#the only reason i hesitate to recommend it is the fact that the central plot with the main character involves incest and there are a lot of

[ratwars]

I found a meme blog sry yall it is about to be angel sanctuary hours up in here

[luminescencefics]

fade in, fade out - part six

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A/N: Since this chapter is quite long, mobile viewing is probably not the best option because Tumblr can sometimes be finicky! I would recommend viewing in a browser. Happy reading, loves! x

***

The Climax

January 2013 

Marcus and Nora break up during the spring of her second year.

He wanted things to move much faster than they were, and Nora was far too comfortable with their normal—the normal in which Marcus lived a floor above her and they could wrap around each other in his tiny twin bed without worrying about things outside of their protective bubble. Because this normal was easy, it was simple, it was safe—and doing anything different, switching up their normal, would make it the complete opposite.

So when he tells her that he found a small studio apartment in the West Village one April afternoon underneath a budding black tupelo tree in Central Park, and he would love more than anything for Nora to move in, she immediately declines. She wasn’t ready for that step—wasn’t ready to not live with Ebony and switch up her normal and pop their bubble.

Breaking up wasn’t in Nora’s plan, but she knew that it was bound to happen. It was an amicable split, something that didn’t shake her world or leave her feeling lost at sea without an anchor in the unforgiving rough waters. And two months later, when she’s spending her final summer at home with her mother, Nora wonders if there’s something wrong with her heart when it still feels intact and the still-beating flesh isn’t ripping apart at the seams.

But life moves on, and so does Nora.

When she arrives back on campus at the start of her third year, Nora finds that she has room in her schedule for extracurriculars due to her influx of AP credits from Townbridge. On a whim, she decides to fill in the gaps with Film Study classes, and Nora finds that her heart is thumping in a way that it never has before—in a way that makes her feel that she’s finally found purpose, finally found her passion, finally found something close to unadulterated happiness.

Her favorite film professor is an older woman named Suzanne Davies who insists she be called Sue, or more radically, Suzy. She’s built of thin bones and worn skin, mahogany eyes that have seen almost everything that Nora wishes she could, with grey curly hair that twists at the nape of her neck and covers a brain that Nora wishes she could pry apart and indulge in every memory like a film projector reel on a thin hanging sheet.

She teaches Film Theory & Criticism, and when Nora listens to her thick British accent work through Apparatus theory and Structuralist theory, she can’t help but think of London—a city that feels an entire world away, and how badly she wishes she could visit, if only for a short amount of time.

One dreary November afternoon when Nora is the last one to leave the lecture hall, Suzy stops her and asks her what she wants to do with her life. Nora is instantly brought back to a time in December three years ago, in a different state with a boy she thinks about every now and then, who asked her this very same question as the snow was falling outside and they were laying down on concrete steps, eyes facing the cracked ceiling above. She was honest then, not even hesitating when spilling the words freely from her lips, because for some odd reason, she trusted him entirely in that small moment in time.

She feels the same now, and suddenly, she’s telling her professor about the pressure she feels of choosing a stable career, of how she needs her mother to be proud of her, of how she studies Communications but craves Film, of how she’s never been happier than when she’s watching old movies and dreaming up plots of her own. She tells Suzy how she’s never left the country, of how she wishes to see places that aren’t coastal Newport or rural Connecticut or bustling New York City.

When Nora sits in her usual seat in the middle row for her next class a week later, she finds an application for Columbia’s exchange program with University College London on her desk. She skims through the pages, finding that Suzy has filled in most of the basic information, leaving the personal questions for Nora to finish. And when she looks up at her professor just as she’s beginning the lecture, Suzy feels her gaze warm her wrinkled cheek and shoots her wink, going right back to discussing human nature as a fundamental theme in A Clockwork Orange.

Nora sends in her application right after class, and receives her acceptance letter the week before Christmas break. She feels as if she’s floating through thin air, and the only thing keeping her from floating into the stratosphere is the glossy folder from UCL with the words Congratulations! and welcome and 4 January 2013 printed on thick paper. Her mother might possibly be more thrilled than Nora, and when she’s back in Newport folding thick sweaters and knitted scarves and thrifted trench coats into her suitcases on New Year’s Eve, Nora can’t help but think that if moments could be bottled, she would pick this one to cherish forever.

Time seems to pass much faster for Harry. His first year meshes into his second year without hesitation, his afternoon’s at his internship with his father fall into nights spent with his mates almost thoughtlessly—and it’s only once he’s been doing the same thing for almost an entire year when he feels himself growing tired of it all. He’s sick of this routine. Sick of drinking himself into a place where he doesn’t have any feelings, doesn’t think of all of his past mistakes, doesn’t do anything else except simply exist for a few hours. And when he falls into his bed the next morning feeling his brain throb against his skill in agony, he comes to the conclusion that he’s completely and utterly exhausted from this meaningless lifestyle.

When his third and final year comes along, he decides to stop answering his mates when they call. He doesn’t show up to their penthouse parties anymore, he doesn’t frequent the same claustrophobic clubs he knows they’ll be at. Harry keeps to himself, and when he sees a flyer after his Business Ethics lecture about intramural football tryouts, he brings his old kit to the pitch the next afternoon. He’s a bit rusty, but Harry finds that most of the lads are, and that thought alone makes him start to feel something other than emptiness.

He makes the team and meets a boy named Niall. He’s from Ireland and drinks like a fish, but he’s kind and easygoing and doesn’t care that Harry’s surname is Styles—and it’s a refreshing change from the incessant partying and shallow people he wasted away with his first two years. Niall is warm and comfortable, and reminds Harry of slipping on that warm jumper he’s had for years in the back of his closet whenever the weather gets cold, and it’s nice having a real friend for once in his life.

As October changes into November, Harry feels a change within himself, too. It’s subtle, the smallest of shifts that allows his icy heart to thaw ever so slowly, and he finds that he welcomes it with open arms.

He meets Niall’s girlfriend just as the long stretch of autumn begins. Her name is Piper and she’s practically made for Niall, in the way that the top of her head reaches just under Niall’s chin so that he can rest it there whenever they’re talking to other people, in the way that his hand practically swallows her much smaller one whenever they’re walking from pub to pub, in the way that she instinctively makes him a cup of tea whenever she brews her own, knowing exactly how he takes it. It makes Harry a little bit jealous, because for the first time in years, he finds that he yearns to wrap a body part around another warm person just to inform them that he hasn’t forgotten their presence, yearns to swallow palms with his own, yearns to have another person think of him while doing the most mundane of tasks.

Yearns to have somebody want him in a way he hasn’t ever been wanted before.

Piper is in her third year at UCL, and she met Niall at a house party during their first year hosted by a mutual friend. They fell in love quickly and seamlessly, and after three weeks Niall told her that she was the one for him, and it all sort of made sense.

She welcomes Harry into their eclectic group, filled with a few lads from footie and a few girls from Piper’s dorm, and they’re the fastest friends Harry’s ever made. They spend their fall semester at a small pub in Camden on Wednesdays that plays live music and is filled with seemingly normal people like Harry’s new mates, and busy house parties hosted by UCL students on the weekends, with the occasional club sprinkled in between.

As autumn trickles into winter, Harry finds that he’s quite sad to watch Niall leave for Ireland for the holiday break. He’s not sure how time passed so quickly, and as December fades into January, Harry’s counting down the days until his loud brown-haired mate is back in London, showing up on his doorstep to drag him to the pub around the corner for a pint.

When Nora exits Heathrow during one of the coldest days of the year, she finds that not even the weather can dull her perpetual shine. She barely slept the entire flight, her excitement of being on a plane for the first time and receiving her first official passport stamp keeping her wide awake throughout the entire seven hour journey.

During the car ride from Heathrow to her residence hall in Central London, Nora’s face is glued to the window pane, her eyes taking in every sight that flashes by. Her mouth is close enough to the glass that her humid breaths are causing the window to fog over, but she can’t even think about how rude that probably is. All she can think about is the fact that she’s in another country, in a brand new city, experiencing all of this for the very first time.

When the black car finally pulls up to a brick building, Nora clutches her two suitcases in each hand, her leather backpack strapped tightly against the wool material of her trench coat, and makes her way to the sixth floor.

Nora’s room is small but homely, a single twin bed against one wall with a wooden wardrobe on the other. A white desk sits underneath the decently-sized window straight against the back wall, and when she looks around and takes everything in, she feels herself breathe properly for the first time since stepping on English soil.

Her floor is quiet, but before Nora can begin to explore, she decides to be smart and starts unpacking, knowing that the longer she puts it off, the less inclined she’ll be to put her clothes away properly. 

After about an hour, she decides to venture down the hallway into the common room where a small kitchen and lounge area reside. Nora notices a few coats thrown over the back of the couch haphazardly, and before she can build up the courage to turn down the other adjacent hallway and meet her new floormates, she decides to brew a cup of coffee to push past the jet lag attempting to invade her insides.

When she turns the kettle on and rummages through the cupboards to try and find some instant coffee, Nora discovers nothing but various tea flavors. Disgruntled, Nora plucks a package of Earl Grey and places it inside a mug she grabbed from the shelf, moving the plaid tea towel a little bit further down the countertop as she waits for the hot water to boil.

Nora leans her right hip on the counter while she waits, drumming her fingertips against the laminate material as she tries to remember if she even likes the taste of tea to begin with. She drank chamomile tea once after studying for finals so that she could sleep, and whenever she was sick with a cold, her mother would make her a cup with a dollop of honey to soothe her scratchy throat. She wonders if she’s allowed to put milk inside so the color isn’t a deep murky brown, or if sugar would help with the bitter taste.

Suddenly, Nora detects something that smells distinctly of burning. She springs upright, wondering what on earth she could have possibly done. Water can’t burn, right?

But before her fuzzy brain can start functioning properly, she looks down to her right and notices that the edges of the plaid tea towel have charred, and when she blinks, Nora realizes that the red light on the hot plate has been turned on.

“Shit!” Nora squeals, flicking the switch off that she must have accidentally turned on when she lazily rested her hip against the edge of the counter moments ago.

Just as she makes a reach for the burning tea towel, she hears a high-pitched accented voice behind her shriek, and suddenly, freckled arms are appearing in her periphery, snatching up the ruined tea towel as she yells, “Oi! No tea towels on the hot plate!”

With a flick of her wrist, the girl throws the tea towel into the sink, turning the cold water on while Nora’s cheeks burn bright. “I’m sorry! I didn’t even realize—Christ,” she splutters, tearing her eyes away from the wet fabric inside the steel basin and focusing them on the smaller girl in front of her.

“Ah, you’re the new American exchange student.” The girl says it in a way that makes Nora wonder if it’s a good or bad thing, as if her identifier explains why she nearly burned their residence hall down a mere three hours after being allowed in the country.

Before Nora can apologize or worse, make an even bigger fool of herself, the pretty girl in front of her chuckles in a way that makes Nora breathe in a deep sigh of relief. And before she can even realize what she’s doing, Nora starts to laugh along with her—loud enough until her cheeks feel bruised from smiling so brightly and her ribs hurt from the lack of air pumping through her lungs. The kettle starts to whistle, forcing them to break their eye contact.

Just as Nora reaches over to turn it off, the girl’s freckled arm beats her to the punch, knocking her hip against Nora’s with a bright smile, “Let’s keep you away from any more potential fire hazards, yeah?”

The lightness in her tone makes Nora believe that she’s being genuine, and when the girl begins to pour the hot water into the mug and shoots a kind smile over her shoulder, Nora takes a step back and feels a bit more at ease.

“I’m Nora, by the way,” Nora announces, watching the pretty girl with auburn hair dunk the tea bag exactly seven times into the water.

“I’m Piper. How do you take your tea?” she asks, looking over her shoulder again. Nora gets a bit distracted by the smattering of freckles covering the bridge of her nose and falling onto the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes are the brightest shade of green Nora’s ever seen, and when the girl tilts her head to the side in question, Nora shakes her head, realizing that she has no idea how to properly drink tea.

“Uh, I’m not sure,” she admits sheepishly. Piper gives her a soft smile, before reaching into the refrigerator and grabbing a small carton of milk.

“You’ll take it like me, then. Reckon I’ll convert you into a proper tea drinker by the time your exchange is over, Rah,” Piper calls out, pouring a dash of milk and plopping one sugar cube inside the cup, stirring it another seven times. Nora wonders if that changes the taste or if it’s just a little quirk her new floormate does.

Nora’s eyebrows furrow at the unfamiliar name that falls from Piper’s pink lips. “Rah?”

Piper hands over the mug with twinkling eyes. “Gotta give you a nickname if we’re meant to be proper mates, right?”

It’s a question that seems to not need an answer, because Piper is the type of girl that says things with an air of unbridled assurance. Piper could tell you that the glowing star in the sky wasn’t the sun, instead, it was a dripping egg yolk that warmed everything underneath, and you would believe it. So when she calls Nora by her nickname, she doesn’t even bat an eye, because if being called Rah means she has a new friend in this unfamiliar place, then Nora will accept it without hesitation.

“Let’s get you all settled in then, yeah? I’ll have my boyfriend bring us some dinner. I think you’ll like him,” Piper says, grabbing Nora’s hand and dragging her into her bedroom at the other end of the hall.

A few hours later, when a brown-haired boy with matching blue eyes and a thick Irish accent shows up with two bags of Thai takeaway in one hand and a twelve-pack of Fosters beer in the other, Nora finds that Piper was right—she likes him quite a bit. They seem to get on like a house on fire, and when he cracks open a beer for her and tells her that he thinks she has a funny accent, Nora laughs and throws his comment right back in his face. The three of them end up eating too much food and drinking too much beer, but Nora doesn’t mind the bellyache when she falls into bed later that night, thinking all of it was worth it, because she made two new friends on her first night.

The next evening, Piper swings open Nora’s door without knocking, and begins rummaging through her wardrobe and pulling out her nicest pair of blue jeans, a cute sweater she got on the clearance rack at some New York City boutique, and one of her thrifted trench coats. She tells Nora to get ready because they’re going out tonight, and before she can decline, she hears Niall yell over from the common room, “Get yer arse dressed, Rah! It’s pub night!”

Barely thirty minutes later, Nora finds herself sandwiched between Niall and Piper in the cold January air, heels stomping against the pavement as they zigzag their way through the crowded streets of Camden Town.

Niall’s phone begins to ring, and before Nora’s head can snap in his direction, the sleek black device is already pressed against his ear as he begins speaking loudly into the night air. “Curly! How’re ya, mate? What? Yes, of course we’re goin’ to the pub. It’s Wednesday! Late? What d’ya mean, late? Oh. Yeah, sure, take yer time, Pipes and I have our hands full breakin’ in Rah over here. What’s that? Rah? Pipes and I adopted her. Yer gonna love her. Right, see ya later!”

He looks over at Nora as he slides his phone into his back pocket. The question is at the tip of her tongue, but when she takes in the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and finds that Piper’s are matching, she just shakes her head softly before muttering, “Do I even want to know?”

Niall flings his arm around her shoulder and Piper’s much smaller one wraps around Nora’s waist. “Best not to know anything,” Piper whispers into her ear, giggling as they make their way around the corner to the brick-faced pub at the end of the street.

When they finally pull Nora inside, it takes her a few moments to get adjusted to the unfamiliar setting. She’s only been twenty-one for two months now, and even though she knows the legal drinking age here is eighteen, she’s still only been inside a handful of bars in her short existence.

Bars in New York City are nothing like the place Nora currently finds herself in. She’s used to proper lighting, sleek bar tops, upholstered seating, and fancy liquor bottles lining the mirrored walls. Instead, she finds herself surrounded by chipped wood, sticky paneled flooring, and string lights fastened to original crown molding. The bar itself has more beer taps than she’s ever seen another place have before, and instead of ornate tequila bottles on thick glass panes, Nora finds numerous bottles of dark liquor haphazardly placed on oak shelving. It’s all wooden stools and high-top tables and stained rims on old surfaces, and when she notices an elevated platform along the farthest wall with musical instruments placed a bit too close together to make up for the lack of room the space provides, Nora finds that she likes this place a little bit more than the ones back home.

Instead of asking Nora what she’d like to drink, Niall just bends down and speaks into her ear, “You trust me, right?” And when she nods and finds that she surprisingly does trust this friendly stranger after only twenty-four hours, he grins and smacks a kiss to the crown of her head, prancing over to the bar with a giddy smile on his face.

Piper just shakes her head with a chuckle, grabbing Nora by the hand and dragging her over to a high-top closer to the empty stage. “Come meet the gang, Rah,” she says, squeezing her palm a little tighter when she notices the nervous look washing over Nora’s features.

With her palm in Piper’s, Nora is happily introduced to a group of five people clutching pint glasses with two plates of chips in the middle of the table. She recognizes two of the girls from her residence hall, and smiles when they compliment her boots and coat. The rest are names Nora tries her hardest to file into her memory, and when she slips into a stool with Piper sliding into the one on her right, she finds herself feeling much more comfortable.

Niall appears with a black tray covered in spilled beer and shorter glasses filled with a deep brown liquid Nora can only assume to be whiskey inside. She gulps, attempting to alleviate her dry throat, mentally preparing herself because she did tell him moments ago that she trusted him. And when she slides the liquor down her throat and feels it burn her insides, she chases the warmth with cold beer and hears Niall’s loud cheer across from her.

“Way to go, Rah! Yer a natural!” Nora feels Piper squeeze her shoulder affectionately, and before Niall can slide another shot glass in her direction, Nora watches his eyes lift over the top of her head to something behind her. His blue eyes suddenly widen and his teeth rip through his skin, grinning widely as he calls out, “Curly! Just in time, mate!”

Nora hears a deep chuckle behind her, and for some strange reason, it sounds all too familiar. 

She’s instantly brought back to a time three years ago in the dead of winter, the rolling green Connecticut hills covered in thick white blankets of snow, in which a boy and a girl spent ten days together without any interruptions. She heard that chuckle enough times in those ten days to permanently have it imprinted in her memory, and suddenly, Nora feels her stomach clench uncomfortably, because how, after all of this time, can Nora still remember that sound?

But then she hears it. His voice—much deeper now, but still gravelly and throaty, forming words slowly with his accent tilting at the end of specific phrases. It’s much thicker now, no doubt from his time spent in his home country, and all at once, Nora feels her face pucker with discomfort. She wonders if anybody else can notice the inner-turmoil wreaking havoc underneath her skin, but then he speaks again, and it’s close enough to cause her to momentarily forget how to breathe.

“What do we have here, then?” Nora can’t bring herself to move. She feels as if her bum is glued to the wooden seat, the soles of her boots are transfixed to the legs of the stool, and her upper body has lost all proper motor function. Nora is almost certain that she’s panicking, but then she’s brought back into focus when Niall’s cheerful voice echoes off the walls of the crowded pub surrounding her.

“This is our Rah! Came all the way from America on exchange, so don’t go and scare her off,” Niall calls out, his grin faltering a little when he notices the alarmed look covering Nora’s face.

“Came all this way and the first person she meets is you? Well, let me formally apologize for that disappointment—” Nora gulps one last time and swivels around in the old stool, finally revealing herself, causing his words to fall flat.

When their eyes finally meet, Nora’s relieved she isn’t holding the pint glass in her hand, because if she were, she’s certain that it would fall to the floor below her, breaking with a resounding crack when she finally faces Harry Styles for the first time in three years.

It feels like everything is happening in slow motion. Sea green eyes widen in shock, and Nora watches as his neck pushes his face outward, as if his body was forcing him to take in every inch of her face to re-familiarize himself with it. He’s a bit taller now, still wearing an expensive dark-colored trench coat, still choosing an inappropriately thin t-shirt underneath. He seems to have grown up in every sense of the word—with the way his chest is a bit fuller and his arms are a bit thicker and his stomach is a bit tighter. His jawline seems to be more pronounced, the bone practically slicing through his skin with the way the lines effortlessly sculpt his face that is still annoyingly perfect. She notices that his hair is pushed back into a low bun, the curls escaping the thin hair tie just kissing the nape of his neck. She can’t help but wonder what the tendrils would look like if she pulled the knotted elastic from his hair, allowing them to fall freely down his back.

“Nora Priestley?” Harry barely calls out. He feels as if he’s hallucinating.

Because the last time he saw Nora Priestley in the flesh, she was all blonde hair and skinny limbs and knobby knees. There’s no denying that this is still her, considering her blue eyes are practically tattooed underneath his eyelids whenever he tries to fall asleep at night, and nobody else can steal that shade. She’s practically a fully-blossomed woman sitting in front of him—all slender legs and tiny waist, long torso that has rigidified over time, undulating hips that truly show a level of maturity that didn’t exist three years ago back in Connecticut. Her face is still angular, her nose is still buttoned, her lips are still pouty, her cheekbones are still high on her face and tinted pink. But when he looks at her hair, he notices that the blonde is gone. In its place is a deep shade of brown, nearly black, flowing over her shoulders and down her back languidly. Her fringe is still there, all messy strands framing a face that she’s finally grown into, and Harry finds a calming sense of familiarity in that.

She’s beautiful—she’s always been this effortlessly cool type of beautiful, and Harry can’t actually believe that she’s sitting in front of him. Can’t actually believe that her lips are moving on her face, forming his two-syllable name. Can’t actually believe that he’s been staring at her hearing white noise flood through his ear canals, blocking whatever else is falling from her mouth.

“Your hair. It’s different,” are the words Harry chooses to say once he realizes her mouth is closed, mentally berating himself for being so wrapped up in this New Nora that he seemingly forgot how to hold a normal conversation.

She seems to be on the same page, with the way she slowly tears her eyes from his own, staring blankly at the wall over his shoulder when an odd sense of déjà vu clouds her vision, before nodding absently.

“Yeah,” she finally voices, bringing her forlorn gaze back to his. “I could say the same for you.”

He smiles a bit, wondering how to maneuver through these unfamiliar waters with her. But before he can even properly locate his mooring, Niall interrupts, causing Nora to swivel back in his direction so that her back is once again facing Harry.

“I’m confused—have you two met?” Niall asks, observing the two with wide eyes, a crinkle in his forehead as he tries to dissect the interaction unfolding across the table.

“Uh, yeah. We went to boarding school together,” Nora explains, filling in the gaps. She sees the pint glass in her periphery and grabs it tightly, bringing it to her lips and gulping three heavy swallows of the bitter liquid to slow down her erratic heartbeat.

