stood. He acted as if he liked me one moment, wanted to be more than friends, sleeps with me and then...what? Walks out saying he wanted to spare my feelings?

Everything with him was so clouded. Almost like looking through muggy water trying to see your reflection. I didn't know who I was without him, but there was no way that I could go back to being his friend after letting him kiss me like that. After feeling the way I did.

I straightened my hair out trying to kill time. Applying makeup hoping it would help me feel better about myself, even though looking in the mirror now I immediately started comparing every feature of mine to Elaine’s and quickly wiped it all off.

I was hopeless. I ruined my relationship with my best friend and here I was wishing I could some how look prettier than his fiance'. I knew Harry wasn't that kind of guy and yet I felt that if I looked more like her he might rethink leaving me like that.

It was stupid- I was so, so stupid.

I grabbed an oversized tan sweater and black boots. The weather in London was being relentless, colder and colder each day with a steady drizzle. It didn't help my sinking mood.

I checked my phone yet again, hoping somehow that Harry— maybe— would have wanted to talk. There were no messages and I ignored the sinking into my stomach that my heart did.

Grabbing a black knit scarf, I called a taxi and walked down the steps. Feeling the chill hug me immediately like it had been awaiting my arrival.

Harry lived on the opposite of town, where all of the nice condos and penthouses were. He owned a penthouse in a skyrocketing building—they had doorman and everything.

“Julia how are you?” said the receptionist, recognizing me from the numerous times I came to visit. Harry had a list of people that were allowed to come up immediately without a buzz from downstairs, but most had to go through clearance. There were so many times when fans would attempt to sneak in.

“I'm good, may I go up?” I asked and walked toward the elevator when she nodded.

I honestly didn't want to see her. I didn't want to think of Elaine planning her dream wedding with Harry, I didn't want to think of him touching her or kissing her- or even telling her he loved her. It wasn't fair that he did this to me- he made me feel this way.

I smiled at her, giving her a strange obligatory hug and rolling my eyes when she kissed both of my cheeks. She smelled like vanilla cupcakes and expensive perfume. Following the back of her dark curly hair, I walked through the large corridor that opened up into modern living room.

Harry at first had a personal decorator, but when they didn’t understand his vibe, he just stuck with a sleek black leather sectional couch and chic glass coffee tables, vinyl albums cluttering the top of them. It all glistened sitting on sparkling white tiled floor that stretched out into different parts of the apartment.

Elaine took a seat on the couch, folding her legs neatly and smoothing out her dress. From the coffee table she pulled out a spiral notebook with pink ink tattooed in the inside.

“Thank you so much for coming, I've been so busy this week with wedding arrangements,” she sighed, trying to sound exhausted.

I gave her a smile and even though she was friendly with me I could feel the awkward tension in the air that wasn't completely invisible. We had never really said more to one another but hello and a few things about Harry, I knew deep down that the only reason I was here was for him- not because she particularly cared for my opinion.

Sitting across from her, I asked, “So soon?” lifting my eyebrows.

She gave a laugh that hit my ears like breaking china glasses. “Yeah, I've waited two years for this, I'm not wasting anymore time.”

“I bet...” I mumbled.

“Well,” she continued. “I've planned the engagement party for next week and a few of our close friends and family members are all being asked to make a little speech, you know, about Harry and I.” Her eyes lit up with those words.

My insides twisted, thinking of Harry and his husky voice, “What are you doing to me, Jules?”

I sighed. “And you want me to make one- a speech?” I wasn't sure how he would really feel about this, we weren't exactly at a good place.

She nodded. “For Harry. I know he would really want it.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Are you sure...? I mean, wouldn't he rather one of the boys or something?” I asked referring to his band members whom he was exceptionally close with.

“Well of course Jeff was planning on it. I just thought since you guys were childhood friends and all,” she gave me sympathetic look, laying huge emphasis on childhood as if it minimizedr hv my role in his life.

I snapped my eyes back up to hers. “Well we are best friends... So I guess I will.” I gave her a terse smile.

I could see the minute twitch in her lip when she gave me a tight smile in reply.

There was the sound of a door shutting from the hallway and heavy footsteps drumming from the corridor. My heart immediately twisted and my breathing sped up. She said he wasn't supposed to be here...

I looked up to see Harry stride through the doorway, his head had been down, typing on his phone, sunglasses loosely pulling his hair back. He stopped to greet Elaine, his lips frozen when his gaze fell onto me and his mouth in a silent “o”. Quickly, his eyes flickered from me to her and a sudden panic lit up his face.

I swallowed a lump in my throat from seeing him since... You know.

“Harry!” Elaine squealed, overly excited as she jumped up from the couch. “I didn't expect you until late.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss-

I looked away, feeling heat light up my cheeks. This was the worst form of torture.

“I forgot to tell you that Julia was going to stop by,” she told him, her arm slinking its way around his waist.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded a bit too high pitched. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, you sure didn't tell me.”

I stood up from the couch, grabbing my bag that was on the floor. “Wow,” I said—maybe —a bit too dramatically and glancing at my watch that was on my wrist- the one that still hasn't been updated since last Christmas, I just thought it looked cute- and giving a shake of my head. “look at the time. I really should go, I have some plans.”

Something sparked in Harry's eyes, he could tell I was lying, he always could.

Elaine gave me her best pouting look, her pink bottom lip stuck out as she said, “But you just got here.”

“I know...” I gave fake sympathy. “And really I would just love to talk more about the wedding, but...” I pointed my finger towards the door and shrugged. There was no way they could be buying this.

She nodded. “Yeah, I understand.” She tilted her head to rest on Harry's chest and I took a deep breath before walking toward the corridor.

“Well I guess I'll see you guys later...” I said, walking around them and feeling my chest tighten.

“Bye, Julia! I'll see you at the party,” she called.

Yeah, maybe, I wanted to reply.

I shut the door behind me, leaning on the wall outside and steadying my breathing. If I can get through this then the wedding should be a breeze. I cringed at the thought and started walking toward the elevator.

“Jules!” an all too familiar voice called from behind me, giving me butterflies.

I stopped in my tracks, thinking that if I turned around now it might just be my imagination.

“Jules, wait!” Harry called again and I spun on my heel to see him jogging down the hall toward me. What catastrophic event put us in this place? Put us where we always seem to find ourselves chasing one another towards the door?

But what did he really have to say to me? He wouldn't even look at me in there. He just left me facing the slammed door in my apartment, tears starting to slip over my face. And yet he didn't call me... Didn't want to work things out.

“Let me drive you,” he breathed. “it'd be faster, you don't want to take a taxi.”

“Now you care?” I snapped, letting venom taint my words.

He flinched. “I never stopped caring-”

“Stop,” I told him, feeling my heart want to leap for him. I couldn't let it, I couldn't fall for this again. “I'm tired of going back and forth with you.”

He let out a long breath, closing his eyes. “Just... just let me drive you. Elaine already suspects something is up,” he whispered.

So this was about Elaine's perfect wellbeing. Not mine—it never was.

I didn't reply, but followed him downstairs to his awaiting car. It took everything within me not to run away when the door shut behind me. I couldn't stand being in this close of a premises with Harry with so many unsaid words floating in the tight space between us. They would choke me.

For the first two solid minutes nothing was spoken. The silence was thick, wrapping its hands around my throat, skimming my pulse. In a twisted irony, I realized there was so much to say and then there was nothing to say at all. Where did we stand with one another? Could we fall back into the pattern of being just friends again? Were either one of us capable of that? I could feel all of the questions drowning me.

Harry took a deep breath. “Listen, I know I didn't call you-”

“No you didn't,” I interrupted.

“Jules!” he yelled. “Just let me talk for a fucking minute!”

I flinched, staring straight out of the window, refusing to look at him.

“I don't know what to do here either, okay?” His voice was still raised and hoarse. “I- I don't know what to say to make things better. I have nothing.”

I sighed, leaning my head against the back of the seat. There was a piece of me twisting and writhing inside wanting to go and comfort him. It didn't want to see him so distressed. He was your best friend, remember? It told me. Do what friends do. But I didn't have the audacity to admit to that part of me that the friend bridge was slowly being burned and I was left standing on the other side wondering which way to go next.

“Then why did you-” I stopped, swallowing the weakening tears. “Why did you kiss me then-“ my voice cracked “-why would you put that kind of thoughts into my head?”

“Don't act like it was just me,” he replied, his voice low. Dangerous.

“No, it wasn't,” I told him. “but you still did it. Why didn't you stop? Why didn't you pull away and give me an excuse, Harry? Because that would hurt a whole lot less than this.” I gave a humorless laugh.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I don't want to hurt you,” he whispered.

I looked out the window. “I know.”

I did know he didn't want to hurt me, but it still doesn't erase the fact that he’s doing it right now. It didn't obliterate the evidence of arson to our bridge, it didn't kill the silence squeezing my neck, and it sure didn't make the pain go away.

The car pulled to a stop in front of my apartment building. How many times had we sat here in this spot together, laughing or joking? So much being built up to just be torn down.

“Listen, Jules,” he muttered. “I love you— I really do. But there's nothing for us. There's nothing to fall back on. Elaine is my future.”

I flinched. “So, what?” I asked him. “You want to erase the past twenty two years of our lives?”

He held his head back, looking at the roof of his car. “I know what I want to do,” he whispered. “I just don't know what I can do.”

For the sake of my sanity, I forced myself not to question him or read too far into his words. That's what got us into this mess. I ran my hands down my face, feeling the fatigue of being around him for too long.

“Okay,” I breathed. I didn't hesitate to open up the door and grab my bag. “Thanks for the ride,” I mumbled.

He didn't say anything, just sat in his car until I climbed the stairs and shut the door behind me. Glancing out the window, I could see him still in the driver's seat, his eyes intensely focused on the wall of the apartment building. He slid his sunglasses on—despite the setting sun— and drove away.

...

Harry’s POV

I hit the boxing bag again, my fist ramming into it with more force than I usually put forth, followed by my other hand. I punched it until my face was dripping sweat, until my arms were pulsing until my body was about to collapse. I needed this, I needed to collapse. If I collapsed then there would be no more pain, this knife in my throat would diminish for a little while longer—long enough for me to breathe.

“Whoa, Harry, let's take a break, yeah?” Jeff said from behind the punching bag, he had been holding it for me for the last hour.

“No,” I panted, pulling more strength from somewhere unknown. I hit the bag again, Jeff taking a step back from the force. “I… just… need... a few more minutes,” I gasped through my aching lungs.

I could feel his quizzical gaze on me, the wondering eyes that knew too much.

“No,” he said with finality, shaking his head and grabbing my shoulder to pull me back. “You're done for today. You're about to overdo yourself.”

I grabbed the bag, my hands on either side and rested my sweaty forehead against the red material. “That's the point,” I muttered so low I wasn’t sure if he’d hear. I didn’t care whether or not he did.