“Wait—here? I thought you said you’ve never been on a plane before, Nora!” Piper calls out from Nora’s right side, her auburn hair flicking back and forth when she notices the tension radiating off of their bodies.

“No, in America,” Harry answers for Nora when he realizes her mouth is preoccupied with downing her entire pint in one go. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are darting in every direction that isn’t the blue of Niall’s eyes or the bright green of Piper’s, and Harry can conclude that Nora is uncomfortable.

“Well, that’s a plot twist I didn’t see comin’,” Niall says through a chuckle, moving his eyes away from Nora’s as he takes a long swig of his drink, shaking his head at the uncanniness of it all.

The whole group seems to be a bit shocked by this revelation, and before Nora can suffocate under the unnatural silence surrounding the table, Piper asks the rest of the group a question about the new band performing tonight, and just like that, all is forgotten.

Nora can feel the body behind her disappear, and when she sees black wool material flutter past her eyesight, she breathes in a sigh of relief when she notices the only chair available is the one diagonal from her, almost conveniently out of her line of vision.

She looks up when she sees a fresh pint glass being pushed in her direction, and when her eyes lock with Niall’s and she realizes that he’s given her the second beer he originally saved for himself, she smiles appreciatively before bringing the cool glass to her lips, swallowing deeply with her eyes shut tight.

If Nora’s meant to endure this entire evening, she’s going to need all of the liquid courage she can muster. Because the universe must be playing some sort of sick-twisted game with her, giving her the opportunity to travel to a new city while simultaneously thrusting the boy who almost broke her heart right in the epicenter of it all. She wonders if this is her karma for ending things with Marcus, for not agreeing to move in with him and take the next steps in their relationship.

Nora sighs, wanting so badly to laugh at her situation, but knows deep down that she can’t. Because London is supposed to be a big city—filled with nine million people and her chances of potentially running into Harry were meant to be astronomically low. The numbers should have been on her side—considering Oxford University is sixty miles away from UCL, and Oxfordshire is an hour and a half away from Central London, and out of the three hundred pubs in all of Camden, the probability of running into him at this very one in this exact moment in time is far too outstanding to even be considered a possibility.

But it is, and it’s happening all around her, and suddenly—Nora needs to leave.

She can’t be sat so close to him after all this time and act like everything’s okay. Because it’s not okay and she’s not okay and this whole fucking scenario will never be okay, and in order to be okay, Nora needs to locate the closest escape route and disappear.

Her head is swivelling and she’s not listening to any of the conversations happening around her, and as if the gods were pitying her, sensing her panic attack all the way from the heavens above, they send her a sign in the form of Niall grabbing Harry and bringing him over to the bar with the guys for another round.  

Once they’ve left, Nora abandons her half-emptied glass and grabs her coat, flinging it on her body without even buttoning it properly. Piper looks over, realizing that Nora’s face is flushed and her eyes are a bit widened, and before she can get too far, she asks, “Rah, you alright?”

Shit, Nora thinks, I forgot about Piper.

“Uh, yeah. Just need a smoke,” Nora lies, teeth forming a barely-there smile to try and prove to her new friend that she’ll be okay and doesn’t need to be followed.

Piper warily falls for it, and when Nora watches her freckled face turn back towards the girls at the table, Nora sighs in relief and hurries over to the front door, flying out into the cold January air as she tries to navigate her shaking feet back towards the Underground.

She doesn’t make it very far, barely rounds the corner of the street before she hears her name being roughly called from raspberry lips she’s too terrified to face. But his legs are longer than hers and his strides are more purposeful, because just as Nora’s identified the Underground entranceway, Harry’s large palm wraps around her tensed bicep and suddenly, she’s spinning on the heels of her boots, officially caught trying to run away in the middle of a busy sidewalk surrounded by throngs of people.

Nora immediately flinches, shaking his hand off her body before she becomes familiar with the warmth that encapsulates the fabric adorning her skin. Harry gets the hint and dejectedly brings his hand back down to his side, shuffling in his brown suede shoes as he tries to form the correct words to say to her.

“You don’t have to leave,” he starts, trying his hardest to identify the wary look in her eyes. Because he’s never seen her look like this—so completely and utterly defeated, and Harry almost wishes she would lash out instead of continue to look at him the way she is doing right now.

“I do,” Nora says, moving her eyes down to the cracked pavement. She can’t bring herself to look at his face anymore.

“Piper said you were having a smoke. I didn’t think you did that.” Harry’s words cause her head to lift abruptly, and she’s not sure if it’s because his voice sounds so broken and dejected, or if it’s because he’s insinuating that he still knows things about her.

“You don’t know me anymore, Harry,” Nora spits out, leveling her blues with his greens in a standoff that she doesn’t feel ready for.

Harry frowns, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck, choosing to back down. “I know.”

It’s sad. The whole situation is terribly sad, because suddenly, Pandora’s box has been ripped open—the lid practically flung across the pavement as feelings that have been buried underneath the surface for so long are unforgivingly being unearthed right in front of their eyes.

Nora turns away, knowing there’s really nothing left to be said between the two of them. Not until she’s properly processed it all. Not until she’s dealt with her emotions the right way instead of screaming in his face and never looking back.

“Nora,” Harry tries, his voice pleading with hers. He waits until she turns around before saying, “My birthday is in a few weeks. The first. Niall’s throwing me a party and all that, and uh—” he takes a massive gulp, his entire body riddled with nerves, “I’d really like for you to come.”

“I’ll think about it,” Nora says after a moment’s pause, offering him a shaky smile in hopes that it’ll be enough for him to allow her to enter the Underground without another interruption.

“And Nora?” her eyes find his one last time before he says, “It’s really great to see you.”

The next Wednesday pub night, Nora decides to stay home. It’s not that she doesn’t want to hang out with everyone, because she does—she just knows that Harry will definitely be in attendance, and she still isn’t really sure how to feel about everything. The last thing Nora wants to do is make things awkward with this new group of friends she just met, so staying in was the easiest option.

On the Wednesday after that, Harry decides to skip out. He doesn’t want Nora to feel like she has to avoid her new friends because their relationship (or lack thereof) is stuck in limbo. Traveling to a new country, especially for the first time, is never fun to do alone—and Harry would hate himself if he made her feel that isolating herself is the best option. So he stays home, and tries not to text Niall and ask him if Nora decided to show up (even though he stalks his mates’ social media and finds that she did, in fact, go).

Niall and Piper try not to ask the invasive questions that are dancing on the tip of their tongues, because it’s so blatantly obvious that Nora and Harry were never “just” mates from school. Nora never explicitly tells her new friends about what happened, but Piper can figure it out, because she’s a girl, and girl’s know what Nora’s eyes mean when they twinkle and break at the mention of Harry’s name. Harry, on the other hand, drunkenly spilled anecdotes to Niall in the past about a girl who deserved so much better than what he could offer her, and with one look at the bruised skin underneath Harry’s vacant eyes in the days that follow their reunion, Niall understands then that the girl in question is none other than his special Rah.

The first of February comes along with a dip in temperature, and before Nora can mull over Harry’s birthday party invitation any longer, she decides to throw caution to the wind and go. She shops for a pretty dress with Piper, and when she finds a discounted Topshop number that pairs excellently with the only pair of heels she stuffed into her suitcase, she purchases it without a second thought.

The girls get ready together and Nora lets Piper curl her hair, and when the rest of their friends make cocktails in their tiny shared kitchenette, Nora feels her worries wash away with each sip of fruity liquor that slides down her throat.

When they arrive at the club Niall organizes all their mates to meet at, Nora barely has time to try and locate the birthday boy. Because suddenly, she’s meeting a handful of new people and being dragged to the dancefloor against her will, and after her second (or third?) Sex on the Beach, she’s in that perfect state of drunkenness in which she feels light and airy and nothing but happiness radiates off her sticky skin.

Harry, oppositely, is in that state of drunkenness in which his words are slurring together and his eyes are glossy. He feels airy, practically lightheaded at this point, and his teeth stretch the skin around his mouth wide as he laughs along to whatever his friends are saying.

He’s barely had time to make the rounds, because people kept approaching him left and right with birthday praises and a shot glass filled with pungent liquor for him to shoot back. Niall finally rejoins him at the U-shaped leather booth in their corner of the club, and when Harry asks him something that sounds like Piper, Niall points in the direction of his girlfriend twirling around the dancefloor with a group of her friends.

When he refocuses his blurry vision on the group, Harry instantly notices brown hair floating through the air. The curls seem to have fallen a bit as the night dragged on, and when the girl turns around to mouth the lyrics of the upbeat song to Piper, Harry grins when he recognizes the pouty lips that are painted a refreshing shade of sherbert. Her cheeks are tinged and Harry wonders if it’s from exertion or alcohol, and when she spins back around to shake her hips to the beat of the overplayed pop song, he can’t tear his eyes away. It’s only once her hands scoop the hair at the back of her neck, pushing it upwards to let the prickling skin underneath breathe for a bit, when Harry notices the new etchings of ink on her body.

Three equally-sized birds are tattooed on the back of her right shoulder, swirling on her ivory skin whenever her arms move above her head as she dances. Harry can’t seem to look away—suddenly wondering if there’s anything else about her that has changed in three years. He finds that he wants to know everything about her within the time period when they weren’t in each other’s lives, and it’s that startling realization that causes him to ignore the advances of the yellow-haired girl sitting across the table from him.

“Y’alright, Curly?” Niall asks after Harry waves the girl away, and he nods distractedly, bringing his whiskey and ginger to his mouth to gulp back heavily. Niall shakes his head and tells him that he’s going to go dance with Piper, and Harry just watches idly as his friend saunters away.

For some reason, Harry doesn’t get up. Instead, he pulls more sips from the liquor at his table, watching in curiosity as Nora mingles with his mates and dances with Niall and Piper. He thinks it’s fascinating, thinks that in a parallel universe he and Nora would be doing this every night, and instead of random girls vying for his attention, Nora would undoubtedly have all of it.

With that thought running through his head, he sloppily gets up from his seat, drunkenly hobbling over to his group of friends on the dancefloor near the bar. When he approaches them, he flings an unsteady arm around Niall’s neck for extra support, grinning widely when everyone calls him the birthday boy and pinches his cheeks in drunken adoration.

“Mm, think ‘ve had enough, mate,” Harry slurs in Niall’s direction, resting a good portion of his weight on his shorter friend who has to tighten his grip around Harry’s waist.

“I’ll call a car, have ‘em bring you home. Need me t’come with?” Niall asks, and when Harry looks at each of his mates in their small circle, he shakes his head cheekily and smiles in Nora’s direction.

“No, I want Nora to.” It’s innocent in the way that he just wants to spend time with her, because he hasn’t even had the chance to speak to her tonight, and all he can think about is how much time has passed between them and that he misses her in a way he didn’t think was possible.

Nora watches Harry whine in Niall’s ear, and even though the music is too loud for her to make out everything he’s saying, she somehow manages to hear the words want and Nora and please. Niall looks over in her direction, and when he asks her if she’ll take him home, she considers accepting for some odd reason. Because he’s drunk and needy, and she’s never seen a needy Harry Styles before, and as if the time frame has blurred right in front of her, Nora finds herself in the backseat of a fancy town car driving off into a quieter part of the city.

They sit on opposite ends of the car with the middle seat unused between them, and after a few minutes of silence, Harry decides to break it by saying, “‘M really happy you came tonight.”

Nora’s not nearly as drunk as he is, and she finds it quite adorable the way his deep voice cracks over the slurred syllables, and his lips are bright red from his teeth gnawing into them, and his cheeks are almost a deeper shade from the alcohol surging through his veins.

“It’s your birthday. It would have been mean of me not to,” Nora says softly, watching as Harry tears his eyes away from the blurred streets and onto her face.

He grins. “I don’t think y’know how t’be mean, Nora. Not sure there’s a mean bone in your body.”

Nora just smiles back gently, unsure of how exactly to respond. Thankfully, the car pulls to a stop on a quiet street just in front of a white stucco townhouse. There’s a small iron-clad gate on the sidewalk that comes about waist-high, and when Harry unlocks it and begins his wobbly trek to the navy blue front door, Nora can’t help but look around his neighborhood in slight awe.

The jostling of keys breaks her out of her reverie, and when she finds Harry struggling to place the correct key into the lock, she calmly pushes him out of the way and flicks her wrist to unlock the door, pushing it open and allowing him to step in first.

She barely gets a chance to take in the interior of his home before he’s grabbing the keys from her hand and dropping them loudly in the bowl on the hallway table, unsteadily stepping out of his shoes and leaving them haphazardly on the floor, reaching for her hand and dragging her up the stairs to the loft bedroom above.

Before Nora can even comprehend what Harry’s doing, he’s suddenly flinging his clothes across different surfaces of his room—starting with his trench coat over his desk chair, his belt on the shoe rack in his closet, his wallet on the bureau nearest to the door. It’s only once he starts fumbling out of his jeans when Nora turns around with a squeak, feeling a bit awkward watching him drunkenly scramble out of his clothes.

“What’re you doin’?” He slurs, the sound of his feet struggling to get out of the tight material ceasing abruptly.

“Giving you privacy,” Nora explains, finding herself counting the knobs on his dresser instead of hyperfocusing on the fact that Harry is undressing behind her.

She can hear him chuckle a bit, and then the sound of a body flopping onto a mattress takes over. Harry grunts in frustration, and it’s only once he’s called Nora’s name when she peeks over her shoulder timidly, finding Harry lying flat on his bed with his shirt still on, his feet firmly planted on the hardwood floor as his jeans seem to be stuck around his knees.

“Can you help me?” He doesn’t seem to be making a pass at her, because his voice is whiny and his neck is strained, and he really seems to be struggling taking off his tight skinny jeans.

Nora laughs a bit before walking over, grabbing his jeans by his knees and forcing him to straighten his legs as she pulls. Harry watches, leaning up on his elbows as he wiggles the material off of his skin, gleaming proudly when they’re off and discarded into his hamper.

With her back to him, Harry reaches for a pair of joggers and shuffles them on, swapping his wrinkled dress shirt for an old band tee that he wore the night before. When she hears him trying to untuck his duvet from underneath the throw pillows on his bed, Nora turns around and places her palm on his back in the place just between his shoulder blades, causing him to freeze.

“Go brush your teeth. I’ll do this before you fall on your face,” Nora says through a giggle, and Harry does as he’s told, watching her through the reflection of his mirror with wide eyes as she delicately places the throw pillows on the bench under his window and pulls back the duvet and sheets pristinely.

After he spits out the mint toothpaste and waddles back into his room, Nora pats the spot on his bed that she’s left untucked for him, smiling softly as she says, “C’mon birthday boy.”

Harry grins sleepily, pushing himself on the mattress and burrowing into his pillows, chuckling when Nora pulls up the sheet and duvet until it’s tucked underneath his chin. She checks his nightstand to make sure that his phone is plugged in, and after confirming that everything seems to be put into place, she tries to wish Harry goodnight before he interrupts and asks, “Will you stay?”

Nora attempts to shake her head, telling him that it isn’t a good idea, causing Harry to try an alternative approach. The whiny, annoying kind, that usually works magnificently on the likes of Niall and Piper.

“Please, Nora! ‘S my birthday. ‘S all I want, and you didn’t get me a gift!”

Nora pauses, reading Harry’s face and finding the ghost of a smile hidden underneath his lips. She admires his tactic and decides to play along, stubbornly adding, “I didn’t know what you’d like! Not quite sure I can compete with all of the nice things your friends already got you.”

Harry scoffs indignantly. “I would’ve loved it anyway. ‘Cos it’s from you.”

“Harry—”

“—Please stay,” Harry interrupts, causing Nora to frown as she’s torn. “We can watch a film! Like we used to! I know y’love films, Nora. I even ‘ave a bunch in a drawer over ‘ere, look—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nora rushes out, placing her hands gently over the duvet covering Harry’s chest, forcing him to lie back down on his bed. “No need to get up. It just took me ages to get you tucked in!”

“You’re right, ‘m sorry. ‘S over there.” Harry aimlessly points in the direction of his television stand at the far end of the wall. Nora nods, turning on her heel and beginning to walk in that direction, bending at her knees as she opens the drawer in question.

As she scans over the movie titles, she’s surprisingly impressed at his collection. They span across multiple genres, although Nora does note that he owns a decent amount of romantic comedies for a twenty-two year old boy. She almost chooses Ferris Bueller’s Day Off to reminisce, but those memories are jaded now, and she hasn’t seen the film since she sat thigh to thigh with Harry in his twin bed all those years ago, so instead, she plucks 10 Things I Hate About You and places it into the DVD player.

When the title screen loads, she checks on Harry over her shoulder and finds that he’s grinning from his position tucked snugly in his bed.

“Did y’know this was based on Taming of the Shrew?” he asks suddenly.

Nora pauses her act of getting up from the floor, shocked at the fact that Harry is willingly giving her film trivia that she used to provide. And when she stands up after a beat, looking down at him from the end of his bed, she smirks and asks teasingly, “Have you been studying film trivia?”

Harry just shrugs, a shy smile covering his face as his cheeks bloom pink.

She turns around then and hits play, and once the opening credits begin to roll on the screen, she rounds his king-sized bed and lays beside him on the other end, making sure to lay on top of the covers in her dress to keep a safe distance between them. Harry tries his hardest not to pout at the absence.

“Does this mean you’re staying?” Harry whispers just as the opening scene flashes onto the screen.

With her eyes trained on the screen, Nora just nods quietly, trying her hardest not to look over in his direction. And around halfway through the film, just after Patrick belts “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You” to Kat on the staircase, Harry looks over to find Nora sound asleep on the other side of the mattress. Without waking her up, he grabs the blanket at the end of his bed and throws it over her body, watching as she welcomes the warmth as she snuggles into it.

It’s far too early when Harry wakes up. The sun has barely started to stretch its sunbeams outside of his window, and when he blinks through the dimness of his room, he finds that the first thing he sees is Nora Priestley. They’re both lying on their sides facing each other, a little bit closer than when they first dozed off. Harry can feel their bent knees brushing against the other’s underneath their respective blanket layers, and when Harry focuses on the hand that isn’t buried under his pillow, he realizes that his fingertips are ever so lightly grazing Nora’s much smaller ones. He smiles to himself, and just before falling back asleep, he hooks his pinky finger around Nora’s.

When he wakes up a few hours later, Nora is gone. He looks around his room to see if she’s in the ensuite or banging about downstairs, and finds himself frowning when all he’s met with is silence. Just as his eyes sweep over his nightstand, he finds a note near a glass of water with two paracetamol tablets on top. He scoops up the medication in one hand, and brings the note up to his eyes with the other.

Happy birthday, Harry. Here’s the best I could do on short notice. -Nora

He glances over to his alarm clock and realizes that it’s not even noon yet, and without really thinking, he reaches for his mobile and rings Niall to ask him for directions to Niall and Piper’s residence hall.

“Curly? What’re you doin’ up before noon?” Niall’s loud voice asks through the receiver.

Before Harry can bring himself to respond, he hears a giggle that sounds almost identical to Nora’s in the background, and suddenly he’s asking, “What’re you up to?”

“Hangover brunch, mate. Sunday tradition,” Niall responds easily, the sound of the late morning air ruffling through the speaker.

“Since when?” Harry asks, straining his ear to see if he can try to hear Nora again.

Niall laughs loudly, breaking his focus. “Since always! Yer dead to the world until the afternoon, so Rah always third-wheels with Piper and I—oof! I’m just messin’ around, Rah! You know we love yer company!”

Suddenly, Harry’s springing out of bed, running into the bathroom to brush his teeth and splash cold water onto his face to wake him up. He asks Niall the name of the restaurant, and just as the words leave his mouth, Harry hangs up and throws on the first clean pair of jeans and jumper he can find, shoving a beanie over his mangled hair and flying out the door.

He arrives just as tea gets brought to the table, and when he finds that the only open chair at their table of four is the one across from Nora, he grins and slides right in, watching the way her cheeks blush as her eyes burn holes through the plastic menu.

“Any particular reason why yer up and at ‘em this mornin’, Curly?” Niall asks, a knowing look on his face as his eyes dart between Harry’s and Nora’s accusingly.

“Just felt like waking up, I suppose,” Harry says in Niall’s direction, ordering a cup of tea from the waitress as she passes by. When he realizes that Piper and Niall are indulged in their own conversation, Harry leans forward over the table and asks Nora lowly, “So, what’s good here?”

Nora’s eyebrows dart up in surprise, asking, “You’ve never been here before?”

Harry shakes his head, smiling when he coaxes a pretty giggle out of Nora’s mouth. He finds that she looks cute in the morning, all sleepy eyed and puffed out cheeks. He almost wishes he caught her before she snuck out of his flat. He would have loved to see what she looked like buried in his pillows.

“I usually get a full English and give Niall my tomatoes,” Nora explains, sipping her tea generously.

“Why’s that?” Harry asks.

Nora scrunches her nose. “Not a fan of them.”

Before Harry can say anything else to her, the waitress pops over to take their order, and when their plates arrive and the first thing Nora notices Harry does is eat a bite of his grilled tomato, she pierces her fork through the two on her plate and drops them on his own instead of giving them to Niall.

If anybody at the table notices, they choose not to say anything.

After that Sunday morning, Harry finds that he can’t stay away from Nora. He remembers lurking through her Facebook page a year ago and finding that she has a thing for coffee shops, and after asking Piper for her class schedule, he waits for her outside her lecture hall one dreary Tuesday afternoon and brings her to his favorite café a few miles away from her residence hall.

It’s called the Muddy Cup and Nora’s surprised that it’s a place Harry frequents, considering it’s the complete opposite of his personality. It’s all bright colors and mismatched furniture, uniquely shaped mugs with bluesy, light jazz music playing in the background. It smells of coffee grinds and a hint of vanilla, and after their third trip there, Nora finds that this version of Harry is just like the one she remembers enjoying during their ten days together back in Townbridge—except, it’s heightened here in London. He tells her things without hesitating, he seems to have recognized how wrong his actions were, he seems to have a plan for his life. It’s a lot all at once, but Nora takes it all in stride, constantly reminding herself not to hold grudges and to try to remember that people are continuously changing and evolving, and that if Harry is trying his hardest to let her see this side of her, then she should at least give him the opportunity to allow him to do so.

But she’s not naive. She knows that she can’t just hand him her heart without precautions all because he’s trying to show her how much he’s changed. Because underneath all of her strong walls, all of the barriers she’s constructed to ensure that she doesn’t feel pain again, she knows that if anybody has the power to weave through all of her booby traps and decoys and rattle the infrastructure, it’s him.

Harry knows this, too. Knows that even though this New Nora in front of him changed her hair and grew up a little bit, she is still guarded, and he really can’t blame her for being overly cautious of him. He’s trying though—really trying, because if there’s anybody in this world that can bring out the best version of himself, it’s her.

After a few more coffee dates and a walk around his campus, Harry finally comes up with a plan. He’s not sure why he hadn’t thought of it sooner, because he’s almost positive it’s going to be the best first date Nora Priestley has ever been on. And he wants that for her—so badly, because she deserves it.

Harry schemes with Niall and Piper to make sure that Nora is free on a rare sunny late February afternoon. He shows up outside of her residence hall in his black Range Rover, watching the way she smiles bashfully at him when she notices him leaning against the passenger door of his car, posture nothing but attractive confidence with the way his jean-clad left leg is bent resting on the steel door, the way his emerald green jumper stretches across his chest due to his arms being crossed over the thin material, the way his long hair is free flowing down his shoulders as the wind ruffles the tendrils in the cool air. He weaves his sunglasses atop his head when he sees her exit her building, giving her a one-armed hug as he simultaneously opens the car door with his other hand, allowing Nora to fall into the warm leather interior.

“Where are we going?” Nora asks after they’ve merged onto the motorway. Harry looks over at her then, one hand resting on the steering wheel while the other pushes and pulls at the skin covering his lower lip nervously. He offers her a shy smile, before muttering, “A surprise,” causing Nora to blush immediately.

Once the colorful pastel townhouses flood into view, Nora isn’t sure how she didn’t realize it sooner. The streets are winding and her nose is practically glued to the window as she takes in the flashes of raspberry, lilac, peach, coral, and mint lining Notting Hill. She can’t wipe the aching grin covering her face, and when she whips her head around to look over at Harry and finds that he’s already looking at her, it’s almost instinctual when she slips her hand into his and squeezes it in gratitude.

When Harry has to park the car, he almost whines at the fact that the moment he removes his key from the ignition, Nora’s hand will leave his own.

They spend the afternoon weaving through the crowded streets. Harry leads her through Portobello Road Market and watches as Nora’s eyes flick through racks of clothing and tables filled with various antiques and collectables. She notices Harry eyeing a gold ring from a jewelry stand towards the end of the market, and when he offers to buy them a cup of coffee from a small café across the street, Nora sneakily purchases it for him as a way of saying thank you (and maybe for another reason entirely, too.)

As Nora sips through her warm styrofoam cup of hazelnut coffee, she notices a string of bookshops across the street. She laughs to herself, her memory immediately reverting to three years ago in her tiny twin bed at Townbridge when she and Harry were cuddled up underneath her mom’s handmade blanket watching Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant meet for the very first time. She wonders if Harry is thinking about the same thing, too, but she doesn’t dare ask him. Instead, she links her hand with his and drags him to the first shop she sees, pushing the door open with her hip and letting the smell of old books and worn leather fill her senses.

Harry isn’t sure if Nora is doing it intentionally, but as they scan through the spines of books resting on dusty shelves, her hand never leaves his own. It warms his insides up in a way he’s never experienced, and he feels as if he’s floating through air, and the only thing that’s keeping him grounded is her small hand squeezing his ever so lightly.

Once they’ve rounded the end of the store, Nora looks over and asks him, “Do you have any suggestions?”

Harry’s heart thumps a resounding string of three beats, and he can’t help but wonder if she felt the same whenever he asked her to pick out her favorite films for him three years ago back in her tiny dorm room. From the smile coating the lower half of her face, Harry can assume that she most likely does, and without slipping his hand from her own, he drags her to the classics section and peruses through the titles.

Nora watches as he somehow maneuvers three paperbacks into one hand while keeping her own nestled tightly in his, and when he brings her to the front of the store and easily grabs his wallet from his back pocket, she tries to wriggle her hand from his grasp to stop him from paying for her. Harry doesn’t allow this though, and instead, shushes her by squeezing her hand tighter, looking down at her with his chin resting on his shoulder as he shakes his head with a coy smile covering his face. Nora isn’t sure how to respond—mainly because she’s mesmerized by the turquoise twinkle in his eyes, or the way his large hand wrapped around her own makes her feel overwhelmingly safe, or the way she can’t seem to look anywhere else but at the profile of his structured face. The realization strikes her straight into her heart, an electrical current causing the beating flesh to vibrate almost erratically, making her skin prickle with warmth and her stomach twist and turn with giddiness, and she finds that she never wanted her hand to leave his in the first place.

Before they even realize it, the afternoon is over. Harry intentionally slows his gait so that he can do everything in his power to extend the time he has with Nora’s hand nestled in his own and the left side of her body sidled up to his. But unfortunately, not even Harry has the ability to slow down time, and sadly, they’ve approached the car in despondent silence.

He turns her around just as they’ve reached the passenger side door, Nora’s back resting on the cool steel as she lifts her head up. Harry’s eyes are focused on their tangled hands, toying with her fingertips as he tries to figure out what she’s thinking.

“I got you something,” Nora says after a beat, waiting until Harry’s eyes are on hers before she slips the hand that isn’t knotted with his inside her jacket pocket. He watches as she removes the gold ring from the paper envelope and drops it into his palm gently.

“Nora—” Harry starts, pausing as he stares at the thick gold band with dancing bears engraved in the middle. The sun makes the metal twinkle in the light, and when he shifts his eyes into Nora’s blue pools, he isn’t sure which is brighter.

“Put it on me?” he asks. Harry knows that he’s fully capable of putting it on himself, but that would require removing his other hand from her own. Also, he selfishly wants to feel Nora’s smaller digits tickling his skin, and when she obliges with a gentle smile and grabs the ring from his opened palm, Harry tries to conceal the shudder shaking his body when she obeys his request.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry whispers into the small space between them when Nora’s fingers push the gold ring past his knuckle.

She just shrugs, looking up at him timidly. “I wanted to.”

While Harry’s eyes are focused on the newest addition to his growing jewelry collection, Nora decides to be brave and reaches up onto her tiptoes with the intention of planting a kiss on his cheek as a way of saying thank you without having to properly vocalize it. But, Harry notices everything she does, and when he watches her body shift towards him in his periphery, he lifts his head up at the last moment in question, causing Nora’s plump lips to land on the corner of his mouth.

The contact only lasts a measly two seconds, but it’s enough to cause them both to freeze. Nora’s eyes widen, and before she can let her body fall into his own, she springs back and places a generous two foot gap between them.

Harry’s not even sure what to think. He’s almost positive that he’s frozen to the pavement, his thick boots stuck in sludgy cement as he tries to bring them to move forward so that Nora doesn't feel so far away. But he can’t move—the neurons in his brain aren’t connecting to the muscles in his legs, and he has no fucking idea why.

Nora stares at him, trying her hardest to force her mouth to form the words “sorry.” But when she really stops to think about it, she finds that she isn’t sorry at all. The smallest feeling of his mouth on hers was enough to cause her body to zap with excitement, and when she looks up at him underneath the curtain of her eyelashes and find that his pupils are dilated to the fullest degree, she decides to forego her apology and leans in, pressing her lips to his with reckless abandon.

Instinctively, Harry’s arms wrap around her waist to support her body as their lips re-familiarize themselves with one another. The sigh he breathes into her mouth is nothing but relief—because ever since he left her dorm room three years ago back at Townbridge, all Harry’s been thinking about is feeling her lips on his again. And now that it’s finally happening, he feels as if he can’t breathe.

Nora’s hands clutch the lapels of his woolen jacket over his chest to bring him closer to her, because even though his body is flushed with hers, it still isn’t enough. Harry brings his right hand up to cup her jaw ever so delicately, his thumb pulling her chin down so that her jaw falls slack, allowing him to slip his tongue inside to meet her own. The moan that springs from the back of her throat almost causes Harry’s mouth to still, but when her fingertips wrap around the ends of his hair dusting his shoulder, tangling until she pulls at the roots on top of his head, he can’t help but reciprocate the sound.

When Harry’s neck starts to ache from leaning down to meet her lips, he trickles his palms from her temples to the back of her head, threading his fingers through her thick dark hair until they clasp together just above her neck, allowing him to tilt her head backward and kiss her properly. Nora hums inside his mouth, wrapping her arms around the middle of his back so that she can pull him closer to her in order to feel his heartbeat against her chest through all of their warm layers, his heart thrumming against her skin as if the fleshy organ was screaming at her own “I missed you! I missed you! I missed you!”

Eventually, they break apart, sucking in deep inhales of cool February air to try and quell the lightheadedness caused from their second first kiss. Harry rests his forehead on her own, his eyes shut tight as he tries to permanently ink that memory into the pink pillows of his brain. His warm hands are cupping her jaw in order to keep her as close to him as possible, and Nora can’t help but squeeze the fleshy parts of his arms, keeping their fronts pressed together so that the warmth that emanates from his skin continues to stay wrapped around her.

“Go to dinner with me,” Harry whispers against her skin once his eyes blink open, the fuzziness dissipating when he notices the pinkness of her swollen lips and the tinge of red coating the apples of her cheeks. He missed this. He missed her.

“When?” Nora asks, her voice hoarse from the lack of oxygen ripped from her airway.

“Right now, tonight, tomorrow. Don’t want to let you go just yet.” Nora leans in, her nose resting on his warm cheek as she giggles against the smooth skin. Harry brings his hand to rub soothing circles against her back, wondering if they could stay in this position forever.

Harry can feel her smile against his cheek, and when she moves her head to press two subsequent kisses against his ripe lips, he knows that he’s fucked. Because it’s Nora fucking Priestley—it’s probably always been Nora Priestley—and she’s here wrapped up in him nodding against his skin at his outrageous request, and Harry’s never felt this complete in his entire life. It’s like flying and falling, searing warmth and bitter coldness, being too close but still not close enough—a paradoxical rush of adoration shooting to his heart with a loud cacophonous pang that sends his brain into overdrive.

They have dinner together that night, and the night after that, and if not for Harry’s evening lecture, they probably would have gone for a third consecutive date. He takes her to tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurants that serve the best food Nora’s ever tasted, and although a small part of her was expecting him to go all out and take her to outlandish posh eateries, Nora finds that Harry knows her much better than she originally thought, and he’s constantly full of surprises.

On the next Wednesday pub night, Harry and Nora show up together. Nobody says anything, but Nora can practically feel the scorching looks Niall and Piper are shooting at her from across the table warming her cheek. And after her third beer, just as the band starts to play their first song, Niall saunters over to her side and wraps a heavy arm around her shoulder, whispering excitedly into her ear, “Knew you were special, Rah.”

Harry's insides are buzzing, whirring to life with each sip of bitter beer that falls down his esophagus. The liquor seems to make Nora a bit looser, and once she’s developed a thin layer of drunkenness that causes her cheeks to flush and her guard to falter, Harry practically explodes when she brings her body to rest against his, her back leaning on his front as she allows his warmth to envelope her as they listen to the band playing on the far side of the room. He wraps his arm around her shoulder so that his right hand is splayed out against her collarbone, holding her close in a protective stance as she lets her head fall back on his shoulder comfortably.

After three songs, Nora finds that she’s had enough. Harry’s hand feels too hot pressed against her chest, his hair feels too silky tickling her exposed neck, his chin feels too heavy sitting atop the crown of her head. She wants more, finds that she suddenly needs more, and when she twirls around abruptly and finds that his green eyes are practically black, eagerly searching for her own, she doesn’t hesitate before whispering in his ear, “Can we get out of here?”

Harry’s pretty sure his pants have never felt tighter around his waist. He doesn’t even care about the unfinished pint in his hand, doesn’t even care to make the rounds and properly say goodbye to his mates, doesn’t even care when he hands Niall too much money to pay for their drinks that are absently left on the sticky high top table, doesn’t even care about the looks he receives when he slips his hand in Nora’s and drags her through the front door and into the Underground so that they can reach his flat before her confident streak runs out.

When they’re both standing in his loft bedroom, hands tangled in each other’s hair and lips pressed to warm skin and clothes strewn against hardwood flooring, Nora finds it easier to forget about all of her past hurt. Because his hands feel that good, and his mouth tastes that good, and his warm body looks that good. But when she backs away to pull off her sweater so that she’s left standing in front of him in just her bra and underwear, she suddenly hesitates to move forward.

The memory hits her like a bullet to the chest. It’s of her, standing in her Townbridge dorm room wearing a sports bra and sleep shorts, her arms wrapped around herself protectively as she tries to stifle the rib-racking cries shaking through her body as she watched Harry disappear right in front of her face, leaving her alone to try and wrap her head around what he had done to her and what it all meant. Because he was her first real sexual experience, something that Nora didn’t necessarily place on a high pedestal, but still ultimately was a big deal for her. It took a lot of trust to allow Harry to take that from her after ten days of unassuming happiness, and just as quickly as he showed her a different side of herself, he simultaneously ripped it away when he left her alone and confused barely eight hours later in the early morning light.

It’s as if the memory is being broadcasted in Harry’s bedroom, Nora’s blue eyes the screen and her bruised heart the projector, because suddenly, her lips are trembling and her hands are shaking and her eyes are staring blankly at the wall over his left shoulder—and he knows right then and there that her walls are now ten times thicker, constructed with stronger material that will no longer allow him to seep through the cracks. Not without an explanation. Not without an apology.

“Nora—” Harry starts, taking a tentative step forward. The small motion of his feet approaching hers is enough to break Nora out of her daze, her head shaking violently as she takes three more steps back, reaching for her sweater and throwing it over her head without a second thought.

“Please, I—” Harry is panicking. He doesn’t want her to disappear, but he also doesn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He wanted to talk to her without the cloudy sexual energy suffocating them, without her dreamy silhouette obstructing his vision, without her sudden desire to escape more prominent than her desire to stay and listen to him.

“I need a minute, we shouldn’t do this, not when—”

“—Just please listen to me. I can’t let you leave, not like this. Not when you’re finally here after all this time. And I’m not saying this because you’re standing half-naked in my bedroom, it’s just—fuck. I should have said this three years ago. I should have said it when I sent you a friend request on Facebook. I should have said it that first Wednesday pub night. I just got distracted and—”

“—Harry—”

“—I’m sorry, okay? I’m truly so fucking sorry.” Harry seems to have taken the breath trapped in Nora’s throat, because suddenly she’s staring at him wide-eyed and frozen in place, whereas Harry’s chest is erratically shifting up, down as he struggles to contain his uneven breathing pattern.

“I fucked up. I was a dumb, stupid kid who hurt you—and you didn’t deserve it. Not one second of it. I thought about what I did all the time in the aftermath, it fucking ate me alive, Nora. And I’m not saying that for you to pity me, because you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t even be here giving me a second chance, because I don’t deserve it. I never deserved your kindness to begin with. You’re too good for me and I just, fuck. I’ll make it up to you for the rest of my life if I have to. I just want to be good enough for you. And I’m so sorry—”

Nora shushes him with a collision of her body into his, her arms wrapping around him tightly as she buries her head into the crook of his neck. Harry’s response is inherent; strong arms encapsulating her smaller body, wide palms spread out evenly along her upper back for support, warm cheek nestled into the velvety waves resting at the top of her head.

“It’s okay, Harry. I forgive you. You’re enough, you deserve kindness too,” Nora mutters into the skin of his neck like a mantra of self-love and acceptance. Because even though Harry nearly broke her heart and made her resent him, she never wanted him to feel hurt, too. Not when it’s self-imposed. Not when it can be dealt with in a different way.

Nora thinks the phrase “an eye for an eye” is ineffectual. Just because you hurt somebody else, does not mean the same fate should be bestowed upon you. Humans are constantly changing and evolving, and pain and acceptance are a part of the long and winding battle in figuring out who you are as a person. If Harry is finally realizing that now, all Nora can do is hug him tighter and forgive him. Because that’s what any decent person would do.

Without unlocking their tangled bodies, Nora slowly steps forward, causing Harry to shuffle backward, until they’re both lying horizontally on his king-sized bed. She turns them over so that his back is flat on the mattress, her leg hooking over his hip as she rests her head against his beating chest, rubbing soothing patterns against the warm skin until he finally calms down.

They spend that night talking for hours. Harry wants to know everything she’s done in their three-year absence, and Nora doesn’t hesitate to give him the details of her new life in New York City. She tells him about Ebony, her roommate-turned-best-friend who supports her without question, who she misses practically every waking moment she’s not with her. She tells him about Marcus, the boy she had more firsts with, who she never found herself loving completely, but still appreciated him for helping her grow up and feel new things. She tells him about the tattoo shop in Brooklyn she went to after her twentieth birthday where a girl with pink hair and purple eyes etched three identical birds on the back of her shoulder.

He doesn’t tell her about the drinking and drugs and blank-faced girls he wasted his time with for the first two years during their time apart, because he’s aware that she already knows—considering his Facebook page holds a track record of every Nadine and Scarlet he toyed around with to fill in the empty hole Nora unknowingly carved into his heart. He doesn’t tell her that hearing about Nora’s ex-boyfriend causes the green monster who has been dormant inside of him for years to suddenly wake up, his blood laced with envy as he thinks of how somebody else got to see her in a vulnerable position he stupidly took for granted.

Harry realizes that this is a bit unfair, considering Nora lived her life without thinking about how it would affect him. And if Nora is jealous of the girls he slept with two years ago, she never shows it. Because she’s much more rational than he is—the calmness to his angst, the mooring to his shipwreck, the comfort to his unease.

They talk until the inky sky turns into an aegean blue, signifying that dawn has begun to break. Nora muffles her yawn into Harry’s neck and he wraps his arm tighter around her body, bringing her against his chest as he closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of having her close again after so much time apart.

When Harry wakes up well into the afternoon, he can’t stop thinking about Nora’s body, considering she shed her sweater sometime in the middle of the morning when they were sleeping, leaving her in just her black bra and underwear as her warm skin suctioned to his own. He hasn’t felt this close to somebody in so long—probably ever, if he really stops to think about it—and before, when he was mindlessly fucking girls to cure the loneliness aching inside of his chest, he never cared about the act of intimacy surrounding sex. But now, with Nora’s body wrapped around his own and the swells of her breasts moving up and down with each languid sleepy breath she takes, the curve of her ass bending whenever she cuddles deeper into his chest, the stretch of her legs winding whenever she coils them around his sinewy hips—Harry feels like he’s in a fucking trance.

He never pushes it, but it’s practically all he can think about in the weeks that follow. He finds that when they’re together he always chooses a new part of her body to hyper-fixate on—whether it’s the angular cut of her jaw, the long arch of her neck, the thin layer of skin covered in gold necklaces on the top of her chest, the fleshy part of her hips that connect to her thighs—Harry feels completely and utterly famished.

Nora feels it, too. Feels that if she has to stand so close to him on Wednesday pub nights and feel the warmth of his body enveloping her own without him moving any closer, she’ll burst. Feels that if she has to observe the coiled strands of his long hair weave down his neck without her hands tangled at the root, she’ll explode. Feels that if his raspberry lips mouth her two-syllable name followed by his infamous smirk without her own swallowing the last vowel, she’ll shatter.

It finally happens as springtime infiltrates the streets of London, melting any remnants of snow and bringing forth longer stretches of sunlight on the horizon. Nora spent the week studying for a major exam in her Emerging Media Studies course, causing her to miss out on Sunday brunch and Wednesday pub night. Her absence hit Harry the hardest out of everybody, and when she walks out of her lecture hall Thursday night after she handed in her exam, she can’t help but catapult into Harry’s arms when she sees him waiting for her.

They drive to his flat and he cooks her a hearty pasta dish and when he suggests watching a movie tangled in his sheets afterward, Nora finds that she has no interest in absorbing the content on his television screen. She’s made Harry wait long enough, and it feels like the month after his birthday has been a continuous long stretch of unbearable foreplay that Nora can’t wait to act on.

Before Harry has even made it back to bed after setting up the film, Nora’s already pulled his borrowed sleep shirt over her head, leaving her in the matching navy blue lingerie set Piper encouraged her to purchase at Selfridges last week.

Nora’s never seen Harry move faster in his life at the first sight of her. She can barely make out his pupils darting from the exposed skin above the waistline of her underwear to the swells of her breasts uncovered by the lacy underwire bra before he’s jumping on the bed, her entire body shaking with the mattress as he plants searing kiss after searing kiss all over her flushed skin.

He dotes on her body, mumbling praises in between each suction of his lips as he works his way from the top of her forehead to the tips of her toes. “Christ, look at you Nora,” he whispers into the skin underneath her jawline, “All for me? How’d I get so lucky?” he mumbles into the tight skin between the valley of her breasts, pausing to dart his tongue underneath the lacy fabric covering her nipples, pulling a delicious moan from the back of her throat, “You’re fucking perfect,” he purrs into the thicker skin covering her upper thighs as he noses his way teasingly around the edges of her underwear, making her wiggle in want and need.

And when she finally allows him to slowly peel each piece from her body, leaving her bare in front of him as her dark hair fans against his charcoal-colored sheets, Harry’s almost positive he’s forgotten how to breathe. He’s never wanted somebody this badly before—needed somebody this badly before, and when Nora leans up on her elbows and urges him to come closer to her with a slow drag of her fingertip, he almost bursts at the sudden rush of his heart thrashing against the walls of his chest.

All because of her.

“I’m done for,” Harry whispers against her lips before slotting them together with fervor, gripping the skin at the back of her neck tightly to keep her close to him. Nora doesn’t mind, in fact, she absolutely loves his roughness—loves it so much that she can’t help but reciprocate when she wraps her legs around his waist and flips them both over so that their positions are switched and she can be the one to run her lips and teeth down the front of his body in domineering adoration.