The morning that I had walked out of Julia's apartment I had spent the rest of the day at Jeff's trying to ease my guilty conscious. I was so confused, I didn't know what to do. The things I felt for Julia were something I've never experienced before, something wild and exotic and rare— but it felt so natural. I had been a wimp, though. I had gotten terrified that maybe I liked the way it felt to hold her in her sleep or to kiss her collarbone. I liked it more than psychically, I wanted her that night emotionally. I wanted every piece of her soul to be in the palm of my hand. And she has placed it there. She had given it to me— and I had walked out like a scared child.

I wiped the towel across my forehead and around my neck, resting it on my bare shoulder.

The other thing was Elaine. I loved her. I really did. She was safe, someone that I knew wouldn't throw unexpected things at me, someone I trusted to keep me in familiar territory. I didn't like surprises and when it came to me, she held none.

So I had gotten scared and did the only thing I knew to do. I proposed to Elaine. Thinking that if I was engaged the thoughts of having a relationship with Jules would be pushed out of my mind. That I would see more clearly and realize that I didn't actually have feelings for her, it was just pre-wedding jitters.

“What happened yesterday?” Jeff asked, slipping a hand through his dark brown hair. I had told him everything about Jules and me—well, leaving out the details— and he didn't judge me or scold me, but had insisted on me getting my shit together more than once.

“Apparently, Elaine invited Julia over to talk about wedding details and I came home a little too early,” I mumbled, squeezing water into my mouth.

His eyes widened. “That's…awkward.” He grimaced. “Did Julia say anything to her?”

I shook my head. “I had thought she would have, but now I know she would never do that. She didn't look so happy to be there though.”

“Can't blame her.”

My heart leaped at the thought of Julia, immediately replaced with the familiar pain that seemed to follow recently. Sitting down on the gym bench, I laid my head against the wall, closing my eyes.

“So are you two... what— like friends now?” Jeff asked, sitting next to me.

I shrugged. I honestly didn't know. “We can't even act civil towards one another.”

“But do you want to be is the question—civil that is,” he pressed.

Did I want to act civil towards her? No. No, I wanted things to go back to the same way it was before. “I just want things to be normal,” I mumbled.

He turned his head toward me. “Can they be though?”

I snorted. “No, not after that night,” I said. “I can't even fucking look at her without thinking she looks beautiful.” I put my head in my hands. “What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm engaged,” I groaned.

I opened an eye to see him silently chuckling at me.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” he laughed.

Even though there was no humor in it I began to laugh with him, feeling the tight muscles of my body relax.

“I don't even know,” I told him. And the truth was… I really didn't.

…

Julia’s POV

I sat in class, listening to the lecture and jotting down every other word. My mind anywhere but English. I had been so upset with Harry after I had walked into my apartment. He was so confusing, so infuriating. I had no idea where we stood with one another.

It also didn't help that I had felt queasy all morning. The smell of my morning coffee making me gag before I poured it down the sink. I couldn't even look at my cereal.

Putting my head in my hands, I rubbed my temples gently, trying to relieve the pressure. I had two more classes to go and there was no way I was going to make it.

When the professor dismissed us, I grabbed my bag and walked toward the student center, hoping to grab a quick coffee before my next lecture. Maybe the coffee I used this morning was bad and I needed to buy some more. I've never gotten so nauseous over that before.

The brand they used here at Uni wasn't as gross as the one back at my place, but still made my stomach churn. I chose to ignore it, taking a sip and swallowing it back before my body could protest. I needed the caffeine this morning or there was no hope for the rest of the day.

Some strange way, I made it the rest of the day. Arriving at my place just in time for my body to collapse on the couch and my eyes to slip close. These nights I had barely gotten any sleep, my thoughts all over the place but always coming back to Harry and his green eyes.

My phone started to ring on the coffee table, and I groaned as I was pulled away from the peaceful sleep.

“Hello?” I mumbled.

“Julia, hey!” Lauren, my friend from college, greeted through the speaker. “A few of us are going out tonight, I was wondering if you wanted to join.”

I sighed. “No, not tonight-”

“But please,” she continued. “we haven't seen you in like— what?—two weeks? You've been cooped up in that apartment acting like you're going through a break-up or something.”

“Something like that,” I muttered, but we never were even together.

“I don't care what excuse it is,” she brushed off and I could practically see her standing with her hand on her hip. “you're joining us tonight whether you like or not and you are going to put on a nice dress or I'm coming to drag you here.”

I tried to decline a couple more times after that—each unsuccessful— and finally ended up in my closet staring at the row of dresses I had. As much as I didn't feel good—emotionally as well as psychically— a night with girls and feeling pretty felt like a necessity at the moment.

I picked out a black dress, pulling it over my aching body. It was thin silk dress, the back dipping dangerously low, with thin straps holding it up. Pulling my dark hair from its ponytail, I let it fall down my back in its natural dark waves. I couldn't help but think of Harry saying how much he liked it loose around me.

After strapping on a pair of black heels, I mentally scolded myself before walking out the door to the awaiting car.

“That's the Julia I know!” I heard Lauren call from the driver's seat, her blonde hair placed in a messy bun on the top of her head. “You beautiful party animal.” She winked.

I rolled my eyes.

“Where have you been? I feel like I haven't seen you in such a long time,” Jessica said, turning around in her seat to look at me. She was another friend of mine, the one always pressing us to go to parties and always attaching herself immediately to a different guy every night.

I knotted my hands in my lap. “Home,” I said. “I haven't exactly felt like going out much.”

Lauren's eyes snapped to mine in the mirror. “Your voice sounds strange. Why is that?” she demanded.

I shrugged. “Really I'm fine—”

“Is it a man?” Jessica asked.

I didn't know how to answer that. “I-”

“It is!” she declared. “Julia has feelings!”

“Wooooo!” Lauren cheered, jumping up and down in the seat before taking a turn.

I put my face in my hands. “No- really-”

“Is it that Harry lad? The hot one from One Direction that's your boy toy?” Jessica wiggled her eyebrows.

“He is not my boy toy,” I said through my teeth. “And he’s solo now.”

“But he is hot though.” Jessica smirked. “Please, feel free to give him my number if you're not going to go for it.”

Lauren laughed. “Jess, he's engaged anyways, it was all over Twitter last week.”

She shrugged. “Well then give my number to that Horan lad, he looks a fun time- or any of the boys, I don't want to be chosey.”

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to explain that he wasn’t in the band anymore.

Lauren drove us to a night club in the center of London. We'd been here a couple of times, I never was one for partying though.

Before getting out of the car, Jessica leaned over, pushing her breasts up until they were ready to over flow from her tight shimmering dress.

“Are you wearing a push up, Julia?” she asked me, adjusting her newly dyed deep red hair.

I looked at my neck line. “No, just my regular bra...”

She observed my chest, tapping her finger to her chin. “Your boobs are getting bigger. Lauren, aren't her boobs getting bigger?” Jessica looked to Lauren who was applying red lipstick in the mirror.

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling shy.

Lauren turned to face me, giving me an approving nod. “They really are, they look nice. It's not fair.”

“Can we stop talking about my boob size now?” I asked, pushing myself out of the vehicle and adjusting my dress around the chest, hoping it didn't look as tight as they made it out to be.

Jessica walked around to my side of the car, placing her hands on her hips. “We are just admiring your tits,” she laughed.

Lauren covered her mouth as she snorted with laughter. “Oh, girl, your tits look so nice today,” she mocked between giggles and playfully tossed her hair.

I gave in and laughed with them. “Have you lot already been drinking yet?”

Jessica looked to Lauren. “Maybe just a few before we left...”

I rolled my eyes and continued to walk in through the doors, out of the crowded parking lot. The music was already blaring from the live band and Jessica immediately disappeared following a dark-haired man. Lauren and I ignored it, taking a seat at the bar.

“Want a drink?” she asked me.

I shook my head. “No, I haven't felt very well today.”

She brought a glass to her lips. “A drink will make it better,” she hummed before taking a sip.

“No, I don't really think so,” I replied, looking for Jessica in the crowd.

When Lauren went to dance, I crossed my legs and put my chin in my hand, feeling anything but entertained as I listened to the music. I honestly didn't want to be here right now, surrounded by drunk people. I couldn't remember why I came in the first place.

“You look bored,” said a voice from behind me.

I turned around to see Harry’s manager and friend, Jeff, standing with his elbows on the bar, his forearms crossed in front of him. He had his dark hair pushed up messily and a button-up shirt.

I sighed. “I don't exactly want to be here right now.” I gave him a weak smile.

His eyes slightly narrowed at me, almost as if analyzing my demeanor. “Rough week?” he asked.

I snorted. “Yeah, something like that,” I mumbled, wishing I would have taken Lauren up on that drink offer.

He nodded. “Have you talked to Harry lately?”

My hand twitched as I went to brush a hair away from my forehead. My heart pulsing too fast at the sound of his name.

I pressed my lips together. “Yeah,” I told him, my jaw clenched as I looked down to my lap. “yeah- I uh- talked to him a couple of days ago.”

“So you know they moved the wedding to March?”

My eyes stung a bit as I swallowed the rock in my throat. “March?” I asked, my voice sounding smaller and weaker. “As in four months from now?”

I felt his eyes studying me, the hazel color taking notice of my deep breaths and white knuckles. “Yeah, a rush isn't it?”

I inhaled through my nose, filling my lungs until they were so full they might burst and my heartbeat was steadier. “Yeah, such a rush,” I muttered.

He tilted his head, observing my appearance. “But you don't want them to get married,” he said, his voice lower as if he didn't want to be overheard as his sentence became more of a statement than a question.

I snapped my head toward him. “What are you saying?”

He cocked his eyebrow, lifting his drink to me and taking a long sip before setting it down on the glass countertop. “It's okay,” he muttered. “I don't actually either.”

I stared at him, not sure exactly what to think. Jeff was Harry's closest mate, he always told me about him and the many times I had hung out with his band, he had been one of the nicest.

“Don't stare at me like that,” he said calmly, looking at me from the corner of his eye. Lowering his voice, he whispered, “I know you two slept together.”

I sat up straighter, looking around nervously for anyone that might have been eavesdropping. A few eyes wondered to Jeff, recognizing the boy from magazines or television but none particularly paid much attention to us.

“Julia,” he whispered. “relax. Harry told me.”

He said that as if it made my beating heart slow down at all. It was worse actually, the thought that Harry would have shared that night with-

Jeff cursed, cutting off my thoughts. “No, no, no not like that at all,” he hurried to correct himself after seeing my white face. “ I meant, he just told me what happened. He had needed someone to talk to.”

I put my face in my hands, the knife burying itself deep into my chest. I screwed up. I hadn't been there for Harry when he needed me.

“He's probably ecstatic to get this wedding done then, yeah?” I mumbled bitterly. “Everything he can do just to push me further out of the picture...”

I slapped my hand on the bar. “Can I get a drink over here, please?” I called to the bartender, giving up on my previous decision to have a calm night.