Where everything with Marcus was simple and easy, Harry is the complete antithesis. He is everything new and exciting, complex and invigorating, compelling and beautiful. Nora didn’t think it was possible to feel this starved and fulfilled at the same time—but when Harry’s naked body is hovering over her own, his teeth sinking into the fleshy part of her shoulder blade, one hand gripping her ankle and the other holding her hip close to him, she finally feels fireworks burst underneath her eyelids when he enters her for the first time. Her skin feels as if it were bubbling, her heart pumping blood as if it were working in overdrive, and her brain fills with fluttering images of Harry’s chiseled jaw, his matted hair, his supple mouth, his hungry eyes.

It’s everything and more—Harry is everything and more, and when they’re spent and the white noise in Nora’s ears has finally subsided to a gentle hum, she can’t believe that she waited this long to experience this. She wonders if her first time was a dud, a faulty scenario in which her partner didn’t understand how to satisfy her properly. Or maybe, just maybe, it had nothing to do with Marcus at all. That the feeling of her heart exploding and stars bursting through her vision and fireworks cracking in the air above were solely caused by the boy lying beside her, his heart seemingly entangled with hers.

Nora wonders if it's fate or if she’s magnificently cursed for the rest of her life.

As March fades into April, Nora has never felt closer to another person before. It’s incredibly new—this feeling of freefalling off of a cliff into the rocky waters below with nothing but Harry’s strong hand holding hers to remind her that this is all new for him, too, and there’s nobody else he’d rather experience this with than with her.

Harry’s never been the best at giving himself completely over to another person, considering vulnerability is a difficult construct for his mind to wrap around. And when he lies awake at night while Nora sleeps soundly beside him, her arms wrapped around his waist and her head rising and falling with the scattered breaths escaping his lungs, he wonders what’s holding him back. Wonders why it’s so easy for her to talk about family and the future and everything that falls in between—because for the first time ever, Nora is the one that’s completely sure of something in their relationship. Harry, on the other hand, is hesitant. Apprehensive. Scared.

Because it’s so much easier to hide certain aspects of his life from her. Harry has enough skeletons in his closet to fill an entire graveyard, and they all tend to orbit around his shitty relationship with his parents and his innate desire to fall apart whenever he succumbs to the inordinate amount of pressure his father places over his head.

Nora doesn’t deserve to see that. Nobody does. So Harry does what he thinks is right and hides this part of his life from her, lying straight through his teeth whenever she questions where in the world his parents are, and instead of them being in Hong Kong or Indonesia or Dubai, they’re just a forty-five minute drive away. But that’s far too close for Harry to manage, so refocusing her brain on something else is the better option.

Because while Nora was falling hard, giving Harry the directions to make it through the labyrinth to claim her heart, she figured he was doing the same. Letting her in unconditionally and trusting her with this new feeling. But, unbeknownst to Nora, he was shielding her from the life he’s always dreaded being a part of. She was just in too deep to fully realize it.

The first lie starts at the end of April. Harry doesn’t even realize he’s lying in the first place when it falls from his lips that he has to skip out on Wednesday pub night to stay on campus and prepare for a group presentation the following Monday, but once it’s out he can’t force it back into the depths of his being. So while Nora texts him that she misses him and things aren’t the same without him there, Harry’s pushing the lie deeper and deeper inside of him until he’s swallowed the lump whole and it rests heavily at the bottom of his stomach.

Because while his mates are drinking in Camden, Harry’s only eight kilometers away in Knightsbridge wearing a navy blue suit sipping gingerly at a glass of bourbon and initiating small talk with his father’s stuffy work friends. It’s some charity event his father had mentioned in the past, and although Harry’s mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Nora, he suddenly becomes alert when his father introduces him to the only other person that is relatively close to his age.

Harry remembers her from one of the events he was forced to attend during his internship at his father’s office. He doesn’t recall much from meeting her nearly a year ago, considering he was a bit of a dickhead and was more focused on plotting ways to dip out early without being caught to meet up with his mates than trying to mingle with other guests, but now—now that she’s standing in front of him wearing a pretty mauve dress with expensive strappy heels, hair perfectly in place as her almond-shaped eyes gaze into his own, Harry doesn’t hesitate to shake her hand properly.

Her name is Jacqueline Van-Doren, and although she’s the type of beautiful that people can’t help but gawk at, Harry finds that he’s subconsciously comparing her to Nora. Her eyes have more of a greyish tint to them, and while Nora’s sparkle whenever any trace of light reflects off of her irises, Jacqueline’s are more lackluster in comparison. Her cheekbones are higher than Nora’s, but they lack the subtle shade of pink that always appears whenever Nora’s in a close enough radius to Harry. And while she’s much taller, much more confident, much more put together than Nora and all her mumbling and stuttering and clumsiness—Harry finds that he would indubitably pick Nora over a girl like Jacqueline any day.

The second lie happens in the middle of May just as the temperature is rising and the trees are green and blooming. Harry had plans to take Nora on a day trip to Bath so she could tick off another destination on her travel list, but unknowingly, he double-booked himself as his father reminded him he had a familial obligation to attend that same day in the form of an elaborate wedding at The Savoy.

He tells Nora that he has to attend a networking dinner in Oxfordshire, and somehow the lies get easier and easier to tell the more he spews them. Harry’s grateful that Nora doesn’t fact-check his excuse with Niall, but then again, she has no reason to suspect anything, right?

Harry spends the entire reception sitting in the back of the room in his charcoal Louis Vuitton suit with a sick feeling settling inside of him. It grows stronger with each candied sip of whiskey that falls down his throat, and when his father approaches him with a familiar blonde-haired grey-eyed girl practically matching his ensemble, Harry tries his hardest not to laugh. Because his father obviously is not shy in trying to set the two of them up, and although Jacqueline is still undeniably gorgeous after four whiskey neats, it’s not what he wants. She’s not what he wants.

But the pressure of displeasing his father is too much to bear, so he kisses her cheek cordially and allows her to sit with him. They talk the rest of the night but Harry genuinely has no idea what the content was, and when his father tells the pair of them that they’re required to attend an intimate work dinner at the end of the week, Harry just nods and goes along with it.

As May reaches its end, Nora can barely think straight. Her time in London has been nothing but an absolute dream—a whirlwind of newfound friendships, acclimating to her second favorite city in the world, and falling in love with somebody she never thought she would find solid ground with. She’s never felt this way about anybody before—not with Connor, not with Marcus, not with anybody. Nora isn’t even sure if her heart can feel this way about someone ever again. Not after Harry.

She’s hyperaware that her time in London is coming to an end, and reluctantly, she doesn’t want to leave. Not when she’s decided that she’s in love with Harry. Not when he can give her a reason to stay.

Nora has never unexpectedly shown up at Harry’s place before, but after rewriting the conclusion to her final essay for the fourth time and it still not making any sense, she grabs her jacket and oyster card and makes her way to the Underground to head towards Hampstead Heath.

She doesn’t bother calling or texting to alert him that she’s on her way, because in her mad rush to leave her residence hall, Nora forgot to grab her phone that was charging on top of her duvet. Nora’s never been impulsive or brash before—but it’s Harry and she’s in love, and she needs to tell him.

The white townhouse and small iron-clad gate come into view before Nora’s even figured out the words to say to Harry when he opens his navy blue front door. She figures that when she sees his face she’ll finally figure out how to explain what her feelings are, but when his green eyes meet her blues in trepidation, Nora wonders if she made the wrong decision in showing up unannounced.

In the tense silence that follows, Nora pauses for a minute, taking in Harry’s crisp white button down shirt tucked into a sleek pair of slacks. He seems to have been in the process of finishing fastening them, considering Nora can still see the tops of his butterfly tattoo and the swallows underneath his collarbones almost perfectly.

“Nora? What’re you—did we have plans?” Harry’s cheeks are blushed and he’s fidgeting uncomfortably in his fancy brogues and for the first time in months, he looks like he doesn’t want to let her inside.

“No, I uh—” Nora’s confidence is crumbling, and she’s suddenly not sure if this was a good idea at all. Maybe being brash and impulsive is a thing protagonists only do in the movies. “I had to tell you something. But this obviously isn’t a good time, so…”

Before she can turn to leave with her tail tucked between her legs, something inside of Harry clicks into place. He quickly opens his door wider and lets her in, ignoring the warning bells ricocheting inside of his brain as his brain fights with his heart for control over the situation. His heart ultimately wins in the end, and once Nora takes her first few steps inside his home, Harry can feel his insides quiver with nerves.

Nora barely makes it past the foyer, standing just at the cusp of his living room when she notices the expensive blazer thrown over the back of his leather sofa, his crisp black wallet on the fireplace mantle, and the heavy cardstock with cursive script that seems to be an invitation of the utmost importance lying parallel on the surface.

Why didn’t he tell her he was going somewhere? Was he hiding things from her? Was he ashamed to bring her to his gaudy work events? Does she really look that unappealing on his arm? Why has this all of a sudden become too confusing for Nora when just minutes earlier, she was unquestionably sure that she was in love with him?

Harry’s playing with the links on his shiny wrist watch nervously, attaching it with fumbling hands around his inked skin when Nora finally decides to break the silence. “Where are you, uh, going?”

He looks up at her, a bewildered expression on his face, and suddenly, his mouth has gone bone dry. Nora grows more and more skittish with each quiet breath that passes between them, and she’s never felt more unsure about their relationship.

God, when did things get so awkward between them?

“My dad’s back in the country, and it’s just this stupid event he’s making me go to. I tried to get out if it, honest, but it didn’t work. So, uh, I didn’t think it was a big deal to mention it to you,” Harry says quietly, feeling his lungs begin to constrict in the most agonizing way.

This lie feels worse than all the others he’s told her, because for the first time, there’s a crack in his resolve. Harry knows then that he’s done something very wrong, and he immediately regrets it all when he notices the hurt expression clouding Nora’s vision.

Nora knows this, too, because his chest is moving up and down from the thundering beats of his heart inside of his chest, and his hands are shaking against the smooth material of his pants, and his eyes are blown out so wide that Nora can make out all of the different shades of green hidden inside. And when his tremulous pupils finally focus on her own, Nora can see that Harry looks completely panicked in front of her, and she isn’t quite sure what to think.

“Oh,” Nora lets out in a soft exhale. It sounds defeated and she’s not entirely sure why, because nothing has even happened between them yet.

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s why she feels so low all of a sudden. Because it’s  been months of almost something’s—of days spent exploring different parts of the city and nights spent exploring different parts of each other. All without a label. All without a conversation. And now, standing in the front room of Harry’s home with shaking hands and trembling lips, Nora doesn’t understand how nothing can be said.

When her blue eyes fall to the floor, Harry springs into action. He’s in full recovery mode, approaching her slowly until the tips of his brogues bump the white of her trainers. His hands find purchase on her shoulders, gently kneading the skin until she finally looks up at him.

“I’ll only be there for an hour. We can do something afterwards, yeah? Just, uh, stay,” he pauses suddenly, eyes wide when he realizes what he’s saying before swallowing deeply, squeezing her soft skin a bit harder. “Stay here while I’m gone. Please.”

“You want me to stay here?” Nora echoes, blinking once, twice, a winsome dumbfounded expression gracing her features.

Harry nods, moving his right hand from her shoulder upwards until his warm palm is cupping the underside of her jaw tenderly, his thumb offering soothing strokes against the pink skin covering her cheekbone.

“Yeah, I do.”

Nora’s doubts are finally subsided, because how can he not feel anything towards her if he’s allowing her into his space for the first time without supervision? He obviously trusts her, and he obviously needs her—and that’s all the confirmation she needs to quiet her racing head and settle her thumping heart.

Her small hands settle on Harry’s waist and he instinctively brings her closer, cupping her jaw with his other hand so that he can angle her head back gently and press his lips against her own. It’s soft and sweet and soothing, and how can he not feel the same way when he kisses her like this?

Before they can get too carried away, his doorbell buzzes and Nora giggles when she feels him groan against her lips, shaking his head softly and backing away, looking down at her with a childlike pout on his lips.

Nora can’t help but trace the protruding flesh with her thumb, causing Harry to shiver. He’s dreading this event even more now, because all he wants to do is drag Nora upstairs and lock her in his room and turn their clock off for just one night.

But the doorbell buzzes again, and he sighs, knowing he can’t do that.

“That’s the car. I’ve got to go,” Harry whispers, giving Nora one last kiss before shrugging his blazer on and grabbing his wallet, keys, and invitation in one fell swoop.

Nora nods, a bit breathless at the sight of him. Harry opens the door, and before he can fully retreat, he peeks his head over his shoulder, long hair tucked behind his ear as he gives her one last small smile.

“One hour. Don’t miss me too much.”

As if she doesn’t miss him instantly when he leaves her.

True to his word, Harry comes back an hour later with a slice of red velvet cake he nicked from the dessert table before sneaking out undetected. He finds Nora burrowed in the thick sheets of his bed wearing the same Rush band tee he wore earlier in the day, her eyes lifting from the movie on the screen to the green of his eyes.

“Hey you,” she says softly, sitting up taller on his bed so that her back is flushed with his headboard and the tops of her thighs are poking out from underneath his duvet.

“Hi,” Harry responds, toeing off his shoes and walking over to her languidly, “Got you a present.” He drops the takeout container on her lap, grinning when she squeals and dredges her pointer finger through the thick frosting.

“Mmm,” Nora sighs, licking her finger dry as she smirks mischievously at Harry, watching as he undresses mindlessly. He isn’t sure if she’s doing it intentionally or if she’s always been a secret seductress, but when she repeats the action and swirls her tongue along her sticky digit, Harry snatches the box from her lap and slides his arms around her waist, switching their positions effortlessly so that she’s on top of him as he falls easily back onto the mattress.

“Someone’s feeling cheeky,” Harry says against her lips, his nose bumping hers repeatedly as she giggles against his skin.

“Can’t help it. I missed you,” Nora explains, adjusting her knees so that her weight is evenly distributed along his lower half, her backside resting against his front as her hands twist in between the curls along the crown of his head.

“Yeah?” Harry coaxes, his fingertips sneaking underneath his shirt as he plays with the lace material covering the bottom of her underwear.

“Always.” Nora seals her response with a fiery kiss, bringing her lips to his and pressing her entire body against his searing torso. She wonders if it’ll always feel like this—white hot electrical current shooting up her veins, warming her entire body up with just one simple press of his lips to hers.

Once Harry starts nipping at the skin of her lower lip, Nora responds by grinding into his lower half, the thin material of their underwear leaving little to the imagination as they garner enough friction to cause Nora’s knickers to dampen and Harry’s briefs to tighten.

They kiss until they’ve reached their very last breath, and when their lips depart, Harry uses this time to throw his shirt off of Nora’s body, leaving her sitting against his lap in just a nude pair of lacy underwear that makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

With his head resting back against his neck, Nora decides to attach her lips to the column of Harry’s throat, causing his entire body to shudder as a carnal moan rips through his throat and settles between them. Her fingers draw a tantalizing path down his chest and abdomen until they’ve settled along his waist, red lines marking the path Nora’s fingernails greedily traced.

Her small palm cups his growing length trapped inside the strained cotton material, rubbing and squeezing as her teeth bite into the sharp cut of his jaw. Harry hands grip the skin of her waist in anticipation, and once Nora’s decided that he’s had enough teasing, she rolls the band of his briefs down, freeing his length in the stifling air of his bedroom.

“Christ,” Harry whispers, his eyes shut tight as he breathes through the feeling of Nora’s bare hands on his newly uncovered skin. She shushes him with gentle kisses, lapping her tongue against his own once he’s finally calmed down a bit more and begun reciprocating her tenacity.

Before he can take control, Nora makes the decision for him as she slides her underwear down her legs, flinging the thin material against his floor. Harry’s eyes snap open as he takes in the sight of her naked against his lap, the moonlight flooding into his bedroom outlining the curve of her body, the shape of her breasts, the valley of her stomach, the stretch of her legs.

No matter how many times Harry’s seen her like this, he never fails to stop and appreciate her. Because he’s taken it for granted too many times in the past, and every time he sees her exposing herself to him in the most vulnerable way there is, he can’t help but feel his heart grow in his chest, hammering against his ribs as he marvels in the fact that Nora Priestley chose him.

“What?” Nora asks shakily, shrinking into herself when she realizes Harry’s been staring at her for a beat longer than necessary.

“Nothing,” Harry admits, bringing a hand up to her face and tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re just beautiful.”

Nora responds with a smile, pressing her lips to his tightly. “I want you like this.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, his hands tightening against her waist as he watches her scoot up higher on his lap so that her core is lined up with his aching length.

Nora nods, her teeth sinking into the plushness of her lower lip as she wraps her arms around his neck. Before he can say another word, she begins teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock, watching the way his eyes widen almost cartoonishly and the vein in his neck starts to pulse.

“Nora, fuck, baby, wait. I need—fuck. Need a condom,” Harry stutters, holding her tightly in his grasp as she hovers over his tip.

“It’s only been me, yeah?” Nora asks, the muscles in her thighs straining as she holds herself in the position over his length.

“What? Why would you ask me that? Of course it’s only you,” Harry says quickly, a look of bewilderment gracing his features.

“Then let’s not use one. I want to feel you like this,” Nora whispers, her hands holding his face tightly so that he has no choice but to stare into the blues of her eyes.

Harry feels his stomach bottom out, constantly amazed at the girl in front of him. “Are you sure? Have you ever done this?” he asks, disquietude lacing his every word.

Nora shakes her head. “Have you?”

“No,” he answers, much to Nora’s surprise. “I haven’t.”

“Well, Harry Styles,” she whispers, rubbing her palms over Harry’s hands that are gripping her waist, signalling that she wants him to loosen his hold, “There’s a first time for everything.”

Harry’s teeth widen at her quip, remembering the way she uttered those same exact words to him three years ago when he was experiencing another first with her. Before he can say anything back, Nora gives him one last kiss before sinking down on his length, causing his brain to forget every single thought rushing through his head other than the fact that he’s inside of her with no barrier between them, and it’s probably the closest he’s ever (and will ever) feel with another person.

They both seem to be in the same headspace, with the way Nora freezes on top of him, her throat pinching when she realizes she can feel every ridge and curve of his length from this position, and it’s only once he asks her his standard question of, “Are you okay?” when Nora starts to lift herself on her knees, before sinking back over him once more.

“Oh my god,” Harry exclaims, wrapping one arm around her lower back and the other gripping harshly at the back of her neck, holding her as tightly and as closely as possible so that he can feel every shudder of her body and every thump of her heart against his own.

Nora angles his head back so that she can crash her lips to his, swallowing his moans as she swivels her hips against his own, feeling his tip bump against the spongy spot inside of her walls that causes her toes to curl. When he expertly hits it for a third continuous time, Nora’s neck falls back as she cries out into the stuffy air.

Harry noses at the clammy skin of her neck before pressing his lips to the spot near her jaw, licking and sucking until she’s whimpering above him. “Feel so fuckin’ good,” Harry whispers against her skin, sinking his teeth deeper into her flesh when he feels her clench around him.

“I’m close,” Nora says through an exasperated breath, weaving her fingers through his long hair until she’s wrapped the strands around her wrist in a makeshift ponytail, pulling just enough to cause Harry to groan against her.

“Fuck, baby. Me too. Do that again,” he instructs, feeling himself lose control when Nora obeys his request.

Nora’s never been on top for this long before, and while her thighs are burning and her lungs are losing air the closer and closer she gets to her release, she’s never had sex feel this good before. The knot inside of her stomach is tightening with every thrust Harry meets her with, and when his right hand sneaks down between them and rubs at her swollen mound, it only takes three rotations until the knot is uncoiled and Nora’s careening towards her end.

She stills on top of him, trembling with the aftershocks as she comes down from the most intense orgasm she’s had yet. Her body doesn’t even feel like her own, with the way she’s vibrating all over and her skin is dampened and her hair is knotted. It’s only once Harry’s pushed her backward, hovering over her as she’s horizontal on his sheets, when the fuzziness finally dissipates from her vision. She’s thankful that she can finally see clearly, because when her blue eyes meet his, she watches as he slips out of her, pumping his length until white ribbons coat the skin underneath her belly button.

They’re both staring at each other with heaving chests and dotted irises, coming down slowly as they realize what had just transpired between them. When Harry finally catches his breath, he whispers, “Shit, I’m sorry I probably should have asked—”

“Shh,” Nora coos, always the one to calm his racing heart and wild thoughts. “It’s okay. That was amazing. You’re amazing. C’mere, please.”

He smiles before crashing his lips to hers, kissing her soft and slow, a thousand words spilling through their lips without their voices ever speaking them. They break away softly so that Harry can grab his discarded shirt from the floor to clean Nora’s stomach, his arm reaching for the article of clothing without getting up so that he can keep her underneath him for as long as humanly possible.

As he dotes on her ever so delicately, Nora’s convinced that he feels the same way. She argues over how to tell him in her head as he wipes at her stomach and in between her thighs, before throwing the shirt into his hamper across the room. She debates the wordage as he wraps his arms around her gently, heaving them up the bed until they’re tangled together underneath his sheets. And just when she’s about to say it, he mumbles against the skin of her neck in his throaty voice, “I wish time could stop and we could stay like this forever. Just you and me.”

Nora freezes. Because suddenly, her heart pangs with the startling realization that she’s leaving London in four days. Moments like these with Harry are dwindling away one by one, and she really needs him to give her a reason to stay.

She needs to hear him say it.

And just as she’s built up the courage to whisper her declaration out into the air, Harry’s soft snores whistle against her neck. So she pushes it down, and waits for another day.

Nora wakes up in the middle of the morning with a nervous knot lodged inside her throat. She’s not even sure what spurred this on—considering she fell asleep tucked underneath Harry’s arm feeling safe and warm, her head lulling against his chest as his sleepy breaths ruffled the brown strands of hair falling against her cheek. But now, at six forty-three in the morning, Nora feels completely unsettled.

Her skin feels hot but she’s shivering for some strange reason, and when she’s reminded of the weight of Harry’s arm wrapped around her waist, she suddenly feels weak under the heaviness of it. She doesn’t feel comfortable, and all at once she feels the urge to get out from under the stifling duvet and get some fresh air.

She sneaks away from Harry’s body, tip-toeing towards his bedroom door with nothing but her cardigan on from the night before. Just as she’s closing the door, Nora makes sure to peek at him one last time, smiling to herself when she watches him flop onto his stomach and clutch the pillow she was just using tighter into his grasp. Nora wonders if he sleeps like this when she’s not with him.

She wonders if he’ll sleep like this when she leaves in three days.