Jeff pushed the glass away from before I could grab it. “No, she doesn't need it,” he told the man who stood in front of us confused.

“I ordered it actually-” I started stubbornly.

“You are not going to bitter drink, okay?” he scolded me, my mouth snapping shut with shock. He grabbed the glass and handed it toward the waiter. “Here you can take this back, charge it to my tab if you need too.”

I swallowed back angry tears—I had been way too emotional lately.

Jeff pulled himself into the chair next to me, turning it to face me. “Drinking is not the solution, alright?”

I didn't respond, feeling like a child.

“Both of you are being so fucking stupid,” he muttered, exhaustedly dragging his hand down his face and the stubble that resided there.

“What are you even talking about?” I snapped.

“He doesn't want you out of the picture, Julia,” he said with equal force. “and neither do you. I don't know why he's being so idiotic and trying to hurry the wedding up. He's trying to fill this void by hoping if he marries Elaine it will go away.”

I sighed. “I'm not following,” I mumbled, feeling tired already by this conversation.

He threw his head back, letting out a groan. “I don't want him to-” He stopped and looked around, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “I don't want him to marry her either, okay? Unlike everyone and their fucking mom, I can tell he isn't exactly happy with her. She's not my favorite person in the world as well.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, pursing his lips and debating whether or not to tell me.

“No,” I said, seeing the hesitant look on his. “you're going to tell me.”

He bit his lip. “I just get this weird feeling about her, you know? She seems way too giddy all the time. She really flirts with the other band members and I a lot. She's quite annoying.”

I couldn't help it. A smile formed on my lips at his words. At least I wasn't the only one.

“You're smiling,” he observed, the corners of his mouth lifting a bit too.

I laughed. “And here I was thinking I was delusional,” I said.

We both laughed together. It felt so good to talk to someone who actually knew the situation. I would have never guessed that the person would have been Jeff though.

In the middle of my laughing, I felt my stomach churn again. The familiar nausea taking over and my face becoming cold and white. I pressed my hand to my mouth.

“Are you okay?” Jeff asked.

I shook my head. “I'll be right back, give me a second.” And I got up to walk to the bathroom, shutting the stall door just in time for my body to push up what little I had eaten today.

I groaned as I rested my head against the cool bathroom wall, my face felt clammy.

When I was fairly certain that I was done throwing up, I washed my mouth out with water and pressed a damp paper towel against my forehead. I must have caught a stomach bug.

Walking out, Jeff pushed himself away from the wall outside of the women's bathroom. He must have followed me back here.

“You okay?” he asked, eyeing the paper towel I had against my face and the pale complexion of my skin.

I took a deep breath. “Yeah... I just haven't felt very well today.”

His eyes narrowed. “Have you been drinking?”

“No!” I mumbled. “I haven't drank anything at all today actually... besides the coffee this morning, but the smell was horrible—I think it was expired.”

He nodded, his eyes still studying me.

Wanting to move out of his quizzical gaze, I started walking back into the main area. “I'm going to head home anyways,” I told him. “I have had enough for tonight.”

“Here, let me drive you,” he replied and I didn't object as his hand met the small of my back and ushered me through the wasted, dancing crowd.

Inside his car, I rested my head against the cool leather seat, taking deep breaths and encouraging myself to not puke in his nice vehicle.

Jeff turned the air condition on high, despite the dropping December temperatures outside.

When we pulled out onto the main road, his phone started to ring through the Bluetooth of his speaker.

“Hello?” he answered, after pressing a button on the steering wheel.

“Hey, lad... It's me, you busy?” a familiar voice said through the car speakers, sending my ears perking up.

Jeff eyed me, asking almost for my permission.

I gulped and nodded.

“Um not particularly at the moment...” he said, pushing his hand through his hair as the car felt smaller and smaller.

Harry sighed on the other end. “I'm just... I don't know. Confused, I guess,” he muttered.

“About what?” Jeff asked.

“Everything,” he gave a humorless laugh. “Elaine is going all out for the wedding and I don't even feel like I'm really into it-”

“Pull over,” I told Jeff.

He looked over to me, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Pull the fucking car over,” I whispered.

And he did, right in time for me to lean out of the door and throw up on the ground.

Jeff cursed. “Um, hold- hold on for a second, Harry,” he said, leaning over the console to pull my hair out of my face.

“Who's in the car with you...?” Harry asked, clear suspicion leaking through the car speakers. He knew my voice from anywhere.

“Hold on a second,” Jeff shouted to him, grabbing a napkin from the drawer and handing it to me. “Are you okay now?” he asked me.

I closed the door, wiping me face. “Yeah, thank you,” I said.

Harry was silent for a beat before—“Am I on speaker?” he demanded.

“Here's some water,” Jeff mumbled, passing me a bottle that I used to rinse my mouth out.

“I was driving,” Jeff replied back to him.

“And... and—Julia,” his voice cracked. “she's with you?”

I took a deep breath, not knowing if I was still nauseous from my stomach bug or from Harry saying my name like it caused him pain.

“Yeah, I was just taking her home, man,” he said, his voice lower as he eyed me from the driver's seat. “She wasn't feeling well.”

He was silent, his steady breathing the only sound in the car. I wish I could see him right now.

“Is she okay?” he whispered.

A muscle in Jeff's jaw twitched as he watched me. “Harry,” he breathed. “if you want to know how she is doing, man, pick up the fucking phone and call her.”

And then he hung up.

“You didn't have to be such a dick to him,” I whispered.

Jeff began driving again, following the directions that I had given him. “You know him better than I do. You know the only way he would have listened is if I was a dick to him,” he said.

I sighed. I did know. But it didn't hurt any less.

Jeff stopped in front of my apartment, the engine purring in the silence.

“Thank you—for taking me home...” I told him, reaching to open the door. “and for... talking with me.” I felt so small and uncomfortable discussing this with Jeff. “I really needed it.”

He nodded. “Harry is one of my best mates,” he said. “and you've done a lot for him. I 'm trying to stop him from throwing away the best thing he's ever had.”

I sucked in a breath, too shocked to reply.

“And— one more thing, Julia.” His voice was only a whisper now, pushing its way through the atoms separating us to me.

“Yeah?”

“People, like you and Harry—end up together.” He leaned his head back against the seat. “It's inevitable. Somehow, someway, something is going to happen and the universe will fall back into place and the two of you will be together.”

I closed my eyes. “Don't say things like that.”

part three

A/N: I’m not gonna beg like Justin Bieber, but if you like this pls like/reblog or send me an anon. I wrote this story when I was 15 and I’m 21 now so I’ll only keep uploading it as long as I have people interested :)

hope you liked the angst!!

join my taglist!

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #friends to lovers #harry styles angst #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #fanfiction #harry ff #harry romance #harry love story #solo harry

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rockislandadultreads · 4 years

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The Wall Street Journal’s Best Science Fiction Books of 2020

The Ghost Tree by Christina Henry

When people go missing in the sleepy town of Smith's Hollow, the only clue to their fate comes when a teenager starts having terrifying visions, in a chilling horror novel from national bestselling author Christina Henry. When the bodies of two girls are found torn apart in the town of Smiths Hollow, Lauren is surprised, but she also expects that the police won't find the killer. After all, the year before her father's body was found with his heart missing, and since then everyone has moved on. Even her best friend, Miranda, has become more interested in boys than in spending time at the old ghost tree, the way they used to when they were kids. So when Lauren has a vision of a monster dragging the remains of the girls through the woods, she knows she can't just do nothing. Not like the rest of her town. But as she draws closer to answers, she realizes that the foundation of her seemingly normal town might be rotten at the center. And that if nobody else stands for the missing, she will.

The Relentless Moon by Mary Robinette Kowal

Mary Robinette Kowal continues her award-winning Lady Astronaut series, which began with The Calculating Stars and The Fated Sky, with The Relentless Moon. The Earth is coming to the boiling point as the climate disaster of the Meteor strike becomes more and more clear, but the political situation is already overheated. Riots and sabotage plague the space program. The IAC's goal of getting as many people as possible off Earth before it becomes uninhabitable is being threatened. Elma York is on her way to Mars, but the Moon colony is still being established. Her friend and fellow Lady Astronaut Nicole Wargin is thrilled to be one of those pioneer settlers, using her considerable flight and political skills to keep the program on track. But she is less happy that her husband, the Governor of Kansas, is considering a run for President.

Ballistic Kiss by Richard Kadrey

Sandman Slim is back in Los Angeles and kicking more supernatural ass in this inventive, high-octane page-turner—the next to last volume in the popular and acclaimed fantasy adventure series from New York Times bestselling author Richard Kadrey. As the battle between warring angels continues, James Stark is focused on seemingly simpler matters now that he’s resurfaced on earth: an invasion of ghosts. L.A.’s Little Cairo neighborhood has suddenly been overrun by violent spirits, and Thomas Abbott knows if anyone can figure out why they’ve appeared—and how to get rid of them—it’s Stark. Armed with the Room of Thirteen Doors, Stark quickly learns that the answer may reach back to the 1970s and the unsolved murder of small-time actor, Chris Stein. As he begins to dig into the cold case, another area of Stark’s life takes an unexpected turn when he becomes entangled with Janet, a woman he saved during the High Plains Drifter zombie attack. Janet’s brush with the living dead hasn’t quenched her thirst for danger. She’s an adrenaline junkie and a member of The Zero Lodge—a club that promises “there’s zero chance you’ll get out alive.” The Lodge attracts thrill seekers who flock to perilous events such as night walks through the LA Zoo—with its deadliest animals uncaged. Joining the lodge to be with Janet, Stark makes a pair of crucial discoveries that could decide the fate of LA and Heaven itself. To prevent the Little Cairo haunting from consuming the city, Stark must piece together the connections between the Lodge and a missing angel last seen in a Hollywood porn palace. But while he may dispatch the ghosts, Stark knows that without his help, the bloody war in Heaven could rage forever.

To Sleep in a Sea of Stars by Christopher Paolini

Kira Navárez dreamed of life on new worlds. Now she's awakened a nightmare. During a routine survey mission on an uncolonized planet, Kira finds an alien relic. At first she's delighted, but elation turns to terror when the ancient dust around her begins to move. As war erupts among the stars, Kira is launched into a galaxy-spanning odyssey of discovery and transformation. First contact isn't at all what she imagined, and events push her to the very limits of what it means to be human. While Kira faces her own horrors, Earth and its colonies stand upon the brink of annihilation. Now, Kira might be humanity's greatest and final hope...

The Shaman of Karres by Eric Flint, Dave Freer

Captain Pausert just can’t catch a break!

First, he became the mortal enemy of his fiancée, his home planet, the Empire—and even the Worm World, the darkest threat to mankind in all of space. All because he helped rescue three slave children from their masters. Of course, these three young women were the universally feared Witches of Karres—but how was he to know that?!

And after he defeated the Worm World (with the help of the witches, of course), the Empress herself had sent him on a secret mission to stop a nanite plague that was raging across the galaxy. But an enemy had somehow convinced the Imperial Fleet that he was actually a wanted criminal, so after a battle leaving his ship in urgent need of repairs, Puasert and the witches of Karres joined an interstellar traveling circus in order to save the galaxy.

Now Pausert and the witches of Karres roam the spaceways again, this time dealing with a slaver-culture that somehow makes slaves happy to be in servitude, and a quest for a long-lost alien pet, during which the youngest witch, The Leewit, begins to come to her full powers as a healer—and of course generates chaos in her wake.

For Pausert, it’s all in a day’s work. But would it be too much to ask for a vacation?

#Science Fiction #Syfy #science fiction books #fiction #Syfy books #best books of 2020 #the wall street journal #booklist #booklr #library #public library #book recs #reading recommendations #recommended reading #SF books

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authorgreybrooke · 5 years

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Red Daughter (The unsung hero of Kasnia)

Kasnia was a cold place, an extensive woodland with patches of snow decorating its wild landscape. The villagers were poor and wrapped in scratchy attire, always pulling their thin scarfs tightly around there necks. The stalls of food were old and rickety, manned by staving people, desperate for their wages.

The soldiers were brutal but honest, fuelled by their anger, at the Americans and their Hollywood, and their fancy chefs, and fancy clothes, and comfortable beds. They pushed around the populace and protected them at the same time. Kasnia had a mandatory military program, a type of conscription, that meant every male citizen had to do a minimum of four years of service before the age of thirty. The hatred was trained into them, beaten into them, it made them strong, hard, fierce, it made them warriors.

In a dirt field, on the edge of the market, some kids kicked around a dirty soccer ball. A blonde-haired woman with a broad smile, and a grey and red uniform ran around with the group, pretending to be bad at the game and laughing at herself with them.

Close to dusk, a loud whistling noise pieced through the ambients, and Snowbird grimaced at the familiar call. The General was summoning her back to camp, using a device that emitted a high-frequency sound that only the woman could hear, similar to a dog whistle. She waved goodbye to the children, who begged her to stay for just a little bit longer, and took off into the sky.

. . .

The base was metal and brick, void of colour. The guards patrolling never smiled at Snowbird. The only person who would look her with affection was Alex, and he seldom visited, though he sent her books. She loved The Great Gatsby, it sparked her imagination, told her about a fantastical world of music, colour and grandeur. It was meant to be a learning tool, from Alex, to educate her about the American's selfish lifestyles, their disregard and greedy natures. Still, Snowbird kept it close like a child with a teddy bear.

Snowbird obediently entered her room, the door locked behind her, and the sharp metal sound of the lock hurt her ears. She knelt by the pile of books in the corner and pushed a few aside, philosophy, Shakespeare, poetry, dark fiction, biography's -- her favourite was romance. There was not a lot about love, family, friendship, what she uncovered twinged something painful inside her chest, something she hadn't found the words her to describe.

The story of Gatsby was tragic, a missed loved, a series of unsatisfied grand gestures. The copy that Snowbird had was beneath her pillow, it had been read the most, Snowbird cherished the novel, keeping it close for comfort. The pages held secrets, scribbled between lines and on edges, her sporadic thoughts and feelings, confessions and wishes on stars. She used to write about Alex. slowly, the idea of him she had in her head faded and transformed into something else, like a mentor or a father figure, the term "family" did not quite mesh with the words he said and the words she had read over and over again in her books.

When Alex spoke of his sister, an unfamiliar feeling threaten to consume her spirit, she felt it when she read about Daisy, the untouchable love, the unrequited, the missed, the unreachable, the unobtainable. Photos, images of the Americans were pinned to walls of Snowbird's tiny room, faces she was supposed to observe and learn, expression to mimic for when the time came.

"Lena." Snowbird practised the name, replayed it in her mind, spoke it with different accents, the sound was somehow imprinted within herself long before she had even known Lena Luthor existed. She traced her fingers over the images, unexplainable angry when she looked at Kara Danvers, smiling, with her arm around Lex's sister.

She'd met Lena, briefly, when she was Imitating her counterpart in America. The L-Corp CEO appeared discipline and compassionate, powerful and kind, beautiful in a way she had only read about but never personally witnessed.

Kara Danvers's journal had revealed many things, such as Kara's deep, seemingly unrequited, feelings for Lena Luthor. Kara spoke of her alien biology and her fears of hurting any human she loved too hard, she talked about their friendship and how she couldn't risk anything more beyond that, afraid that she would lose her best friend ultimately, she talked about being too scared to tell Lena about Supergirl, afraid of losing the one person who made her feel as vulnerable as any human.

There was an article within Kara's diary that she'd had the urge to steal, it was written by her counterpart and was about Lena Luthor and her company. It spoke of her charity and innovation, Lena had the potential to change the world, and Snowbird hoped that the younger Luthor would join the Kasnian people, hoped that she could see the beauty of the Kasnian land as Snowbird saw it. It was a fantasy, a dream, to stand firm for her people with Alex and Lena at her sides, she shook away the vision as sleep pulled her under.

. . .

The morning came slowly, it was cold and dark as the new day began. The boots stomping outside Snowbird's door woke her from a restless sleep, the blanket wasn't warm enough, and the room seemed to hold the cold air inside, never circulating or warming. The room remained stagnant and devoid of anything homely. Snowbird ran her hand over her face, trying to push away her half-asleep imaginings, she was a soldier, she didn't need friends or family, she had Alex and Kasnia, and that was everything.

The days passed, and Snowbird trained, she played with the kids, explored the wildlands, read about people doing things she could never dream up. Snowbird was content, happy even, ever since she had introduced Lex to Mikhail, feeling a warmth in her chest as the pair interacted -- like everything was coming together, she may not have the type of family written in books, but she had one, sitting around a broken table, laughing about simple things. Life in Kasnia may not be glamorous, it never needed to be, Kasnia was magical and peaceful all on its own.

The extra time in between training sessions gave Snowbirds mind the chance to wonder, she thought about things, imagined other things, mainly what her counterpart was doing in America. While Kasnia carried on, Snowbird slipped away, her curiosity taking over once again.

. . .

National City was loud, Snowbird cringed as she entered the busy, messy place. Kara Danvers' apartment was empty when she flew near enough to look in through the window. She didn't want to visit that place again, it made her irrationally angry, and she could fathom why an American apartment would evoke such a feeling.

She found herself hovering above the L-Corp building, watching Lena Luthor bite her lip and type furiously at her computer. Without much thought, driven purely by instinct, Snowbird floated down onto the CEO's balcony. Lena's heartbeat was loud in her head, pushing violently against her own pulse. Snowbird pressed her hand to her chest, trying to slow the powerful beats, it was dizzying, distracting, overwhelming.

"Supergirl!"

Snowbird felt a warm hand against her own and flinched back, stumbling.

"Are you alright?" Lena had moved without a sound, she stood before the Kasnian, watching her closely.

"I'm fine," Snowbird croaked, it wasn't loud, it wasn't even a proper American accent, it was fragile and broken.

"You don't look fine. Why don't you come inside," Lena pushed open the door and tried to reach for the fracture Kryptonian.

"I shouldn't."

"Why not?" Lena tilted her head slightly to one side.

Snowbird knew nothing at that moment, only that her feet would step wherever Lena Luthor wanted them to travel. She staggered over to the couch and sat, trembling and unsure.

Lena sat beside her, calm and so undeniably beautiful. "Did something happen?"

"You hate me..." Snowbird recalled the fallout Lena and Supergirl had over the creation of Kryptonite, how Supergirl had sent Guardian to infiltrate Lena's private laboratory.

"I don't hate you. I don't trust you. There's a difference." Lena's voice was steady, soft, soothing.

"I understand."

"I like the new uniform. It looks warmer."

Snowbird looked down at herself and remembered that she was not in disguise and that she should not be in Lena Luthor's office. Alex was going to be so mad. "I should go."

Lena nodded. "Maybe you could stay for a bit. I have some work to do, and I would like the company. Just for a bit."

"Just for a bit..."

"Yes. Please."

Snowbird realised in that instant that she could not deny Lena anything. The CEO stood and returned to her desk, glancing over to the alien on her couch every so often with a small smile. Snowbird just sat and waited, and watched Lena in return as she slipped on a pair of glasses, sipped her warm coffee, stretched her arms above her head and rubbed the back of her neck.

The night moved slowly into dawn, and the Kasnian listened to the city folk stir, the traffic grew more intense and the buildings awakened. It wasn't until she heard Eve enter the floor from the elevator that the Kasnian snapped out of her daydreaming.

"I have to go!" Snowbird stood and made for the balcony. The last thing she saw before she jumped into the air was Lena rushing to her feet, almost as if she wanted to stop Snowbird from leaving.

. . .

The Kaznian market strip was a flurry in the late afternoon, children rushed about, catching the last of the sun while the women and men bartered for there dinners. A military jeep, the old rusted kind, sped down the main dirt road, forcing the crowds to disperse in a panic. The soldiers aboard screamed at the scrambling pedestrians, angry that they couldn't move out of the way faster. One woman, frail in her old age, tripped over nothing, dropping her bag of overly ripe fruit onto the ground. Torn between forcing herself to her feet and reaching for the food she desperately wanted, she didn't move out of the way fast enough.

The soldier driving pushed down harder on the accelerator, intent on not letting the human speedbump slow his vehicle down. There was a shout, and then the sound of the engine zooming passed. The old woman stood shocked, confused and holding her bag of fruit, safely away from the military convoy.

"Are you okay?"

The woman spun around to see her saviour smiling down at her gently. The older Kasnian rushed out a few gratitudes in her own tongue and insisted that the hero take some fruit for her next meal.

"No, I couldn't. Please. Keep them."

The woman insisted, pinching the blushing blonde's cheek and forcing fruit into her arms.

Snowbird laughed and thanked the woman, earning another pinch and a pat on the arm.

The people of Kaznia had never feared her presence, she was a strange woman in strange clothes who spoke their language and helped them when the soldier would kick them.

Not all of the soldiers were bad, but Snowbird was exceptional, she played soccer with children and built them a school, she raced people to doctors and dove into frozen lakes for lost things, she found lost pets and used her heat vision to start fires when her people were freezing. It wasn't glamorous or even exhausting, it was just how she helped.

. . .

Snowbird sat in a tree, resting on a thick branch, obtaining a wondrous view of the sun disappearing behind the treetops. The sunlight flickered in orange, purple and blue, before dimming away. A sweet juice ran around her smile and down her chin as she feasted sloppily on the yellowish mango, it left her fingers sticky, but she was happy. It had been a good day. Even though she still missed Alex, regretting the things she had said to him.

The American's had attacked, and she wasn't around to save her people, she had been distracted, and it had cost her everything. Mikhail was gone, murdered, and she had let her feelings dictate her actions, she sought revenge for his death and almost ruined all of Alex's plans, she had disappointed him, genuinely and it broke Snowbird even further.