Sighing, Nora makes her way to the sliding door connected to his kitchen, plopping herself down on the brick steps of the tiny porch overlooking his back garden. With her thighs pressed to her chest and her chin resting on the oversized knitted material of her buttoned cardigan over her knees, she despondently watches the blues and oranges and yellows of the early morning sun paint a picture of this piece of London she’s grown to love almost as much as the sleeping boy upstairs.

Nora’s not sure how long she sits out in the cool June air contemplating what the uneasy feeling was that forced her out of bed, but it’s long enough for her to notice the sun rising with the rest of Harry’s neighborhood. Her stomach begins to grumble then, and the thought of making coffee and toast urges her legs to carry her back inside the flat and into the small kitchen.

Just as she’s distractedly buttering her toast, Nora feels two strong arms lock around her waist from behind. She jumps at the feeling of it, even though there’s no other person it could possibly be besides Harry. Nora’s not sure if it’s just a residual effect from this morning, but still, she leans into him when her pulse decides to go back to normal, and she can feel Harry’s nose bumping against the side of her neck.

“You’re up early,” Harry mutters in that raspy morning voice of his that never fails to make Nora’s thighs clench together. There’s just something about him in the mornings.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Nora explains, her teeth ripping a small piece from the corner of her toast before bringing it over her left shoulder for Harry to try.

He hums in appreciation. “Don’t like when you’re not with me when I wake up,” he admits, tightening his arms around her as he swallows so that her backside is fully flushed with his.

“I know,” Nora whispers, the knot suddenly reappearing in her throat without warning. The half-eaten toast in her hand is no longer appetizing to her, and when she places it on a paper towel with trembling fingers, Nora comes to the conclusion that it’s now or never. She needs to tell him—because holding it hostage deep down inside of her is causing her to feel physically ill, and she’d rather face the consequences than always wonder what could be.

Harry notices her switch in demeanor almost instantly, and before Nora can even gather her bearings, he’s spinning her around, one opened palm cupping her jaw with his thumb rubbing her cheekbone delicately while the other tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear as he observes her closely.

“Everything alright?” he asks, nervously watching the way her eyes seem to focus on everything but his own, her hands seem to shake erratically against her sides, her lips seem even darker due to the incessant nibbling she’s done to them throughout the morning, and Harry suddenly wonders if she’s finally caught up to all of his lies.

Nora takes one last breath before bringing her eyes to his own, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Now Harry’s the one that’s panicking.

As if his brain is no longer controlling his body, his hands suddenly disappear from Nora’s face. He takes a tentative step back, leaving a cold space where his warm body was just flushed against her own. Nora watches as his skin turns an uncomfortable shade of pale, and as if they had completely swapped roles, Harry’s now the one who can’t seem to hold her gaze.

“Wait—what?” Harry unnecessarily asks. He mainly utters it as a placeholder, considering he’s let an awkward wave of silence wash over them both with his inability to say anything of importance.

Nora breathes through her nose, concerned. “I said, I think I’m in lo—”

“Why?”

Nora wonders if he’s joking.

“What do you mean, why?” Harry can feel her slowly losing her patience, her arms wrapping around herself slowly, creating a layer of armor that she’s used in the past to protect herself from his callous words.

“I mean—are you sure?”

“Are you serious?”

Sure, Harry knows that he cares for Nora with everything in his being. And sure, a part of him understands that when his heart speeds up and his chest tightens and his cheeks bloom pink whenever he’s around her, it’s all due to his feelings for her.

But even though that all stands true—Harry can’t help but be wary. Because how are you supposed to know how to love somebody when you’ve never properly been loved yourself?

His best times with Nora are always a dream-like trance Harry finds himself reliving over and over again. They’re always short glimpses of time, weeks or months with an expiration date looming over their heads because Harry can only allot himself momentary feelings of bliss and vulnerability before he realizes that his heart has the capacity to break in half if he continues on any further.

While Harry’s heart and mind battle with one another, Nora decides that she’s had enough. There’s only so many minutes she can stand in front of him watching as he silently stares at the linoleum flooring of his kitchen instead of explaining his reasoning to her. It’s only once she feels the pressure of tears welling at her waterline when she ends up slinking around him, gathering the rest of her clothes and belongings in record speed so that she can leave his home before the first tear falls.

Harry’s frozen in place. He’s still staring at the spot Nora once filled, hearing the sounds of her slipping her shoes on by the door and twisting his door knob, but none of it is actually registering in his clogged mind. He’s not sure why—he’s completely and utterly recalibrating the entire inner-workings of his head, body, and heart.

It’s only once he’s heard the navy blue door slam shut when he snaps out of his catatonic state, realizing then and there that even though he hasn’t figured out how to explain his warped outlook on love to her, he still owes it to her to acknowledge her declaration.

But he’s too late—he’s always too late when it comes to Nora Priestley. Because while he’s approached the iron-clad gate wearing just his black briefs, Nora’s already rounded the corner of his street, leaving a flurry of dark brown hair and tears staining the pavement in her path.

Harry knows that his immediate reaction should have been to chase after her, but instead, he decides to grab the first bottle of liquor he could grasp from his bar cart, slinking down onto his couch and bringing it to his lips without an ounce of food in his stomach.

This is where Niall finds him hours later, a nearly-emptied bottle of whiskey at his feet while Harry stares at the black screen of his television with blank eyes, still wearing his briefs from this morning. He’s replayed the conversation so many times in his brain that he can recite Nora’s staggered breathing patterns by heart, and Harry knows that Niall is privy to this because instead of yelling at him, he sneaks off into his bedroom and throws a clean set of clothes at his bare body.

“Up you get, Curly. Time to dilute all that whiskey with some greasy food.”

In hindsight, Niall probably shouldn’t have brought Harry to the pub down the road from his flat. But he couldn’t carry his deadweight any further, and he figured the only place that would be okay with serving somebody who was already drunk was the ancient barman that knows the two by name at this point.

“Where’s that pretty girlfriend you’re attached to?” Said barman asks the moment Harry and Niall fall into the creaky barstools. Before Niall can try and alleviate the situation, Harry’s already ordered a pint of Carlsberg and a shot of Jameson, ignoring Niall’s pleas of trying to urge a burger and chips down his liquor-ladened throat.

He’s rang Nora at least six times now, currently going for a seventh after Niall returned his stolen mobile when Harry refused to put something in his whiskey-sloshed stomach. He obliged, only because he really wanted to get a hold of her and apologize for being an absolute twat. But she’s ignoring him, and he knows deep down that she has every right to, because she trusted him with her feelings and all he did was shut her down in the worst way possible.

Harry’s not sure how Niall agreed to it, but after they’ve closed out and Harry’s capable of standing on his own two feet, they’ve somehow ended up outside of Nora and Piper’s residence hall. Harry knows that Piper has to let Niall in, so in his drunken convoluted mind, he comes up with the plan to sneak past them both and head up the stairs to beg for Nora’s forgiveness.

What he didn’t account for was Piper’s protectiveness over her crying friend upstairs.

“Harry, I can’t let you do that,” Piper says, closing the door a bit so that only her face is poking out from the glass paneling.

“Piper, please. I’ve got—’ve gotta talk to her. ‘S important.” He tries entering the building again but somehow Piper’s much smaller body blocks the entrance, her arms holding the door frame in order to keep Harry out. Niall sighs from behind her, conflicted. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

“Harry, you’re pissed. I can’t—”

“No! Piper, please. I need t’go upstairs. I’ve rang ‘er and texted ‘er and I know—I know her, Piper. Fuck, it’s—” he pauses, breathing in deeply and trying his hardest to straighten out the jumbled thoughts causing his entire body to shake. “It’s Nora. Please.”

Before Piper can close the door on her friend one last time, she feels Niall’s hand on the middle of her back, and she calms almost instantly.

“Let ‘im try, Pipes.”

With a final sigh, she opens the door and Harry sprints up the stairs, nearly tripping over himself as he tries to get to Nora’s door in one piece. He knows he’s drunk, knows he’s probably a mess, knows that she has every right to send him away—but he needs to talk to her or he’ll fucking explode.

He knocks about eight times on the wooden door before Nora appears behind it, eyes puffy and skin pale. Her hair is a knotted mess and her fringe is frizzy and Harry feels his chest crack in half when he realizes that he’s made her cry again.

“Harry—”

“You lov—” he hiccups loudly, causing his words to cut off the moment his body shakes abruptly. He pauses, tries to remember what he was going to say, before starting again, only to fail to pronounce the godforsaken word appropriately. “You lo’ me?”

He knows his mouth can barely utter the word, and his voice comes out a bit more squeaky than he would like, but he can’t help it. That word has always felt foreign coming out of his mouth, and he’s never understood the magnitude of its meaning. Not dead sober, and especially not after drinking the entire pub’s collection of whiskey.

Nora doesn’t say anything, but she does look into his glassy eyes and realizes that it’s from alcohol and not sadness. His hair is somehow knottier than hers and his part is amok, and she knows it’s because he ran his fingers through the tendrils one too many times. His cheeks are flushed, and before she can respond, his mouth is already opening.

“‘Cos I panicked. And ‘m sorry, but it’s just—nobody’s said that t’me before and properly meant it. Like my parents. They don’t lo—. Yeah. They don't. And me, I don’t even think I feel that way about m’self, either. ‘S just—it scares me, and I don’t know how to lo—”

“—No,” Nora says softly, interrupting Harry’s drunken monologue with a sad shake of her head.

Harry blinks once, twice, his blurry eyes trying to focus on her frame as the tears begin to bubble along her waterline. “No?” He’s confused, feels as if his life is completely off-kilter with the short utterance of a simple, two-lettered word.

“I don’t love you like this.”

Harry wonders if Nora can hear his heart begin to rip inside of his chest. “Nora—”

“You can barely even say it! Even when you’re piss drunk, you can hardly say the word love, let alone stick around long enough to hear somebody say it to you!” Her voice echoes through the small hallway of the sixth floor, and Harry stares back at her, flinching with each raise of her voice. “I can’t do this, Harry. I’d rather have you not say it sober than try and spit it out when you’re drunk. I just—I deserve better.”

“Nora please, I—you don’t understand—”

“—No I think I do. Quite clearly, actually.” Before Harry can try to force himself through the door one last time, Nora’s already begun to close it on him. “I think it’s best you go.”

“Nora! Please!” Harry calls out against the heavy wood, but it’s no use. She’s already flicked the lock, already sunk down to the floor with her back resting on the other side of the door, already begun muffling her sobs with trembling hands. And every time Harry bangs on the door with clenched fists and Nora can feel the wood shake, she just clenches her teeth on her bottom lip harder, praying with everything in her that Harry can’t hear her cry.

Harry’s not sure how long he’s stood there pounding on Nora’s door, repeating the word please enough times that it’s somehow lost its meaning. It’s only once he feels Niall’s hand on his back, ushering him out of the hallway and down the stairs, sticking him into the back of a cab when Harry feels the weight of his mistake rest heavy on his shoulders.

The only reason Harry gets any semblance of sleep that night is because he forces himself to swallow back five generous sips of whiskey before collapsing onto his mattress.

When Harry wakes up the next morning, his head isn’t the thing that hurts the most. Somehow, it’s his heart—and even though he’s suffering from the worst hangover he’s had in a very long time, it pales in comparison to the ache resonating through the inside of his chest.

But he can’t feel sorry for himself anymore. Because the longer he sits wallowing in his own self-induced misery, the more Nora drifts away from him. Feeling sorry for himself isn’t going to fix this. He needs to own up to his mistakes, find Nora, and beg for her forgiveness—because even though he doesn’t deserve her, he can’t make her feel horrible anymore.

Just as he’s rummaging through his wardrobe trying to find the cleanest shirt he owns, he hears his mobile ring for the third time that morning. When he looks over at the screen he realizes that it’s his father again, and although they aren’t very close, seeing him try to reach him a handful of times is enough to be worrisome. And just as he’s about to slip his shoes on, his father rings again. Harry begrudgingly answers, wondering what the hell is going on.

“Good to see you know how to answer your mobile,” his father says instead of a normal greeting, his voice filled with sarcasm. Harry almost hangs up the phone on him, his head filled with much more important things than dealing with another ribbing before noon.

“What’s going on? Did someone die?” Harry asks, flying down the staircase in order to locate his trainers that he remembered throwing across the floor in his drunken stupor last night.

“Very funny,” his father retorts, the sound of an unamused chuckle floating through the receiver. “Surprised you haven’t seen it yet.”

“Seen what?” Harry asks, tying the final lace as he begins the search to locate his wallet and keys.

“Page Six. Lovely spread of you and Jacqueline leaving the work event from two evenings ago. That’ll definitely make for some good press surrounding our merger with the Van-Doren’s. Well done, son.”

Harry didn’t think it was possible to feel worse, but somehow, after hearing his father congratulate him for being photographed with the girl he’s been trying painfully hard to set him up with, Harry feels as if everything around him is falling apart.

He doesn’t even respond to his father. Instead, he hangs up the call, typing his name in the Google image search bar. Sure enough, a picture of him and Jacqueline standing close enough to each other for it to be a story is covering his screen. Harry’s never felt more enraged, because he suddenly realizes that if his father has seen it, then Nora definitely has as well.

This can’t be happening to him.

She leaves tomorrow. He can’t let her go like this, not when he wants her to stay. Not when the words are practically at the tip of his tongue, ready to be shouted out into the sky. He’s ready to tell her.

He needs to tell her.

But before he can walk down his front steps and through the iron-clad gate, Niall is standing there blocking his path, a sullen look covering his face.

“Mate, she’s gone.”

*** A/N: I’m sorry times infinity. I know it must seem like I’m torturing you, but I promise I’m not! Everything will make sense in time, even though it’s a bit painful to read. My inbox is open for all complaints/theories/ill-wishes.

Sadly, the time has come that I no longer have completed chapters already written. I've tried to keep up, but real life got in the way. I have like barely half of the next part written, so I’m not entirely positive if it will be posted next Friday. I want to give you guys the best I can offer, and if it feels rushed I know it’ll be quite disappointing! I’m aiming to have it up by Friday, but if it isn't, I will surely keep you posted. Thanks again for sticking with me and this story, please be kind to each other and I’ll see you (hopefully) in one week!

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[mikerickson]

They had, none of them, Harry suspected, asked to be there, grateful though they were. They were his human toys, taken from the dirty box on a whim, and could be thrust back into darkness and neglect just as casually if they somehow failed to interest or satisfy. It almost feels futile to attempt to write a review for this one, mostly because I already know I won't be able to completely convey just how deeply this book has affected me over the past few days. Yet I still feel compelled to at least try, to allow me to say 'goodbye' to these characters and move on if nothing else.

I came across this title on some recommendation list or another a while back, read the synopsis, took away "gay western romance" and said, "Sounds awesome, I'm in." But that's a gross oversimplification to the point of being misleading. I'd hesitate to call it a "western" because the first third of the book takes place in Edwardian London before jumping the pond and landing in the Saskatchewan frontier, and from that point on it's more focused on sustenance farming than anything with a 'cowboys and Indians' vibe. And "romance" doesn't feel like an apt descriptor either because the main love interest doesn't even appear until more than halfway through the book, and even then he's not given much 'screentime' for lack of a better word because the story isn't about him. Rather, it follows a central character and the key turning points of his life. The story begins with Harry, the protagonist, being transferred from a - frankly horrific - mental institution to a sort of experimental compound where other patients like him are free to roam without guards, circa 1919-ish. The altruistic psychologist who is running the place explains that he's trying a new approach to studying and helping those affected by mental illnesses, but everyone there is aware of the unspoken power dynamic. This doctor tries to help Harry overcome a mild bout of amnesia through hypnosis, and we as the reader learn his life's story that led up to that point, occasionally jumping back to the 'present' at the compound every few chapters or so. I loved Harry as a character, which is not something I would expect to say about someone who's introduced as effectively a spoiled trust fund baby who never had to work or make a hard decision in his life. But after an inciting incident forces him save face by going into the self-imposed exile of becoming a colonist in rural Canada, he bucks up and actually makes a go of it. He's horrible at it at first, of course, but I appreciated that the effort was made at all from someone you'd expect to give up at the first sign of struggle. It's been a long time since I've like a main character as much as this, and in fact, I liked every single named character in this book, even the obvious antagonist who periodically shows up like a hungry wolf, pacing and watching from just beyond the safety of the firelight. At no point was there a scene where a certain character appeared that had me enduring them and wanting to move on to the next; they all just worked for me. They're easily the reason why I got so invested and why their (sometimes tragic) fates keep resonating with me after putting the book down. This was a surprisingly atmospheric book. The isolation Harry experiences when he first arrives at his assigned plot of land in the middle of a cold prairie is palpable, and you feel just alone as he does when he realizes he's the only person around for miles. The constant descriptions of physical labor eventually become therapeutic (no doubt because I'm not the one doing it) and it's easy to forget that you've gone multiple pages without a single line of dialogue. But as Harry begins to venture beyond the limits of his property and meet his new neighbors, the locals are just as enamored with the newcomer with an English accent as he is with them and I quickly grew to enjoy them in kind. Ultimately when the romance proper begins, it was handled in such an unbelievably tender manner that it had me clutching my gay little heart multiple times. It wasn't graphic or salacious - what few sex scenes there were were sort of 'fast-forwarded' through, for which I'm strangely thankful - but rather it was a series of subtle actions that could be misconstrued as merely friendly if one didn't know how to read between the lines. A sort of relationship hiding in plain sight, in the face of a society that would neither accept nor understand it, carried out by characters who lacked the modern verbiage to accurately describe what they felt or why. This facet of the book was very humbling, and reminded me not to take for granted that not only am I able to live publicly with my own relationship, but that I possess the level of self-understanding to not feel conflicted about that aspect of myself. It could be argued that there was a happy ending, though it was ultimately a pyrrhic, costly victory to get to that point. I don't know that I'd consider the book as a whole to be particularly uplifting because there was a lot of hardship in the middle and end, but I absolutely don't regret giving this story my time. The very last scene of this book is one that I will remember for probably the rest of my life, and - acknowledging that it's still emotionally fresh for me - I don't know that I'll ever be able to recall it without choking up.        

[canvaswolfdoll]

CanvasWatches: Id: Invaded

Okay, what if we could catch serial killers by entering their subconscious minds (referred to as an Id-Well), where the amnesiac avatar of a investigator must search for clues while also solving a murder mystery created within the bounds of a fantastic, mind bending world? Isn’t that an amazing premise for a combination platformer/puzzle video game?

Anyways, Id: Invaded is an anime. The only major complaint I have is how I would much rather be playing it than watching the proceedings, which probably just means it’s got a good concept.

Uh… it’s a mystery show with a season long arc and character progression so… spoilers? It’s a good show if you’re into that stuff. Handles grit and mature themes well, but… well, mature themes and violent images abound. So be careful of that.

So that’s the spoiler warning.

After watching the first episode and learning the basic concept, two truths were immediately evident: the young-looking police girl (Koharu Hondomachi) hearing the exposition is going to kill someone so she’ll be a candidate to dive into the id-well, and the elderly director guy overseeing the project is 100% the big bad.

Still, just because a couple things are easily solved by knowledge of narratives doesn’t mean there aren’t surprises. Like trepanning is a plot-important element in this for… some reason… it gives a secondary character superpowers!

Don’t… don’t blindly emulate your media, kids.[1]

The first couple of episodes telegraph what elements to pay attention to pretty clearly. Hondomachi is wide-eyed and overly interested in the Id Well machinations, and asks about how one becomes a candidate for entering the machine, and doesn’t look put out by the need to be a killer.[2] She also headbutts a drill to assist in the capture of the first serial killer of the show, so she’s not hesitant to take extreme measures. Which leaves the question: will she kill with the intention of joining the Id Well delving team?

Meanwhile, Takuhiko Hayaseura appears only long enough to be marked as important, but he doesn’t take an active part in the plot. Then the mysterious John Walker Phantom appears with similar old man body language, those dots are connected and you just have to wait for the plot to catch up.

Finally, our protagonist, Narihisago, dwells on wanting to save the perpetual victim of these murder dinner parties he’s investigating, signalling that Kaeru is more than a prop of the gimmick. I didn’t have enough details to take a guess at what her larger role would be, so the reveal in the later episodes was a successful twist.

There is a small tragedy with the structure of the anime course. While I typically prefer the 12 to 24 episode style, as it allows for limits for the artists to work with (like a trellis), and means that the series maintains a consistent narrative without flailing about to maintain momentum until given permission to die, we occasionally get a show like Id: Invaded where the central gimmick lends itself so well to an episodic, killer of the week style stories that I just want to watch the variations and not care too much about the myth arc. Because it’s set to conclude with episode 13, the show can only play with the gimmick for about half the course before having to buckle down and start telling the larger narrative, leaving me yearning for more new id wells and mysteries.

If the show were twice as long, it would’ve been able to play with the gimmick more, and have space to flesh out the investigative team to have actually interesting characters.

The first episodes introduce six characters watching Narhisago and analyzing the world around him to deduce the actual identity of the serial killer, but they have very little dialogue outside of exposition, and their mystery is opaque to the viewer until they solve it. The team could’ve been cut in half without losing anything.

But if Id:Invaded had two cours to stretch out and tell stories, the investigation team could have subplots and character revealing dialogue. But there’s no space for them, so… lost potential.

In fact, if this story was told as a video game,[3] there’d be plenty of space for the Wellside team to have incidental dialogue to develop them. The audience/player can also get more direct satisfaction out of solving the gimmick of each Id-Well, as they get to directly utilize the solution to complete the level. If the hypothetical game takes a page from Pheonix Wright, which is the game I most mentally aligned with the show, there can also be a section after the level where the clues found within the level can be analyzed and the player gets to piece together who the killed is.

It’d be fun.

But… er… the actual story.

It’s fine. The characters make a lot about learning who this John Walker fellow is, but the obvious culprit is sitting right there, so the viewer is just patiently waiting for the characters to catch up, amusing themselves with the episodic portion of the story.

Then, a twist: they find the device used to enter Id-Wells within an Id-Well. So, what would happen if someone used it?

So our protagonist does, and finds himself seemingly back in the real world, though before the death of his wife and daughter. He can set right what once went wrong!

Although… he knows this can’t be real. He remembers everything that led him here, so surely this is permanent.

But what if it is?