She'd accused Alex of being controlled by his emotions, whether she was projecting or not, she couldn't know for sure, all she knew was that she had dropped Lena's name in the heat of their fight and it had ruined everything between them.

The General called her back, using the sharp whistle that always made Snowbird flinch, and so, she hopped down from the tree, landing too hard, making the ground shake a little.

Before she zipped all the way back to the military base, Snowbird levitated above the blackened crater that was now Mikhail's grave. The anguish that she had felt the day that he'd died was unlike anything she had ever felt, the pain itself lingered, in her limbs, in her chest, gnawing away savagely at her innards.

Everything ached, the weight of it manifest and she dropped to the ground beside the destroyed soccer ball, she watched it, waited for it to no longer be broken and when it refused she angrily snatched it up from the ground.

Snowbird held onto the punctured, charred soccer ball, closing her fist around its torn skin. Since the attack, her people had been afraid of monsters across the ocean and the Kasnian soldiers who patrolled with itchy fingers.

Alex had left Kasnia, and Snowbird stood in the wreckage, angrier than she had ever been before, alone and full of self-loathing. Alex had taught her, saved her from Kryptonite and she had failed. It was time to prepare, to train, it was not the time for distractions. Mikhail deserved better. Kasnia deserved better.

She tried to imagine what it would be like to lose Alex forever and a sick feeling crept along her gut. The ash got swept up in a breeze forcing its scent onto the visitor. Snowbird cough and cringed and flew away in a desperate hurry, eager to be locked away safely in her room.

. . .

That night brought twisted nightmares of Mikhail's face, his sweet smile, melted away by the volatile American weapons. Alex, vaporised by a missile, as he sat at his desk, scribbling notes. Lena, typing and relaxing, then being dragged away by faceless terrorist as she cried out for Supergirl's help, cries that went unanswered.

Snowbird gasped and screamed, throwing herself out of her bunk and onto the cold ground. She had been angry before because people told her to be angry -- but she had never hated, never so purely. She hated the Americans. She hated everything Supergirl stood for, all of the lies, Mikhail's murder, the typical American way of life. The pictures of Kara Danvers' picture-perfect life mocked her from their places above her bed. Supergirl defended the people who had murdered Mikhail, she protected them.

Snowbird didn't notice at first, that she was getting weaker, the first nose bleed never worried her although it did worriy the General, he watched her with narrowed, cold eyes and frowned. He would call Alex -- she knew that he would, and so she waited, she was ordered to halt her training and to rest. Alex would come soon, and he would make everything okay again.

Except, she wasn't sure that Alex would return. There had been no new books, no letters, no new orders, and Snowbird felt the absence deeply. The General made her rest and had the doctors run test after test. The sun wasn't helping as much as it used to, it didn't give her the strength and energy it did when she stepped out of the bunker months ago.

It took a lot of her reserves to push up into the sky, she told herself that she wanted to find Alex, even as she crashed into Lena Luthor's office.

. . .

The lab below L-Corp smelt of chemicals, it was cold and bright, the light reflected off the clean white surfaces. Lena had a laptop that she typed on, a machine that analysed things and safety glasses on top of her reading glasses.

"Do you feel any tingling?"

"No."

"Is your vision blurry?"

"No."

"Do you feel nauseous?"

"No."

Snowbird had awoken on a gurney beneath a giant sun-lamp, and since then Lena Luthor had been the motivated scientist, determined to diagnose the problem that made the Kryptonian crash land into her office.

As the warm radiation seeped into her veins and energise her muscles, Snowbird watched the dark-haired woman she obsessed over, obsess over her instead. Lena Luthor fussed about her temperature and her EKG readings, her hands turned her head and checked if her skin was clammy, her eyes frantically scanned Snowbirds body for signs of anything.

It was a selfish pleasure, the Kasnian enjoyed the attention, the worry covering the other woman's face. She enjoyed having Lena entirely to herself, if only for a moment.

Lena flashed a small torch into her eyes. "How are you feeling? Headache?"

"No." Snowbird reached up and let her fingers slip into the soft dark locks that had been hurriedly pulled back into a messy bun. Lena's eyes locked onto her own. "Glass. There was glass," she mumbled, letting her hand drop away again.

"Well, you did destroy my window. It was supposed to be shatterproof. Three inches thick."

"Sorry."

"Ripped up my carpet too."

Snowbird grinned. "Sorry."

"I don't know how I'll explain it to Eve."

The Kasnian looked down at her own hands, suddenly very, honestly guilty. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. I am a billionaire."

"I have betrayed you. I fail everyone."

"You're not Supergirl. I know."

"But... How? I don't. I'm sorry." Snowbird shook her head, angry with herself for thinking she could deceive Alex's sister.

"It's okay," the CEO assured.

"I need to go!" Snowbird stood up, but hands quickly pushed on her shoulders.

"Relax. I won't hurt you."

Snowbird scoffed at the absurdity. "Aren't you afraid I'll hurt you?"

"No."

"Why?"

"You kept me company." Lena shrugged, nonchalant about the whole situation -- as if she were often visited by Supergirl copies in the middle of the day.

"What?"

"Besides, you're very weak right now. I think I could take you." Lena smirked and winked.

"What? I... Um... I don't understand."

"Rest. I have a few more test."

Snowbird would have argued, but Lena looked at her in that way she looked at Kara in those pictures, and Snowbird was stuck, frozen in her place on the gurney. Lena order food, piles of food, bags of greasy, unhealthy food and each new flavour was a revelation. Lena watches with a fondness as the weak alien in her lab consumed mountains of noodles and pizza.

They talked, sparingly. Mainly Snowbird avoided questions, avoided eye contact, avoided breathing too loudly. Lena noticed and she was clearly cautious in the way she approached the creature in her lab, she circled around but never stood too close. Snowbird could feel her everywhere in the room, she didn't need to look at her, no matter how much she wanted to.

Eventually, Lena could no longer hold her beneath L-Corp, though she did ask her to return soon, once all of the results were back. They walked slowly back up to the shattered balcony, and Snowbird took off into the sky after begrudgingly promising to visit again soon -- the whole experience left the Kasnian feeling uneasy, and for the first time, she was thankful that Alex wasn't around to learn about her city visits.

. . .

The General had cleared her for training again. Snowbird didn't tell him how lethargic she had felt the last few days, like always, she kept her weaknesses close to her chest. A full night under a sunlamp with light conversation from Lena Luthor helped her energy levels somewhat, but Snowbird wouldn't tell the General that either.

She was stronger, and that was all the General cared about, she did attack drills, and soldiers threw grenades at her to test her resilience. The first ten didn't hurt, but the last five gave her a headache. The ringing in her ears made her dizzy, and she messed up her evasive flying technique. Scientist scribbled things down in their notebooks and asked her to repeat specific actions.

By the end of the day, she was exhausted. She had never felt so tired, and when she retired to her room, she fell asleep instantly and dreamt of nothing.

#supercorp #supergirl #red daughter #linda lee #lena luthor #lesfic #fanfic #kara danvers #fanfiction #supergirl fanfiction #WLW #wlw love #lesbian fiction

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kopykunoichi · 4 years

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The Legacy of Star Wars: An Open Letter to the Writers and Creators of A Galaxy Far, Far Away

“Suddenly the Rebellion is real for you. Some of us live it. I’ve been in this fight since I was six years old!” ~ Cassian Andor

I saw a great meme once that played off that quote, meant to depict an older fan describing to a newer fan how they had been invested in the story of Star Wars from childhood. I could relate. Though I am not old enough to have seen the original Star Wars movies in theater, they were a significant part of my childhood. I remember renting the original theatrical VHS from our local video store all the time when I was little. Then we bought the digitally remastered Special Edition VHS Box Set and I spent the next decade wearing them out! We would have popcorn and Star Wars marathons all the time. My friends and I would always pretend we were in the story. My swingset was the Millennium Falcon. I was that 11-year-old girl who would argue with my friends over who was hotter - Luke or Han. (The correct answer is Han, of course!) My mother would read the Expanded Universe novels to me in the afternoons and we would talk about the characters. All my spending money went to Jedi Apprentice books and 6 inch action figures. In short, I loved Star Wars.

I was 13 when The Phantom Menace hit theaters, and I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to get to see new stories from my favorite fictional universe play out on the big screen. Though I struggled a bit with some of the acting, the story was absolutely amazing to me. Star Wars felt all the more real to me with the amazing graphics and intense action sequences - not to mention the layers of politics and the complexity of the story. I watched Revenge of the Sith several times in theaters, and though it broke my heart to see Anakin’s fall, I never considered it to be a sad ending overall, when taken as a whole with the original trilogy.

When the Clone Wars aired in 2008, I was ecstatic. Here was an Anakin I could actually get into (sorry, Hayden). I loved him. I adored Ahsoka. I wanted to marry Rex. The character development and the plot deepened my attachment to that era, and made me question everything I had previously taken for granted as good and bad. The whole system was flawed - the Republic and the Jedi. It wasn’t just a matter of mistakes being made and the wool being pulled over their eyes, there was deep rooted corruption in the side that I once felt was “good”. The light side and the dark side were not as black and white as I thought. I found myself strongly disliking some of the “good guys” and deeply sympathizing with some downright detestable people (I don’t know how you got me to care for Maul, Filoni - but well done). While the series had not yet ended, we knew where it was going. But still, we had already lived through the pain of Order 66, and we knew that the story would eventually culminate in a victory at the end of Return of the Jedi.

I couldn’t believe our luck when the first installment of the sequel trilogy hit the theaters in 2015. It had some of the feelings of a reboot, but I was beyond thrilled to have a series of Star Wars movies that I could now share with my children, as my parents had shared them with me. Though it was hard to say goodbye to the first love of my life, Han Solo - I just knew that Ben would be redeemed and Han’s sacrifice would be worth it...

2016 brought us Rogue One. We knew how that one was going to end too, but we still ate it up. I fell in love with a whole new set of characters, only to see each and every one of them die in the end. Talk about tragedy. But Leia’s line about hope reminded us that five minutes later, a whiny little farm boy was about to have his whole life upended in the best sort of way...so it was okay. Sort of.

Four years of Rebels ended in 2018, and it was so, so lovely - but it hurt so, so much. My perfect, beautiful space family had been torn apart with Kanan’s death. Ezra was missing. Rex was a 29-year-old man who should have been in his prime, but was instead struggling with the wear and tear of a 60-year-old body. Ahsoka was separated from him - AGAIN - and then she left with Sabine to look for Ezra. The ending still held the promise of the fight to come with the Empire, but the majority of our characters were left in a place of grief and brokenness.

2019 brought an end to the sequel trilogy. Once again, we had characters who pulled at our heartstrings, and an interesting struggle between “light” and “dark” that reminded me of the complexities introduced in The Clone Wars. It became more apparent than ever that balance in the Force did not mean the light triumphing over the dark, but instead a harmony between the two. At least, that’s what I thought. Until I watched every person I loved from the original trilogy die, Palpatine come back (and die) again, and the same exact ending of Return of the Jedi played out before me - except not as happy. Why? Because Anakin’s legacy had been reduced to ashes - his rise, fall, redemption, and sacrifice rendered null and void. The last Skywalker was redeemed and promptly killed, just like his grandfather. But because Rey Palpatine decided that she identified as Rey Skywalker, it was supposed to be okay. She then went to go hang out (or live?) alone on Tatooine because that’s where it all started. I was dumbfounded. This was the satisfying, hopeful, ending we were promised? How?

Believe it or not, I’m not here to trash the sequels - I enjoyed them very much - right up until the last 20 minutes. But in that space of time, the entire legacy of the Skywalker family went up in smoke, and the legacy of Star Wars along with it. Since Return of the Jedi, there have been no happy endings to a Star Wars movie trilogy or TV show. And with the ending of The Rise of Skywalker, that one happy ending we did have was ripped from us as well. Star Wars is now a never ending series of tragic endings. The lessons we are left with: Don’t fall in love in Star Wars, it will end badly. Your actions ultimately result in failure. As soon as you turn good, you die. There is no balance in the Force, just a pendulum swinging back and forth for all time.

Then The Clone Wars finally got her last season. I didn’t think Order 66 could have hurt worse, but Filoni set out to prove us all wrong...and succeeded. I’m still not over it. And once more, the bitterness I felt over the ending to the sequels (which had begun to subside) flared up all over again. What was it all for? All that pain. All that sacrifice. No happy endings.

I still love Star Wars. Nothing can take that away from me. No amount of bad writing can change that. And there are still plenty of good writers and creators working on Star Wars content. But good writers spinning tales of tragedy and endless pain negates the power of good writing. The Star Wars of my childhood is not the Star Wars of today. We wore out those VHS tapes because we loved the stories and the people. But my kids are not going to wear out DVDs where everyone they love dies or ends up alone. They aren’t going to queue up those digital movies and series over and over - because who wants to subject themselves to that kind of torture?

Just about the only safe space for Star Wars fans right now is fanfiction archives where the people who love the characters are busy writing fix-it fics to squeeze some sort of satisfying ending out of the canon content. The Mandalorian is literally our last hope for a Star Wars story that has the potential to end well. I swear, if Din Djarin ends up dead or alone at the end of this series, I’m going to lose it. The overwhelming sentiment of the Star Wars fanbase - from original trilogy fanboys to Tumblr blogging Reylos, and everyone in between - is that of dissatisfaction with canon content (with the exception of The Mandalorian). So much so, that many fans are just saying “screw it” and churning out a myriad of fanfiction AUs because there is no way to salvage what has been written. Half of Tumblr is in therapy after The Rise of Skywalker ending and the last episode of Clone Wars - but they weren’t exactly stable to begin with. The other forums and social media platforms are not much better, though.

It’s not just about the quality of writing - because Filoni and co. have done exceptional work with The Clone Wars, Rebels, and The Mandalorian. It’s the tragedy, guys. We can’t take it anymore. Is this really what we want the Star Wars legacy to be? Sadness? Despair? It’s a story about war - people are going to die. I get that. Victory comes at a price, but the cost can’t be worse than the victory. I want to sit down with my kids and watch Star Wars over and over again. The Mandalorian has given us a taste of that - but I’m almost afraid of where it will go. We’ve been burned so many times, I’m beginning to know what Anakin felt like on Mustafar - writhing in agony and screaming “I hate you” to someone he once loved.

I remember happier days when Luke and Leia and Han were laughing and smiling with their friends while Yoda, Obi-Wan, and Anakin looked on. I want that back. Filoni. Favreau. Creators. Writers. Producers. Directors. You are our only hope for canon content. Use The Mandalorian wisely. Use Din’s story to bless other characters. Here’s some ideas:

Let Din have a happy ending! Preferably with someone he loves and respects at his side (like Cara).

Let Cara become a Mandalorian - and put Paz Vizsla in charge of her training (we need to see them spar).

Let what’s left of the Tribe establish a new Mandalorian colony - and let Sabine Wren lead it. And give her that Darksaber back - she earned it.

Let Ezra come back from regions unknown with a deeper understanding of the Force, and have him train the child in the new colony.

Forget the Jedi and Sith, let’s start a medical training center/hospital run by Force users who can help heal people when modern medicine fails!

Ahsoka can use her talents for that too.

Find the rest of the child’s race and bring any of their Force sensitives onboard.

Let Boba Fett and Din have their epic showdown, but then use a sample of Boba’s unaltered DNA and some mystical Force healing to restore Rex’s body to what a 43-year-old should be (and then he can marry Ahsoka so we can have the Clone/Jedi couple we always wanted...thanks to you, Filoni).

Let the Mandalorians partner with the New Republic in the Outer Rim as law enforcement instead of bounty hunters, so they can get their reputation back.

They can train new recruits and pilots, just like Fenn Rau trained clones.

Let them keep their autonomy and traditions, while helping keep the New Republic honest.

Let them be a force for good in the galaxy, for once.

The Mandalorian could serve as the vessel to give a lot of characters with unresolved or tragic storylines some closure and better endings. If not The Mandalorian, then other new shows. My 6-year-old daughter wants nothing more than to be Ahsoka Tano. My 3-year-old son asks me to watch The Mandalorian every day. My 18-month-old daughter walks around in her brother’s Mandalorian helmet babbling “Way”. Please let me share the Star Wars legacy that I grew up loving with them. Let me show them the happy endings I enjoyed. Let me show them that even in the midst of conflict, not every life has to be ruined. Let me show them a Star Wars story with a satisfying ending. Hope. Redemption. Love. That’s what Star Wars means to me.

May the Force be With You (and your pens),

Rebekah, A Star Wars Fan

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marginalgloss · 5 years

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a dream of north

I don’t recall exactly when I first read Northern Lights by Philip Pullman. It must have been in the late 1990s, since I’m fairly sure it was after the release of the sequel, but definitely before The Amber Spyglass came out. (I was very excited for that one.) I would guess I was no more than twelve or thirteen. It seems a little odd now to think that initially these were promoted as books for young people. My edition was published by Point, the Scholastic imprint best known for pulpy teen horror fiction; in a bookshop today you are more likely to find a new edition of one of Pullman’s novels dressed up in handsome pastel colours, with a more ‘artisanal’ cover style. Which is fine, and well-deserved. But my copy is the same one I read more than twenty years ago; I know this because it is missing the top-right corner of the last thirty pages or so, having once been lovingly chewed by a late lamented family dog.

Northern Lights is not a long book, and in many ways it feels like a quick sketch of a fast-moving story, one which is touches lightly on the world in which it depicts. By the standards of genre fantasy or science fiction, there isn’t a lot of detail here. We follow Lyra, a young girl growing up in an alternate Oxford — it might be some time in the late nineteenth or early twentieth century, by our standards. Through a combination of accident and concealed design, Lyra is drawn into a conspiracy that involves two aspects: an expedition to the distant arctic in search of a mysterious particle called ‘Dust’, and a conspiracy to kidnap children and transport them to this same far northern region. What follows is an adventure in pursuit of Lord Asriel, a man Lyra believes to be her uncle, while alternately monitored and pursued by a sinister rich woman called Mrs Coulter. This race to the frozen North forms pretty much all of the main body of the book.

For the most part it rolls along at a storytelling pace: one thing happens, then the next, then the next. It really does have the rhythm of a story one might tell out loud to children, over many bedtimes. (Consider the frequent asides about what Lyra must eat, and where she sleeps — so often a chapter will end with her curling up to sleep in some sheltered corner of a forsaken place.) It doesn’t come across as overly considered. With a few exceptions, the book doesn’t often slow down to explain itself. If a reader were so inclined I’m sure it would be possible to poke holes all kinds of holes in the plot. Even by the end of the novel I didn’t feel entirely sure what Dust was, nor did I really understand what the antagonists were trying to do with it. Are they trying to destroy it, or to control it? And some of it seems whimsical, in the best possible sense. Want a Texan cowboy with his own gas-powered balloon and a talking bear for a best friend? Why not? It’s fun. It may be whimsical but that isn’t to suggest it’s frivolous; the author’s imagination comes from a place of experience, from deep reading. It’s a world that fascinates, even as it seems to resist scrutiny.

Something else which surprised me on returning to this book was the near absence of any explicit references to organised religion. There are mentions of something called the Magisterium, but it’s far from clear what their role is in the story, while a passing mention of ‘Pope John Calvin’ seems like a sort of gentle joke for older readers. This seems significant because at a certain point after the final book in this series was released, public discussion of Philip Pullman’s work became centred around his attitude to organised religion. By then a new populist atheism was having a kind of resurgence — people were talking about ‘the New Humanism’ or ‘New Atheism’ as if it were something to be excited about. Pullman would be loosely associated with this movement, insofar as his books could be championed by people who might proactively define themselves as atheists.

But to the best of my knowledge, his statements on these matters have been altogether more measured, and less definitive. I’m curious now to revisit the later novels and consider the extent to which they really have much to do with atheism at all. It’s been a while, but it always seemed to me that the atheist reading was worth unpicking from the anti-religious impulse in these novels. There is a certain amount of what you might call ‘fantasy spectacle through hard science’ in Northern Lights — the many-worlds theory, the vague invocations of particle physics, all of which was so excitedly summarised by the New Atheism as the ‘wonder’ of the universe — and yet I’m not sure the novels are altogether so content to settle on a purely materialistic view of reality.

The big idea of Northern Lights is in the daemons. They are a beautiful idea, and the book’s story could easily be read as one long pursuit of this idea. What if every person was born with an animal companion which represented — no, which actually was — an indivisible part of their being? As if we all had another organ of personality, like a second brain or a second ‘heart’, linked to our bodies by an invisible thread. The notion has the genius quality of immediate appeal to all ages. Children (and many adults) love the idea of a permanent animal companion, while older readers may appreciate the associated philosophical concepts: the shadow self, or psychological anima; or just the little angel/devil on our shoulder.

Perhaps the existence of the daemons a kind of heresy, as much as it implies that each person’s soul (for want of a better word) belongs essentially to themselves. There are no refunds, and a daemon is not subject to exchange; a daemon is not the property of some other high power, gifted at birth and reclaimed at death; they might not even be properly said to belong to their ‘owner’, any more than their person-companion belongs to them. Still, in spiritual terms this might be characterised as a problem of accounting rather than of blasphemy. There is a lovely image presented early on of the crypts under one of the Oxford colleges, where great people are buried alongside precious tokens depicting the forms of their daemons. Even in death they belong to one another, though the account into which they have been deposited remains a mystery.

After the reader is introduced to the associated rituals and taboos, it is the pain of separation from one’s daemon that becomes a sort of leitmotif in this book. All this is expressed incredibly well — the sense of separation anxiety is perhaps the most memorable aspect of the whole story. It is unpleasant for one’s daemon to be handled by another person, and it is literal agony to be separated from it by more than a very short distance, and so when the reader discovers that children are being severed from their daemons it seems like an uniquely agonising kind of cruelty.