First order of business: Narihisago sequence breaks and puts a stop to the serial killer who murdered his daughter early, the fight placing him in the hospital, where he finds… Kaeru? Except her name’s Kiki, and when she sleeps, those around her experience her dreams.

Dreams where she’s constantly getting murdered, often in very brutal fashion. Huh.

Despite the characters attempting to lean into the mysterious nature of the machine allowing them to place people into Id-Wells, I took it for granted and assumed it wouldn’t need explanation.

Instead, we learn Kiki’s power is being exploited to enable the gimmick, which I should have seen coming considering how much the anime is built on women suffering.[4]

Eventually, Narihisago and Hondomachi (the girl who becomes a second Id-Well diver partway through) are able to use the time and space given in this recreated past to find a solid lead on who John Walker is. Just in time for the system to kick them out and for them to climb back out to actual reality.

Hayaseura, learning the jig is up, releases Kiki from the hidden chamber she’s been in, and lets her loose, where her powers rage out of control and pull everyone in the building into various Id-Wells.

He then goes to the chamber with the machines allowing the well-dives, and upon being confronted, he activates a machine to take him in as he shoots himself, intending to wreak havoc in the collective unconscious or whatever.

In hindsight, they probably could’ve just unplugged him and moved on to resolve the Kiki problem. Instead, our nominal[5] heroes follow him in for the final confrontation!

Then Covid-19 struck, and I had to wait three months for the final episode to get dubbed!

All my dubs are delayed. Which is fine. It’s fine and fair. I don’t want anyone to risk themselves just for my entertainment, but I’m allowed to be a little disappointed by fate.

So after a three month delay, I sit down to watch the final episode, not bothering to rewatch anything because I’ve waited three months and a not insignificant portion of my motivation was to just finish the dang thing.

The final episode was okay. The two detective characters work together to outwit John Walker, sending him to the time displaced universe via a machine in the Id-Well of someone who’s now dead.

Which… upon reflection, isn’t a permanent solution. Both Narihisago and Hondomachi went through that experience, and eventually got ejected to their original Id-Wells, and the death of an Id-Well’s owner doesn’t collapse the place (as proved by Hayaseura/John Walker using his own Id-Well to jump about despite being dead himself.

Outside the Id-Wells, the leader of the Wellside Team puts on a prototype suit version of the machine to attempt to get Kiki to stop making a mess of the building. He meets up with her, refuses to shoot her, and they all agree to put her back and maybe try and solve her problem.

So, at the end of the series, we’re mostly back where we started: using an applied phlebotinum girl to chase serial killers. Which keeps the premise open for a sequel,[6] but they’ll need to write a new overarching plot, as I don’t thinking curing Kiki’s dream projections lines up as a murder mystery. It’s possible, but I find it unlikely.

In the end, I enjoyed the show, and I’m glad I watched it. I’d recommend it to anyone looking for a more obscure anime after getting through the Canon of the artform. Still, the amount of female characters suffering, to the point that the plot itself operates off a woman’s suffering is uncomfortable. If there is more, hopefully they can lean off that element.

Also, let me reiterate one last time how Id:Invaded would make a great video game. I buy that Visual Novel in a snap.

Kataal kataal.

-

[1] Not that kids should watch this one. [2] The reason for this limitation is not explained, and is likely unimportant. [3] A desire I wasn’t being facetious about. [4] Most of the murder victims are woman, and there’s a worrying tendency for the killer’s methods to be based on maiming. [5] All three are killers: one a serial killer killer, a second a killer due to self-defense, and the last just a straight serial killer who happened to be useful. [6] And, indeed, a manga continuation started at the same time as the show, so the premise lives.

[secretlyviola]

Wake Up, Girls!: the Black Sheep of Idol Anime and International Perceptions of the Japanese Idol Industry

Wake Up, Girls! as an anime is probably one of the best and most accurate representations of the real life Japanese idol industry that I've seen thus far. So much so that after completing it, while keeping the crude humor of the show in mind, I struggled with how it wasn't more popular both domestically in Japan and overseas where I live or why word wasn't spread about it more widely. Now, granting & considering the fact that the structure of the show is confusing (1 movie, a TV anime series, 2 more movies, and then the most recent 2nd season which concluded this past winter) I can understand why it has low viewership and interactions compared to other idol-related shows like the various Love Live! and Idolm@ster series that seem to be booming or at least doing better both domestically and overseas. With that in mind, I wished to do a bit more exploring into possible reasons other than these that would address some of its setbacks and at the same time encourage people to give the series a fair chance.

What's Missing?

The thing that I'm noticing most about the deficit in Wake Up Girls' (WUG's) interest mostly has to do with its promotional material.

To start, WUG does not have a mobile game like it's competitors; or rather it did and now will again after some time. The first game unfortunately failed due to possible competition from Love Live! and similar rhythm and gacha games releasing the same same year. The girls' characters do have a feature on a console game called Miracle Girls Festa which shares an engine with the Hatsune Miku Project Diva series. However, a new game involving WUG has not seen a release since then,(other than appearances in other games) which in the rat-race of mobile idol gacha games has put them at a stark disadvantage of the discovery and interaction of their characters. This is, however, on the horizon to change in the fall with the release of their newest mobile game. I'm not able to talk much on this as a data point simply because it isn't released and doesn't really have any gameplay other than a few promo videos.

The Show

Because of the gaming fallout, character discovery and building is almost solely reliant on watching the show. This can be both good and bad. Good, because the group's content is more centralized, but it can severely lack when it comes to more individualized interaction and selecting the all-too-well-known oshimen or "best girl"

The anime itself--as mentioned earlier--is very convoluted in its setup and crude in its initial delivery. If you miss the first movie and just start watching the first season, you can definitely watch the series, but details are a lot more well-rounded when you do watch it.

There are also two separate movies in between the most recent season that are helpful to watch, but that Crunchyroll does not have available for streaming as of writing this, which makes it a bit more complicated to watch without more details.

A general thing to keep in mind while watching is the amount of crude humor that develops throughout the movie and the first three episodes. Without giving too much away to the actual plot, there are themes of sexual exploitation that are present in the beginning of the show. I do see why this may turn some people off to the series since it persists for a majority of the beginning watch time, but I have a firm belief that it is worth pushing through and some parts of it even are good representations of how idols can be exploited in the industry. (It's not all just smiles and friendship!)

"But, why should I watch this?"

If you enjoy Asian idols of any form, I strongly believe it's worth your time. 

Or rather, I could just leave it at that but I know that lack of substance can make people hesitant to try something. So, here's a quick review from 1st movie to most recent season:

The first movie, Shichinin No Idol (Seven Idols, 七人のアイドル) covers the formation of the group through the small Sendai-based agency Green Leaves who sets off to make money by creating an idol group to rival popular powerhouse I-1 Club. (it's essentially this universe's equivalent to AKB48 and it's sister groups) The movie follows the recruiting of Yoshino Nanase, (Member Image Color: Light Blue) a former child model and the group's appointed leader, Miyu Okamoto, (Member Image Color: Orange) a local cafe maid, Minami Katayama, (Member Image Color: Yellow) a joyful and energetic girl who's recruited after winning a folk singing competition, Kaya Kikuma, (Member Image Color: Green) who quit her part-time job at a ramen shop, Nanami Hisami, (Member Image Color: Purple) who aspires to be a stage actress, Airi Hayashida, (Member Image Color: Navy) a timid girl who auditions for the group at the encouragement of her friend and the final member of the group, Mayu Shimada, (Member Image Color: Red) who happens to be a former I-1 Club core member or "center" in the idol world.

The following first tv-aired season covers the girls' activities after debut, inevitably leading to their participation in a high-profile idol competition though their national promotion and with help from a famous producer who wrote songs for I-1. The issues with Mayu's former association with I-1 Club complicate this, as the rivaling group is the host for the idol festival and a large amount of fans are present. How they overcome all of this really emphasizes the level of tribulation that real life idols go through in the industry to get discovered and recognized.

The next movies in between the 1st & 2nd season, Seishun no Kage (青春の影) and BEYOND THE BOTTOM follow a similar plot as the first season, except the girls are challenged with debut under a major agency and the complications that come with that, having to start over from zero, being a one-hit-wonder and do everything that comes with struggling after success, reflecting on the point that sometimes you have to look back to move forward.

The second tv-aired season has the girls moving into the same house and taking on more independent activities to boost the group's overall popularity for their national tour. The show takes a new art and staffing direction than the previous iteration and while doing this, in my humble opinion, retains what's good while cutting a lot of the crude humor that was, at times, unnecessary and honestly almost makes the amount of time building up to the season more worth it.

.~*~.

So is it all worth it? That's up for you to decide. I would personally put it on my top 10 essential anime to watch. While I can't really say it's my favorite, I definitely think that it should be taken for more than it's face value of just another idol anime with fan service. Overall, I can say that I'm glad I invested my time in this series and hope that others may do the same.

Epilogue: "So is there more than that?"

So I can say now that this blog post was actually in progress over a pretty long period of time, written on & off over a period of 7 months. In that time, a lot of things have happened, including the expansion of Wake Up, Girls' sister group, Run Girls, Run (RGR), the announcement of the upcoming mobile game, and--unfortunately--the announcement of the disbandment of the real-life counterpart of WUG, the singing seiyuu unit. (By the same name of course)

To speak briefly on them, the girls share the first name with their animated counterparts and have had group activities outside of the anime including singing for anime openings and endings. They perform both these songs and songs from the show at their concerts. The members each have their own activities outside of the group which includes voice work in other popular Japanese mobile games such as Fate: Grand Order, Idolm@ster: Cinderella Girls, and Tokyo 7th Sisters. This disbandment is set to occur in March of 2019, so if you're going to be in Japan before or around that time, I'd recommend going to see them before time's up. Their live performances are definitely one of their strong points. If you can't make it before, then my point in this post still stands and I still firmly believe watching the show is something worthwhile even if it only changes peoples' perspectives a little.

[thumbgarden]

Before planting, how to Revive a Dead Plant

We recommend buying saplings only from specialized nurseries. Even better, from those that have been operating in your town or regional center for several years and have a good reputation. Also, try to buy saplings that are zoned in your area and approved for local use.

But what about the situation where you buy a seemingly healthy seedling from a seller you don't know well and upon closer inspection, at home, you find that it is not so healthy? Can there be many seedlings that are not as healthy as they should be brought back to life?

Is it possible? We will tell you that before planting, how to Revive a Dead Plant here.

HOW TO CHOOSE AND WHERE TO BUY SEEDLINGS? Ideally, you should buy seedlings with a closed root system. They have the advantage that they can be grown all year round (in large sizes - even in winter) and in most cases, they are well developed: after all, they are not dug up for sale, they grow on their own, all the time in pots.

The main thing is to make sure that the seedlings have been growing in pots before you buy them, and not transplanted there a few months before the sale. The easiest way to do this is to gently grasp the trunk of the tree and pull the sapling as if you are trying to pull it out of the ground.

If the sapling has been growing in a pot, it will not be easy to pull out, but if it was recently planted there, it will be easy to pull out, and such a sapling should not be taken out.

Be prepared for the worst when buying seedlings in unfamiliar places. By the way, markets can also be called unfamiliar places: in fact, the seller who sold you a substandard seedling may not see you again. Sellers in the market tend to sell their goods faster and at higher prices, and they don't think about the consequences.

With this in mind, when buying saplings always check carefully: whether there are broken branches, whether the branches are not secured with wire, whether mud has been smeared from them (this also happens). Check the place of grafting, where there should not be a strong thickening, check the trunk - no hail, which has the appearance of small ulcers.

At the roots, you can gently poke a piece of bark underneath with your fingernail to reveal light green, vibrant tissue. Look at the roots, they should also be alive and resilient and white-green in color, but if they are brown, chances are they have started to die, and recovering them will be difficult if it can be done at all.

Do not choose large seedlings with strong crowns and few berries or fruits hanging on the branches. Keep in mind that the larger the seedling, the more difficult it will be to adapt to the new place, such large seedlings will be sick for a long time after transplanting, will throw off flowers and ovaries, and in the end, you will not gain in time, or even miscalculate. Unfortunately, buyers almost always want to buy big seedlings.

But buyers are getting smarter, and the market is full of tricks - if an adult sapling doesn't sell, we'll use it to make a seedling. All that is needed is a short pruning, leaving the thin branches and removing the thick ones.

Yes, such success can sometimes distinguish a young sapling from an adult one only by its roots, if the roots are hidden in a container? In general, it is always necessary to think and be smart, and not to take unnecessary risks.

But while we are off-topic, let's return to the issue of seedling revival, starting with reviving with water.

REJUVENATING SEEDLINGS WITH WATER Water is necessary for the proper functioning of all life on our planet, and sometimes it can really work miracles and revive people. Water can help and seedlings, and for this reason, it is best to use soft water, such as rainwater.

If you buy a sapling, bring it home and forget about it for a few days, or do not even dig it up, or realize that you bought half-dried planting material (which, by the way, is not uncommon), as soon as possible set aside a full pot or bucket of soft water at room temperature (rainwater, melted, settling for a few days) and submerge the sapling there so that its maximum weight is underwater for two or three days. Interestingly, this uncomplicated method can even restore saplings whose bark has begun to wrinkle.

This is the first and simplest option. It is a good option, but it does not give a 100% guarantee that the seedlings will be revived. In order to restore the seedling with more assurance, it is necessary to use a solution of camphor oil to restore it.

To prepare this solution, take 20 drops of camphor alcohol and dissolve it in one liter of water. Then pour this amount into a tub or bucket, where you leave your seedlings for a few days.

There is another variant of the solution for reviving dried seedlings - it is called "living water". To prepare living water, you need to take a tablespoon of urea, a tablespoon of calcium superphosphate, and a few drops of any growth stimulant - similar to those sold in ampoules. You first need to dilute it all in a bucket of water and then pour it into a larger container so that most of the seedlings will fit in.

This option is good because you can't wait three days from soaking seedlings to planting, usually 15-20 hours of resurrection is enough, after which the seedlings are safe to plant.

Do not forget that seedlings revived in this way must be planted only in loose, fertile, and moist soil, in fact in a nutritious slurry, watered well for the first month and not allowed to dry out the soil, only then they can adapt and start growing.

PRUNING FOR LIFE (YOUNG SEEDLINGS) If you buy a mature seedling only to find at home that some of its shoots and the top of the central stem have dried out, you should not hesitate to cut off these shoots and parts of the central conductor.

When cutting, try to cover a few millimeters of living tissue, and after cutting, make sure to protect the cut area with garden varnish or garden paint to prevent infection from entering through the cut, just as it would through an open gate.

If (after planting the seedling) the buds on it have not awakened and the buds start to wilt and dry out, there are two ways out - either dig up the seedling and just throw it away or take the risk and cut it backward, except for the stump 3-4inch(8-10 cm) high from the graft.

It is possible that the young shoots will start growing from dormant buds and the seedlings can come back to life. If this is the case, in the future you should monitor the growth and development of the buds in the remaining part of the seedling, selecting the strongest of them and growing as vertically as possible, the rest should be removed.

Subsequently, to avoid it being blown off by high winds until it becomes stronger, this bud should be tied to a support stake and sprouted from its side to form a crown.

SAVING DISEASED SEEDLINGS Besides the fact that seedlings may have dried out after purchase, they are often rotten or with mold, which is not easily noticed at the time of purchase: the seller can simply remove it periodically with a cloth, but instead of the moldy spot it will appear again in a few days. How to deal with such seedlings?

1. Black cancer Some gardeners, after buying seedlings, suddenly find brown marks on them, which is most likely the center of black cancer. This is a rather dangerous disease, so you can simply throw it away or cut it off (below these spots). As a result, you will get a severely shortened seedling, but it is alive and in the future, will most likely grow and develop well.

2. Bumps on the roots A closer look at the roots will reveal some thickening of the roots, which may be a sign of disease and therefore is not recommended for planting seedlings on plots. It is best to remove the thickened part, even if some of the roots must be cut off.

After cutting the thickening, the roots of the seedlings are necessarily immersed in a 3% liquid solution of Bordeaux mixture, then rinsed with water and immersed in a similar mixture of humus and clay (about 500 g) (with a few liters of water, 200 g of wood ash and a tablespoon of nitroaminophosca). After such a baptism of the root system, the seedlings can be safely planted in the ground.

In the case of seedlings of Acacia or Buckthorn, root growth and thickening should not bother you, their root thickening is caused by tubercle bacilli, which synthesize nitrogen and live in symbiosis with these crops (mutually beneficial coexistence).

DO I HAVE TO SAVE CUT SEEDLINGS? It happens from time to time that nurseries sell unconditioned planting material at a significant discount, for example, when such material is damaged during the digging process. Such seedlings usually have badly cut or torn roots and are actually sticking out of the stump. Is such a seedling worth taking? If you have free space and free time, then why not? We answer in no uncertain terms that it is worth it, but of course, you must be prepared in advance, as the seedlings may not survive.

Before planting, the stubs of such seedlings should be soaked in putty, and we recommend soaking seedlings whose roots have been cut short to remove the thickened parts. Next, the seedlings can be planted as usual, and then each of their shoots, including the central conductor, is shortened by exactly half.

During the first month after sowing, the seedlings should be watered daily, keeping the soil as moist as possible, but not over-watering. After a week, the seedlings should be fertilized by adding a tablespoon of nitroamine phosphate fertilizer under them, loosening the soil beforehand, and watering.

The only thing to do now is to observe the development of the seedlings: if the buds will bloom and the shoots will start to grow, this means that the root system is working and the seedlings will probably survive.

WHAT CAN ONE DO ABOUT DECAY? It often happens that seedlings brought by mail or from other areas become severely depleted during the journey and start to dry out, or even more often, start to simply rot due to overly careful packaging.

We have already talked about the revival of dried seedlings, but how to get rid of the rot (including seedlings purchased in nurseries)? Therefore, a good inspection should be performed after receiving seedlings. The presence of rot on the shoots and trunks can be done by pruning the shoots with rotten centers, scrubbing the centers with a wooden scraper, and then treating them with a 3% Bordeaux solution.

If there is rot on the roots, they can be cut off and this will also remove the center of the rot. If the rot has settled on the main roots and cannot be removed, they can be treated with a 3% solution of copper or iron alum.

Before planting, these seedlings can be soaked in "amphetamine stimulants" (some users use aspirin instead), for which we have given the recipe, or in a solution of any growth stimulant such as "phytohormone grower", etc. Growth stimulants will promote additional root formation.

WHEN IS THE BEST TIME TO BUY SAPLINGS? If you receive or purchase seedlings in late fall, it is best not to plant them at this time of year, but in the spring (especially for seedlings of drupe crops). In winter it is better to bury them in the ground, in a place free from mice, and accumulate enough snow. You can also store the seedlings in a basement at a temperature of about zero and fill the roots with damp but not wet sawdust.

If possible, try not to mail-order seedlings in winter and early spring, as they will freeze in winter and fall apart in spring, and then it will be impossible to revive them.

We hope you will find our advice useful. If you have your own experience with reviving seedlings, be sure to write in the comments; perhaps one of ThumbGarden's readers will make use of your advice.

#ThumbGarden #Plant #DeadPlant #Planting #Revive #BordeauxMixture #Tips #HowTo #Why #What #Seedlings #FlowerGarden #Garden #FlowerBed #OutdoorGarden #SmallSpaces #Hydroponics #Techniques #Inspired

Author: Ms.Geneva Link: https://www.thumbgarden.com/revive-a-dead-plant/ Source: ThumbGarden The copyright belongs to the author. For commercial reprints, please contact the author for authorization, and for non-commercial reprints, please indicate the source.

[kpopgerapitico]

EOYR 2017: K-Dramas Part 2

These dramas are good. With a capital G. I love them all very much. They may have problems, but I either don’t remember them, or I don’t care about them. Or the show was so good that I forgot about the downfalls.

These aren’t in an order (they are in my heart) because I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Quick Honorable Mentions: I decided to not include any drama specials/web dramas in the rest of this post, so I have to mention a few here instead.

My Runway:

In A Sentence: Body changing with models. That’s it, that’s the show

Steer Clear If: You require depth, because you will not find it.

Comments:

This drama is not deep or long, but it is sweet. It is a lollipop in drama form. It is a drama that is neither hard to follow or offensive. It also didn’t come out this year, but was released to Netflix this year, so this is the year I watched it in. It holds a spot close to my heart for being adorable and requiring no brain power, which sometimes is all I want from a drama.

Last Minute Romance:

In A Sentence: Baek Se’s bucket list includes dating an idol star . . . oh and she has 3 months to live.

Steer Clear If: This show depicts both cancer and depression. Both are treated respectfully (and often in a new way).

Comments:

This show gives me even more reason to love Han Seung Yeon. Also, this is a depiction of cancer I have NEVER seen in dramaland. It is both unerringly optimistic as well as realistic and grounded. The romance is sweet and understated. The main character dies (it’s not a spoiler, you know she has cancer in the first 5 minutes) and (this IS a spoiler) her boyfriend chooses to live his life and not be totally sad, and is successful. It is a refreshing take on a lot of common drama tropes that keeps you watching. The Romeo and Juliet speech is really good, and any scene with Han Seung Yeon (most of the scenes admittedly) are great as well. It is a worthy watch.

Individualist Ji-young:

In A Sentence: What happens when lonely people who don’t acknowledge that they’re lonely meet each other.

Steer Clear If: This deals with depression, and an almost sort of suicide attempt.

Comments:

This drama is the reason I refuse to give up on Gong Myung. Because he may keep choosing shitty drama after shitty drama, but this one shows that if you give him a character with a lot of charm, a little bit of depth, and the job to make puppy eyes at the lead, he will succeed. In spades. This drama also shows that you don’t have to be optimistic in your portrayal of depression in order to get a happy ending. I also love the fact that Ji Young gets to a better place with her depression (I hesitate to say she is better) post breakup. She is not saved by a man, she is forced onto a new path maybe, but the healing comes off screen and away from him.

Basically, watch more drama specials.

Now back to the long format.

Argon:

In A Sentence: They used to be the best news team, and maybe, they will be again.

Steer Clear If: You don’t like news shows. That’s it.

Comments:

Coming into this show, I had no expectations, except that it was one of the last things Kim Joo Hyuk did, and that I loved him in Like For Likes (and also Two Days One Night). This show was what I wanted Newsroom to be.