The allegories for this ‘cut’ are more explicit than I remember. At times it is directly compared to castration or genital mutilation. Lobotomy might be another comparison. The procedure seems to have a uniquely devastating effect on children — it seems that adults have undergone it without such dramatic effects — but as with much in this book, that much is never explained. Again, it’s unclear why the procedure is happening at all. Nobody seems to be gaining anything by it. It is like one of those pointless bleak cruelties we find in Roald Dahl. It’s something to do with Dust, we’re told, and it is dependent on the unique relationship that children have with their daemons before they reach puberty. But that it is hard to rationalise is, I think, part of the point.

Hanging over it all is the horror of institutionalised abuse. It is the kind of abuse that needs no justification, any more than senseless vivisection does. It is merely the pulling apart of a thing to see how it works – for the cutter, the gratuity is its own reward. Perhaps in so far as we can find any meaning in it, it’s in the idea that growing up needn’t involve a sort of deliberate caustic severing of whatever it was that made us childlike in the first place. We may not need to put away childish things, and we certainly don’t need them to be torn from us. Perhaps growing up should be less like a departure from ourselves and more like a process of reification, in which something that was latent all along only becomes settled and manifest with the passing of time.

#books #philip pullman #northern lights

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iliketowrite1996 · 6 years

Text

Stitches, Second Thoughts and Second Chances

WARNING- Denial of feelings, keeping things bottled up, friends with benefits relationship, heartbreak emotional, ,and self sabotage.

This is the Sequel to ‘’Dear Lover’’, so I suggest reading that first. Loosely inspired by the Shawn Mendes song of the same name.

I have never written as T’Challa before, so this may not be the best but I did try so feedback is welcome!

He thought he knew heartache when Nakia ended thing. She broke up with him right in the middle of college, realizing that she did want to be tied down to a life in Wakanda when her real calling was out there. To say that this hurt him would be a massive understatement. It felt like there was a constant lump in his throat after that. He’d tried to smile, tried to eat, tried to communicate, but the lump in his throat always got in the way.

But he’s a prince, so he’s a master of pushing his emotions to the side in order to perform his royal duties. So he’d behave the way his dad expected him to behave.

Then he’d call you. You were his hero, in a way. You always saved his heart, saved his feelings. To him, you were more than a lover.

And he hated how selfish he felt- asking you to be by his side when each new girl came by. Asking you to pick up the pieces that are always left behind when each relationship fails.

Because Nakia is Nakia, and he’s been trying to replace her. You know that. He knows that. Even his little sister knows that. Nakia was the one that got away.

And you? He cares about you. Like, you’re not his girlfriend, but you’re more than friends. He cares about you, but he doesn’t know how to proceed from there.

If Nakia is the one that got away, you’re the one that he’s pushing away.

It’s his own fault, he feels, so it doesn’t make sense to him that the words that you wrote are hurting him this deeply. The ink bleeding through the page is reminiscent of the way the sadness is bleeding into him, coming from every angle.

He’s hurt, but he’s surprised.

Because, like nearly every movie, he didn’t realize what he had until he lost it,.

To say that your letter sent waves of shock through him would be a massive understatement. He read it over and over again, trying to understand how, what and why. He hates that when he thinks back because he understands how, what and why.

How? He wanted your attention, you crave affection, and he never delivered despite his heart screaming at him to let go of the past and embrace something different.

Why? It was unfair of you to play hero for him. He’d done the same for you, but your feelings were never quite clear to him. You’re the one that set the standards for the… situation. He just went along with it. He would never pressure you for more.

In retrospect, he should have known. Other than Okoye, you are his best friend. But he was selfish and unselfish at the same time, as both of those are so balanced that they both outweigh each other and balance each other out in this scenario- he knew he couldn’t be with someone that didn’t want to be tied down to Wakanda. Not just because he’d want to find a queen one day, but because he couldn’t have another Nakia-sized heartache.

And he’s not sure that he’d ever get over you.

What? You’d moved on, and he needed to do the same. He needed to stop everything- stop trying to fill the gap and let it heal naturally, stop expecting so much from you with nothing else in return, stop wishing there was more to the feeling that he got when you two were with each other. He had to stop considering you his lover.

And he had to stop loving you.

It’s funny how he didn’t realize he loved you until you were gone. And he doesn’t hate

you. He doesn’t even hate himself. He hates that he didn’t see what this could have been. That he let this slip out of his hands because he was chasing a dream.

But running after you would be like chasing something impossible- he’d never truly reach you, because you are everywhere at once. Like a tree, he has put down roots. Like the wind blows leaves to new destinations, you’re always blowing through new places. Trees lose their leaves…

And he loses you.

He finds himself in a bit of an odd position now, because you’re usually the person he’d come to in a time like this. But now he doesn’t have you, your comfort, your kisses, for your presence. He has memories, and he’s both hoping that they fade and that he can hold on to the,/ Because he doesn’t want to hurt, but he does not want to forget you either. He should if he wants to move on. But he’s not even sure if he wants to do that.

He should.

You don’t call him back, you don’t respond to his messages.

You talk to him for six months, and then the phone calls become less frequent until one day they just...stop.

So he moves on.

He goes on dates.

He mourns the loss of his dad.

He takes on the mantle of king and Black Panther

He takes each day and its challenges. And he always comes out stronger on the other side.

In face, he is so over you that he doesn’t think about you for two months.

Until he finds your letter when Shuri is helping him clean things out one day, and he misses you all over again.

‘’Shuri, let me ask you something.’’

‘’No, you should never wear those sandals in my lab again. No open-toed shoes.’’

‘’Ha ha. No, seriously. I want to know… have you ever felt like you had one that got away?’’

‘’I feel like that with my inventions quite often,’’ she nods, and he groans.

‘’Shuri, I am being serious.’’

‘’Okay, okay. Once. I never told you, but when we had those people come to tour the castle. That college, I met someone on that trip. And I don’t want to go into details, but I always wonder what would have happened if I had just called them back.’’

‘’So what would you do if you suddenly wanted to go back and fix mistakes with someone?’’

‘’If I were you, I’d call Nakia.’’

‘’No, no. It is not Nakia this time,’’ he explains, and shows Shuri the letter/

She reads it, and he can tell she is working to put the pieces together.

‘’Ohhhh. You miss that girl who used to sneak into your room every so often. Your secret lover.’’

‘’How did you know I called her that? How did you even know about her?’’

‘’I hear all of your conversations, T’Challa. The walls are thin, brother.’’

‘’Shuri. Your bedroom is down the hall.’’

‘’I used to spy on you when I was younger, too.’’

‘’There it is.’’

‘’I never saw anything bad, though. You two just talked a lot. But I also know that you used to really like a certain girl group. Karaoke was your favorite thing, huh?’’

‘’Moving on: What should I do?’’

‘’Well, brother. I am going to tell you what you told me when I was afraid of applying for colleges outside of Wakanda: you may not like her decision, but you’ll regret it if you don’t make the right decision for you. And you’ll regret never acting when you want to act.’’

‘He mulls that over, chewing on his bottom lip and frowning at the letter.

It’s not that he doesn’t know what’s going on with you.He sees you on television all of the time, sees your work and reads your blog. He’s glad you’re doing well. Knows that you have to add anything serious. Knows that he will regret the decision not to at least go and talk to you face to face.

‘’Shuri. I hate it when you are right.’’

‘’Then you must feel that way a lot, T’Challa.’’

‘’Shuri.’’

He finds himself outside of your door, having gotten away from Wakanda for the e weekend with the promise to check in as Shuri takes over minor duties for hi,. And he is surprised, because being kind is far less intimidating than anything he has seen as the Black Panther, protector of Wakanda.

You answer the door, and he feels butterflies coming in his stomach again. And after not having felt that way in a long time, he’s not exactly sure how to feel with the experience.

He may have moved on.

But he’s nearly 100% sure that he is still in love with you.

‘’T’Challa?’’

‘’Y/N…hi.’’

Because of course he freezes now.

‘’T’Challa? W-what are you doing here?’’

‘’Can I please come in? I… I really need to talk to you.’’

And you let him into the apartment.

A week later, you let him into your life again.

Not too much later, you are letting him call you his wife.

Pretty soon, he hopes to be the dad of your children.

And it begins again- he believes in love. He’s found love. You’re back. You're his best friend, his lover, his wife, his confidant.

It’s like you two were pulled together the way stitches pull fabric together- you can clearly see where you were torn. But you also know that great care was taken so that the fabric- your relationship- would be better, seamless almost, a natural fit. The stitches serve as a reminder that things can sometimes be patched up, that you both have matured and found your way back to each other.

And, because of that, he doesn’t mind if the world sees every single, carefully sewn stitch in the pattern that is your life with him.

‘’Dear Y/N,’’ his letter to you begins as he writes his last note to you before you become Mrs. Udaku and the Queen of Wakanda, ‘’My dear, sweet, beautiful lover. I am so glad to have roots with you. I will see you at the altar as well.’’

Because the woman who claimed she’d never settle down, never put down roots in one town finally did.

And he’s happy to see just what this will grow into

@airis-paris14 @starsshines-blog @greenswishbish @wavvyc @turn-thy-paige @sisterwifeudaku @ashleychristina73 @skysynclair19

I hope you like it!

Now taking requests.

Disclaimer- I do not own any Marvel characters or their fictional words, The rights to those characters belong to their rightful and respectful owners. I do not own the song ‘’Stitches’, it also belongs to its rightful owners and respectful owners.

#shuri udaku #shuri #shuri black panther #black panther x you #black panther #black panther imagine #t'challa x you #t'challa x reader #t'challa #t'challa udaku #imagines #imagine request #imagine #tchalla x reader #reader insert #reader

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married-world-blog · 5 years

Text

Torn

I get to the Saxon Hotel and all I can say is… OMG.

I am given my room card-key and I head up as per our discussion. I text Ikaneng to let him know that I am at the hotel. I put my phone and silent and take a quick shower to get out of my work clothes and make-up. I get dressed into a Puma tracksuit. I have my natural relaxed hair out so I just tie up in a bun.

I check my phone.

I see a text from Ikaneng telling me that he has landed in Joburg so he is on an uber to the hotel.

I also see a text from Nkosinathi telling me how much of a brat I am and that the family is disappointed that I am not home to receive them. I just ignore the message.

I read My Worth Crowned You while I wait for Ikaneng.

Guys, can we please have a moment of reflection and break from my drama for Reahile Mohale: Lord have mercy. I worry about Kea though. Sometimes, when you go through too much, the good stuff start to feel uncomfortable. It is as if you were built for pain therefore, it is not painful, then it is not for you. Then there is Reahile Mohale… a mind, a heart, and a whole bag of the man we want. We are told that if something is for us then it will not miss us. But the patience of the time element favours those who choose happiness even in the face of pain. I am definitely team Reahile. Those of you who are reading the book, what are your thoughts and whose t-shirt are you wearing? Team Reahile? Or Team Mohato?

The door clicks. There is a slight knock on the door and then Ikaneng pushes the door open. He walks in with his travelling bag pulled in behind him, and dressed in joggers and a sweater. He looks nice. I smile. He smiles.

I get up from the bed to welcome him and he hugs me. I like his hug. I like how he smells. I feel good being here and I am prepared for the wrath of my family tomorrow now that I am here with Ikaneng.

“My Worth Crowned You?” He notices the book in my hand.

“It is my current read and my current obsession”, I inform him.

“Okay, I will bite. What is it about?” he asks as he settles down and we both end up chilling on the bed, him lying down on his back, and me sitting with my legs crossed next to him.

“Well, on a broader context, it is a novel that locates the new black middle class individual in his/her ‘belonging’ in 2018’s society; somewhere between modernity, western education, and black culture. We follow Kea’s journey through her eyes; she is the one telling her own story. . She is an ordinary young woman who was born and raised in fictional Tholoana Kingdom. Tholoana Kingdom is rich with culture, locates culture above all else, and centres its entire existence on culture. It is a country that is under the rule of King Mohato Mohale – Kearabetswe’s husband.” I tell him.

“Do you feel that you relate to it because you are also married to royalty?” he asks me,

“Not really. Kea is well-educated, I am not. Kea has options, a strong will, an independent mind, and she makes sense. I can relate to her because she is not farfetched, she just worked hard and backed herself up with education. In the story, Kearabetswe is educated outside of Tholoana Kingdom and under western education, therefore being in possession of a Master’s degree in journalism. She was born in Tholoana Kingdom but practically grew up in Johannesburg where she attended boarding school as well as university. After years of all of this education, she – like many other graduates – was looking forward to being a graduate in some company out there or a young professional. But her family had other plans for her. And these plans led her back home to Tholoana Kingdom and forcefully married off to King Mohato Mohale. I think what makes it most enjoyable for married people or people in relationships, she is honest and nakedly open about the challenges of her marriage. Her marriage is all kinds of challenges because of the unavoidable clash that continuously happens between modernity (Kea’s education and shift in her way of thinking and comprehending as a result of her strong educational background) and cultural beliefs (Mohato’s way of ruling the Kingdom being solely based on his cultural education that remains untainted by western ideologies). And if that doesn’t get you interested, this book directly and indirectly addresses issues of infertility and the impact it has on marriage in the cultural context. It conventionally and unconventionally discusses love, its challenges, its values, and its power. It addresses divorce, the impact of colourism in young black children, and step-parenting, to name a few. I really think you would enjoy it too”, I say.

He smiles at me.

“You are actually smarter than what you give yourself credit for. You do not need to sit in a classroom and get a piece of paper that confirms that you crammed a textbook in order for you to know that you are smart. You just read a book and interpreted it phenomenally – without that education you admire yourself. I think we put way too much pressure in the textbook written by people like you and I for affirmation of our own intelligence. In my opinion, the education system can learn a thing or two from us”, he says.

“As beautiful as what you are saying is, job applications are more interested in what the piece of paper has to say about my ability to cram a textbook.” Me.

He brushes my face.

“Hungry?” Him.

“Can we order in?” I request.

“There’s a nice restaurant downstairs”, him.

“I really don’t feel like people”, I say.

He is a bit disappointed but he agrees and we order some pizza. He goes downstairs to get us drinks. He gets me good wine, and gets himself good beer.

Our pizza arrives and we DMC over a good meal.

“I worry about you”, him.

“Why?” I ask.

“Something tells me that you have accepted within yourself that you do not deserve anything that is not broken”, he says.

I do not respond.

“What makes you think you do not deserve happiness?” he asks me.

“It’s not that I don’t think that I do not deserve happiness. I just know how to deal with disappointment better. We are trained for it all our lives. Our society has become too nasty for one to still expect sunshine and daisies in 2019. Quotes all around us motivate us to be immune to nasty people. There are women out there who have no care in the world about how their actions affect you; they say you are not their problem. They shamelessly and recklessly tare families apart for money and greed, and then have the audacity to demand your respect after that – threatening you with all kinds of things and calling you weak because you are heartbroken. We have our families and friends consistently advising us to avoid the possibility of infidelities as if being cheated on is somehow your own fault. Our society has become a playground full of nasty people and no one is teaching them kindness, thoughtfulness, or the value and importance of the next person. How can you not expect brokenness out of any and every situation when you wake up every day knowing that you will probably meet a broken person who will also try to break you?” Me. I am actually talking a lot today. I am comfortable.

“Do you really believe that?” He asks me with genuine concern.

“I do”, me.

“What will it take for you to change your mind?” He asks me.

“A bite off the ‘happily ever after’ cake”, I tell him.

We eat the rest of the pizza in silence. I had no more than three slices, he had the rest of the box. After that, we settled on the bed in a cuddled position. It feels nice. It feels safe. It feels like a promise to the grass being greener on the other side of my marriage.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks me.

“What you being here means for my job”, I lie but I am curious.

“We are not going to fire you”, he says.

“Your brothers know where you are right now?” I ask him.

“Yes. My brothers know how I feel about you”, he says.

“How do you feel about me?” I ask him.

“I love you”, he says.

I am quiet.

“I didn’t plan to tell you that today but there it is… that’s how I feel”, he says.

I have never had a man tell me that. I am not exactly sure what the best response would be. I feel something strong for him – definitely. I am just not sure if its love. And I am not sure if I feel what I am feeling because of what I am going through with Nathi.

I lift my head up from his chest and look at him. He kisses me. The last time I kissed Nathi was the day we got married. And it didn’t feel this warm, sincere, and inviting. I feel like I am drinking out of a cup of my virginity and at this rate, I will probably lay my virginity on this bed with a man that I am not married to. I am about to become everything the bible warns a man about when it comes to a woman. Ikaneng and I are getting into it, we are half undressed. My conscience gets the better of me and my body starts trembling. He stops. My body is ready to be taken by a man, but the zulu princess in me is not ready… Nathi’s wife in me is not ready… not like this.

“We can stop.” He says.

“I’m a virgin. I’m scared”, I say.

He looks at me – shocked. I just cannot figure out if it is a good shock or a bad shock.

And then he hugs me.

He puts me back on his chest and offers me a whole lot more… he gives me genuine intimacy. He didn’t screw me at all, but his gentleness and genuineness made love to my heart.

…

I went back to my house after waking up next to Ikaneng. We went for a morning jog together and then he let me go back home. I arrive and find my parents, Nathi’s parents, and Nathi sitting in our little TV room supposedly waiting for me.

I’m not sure if I should even greet. The energy is intense.

“Sawubona nakuwe Thandeka Buthelezi”, my mother.

“Sanibonani”, me.

“Nkosikazi ngicela uyogqoka sizokwazi ukukhulumisana nabadala”, Nkosinathi says.

“Ngeke ngikwazi, I have to go to work”, I say.

“Work? Usebenzaphi wena?” My mother.

I am quiet. Part of my marriage plan was for me to never work.

“Ngane yami, sicela isikhathi sakho sthandwa sikababa.” My dad says. The love of my life.

I sit down.

“Makoti, please do not disrespect us. Go wear an appropriate outfit fit for you to be in the presence of your in-laws”, Nathi’s mother requests.

I get up and get changed. I wear my maxi-dress, pumps, headscarf, and shawl. I come back into the TV room and sit next to Nathi.

“Awusalali endlini makoti?” Nathi’s mother fails to hold back.

“uNathi akasalali endlini mama. Futhi nawe uyakwazi lokho. The last time you were here, you saw it for yourself. Pho kungani mina kumele ngihlale lana ngibe unogada walana ekhaya?” I say.

The entire room gasps.

“Uzikhohliwe ukuthi ukhuluma nobani Thandeka? Waze wangihlaza bo”, my mother.

“Ima kancane mkami”, my father. He continues, “Nina bakwaButhelezi nihlulekaukukhuza ingane yenu ngokulala phandle kodwa nisibize nigijima thina ukuthi nizositshela ukuthi eyethu indodakazi imoshile? Siyolungisa njani uma iqiniso lingekho?” Thank you baba, at least someone is on my side.

“Bab’Zulu, sizolungisa lomshado lana. We are not here to play the blame game”, Nathi’s father.

“Phambili kokuthi nilungise, you need to know the facts. Nkosinathi has a girlfriend who disrespects me, disrespects this house, and disrespects him”, I start.

“Makoti”, Nathhi’s mom tries to stop me but something has come over me and now I am unstoppable.

“Hhe eh mah! Ningibizile lana. Now you will sit there and listen to what I have to say”, I say. Everyone is shocked, including Nkosinathi. They thought they could just bully me in this meeting.

“Nkosinathi has moved me to a flat in Durban so that he can live here with his mistress and that woman’s child. I have been living in Durban that’s how and why I got a job. And mina, I didn’t call a family meeting. Nathi called this meeting because I kicked his girlfriend and that child out and now he wants to take her to be his second wife”, I spew out to them.

“INI?!” The whole room has gone from shocked to disappointed; then from disappointed, to disbelief.

“Nkosinathi, what do you have to say for yourself?” My father confronts him. My mother is looking at Nathi like he is an unknown demon. Nathi’s parents are embarrassed. Nathi is quiet.

“Mkhwenyana, ungilethe lana under the impression that my daughter was not being a good wife to you. Kanti this is what you have been subjecting her to?” My mother calmly says to Nkosinathi.

Nathi is silent.

“I want a divorce”, I say.

Now all eyes are on me.

“Akuna mshado lana. And I will not tolerate Nathi’s and Patience’s disrespect any longer”, I say.

“Hhayi bo makoti, ihhaba”, Nathi’s mother.

“You have made me feel like I should be honoured to be married to inkosana yakwaButhelezi. Ngathi nikhohliwe ukuthi name ngiyinkosazana yakwaZulu. NginguMageba uqobo lwakhe and Nkosinathi must respect me the same way he expects respect from me. Ngeke ngiphathwe sengathi nginguloo magosha alala naye uNathi. I also demand my respect as a princess. You didn’t do me a favour by marrying me off to a prince.” I tell them.

My father is so proud of me. He cannot even hide it.

“Nkosikazi, ngibona ngathi sekumele uwehle manje.” Nkosinathi.

“I want a divorce Nkosinathi”, I emphasise.

There is silence.

“Nkosinathi!!! Sesibuyile love. Our bags are in the car. I hope you have made breakfast”, says PayPay as she walks into my house. She and her daughter stumble upon the elders, Nkosinathi, and myself. Everyone in the room looks at Nkosinathi. Nathi buries his head in the palm of his hands.

“Sanibonani family. Igama lami uPatience Longomo soon to be Patience Buthelezi, your daughter-in-law”, she says this as she flashes a diamond ring on her finger around the room.

Dear reader, please remember that I don’t even have a wedding ring.

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