By having 8 episodes, Argon manages to avoid the downfall of so many news shows that get lost in the procedural nature of the show. Instead, every case feels important to the main plot, and every case feels important to the growth of the characters. The show is tightly paced without feeling rushed.

This show made me care about news that was either fake, or about people in a country far far away. It made me teary eyed both at the plots and emotions of the show as well as the fact that this role was so damn good for Kim Joo Hyuk, and I will never be able to see him in another like it in the future.

And that may have been the main reason that I cried during the last episode. That and everyone having some great successes. Or maybe just Kim Joo Hyuk walking out of a building, leaving Argon as well as the world.

Father Is Strange:

In A Sentence: A family lives their lives as a whole lot of normal people problems happen to them.

Steer Clear If: You cannot handle a long show. There are a LOT of episodes in this show.

Comments:

This was the first (and only) weekend drama I have ever watched, at the recommendation of Dramabeans’ javabeans. And I’m very glad that I listened. This show takes the tropes of a weekend drama, keeps the ones it likes and uses the ones that are annoying judiciously. The main characters are all deeply written, and often have equal amounts good and bad in their personalities. No one does something out of character, which was a rarity in the shows this year.

It was also a show that made me happy just while watching. It wasn’t groundbreaking. It wasn’t overly complicated. It didn’t try to be anything it wasn’t. Instead, it used stellar acting in nearly every role to convey a family faced with crisis after crisis who choose to stay together.

It is the supportive family that we all want. And yeah, everyone makes mistakes, including most of the members of this family, but that never makes them stop loving each other. For that alone it is worth watching.

Because This Is My First Life:

In A Sentence: The contract marriage show that is about so much more than just the relationships between 2 people.

Steer Clear If: I honestly don’t have any warnings about this show . . . Actually, that’s a lie. There is some noble idiocy sort of stuff that I am super tired of, but fits the story so it doesn’t bother me. It might bother you.

Comments:

There is a reason everyone loved this show. And the central relationship was only part of it. It had Lee Minki as a man who is un-apologetically different, un-apologetically weird, and makes very few changes to that personality over the course of the show. And for once, that isn’t bad, because his original personality is good, and it is more exposed than changed over the course of the show. And it has Jung So Min (in her second show of the list) as a woman who lives her life sort of floating along, accepting what happens to her, while also being smart enough to change what she thinks she can. The combination doesn’t seem like it will work, but it somehow works beautifully.

There is also the side relationship of the CEO and the friend, which does a wonderful job of showing what it means for a man to respect his partner, and just as importantly, for a woman to demand that respect.

There is also the side relationship of the friend and her long term boyfriend (another appearance for Kim Min Seok) that is heartbreakingly real. I especially liked how the show treated the final breakup, and how it forced the characters to confront their emotions instead of ignoring them.

It is a romance whose plot is nearly almost all the romance, which is where its strength lies. It doesn’t try to be anything it isn’t, and it manages to be stellar at what it is.

The Package: (my a little bit favorite)

In A Sentence: Everyone goes on vacation for different reason; some for love, some to run from love. (I know that’s vague. It’s intentional)

Steer Clear If: This show is sometimes slow in a contemplative sort of way. There is occasionally some tropes that the show doesn’t avoid so much as dives into head first.

Comments:

These is a pre-produced show. And because of that I had high expectations on the visual quality of the show. I had high expectations. They were shattered.

A significant portion of this show is a love letter to France. It is beautiful. The whole show is shot in tones, from the green of night to yellow tinted days in France, to blues in Korea (you could probably write a whole color theory essay on this show). It tells the visual part of the story so so damn well. From the location choices, to wardrobe, the whole show quietly excels at using the budget it got to full visual effect.

And that is a perfect adjective to describe the show: quiet. Instead of sticking to one point and hitting it over and over, it meanders between characters and side plots. It is rarely uproariously funny, or depressingly sad. It spends most of its time in the mundanity of stories and characters that feel so very real.

The whole cast is amazing, and does wonderful work in the wonderful roles. Instead of listing the actors, I’ll give some tropes without too many spoilers.

There is the elderly couple, the wife dying of cancer, the husband continuing to annoy her and everyone else on the trip.

There is the young couple, who are in and out of love (mostly out), and trying to figure out what to do.

There is the older man with the younger woman. And that is all I will tell you about them.

And there is the guy who was stood up at the terminal boarding the plane to Paris.

Oh, and the girl who never stopped running.

And that ensemble is the real reason the show excels. You may tune in every week to see how the romance is progressing, but for many episodes, it isn’t the most important thing happening. There is illness, and heartbreak, and anger. There is laughter, and joy, and love. I have cared more about other casts before, but I never cared for this many people all at once.

It is maybe the most satisfying show I watched this year. And one of the most underrated.

[oumakokichi]

What are your thoughts on Saiouma as a ship? I don't particularly like it because Ouma has to suffer with an unrequited love for a detective who doesn't come around to his way of thinking before he d i e s and also thought of him as a villain goddamn it saihara

Haha, I’m actually a pretty avid saiouma shipper—it’s myfavorite ship of any DR game, really. It’s one of those things where I canunderstand why it didn’t work out because of the problems that arise in canon,but I can’t help being particularly invested in all the potential it could havehad under different circumstances.

Saihara’s lack of understanding can be frustrating,certainly, but it’s also something that’s necessary from a plot perspective.Kodaka so obviously wanted to craft Ouma into a “catbox” character, someonewhose intentions and motivations were kept secret to the end, in order to giveplayers a reason to go back and replay the game and try to pick up hints theymight not have noticed before.

Ouma himself wanted to remain an enigma to the very end. It’snot entirely Saihara’s fault that he couldn’t crack the “mystey” that Ouma was,when Ouma himself was making it so intentionally difficult for him.

Not only that but I think I’m used to just a whole differentlevel of frustratingly incompetent and dense protagonists thanks to Umineko.Umineko is a very similar work tondrv3; both are extremely meta, both deal with the issue of finding a middleground between “gentle lies” and “painful truths,” and both feature a centralcharacter who sets themselves up to be the “evil villain” despite actually havinggood intentions at heart.

But Umineko’s protagonist, Battler, is so… so much morefrustrating to deal with than Saihara. In my opinion, anyway. There’s also sortof an issue I have with Battler’s character being written super inconsistentlyacross 8 different episodes, where Saihara doesn’t suffer from that same issuesince he’s only in the one game.

Like Battler’s struggle to understand Beato and her game,Saihara doesn’t quite realize what Ouma was really like or what he was tryingto tell him about “lies” and “fiction” until it’s far too late—but unlikeBattler, there’s a whole lot less trading of insults and berating Ouma onSaihara’s end. Saihara does genuinely try to be patient with Ouma, up untilChapter 4. Saihara’s patience reaches its end there; in my opinion, he’s completely in the right for putting hisfoot down.

Ouma crossed a line with his behavior, and was pushing waytoo hard to try and make Saihara ally with him. It’s a fact that Saihara couldn’tafford to trust everyone blindly, that his job as the detective required him todoubt and suspect people. But it’s also a fact that Ouma was at the extreme endof paranoia, moreso in Chapter 4 after his tentative attempt at forging analliance was crushed so thoroughly by Miu’s attempt to kill him. Ouma was acynic and was absolutely ruthless in his attempt to teach the group that the “truth”they all wanted so badly was a horrible, awful thing. Saihara not standing forthat kind of behavior and telling Ouma off for it at the end of the chapter 4trial is well-deserved, because Ouma neededthat wake-up call.

It is, of course, more frustrating after that point thatSaihara doesn’t really spend a lot of time dwelling on Ouma or the things hesaid to him in Chapter 4 after they more than find enough evidence to provethat Ouma was never actually evil—that he, in fact, was the person mostresponsible for keeping them all alive and that he sacrificed himself for theirsakes when he didn’t have to.

But again, I attribute that to Kodaka’s attempt to keep Ouma’s“catbox” intact; if Saihara had gone pondering Ouma’s character too much andrevealed everything about him by Chapter 6, there’d be almost no incentive forthe player to go back and replay the game themselves to figure things out.Ndrv3 is a game that challenges its players to think, speculate, and theorizeas much as they can. While I don’t doubt Kodaka will probably hand out ananswer sheet of sorts in the future to the questions we have now, it’s clearthat he wants us all to stew on things for the time being. And that’d beimpossible with our detective spilling the beans and handing the answer out ona silver platter.

I’m satisfied that at the very end, I think Saihara reallydid, truly understand Ouma as a person. The answer he reaches, about how there’sno “correct answer” between truth and lies, about how lies can be used to helpand comfort people in the same way that the truth can be used to hurt people,is exactly what Ouma wanted them all to realize so much. Lies were Ouma’s ownsource of comfort, something he had to rely on because he couldn’t trust almostanything about himself or take anything at all for a fact.

Saihara failed to grasp that worldview at first, because hisentire character is one concerned with pursuing the truth. A detective’s rolein any mystery, ever, is to expose the truth in its entirety. But this isexactly what causes Saihara so much fear and hesitation. He has a naturalcuriosity and a genuine, honest-to-god talent for finding the truth. But healso wants to bury his head in the sand until everything goes away. He doesn’twant to be responsible for exposing people’s secrets, but he also doesn’tbelieve that lying is the answer either—until the end when he realizes theequal value that both lies and truths hold. His character development isextremely tied to the lessons Ouma teaches him, both in the main plot and inhis FTEs.

I really love saiouma as a ship because I feel like thepotential for a deeper understanding and acceptance of one another was alwaysthere—it’s just not something permitted by the main plot. Between the fact thatOuma was deeply paranoid and distrustful thanks to the killing game, and thefact that Saihara was far too hesitant and weak to come to a full understandingof things until much later, there were too many factors preventing Ouma fromever really genuinely reaching out, or letting himself be reached out to.

But that’s exactly why his prison mode ending is sosatisfying. Without the killing ever actually starting up, Ouma’s paranoiasubsides noticeably. He’s still cautious, still inclined to doubt and distrust—buthe’s not nearly as unshakable in his cynicism. He doesn’t know any of them, butsince no one actually becomes a murderer, he’s okay with letting his guarddown, even if it’s just slightly.

When Saihara expresses genuine interest in “getting to knowthe real him” by his final prison mode event, Ouma actually allows him to reach out, and says thathe wants Saihara to “stay by his side” even after they leave the school. And Saiharathinks to himself that even if Ouma still needs to rely on lies, because that’sthe kind of person he is, he’s sure that Ouma “can’t lie about the warmth ofhis hand.” He has a whole inner monologue about wanting to hold Ouma’s hand sothat he won’t need to lie as much, basically.

And it’s really sweet and genuinely touching. There is somuch hand imagery between the two of them, so much talk about reaching out andbeing reached out to. In the main plot of ndrv3, reaching out was animpossibility, but it could work so well under other, better circumstances, inmy opinion anyway.

Anyway, this is all just my take on it. Saiouma might not beeveryone’s preference as a ship, but it’s still one of my favorites personally!Reading Umineko and seeing Beato’s love for Battler constantly hinted andalluded to long before it was actually revealed in later episodes reminded mequite a lot of the ways in which Ouma acts around Saihara before dropping theconfession reveal in Chapter 4, so that probably contributed quite a bit to myenjoyment of it. I’d still highly recommend reading Umineko to anyone whoenjoyed ndrv3, actually.

Ouma’s feelings for Saihara are an important part of hischaracter as a whole, contributing both to his motivations to help him grow anddevelop as a person, as well as his frustration, both at Saihara’s failure tounderstand his hints all the time and at himself for letting his emotions getin the way of his logic. It’s okay if people do or don’t want to interpretSaihara as potentially reciprocating those emotions under other circumstances—Ijust find their dynamic incredibly interesting, and the potential forimprovement and growth on both sides is something I really like in my ships.

Thank you for asking, anon!

[yesperfectcollectionfire-blog]

What is the Best Gift for the fan of Angel Beats?

It is hard to prepare a gift for your anime lover friend, right? I guess most of us have suffered a lot from this problems. If you happened to have friends who love the anime Angel Beats most, this article will help you a lot. Let's give a brief introduction to this anime firstly.

Angel Beats!  is a multimedia project consisting of an anime series, a manga series, 4-panel comic strips and a novel. The anime series acts as the central plot source for the remaining material, while the mini-novel and manga act as an expansion to the series as prequel and adaptation-expansion respectively.

  The story was originally conceived by Jun Maeda, who also wrote the screenplay, with original character design by Na-Ga; both Maeda and Na-Ga are from the visual novel brand Key known for producing such titles as Kanon, Air, and Clannad. Key is working in collaboration with ASCII Media Works' Dengeki G's Magazine to produce the project. The series began airing in Japan on April 3, 2010. Two manga series and a series of illustrated short stories based on Maeda's original concept are serialized in Dengeki G's Magazine. Jun Maeda is also responsible for writing the successful anime "Charlotte."

The story of 

Angel Beats!

 takes place primarily at a high school complex set in the afterlife, with a majority of the population consisting of high school students. Here, they learn to give up any lingering attachments they still have from life before finally going to their next life. While injuries acquired at the time of death are gone, those in the afterlife school can still feel pain or other things as they did when they were alive, as well as dying again, only to awaken with no injuries several minutes later. Also, unlike in other portrayals of the afterlife, people still feel the necessities of a normal person, including hunger and need of sleep.

Angel Beats shifts moods from being upbeat and funny to being very sad about halfway through the series. If you like drama, then stick with the show. It also has, in my opinion, a beautiful soundtrack. Personally, the reason I watched Angel Beats is for the soundtrack (although there are many more reasons I like it now that I have already seen it). If you dislike drama/tragedy, you should drop the series, but it is generally a fan favorite. The fact that it is so popular is in itself a reason not to drop it. Also, it's only 7 more episodes, and that only takes about 2 hours.

1.Angel Beats DVD

Price: About $15

This gift must be the cheapest one, you can buy it at the local store or online shipping store, no Angel Beats anime fans can resist such a gift I think. After celebrating his birthday and return back home, you can accompany her to watch this Angel Beats DVD together at night, isn't it amazing?

2.Angel Beats PVC Figure

Price: About $20-30

I am not sure if you can buy it locally, but I have seen many online stores have these kinds of Angel Beats PVC Figure on sale. Different posture, different size, different materials are available, you can choose wahtever you like. This gift is fit for girls and students who can place it on the desk.

3.Angel Beats T-shirt

Price: About $100-150

A little expensive than expected, but this gift is very intimate and you can wear it in summer hot days. Meanwhile, you announce the fact to  the public that I AM A BIG FAN OF Angel Beats.

4. Angel Beats cosplay costume

Price:$60-150

There are various cosplay costumes of the angel beats with different materials and styles, so the price gap large. If there is any comic-con around the corner, please do not hesitate to buy this Angel Beats cosplay costume for your friends, she will much more appreciate and enjoy a great fun at the con.

.

5. Angel Beats dakimakura body pillow

Price $35-65

Compared with all the gifts above, the Angel Beats dakimakura body pillow is highly recommended. Firstly of all, it is very practical, everyone needs a pillow to sleep with at night. Secondly, it is very creative, there are thousands of anime characters on the market for you to choose from, even you can choose your own favorite character to have it print. At last, it is durable and long-lasting, movie and comic con last for less than a day, but an anime dakimakura pillow can accompany you for a long time, when you feel alone when you sleep, when you miss your anime character, it is always there!

All in all, anime dakimakura pillows is one of the best birthday gifts for you anime friends if you have no idea which one he likes, why not try these cute and sexy anime dakimakura pillows? Coosfly has more than one thousand kinds of anime pillow for your choice, take it home now！

[panic-house-genshou-blog]

Twelve Angry Men

The concept of communication entails a variety of approaches and has its basis on behaviors and implication of various models and theories. The frame work of communication is based on the interface between different parties involved in the communication process. The focus in this discussion relates to interpersonal communication in the context of the film analyzed and its social relevance. The concept of interpersonal communication incorporates the study of various aspects essential in interrelations and the processes of instructional association. The interpersonal mode of communication can either be based on the direct or indirect type of communication procedure. The film Twelve Angry Men presents a suitable platform on which the analysis of interpersonal communication as a fundamental aspect in the communication process will be based. The major objective for undertaking the analysis of this film is to establish a relationship between communication models and theories to works of literature. Most of these models and aspects have been illustrated in the film to highlight the degree of influence that most of these theories and models have on the communication process and more specifically the process of interpersonal communication.

Attitude Change and Persuasion

The art of persuasion is based on attitude and is an essential aspect of the absorbing nature of “the movie, the Twelve Angry Men.” Persuasion can be defined as a process through which attitudes are informed. Basing on the definition provided by social psychologists Richard Petty and John Cacioppo, persuasion is based on two specific concepts including; peripheral and central. The fact that there is an integral part played by the art of persuasion in the plot of “12 Angry Men,” the following theories and models can be applied. The principle mechanism on which persuasion is applied is when someone can be influenced by the power of argument through carefully thinking about a given commutation. The approach taken by Fonda and the reserved businessman in regard to change in attitude has its basis on the central route.  The manner in which Fonda makes an appeal for the innocence of the accused followed a well thought and elicited angle. His points are stipulated by use of empirical evidence and in so doing ends up swaying the other jurors. There were a lot of sheds of the central route to the argument characterizing the approach adopted by Fonda. In the same manner, the businessman makes the utilization of his stoic and equally inductive personality to come up with a coherent and logically based argument with facts at its core.  The business man just like Fonda makes an attempt to use the central route to persuasion in bid to change attitudes. In the same way, the foreign juror petitions the central route in the course of persuasion when trying to advocate for “going deeper,” while referring to fact examination. On the other hand, the peripheral style of persuasion is defined by shallow indicators in which the argument is surrounded. This is as opposed to arguments a based on the validity of the facts of the argument. In regard to the film, this route of persuasion is taken by the sickly man who makes attempts to urge the other jurors to interpret the attitudes on the basis of peripheral moral ethnic as well as tribal cues. In the end, when shunned by his fellow jurors, the sickly man persuades his associates to condemn the man because; in his opinion everyone knows the manner of behavior of these African Americans. He contends that they are all the same. He says they are all liars, thieves and drunkards”. By using such non-factual, social indicators, the sick man makes the utilization of the peripheral route to persuade and change attitudes.

The attitude and persuasion theories are both apparent in the film the “Twelve Angry Men”. The plot underlines the peripheral and centrally based theories in relation to the modification in attitude while attaching credibility to the impact that the source theory has in the art of persuasion in intrapersonal communication.

Self-disclosure

Self-disclosure is an important aspect of the concept of communication particularly as reflected in the theory of social penetration. Self disclosure is a gradual process in regard to the interaction levels and can vary basing on the degree of closeness an individual has in a given relationship. The concept entails the expression of the manner of feeling of an individual, the ideas as well as experiences that one has in regard to the past, present as well as the future.  Self disclosure as a feature of communication inspires compassion, adoration and concern for others. The film under analysis is made up various scenes where this specific aspect of interpersonal communication has been illustrated. This aspect is majorly seen in the conversations occurring between the jury members. One is able to provide a description of the personalities of the judges on the basis of their intercourse. An example relate to when the Foreman makes a revelation of himself to the viewers as quite a formal person though not that predominantly intelligent. This is illustrated by his statement in Act 1 where he utters that “Its’ all right; you can now handle this in any particular you want to want. He further goes on to say that he implies that that he will not be making any rules. He says that if it’s going to be discussed first, then a vote can be cast and that that is one way. The other way is that the vote can be cast as of the very moment to ascertain what the stand is”.

Group Process

It is recommended that the jury environment should be made up of a small group status. Relating to the way that the Twelve Angry men have collectively assembled themselves in a direct public interface in quest of a decision; they fit the definition of a small group. There are several theories and concepts of group performance which apply in the film; the “Twelve Angry Men”. Such theories like Social facilitation and social loafing are evidently being applied within the film. According to the social facilitation theory, the presence of others makes the performance of a particularly difficult task undertaking quite difficult and yet enhances the accomplishment of the easier tasks. In the film, a humble man with obvious profound intellect is mystified and hesitant when faced by the group for an assessment of his reason and judgment. This timorous colleague, a banker by profession is only able to establish his intellect at a later time in the film. However while under scrutiny in the attendance and under the examination of by the group, he is not able to present a feasible, well-argued reply to his associate juror’s inquires. In particular, this man crumples in the midst or in the face of the scrutiny of others, demonstrating the evaluation apprehension theory which is a constituent of social facilitation.

Rhetorical Sensitivity

Rhetorical sensitivity is a fundamental component in the process of effective communication. For that reason therefore, if the most suitable skills of communication are to be developed, they must be built on the paradigm of change in the manner of perception. This manner of change has its basis on the reaction of the audience and places very careful attention on the thoughts and feelings of the audience. Additionally, its main purpose is to steer clear of pessimistic condemnation that may affect the viewers negatively. Various scenes in the film have been used by the script writer to feature and expound on various themes. Despite the charges facing the boy, some of the jurors are incredibly devoted not to offend the boy or his family. For example, the eighth juror does not want to consider the guilt of the teenager. "It is not easy for me to raise my hand and send a boy off to die without talking about it first" uttered the eighth juror in Act 1. This exhibits that there is sympathizing and considering with people's emotions. He does not look to be bothered with his choice of rejecting the innocence of this young man. He asserts this when he says “that is old enough”. The innocent little nineteen year old lad stabbed his own father four inches deep into his chest. They confirmed it a dozen ways . He employs sarcasm to the teenager convict and hardly listens to the other jurors.

Role Taking

The concept of role taking in regard to the communication process involves associating with some other person’s position in the course of interaction. In such a scenario, the communicator puts themselves in the listener’s situation to ensure that there is an effective and proficient delivery of the message anticipated. Such an attribute of interface is manifest within the movie’s greater part of the scenes. To come up with the most viable decision, the jury members make arguments in their presentations with the situation of the boy in mind.  They take time to make an analysis of the facts that surround the charges faced by the boy to be in position to make the just judgment in relation to the case. A case in point relates to the contention of the eighth jury who while, arguing the clumsiness of the information provided by the old woman, he states that “perhaps she candidly thought she did see the boy murder her father. I pronounce that she saw just a blur” (Act 1). According to this statement, it’s evident that the juror puts himself in the position of the woman to be able to discount the information that supports her claims.

Conclusions

Interpersonal communication is a very crucial factor within communication and it is affected by various aspects. From this movie, it is shown that there is a fundamental role played by interpersonal communication within the community. Interpersonal communication assesses a number of factors that include respecting and listening to leader, engaging in decision making, determining relationships between people and also compelling people to take a stand. Besides it is influenced by diverse aspects including hostility which affects the manner in which people communicate. On the basis of what is shown in the movie, it’s obvious that interpersonal communication plays a huge role in the manner that people associate with each other in the community and thereby an important factor in the communication process.

[spryfilm]

“Paddington 2” (2017)

Animated Comedy

Written by: Paul King & Simon Farnaby

Directed by: Paul King

Featuring: Ben Wishaw, Hugh Bonneville, Sally Hawkins, Brendan Gleeson, Julie Walters, Jim Broadbent, Peter Capaldi and Hugh Grant

Henry Brown: Paddington wouldn’t hesitate if any of us needed help! He looks for the good in all of us.

There is no doubt that the release of “Paddington” in 2016 was not only a huge success but defied odds to become one of the best films of that year. When the original trailer was released with not great animation as well as Colin Firth woefully miscast as the voice of our furry hero there was not much to look forward to. But with some time and the recasting of Ben Wishaw as the almost too perfect voice of Paddington the film became a real success story – with a sequel sure to arrive, and it has with bells on. It not only lives up to the original hit, but surpasses it by moving the story forward, with a goal based plot as well as upping the villain stakes with Hugh Grant, here showing why he can play pretty much anything without any ironic detachment that can haunt some actors in similar kinds of films.

The great news is that writer/director Paul King has retuned to not only bring a new story to life but also reinvigorate the narrative with his unique visual style, which canny viewers will recognize from his stellar work on “The Mighty Boosh” (2005-2012), as well as the cast which is rounded out with many of his cohorts from the same show or similar projects. Of course with the first movie firmly planted in peoples minds there has to be something to not only remind viewers of the greatness, as well as uniqueness, and their introduction to Paddington but there needs to be an addition to keep the story fresh as well as the supporting characters real – this has been and King makes it looks easy.

The story begins with Paddington, having settled with the Brown family in London’s Windsor Gardens, has become popular in his community, offering people emotional support in various ways, apart from Mr. Curry who still distrusts him. The Browns have changed in many ways. Mary Brown is training to swim the English channel; Henry Brown does not get the promotion at work he has hoped for; Judy has broken up with her boyfriend, Tony, and has started a newspaper; Jonathan has dropped his old, independent self and has become a classic teenage boy. To purchase a unique pop-up book of London in Samuel Gruber’s antique shop for Aunt Lucy’s 100th birthday, Paddington performs several odd jobs and saves his wages over time, finding a good niche as a window-cleaner after a failed attempt as a hair dresser.

When he is just a day away from having enough money for the book, he witnesses it being stolen from the shop by a bearded thief, and is accused of the crime when the true culprit flees after a brief chase. Unable to obtain evidence of the thief’s existence, Paddington is wrongfully convicted and detained. The thief soon returns home, removing a disguise to be revealed as Phoenix Buchanan, an egotistical has been actor who lives opposite the Browns and whom Paddington met at a carnival opening ceremony some days prior and had shared the existence of the pop-up book, which Buchanan had thought to have been lost.

When any film relies completely on a CGI created central character as its hero, as well as acting as the point of view of the audience there is a requirement that everything else looks completely real as well as having a supporting cast that can make you believe that a talking bear exists and is able to interact with the world around him. Of course like the first film, in fact like almost all reasonably budgeted UK based movies, “Paddington 2” has an outstanding cast that is peppered with successful actors in their own right. Starting with Paddington’s adopted families led by Hugh Bonneville and Sally Phillips who lend an authenticity as parents, so much so that you feel they are three dimensional characters that are more than paper thin stereotypes. Then there are the two new major character’s that have been added for this new adventure, those being Hugh Grant as actor (and villain) Phoenix Buchanan and Brendan Gleeson as convict (and Paddington ally) Knuckles McGinty. There are far too many actors to specifically identify as well as many marvelous cameos to go into here, so I will make a few comments about Grant and Gleeson.

It has been a real joy to see Hugh Grant making a comeback (but was he ever away?), which in my mind began with the massively underrated “The Pirates! Band of Misfits” (2012) and continued through to his scene stealing performance “Florence Foster Jenkins” (2016), here he plays what must be an original character creation based I am sure on some unkind descriptions of him or an actor like him. Grant here is not only attempting to make a myriad of characterizations, but he is also being very physical as well as funny, when you think of Hugh Grant the words ‘physical comedy’ do not immediately spring to mind, but he is successful in everything he tries here – much like Nicole Kidman in the first film. Then there is the always-terrific Irish actor Brendan Gleeson who here is playing his part for big laughs as a cook in a prison, his friendship of Paddington has some clear messages for children as well as adults, if only people would be as accepting of everyone as Paddington is we would all be better off. Gleeson is a force onscreen, completely in charge of his performance as well as being brave enough to expose himself to some comedy greats.

The MVP of this movie is definitely Paul King who had only directed one other film, the quirky “Bunny and the Bull” (2009) before writing and directing the first Paddington movie. What King has done is to take his knack of being able to take real life situations and skew them so that they turn to fantasy. The director has applied this to a fictional character, taken an existing property, used the current time as well as a real location, that being London and created a world where a talking bear is the norm, as well as being accepted by the general populace. The other aspect of the film is that while this is a children’s film there is more to the narrative than a simple story, everything within the plot can be understood by young and old so that all audiences can be fully engaged with a story about a talking bear.

Much like the first movie Paddington 2 has so much to offer audiences of all ages, while the first movie acted as a kind of origin movie of sorts, we see Paddington and his entire family moving on from their initial adventure into new places where they have all grown individually as well as a family which all people can relate to. This is highly recommended to all audiences, the CGI is top notch, the performance are all excellent and the action as well as thrills are original but at the same time offer fitting homages to other action movies, something the original did brilliantly.

Paddington 2 is out now in cinemas.

  Film review: “Paddington 2” (2017) "Paddington 2" (2017) Animated Comedy Written by: Paul King & Simon Farnaby Directed by: Paul King…

[moviesbarelyreviewed]

The Best of 2017

So it’s been two years since my last post on this here blog. There are may and varied reasons for this, but I won’t bore you by getting into them. What’s important is that I’ve still been seeing movies, still been thinking about them, and still been telling everyone I know to see the ones I love. And so I hope that this post will get this blog back in business, though I hesitate to make any promises, given that I am now a first-year law student, meaning that a) There’s a very good chance I won’t have the time to keep up with this blog and b) I’ve learned that making promises can sometimes inadvertently bind you in an irrevocable contract, which could prove very costly for me down the road (don’t ask me how, I still don’t understand contracts). 

Nevertheless, it’s the end of the year, so I’ve made my list of the year’s best films, and I want to share it with you all. As always, I couldn’t see every movie that came out this year. I used to say that I was only an amateur film critic of dubious reputation and professionalism, but I’m not sure I can claim even that title at this point (see: it’s been two years since my last post). So before you all start banging down my doors, complaining that I left your favorite film off my list (this has never happened, but I like to imagine that I’m important enough to where it would), I’ll note up front that I have not seen The Last Jedi, I, Tonya, The Shape of Water, Call Me By Your Name, and whatever film you’re thinking of right now, probably. But with that being said, I’ve seen many of the year’s big contenders (shoutout to a/perture Cinema in Winston-Salem, NC, for allowing me the opportunity to see some smaller films that I couldn’t catch in any other theater) and I feel comfortable in saying that this is a fairly comprehensive list. Like in the past, I start the list with number 11, because there was just one film I couldn’t leave out.

11. Raw (Julia Ducournau). I really think that we’re living in a golden age for horror films, and if you don’t believe me, well, note that the first three films on my list are all horror movies. The first is Raw, an ice-cool, coming-of-age shocker from French director Julia DuCournau. I feel confident in recommending most of the other films on my list to just about any moviegoer out there, but I can’t say the same for Raw. This is, quite simply, not a film for everyone, which is completely fine. The story follows teenage vegan Justine (Garance Marillier), who goes away to veterinary school and is forced to eat meat as part of a hazing ritual during her first week. The new taste opens Justine up to some other... new tastes, though I hesitate to say more for fear of spoilers. Suffice it to say, this movie has at least three of the most memorable scenes of the year. You can probably guess from this description alone that squeamish viewers need not apply. But those who can stomach the story’s taboo twists will find an intelligent, sensitive, and provocative tale, solidified by a killer soundtrack and a fearless central performance from Marillier.

10. Happy Death Day (Christopher Landon). There’s something to be said for a movie that is impeccably crafted, brilliantly acted, and profoundly impactful. But there’s also something to be said for a movie that isn’t any of those things, but is still fun as heck. Happy Death Day, the horror-thriller from director Christopher Landon, certainly falls into the latter category, but I think it more than deserves a spot on this list. Making a great genre film is often harder than making a great original film, because most everyone who sees genre films is familiar with their tropes and not looking for something they’ve already seen before. Happy Death Day manages to rise above those genre pitfalls, however, primarily due to its central gimmick which, albeit, it apes from films like Groundhog Day, Edge of Tomorrow, and even this year’s Before I Fall. Newcomer Jessica Rothe stars as Tree, who begins the movie as an obnoxious, stuck-up mean girl. We know, of course, that she is about to learn some important lessons. Unfortunately for Tree, though, she has to learn those lessons by, well, being murdered.... a lot, until she is able to uncover the identity of her masked killer. Like the aforementioned Edge of Tomorrow, Happy Death Day wisely doesn’t take itself too seriously and has a lot of fun with its circular time structure. Indeed, I found myself laughing throughout this movie, because it’s just such a blast to watch. Even though some of its third-act twists are utterly ridiculous, it doesn’t matter because the movie has already strapped you into its roller coaster ride long before. And as far as roller coasters go, this movie is as breathless as they come.

9. Get Out (Jordan Peele). Get Out is unquestionably one of the defining movies of 2017. Even though it came out in the first quarter of the year, it has stayed in the minds of moviegoers and critics alike, which alone is a tremendous accomplishment for director Jordan Peele. If you still haven’t seen Peele’s twisted tale of a black man (Daniel Kaluuya) who finds himself enduring figurative (and possibly literal) hell while spending a weekend with the parents (Bradley Whitford and Catherine Keener) of his white girlfriend (Allison Williams), you’re in for a truly original, unforgettable experience. Sure, the shocks and twists are effective, but what takes this movie beyond the level of a traditional genre film is its button-pushing topicality. Chances are it’ll make you squirm long before its supernatural scares come. It’s no wonder that it’s the movie everyone has been talking about for months on end.

8. Wind River (Taylor Sheridan). Director Taylor Sheridan made a huge splash just last year with his screenplay for the unlikely Best Picture nominee, Hell or High Water, and with Wind River, his directorial debut, he deserves to make an even bigger one. Like Hell or High Water, Wind River is a neo-western, though not a conventional one. It’s set on an Indian reservation in Wyoming, where wildlife tracker Corey Lambert (Jeremy Renner) is the only white man for miles, a fact which plays both a provocative and potentially problematic role in the movie’s plot. When a young Indian girl from the area is brutally murdered, Corey is called upon by FBI agent Jane Banner (the excellent Elizabeth Olsen), a city-slicker who is out of place on the reservation, to say the least, to help her navigate the community and investigate the crime, a task which eventually forces Corey to exercise some painful demons from his past. Although there is a hint of white saviorism in how the plot unravels, the movie’s lasting message is a poignant and pressing one about the current state of Native Americans in our country. Sheridan deserves a lot of credit for telling a little-told story with grit and honesty, and the actors certainly do their part as well, particularly the great Native American actor Gil Birmingham (who was brilliant as Jeff Bridges’ partner in Hell or High Water) as the father of the murdered girl.

7. The Lego Batman Movie (Chris McKay). I honestly didn’t think I could love 2015′s The Lego Movie any more... and then I saw the Lego Batman Movie. Despite a new director and the element of surprise having worn off, Chris McKay’s follow-up to The Lego Movie somehow reaches the impossibly high bar set by its predecessor. It does so mainly by not deviating from what made the first movie so successful: quirky characters, fast-paced humor, and beautifully detailed Lego environments. Will Arnett reprises his role from the original as a particularly narcissistic Batman, trying to protect Gotham from the likes of the Joker (Zach Galifianakis), Harley Quinn (Jenny Slate), Bane (Doug Benson), and many more, all while trying to deal with Dick Grayson (Michael Cera), the teenage orphan that he has accidentally adopted. As in the first film, there are as many jokes for adults as there for kids, and as in the first film, the movie has a heartfelt message at the core of its kicky and occasionally silly goings-on. There may come a point when these Lego movies wear out there welcome... but we’re not there yet. 

6. Dunkirk (Christopher Nolan). So apparently some people thought Dunkirk was boring? I must confess, I am in the exact opposite camp. I was completely riveted by Christopher Nolan’s often unbearably intense war epic. Like most of Nolan’s movies, Dunkirk doesn’t spoon-feed its audience by dumbing things down. Instead, we’re expected to sift through the movie’s huge cast of characters and occasionally confusing time structure with little help from the filmmakers, which I, for one appreciated. But even if you can’t get your mind around everything going on in the film, it’s hard not to surrender to its incredibly immersive effect. I’ve rarely felt so embroiled in the goings-on of a movie as I did when watching Dunkirk. It proves that there are still many great war stories to be told, and many great directors willing to breathe new life into history.

5. Baby Driver (Edgar Wright). Like the Simon and Garfunkel song from which it takes its title, Baby Driver is as slick, cool, and effortless as movies come. Director Edgar Wright has yet to make a bad movie and, in Baby Driver, he borrows much of the visual panache and witty dialogue displayed in his great 2010 film Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, but this time targets it at... those of you who probably thought you were too cool to see a movie like Scott Pilgrim. Cool is something this movie certainly doesn’t lack. For those who haven’t seen it, Baby Driver is the story of a teenager named Baby (Ansel Elgort), who supports himself and the old man (CJ Jones) he shares an apartment with by working as a getaway driver for a band of bank robbers (Jon Hamm, Jamie Foxx, and Eiza Gonzalez are the robbers, Kevin Spacey is their leader). But when Baby falls for a good-hearted waitress (Lily James), he’s forced to choose between her or his wayward lifestyle.... which of course isn’t as simple as it sounds. As you might expect, Baby Driver has some truly epic action sequences, but what really gives it added style points is its brilliant use of music. Baby syncs all of his getaway drives up to classic rock songs and, as a result, the movie is a sort of musical-action hybrid rarely seen on the big screen. It needs no saying that the songs, from Queen’s “Brighton Rock” to Focus’s “Hocus Pocus”, are all perfectly chosen for their particular moments. No one else today is making movies like Edgar Wright. But they should be.

4. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (Martin McDonagh). If you’ve ever seen one of Martin McDonagh’s films (or plays for that matter), you’ll know that the man likes his humor as black as coal. Three Billboards, his latest, certainly doesn’t deviate from this trend, but it also has an emotional heft and modern-day relevance that perhaps In Bruges and Seven Psychopaths lacked. The rather clumsily titled film is set in a small Missouri town where Mildred (Frances McDormand) has recently lost her daughter to a brutal rape and murder that has left the community shaken. Frustrated by the perceived lack of effort in investigating the crime on the part of the local police, Mildred buys three large billboards on the edge of town and arranges for three different, but all damning messages to be painted on each (the most pointed of all reads “How come, Chief Willoughby”). But Mildred’s bold act doesn’t win the favor from the townsfolk that one might expect. That’s because the chief of police (Woody Harrelson) is a universally-admired family man, who is seen as the misplaced object of Mildred’s ire. Complicating matters even further is racist, firebrand cop Jason Dixon (the always incredible Sam Rockwell), who threatens to send Mildred over the edge with his untamed aggression. For my money, this is the best acted movie of the year. No one in the rich ensemble, which also includes John Hawkes, Lucas Hedges, Caleb Landry Jones, and Peter Dinklage, gives anything but their best. Even more impressive is McDonagh’s screenplay which is both brutally funny and brutally sad. His characters are some of the most believably complex I’ve seen in a long time. The moral ambiguity that all of their actions are subject to is not unlike real life itself. As much as I’ve enjoyed McDonagh’s films in the best, Three Billboards is an exciting step forward for a director already near the top of his game.

3. Lady Bird (Greta Gerwig). Come on, you guys new this would be on here. I mean, seriously, it’s a coming-of-age dramedy directed by Greta Gerwig and starring Saoirse Ronan. I don’t think I could write a better sentence than that if I tried. Now sure, I’m a sucker for these types of movies, but I think the overwhelming critical acclaim for Lady Bird (peep that Rotten Tomatoes score) proves that, at least this time, my hype for this movie is justified. To be fair, I think Lady Bird does lack the intense emotional impact of a film like The Perks of Being a Wallflower or The Spectacular Now, which keeps it from being a complete home run for me, but that’s probably by design. Yes, the movie is profound and often moving, but it’s also funny and whimsical in ways that those movies aren’t. Indeed, it has a lot of the quirky, shaggydog charm we’ve seen in recent films starring Gerwig, like Frances Ha or Mistress America. This time, though, it’s Ronan who stands in for Gerwig and, if there was any doubt beforehand, she proves that she’s the finest actress of this generation. And yeah, she’s only 23. Her performance here as Lady Bird, a strong-willed teen clashing with her parents (beautifully played by Laurie Metcalf and Tracy Letts), while experiencing her first relationships (Lucas Hedges and, later, Timothee Chalamet play her suitors), is yet another peerless turn in a career already chock full of them. Although I think Frances McDormand, in the above mentioned Three Billboards, gives arguably a better performance than Ronan, I’m rooting for Ronan to get the Oscar, because it’s long overdue. And that’s really all there is to say about Lady Bird. This wise, funny film hits basically no wrong notes and, though it’s hard to imagine how Gerwig will top this one, I can’t wait to see her try in the future. 

2. The Disaster Artist (James Franco). The Disaster Artist is my favorite film of the year, but, for reasons I will explain shortly, I went with a different film at the top of this list. As for James Franco’s hilarious and inspiring film, however, I simply couldn’t have enjoyed it more. The Disaster Artist, based on the book by Greg Sestero, is the scarcely believable, but undeniably true story of Tommy Wiseau (James Franco), a bizarre man from some unknown Eastern European country (though he swears he was born in New Orleans), who sounds like Dracula and looks like the lead singer of a death metal band, and his 2003 film “The Room” which has become a cult classic of Rocky Horror proportions, primarily because it may well be the single worst film ever made (though don’t tell Wiseau). The Disaster Artist also tells us the story of Greg Sestero (Dave Franco), Tommy’s friend and roommate who starred alongside Wiseau in The Room. Like Tommy, Greg is an aspiring actor, but unlike Wiseau, he’s a clean-cut, all-American guy that seems to have at least a little bit of acting talent. The Franco brothers strike a great dynamic in their scenes together, but the real highlight of this movie is its depiction of the filming of “The Room.” If you’ve seen “The Room,” which I had, I think you can appreciate these scenes even more, but even if you haven’t, there’s much to laugh, gasp, and marvel at. The real achievement of The Disaster Artist, though, is the way it rewrites this narrative. Though there are a lot of laughs at his expense, Wiseau is an oddly inspiring figure, a man who, despite what everyone told him, had a dream and achieved that dream with nothing but a lot of passion (and, ok, a lot of cash that we still aren’t really sure of the source of). That’s a story we can all relate to.

1. The Florida Project (Sean Baker). The Disaster Artist, like I said, is my favorite film of 2017. The Florida Project, at least at this point, falls just short of that title because I’m still on the fence about the ending of Sean Baker’s film. I’ve gone back and forth on how I feel about it, but I think I need to see it again to truly decide. Nevertheless, I think the fact that I’m still thinking about this film, which I saw months ago, speaks to its power, and that’s why I’m choosing it as the best movie of 2017. The tale of Moonee (the delightful Brooklynne Prince), a mischievous 6 year old, and her mother Hailee (newcomer Bria Vinaite, in a stunningly brilliant performance) is an uncompromising look at poverty in America that still brims with vitality in every shot. Much is owed as well to the work of director Sean Baker, who brings the kitschy motel where Hailee and Moonee live, to life, in eye-popping color. And let’s not forget Willem Defoe’s lovely, warm-hearted performance as Bobby, who runs the motel and gives Moonee and Hailee break after break, despite his best instincts. The Florida Project will put you through the emotional ringer, especially in its climax, but the thing which struck me the most is how true this film is. It’s as essential as it is gripping, giving a voice to a group of people who are rarely heard from in today’s political landscape. And despite its unflinching realism, the movie is ultimately hopeful, and fully invested in the very premise that explains why movies endure into 2017: a little imagination can make anything seem possible. In 2017, I think that’s a lesson we all can all take heart in.

-PSH

[afoolsingenuity]

Deja Vu // The Rephaim Series–Paula Weston

As some of you may remember, I was struggling to find a way to feature books I have loved and reread. Especially those books I’ve already reviewed here on the blog. Even if it was a few years ago. You all said I could review again if I wanted to and that’s great. Glad to be reminded we are a non-judgmental bunch of folks in the book blogging community. I thought about re-reviewing but that’s not really what I want. I’ve done that. I don’t want to repeat myself, that’s boring (although, I do it a lot). So, instead, I am trying to create a new feature. A feature where I get a sense of deja vu about books I’ve reread.

Now, you will need to bear with me with these posts and I am still not completely certain how I will implement it. I don’t have a set format and I totally don’t know where the post will take me as I write it. You’ll have to give me hints and tips at the end.

The Book(s): The Rephaim Series –Paula Weston

Original Review: Here posted 10th September 2015

My Rating: (it hasn’t changed)

How Do My Opinions Hold Up After A Year And A Half?

I will begin this with my original thoughts and what I agree with. After a slightly cringe-worthy reread (you read through and edit for a reason, some of those sentences don’t make sense!) I have to say I really do agree with my original review. I may have only really focused on the first book as too many comments on the other three really risk spoilers but I still strongly agree. The best comment I made was that Hush Hush and Fallen should have tried to be more like the Rephaim books and less like Twilight because it’s extremely accurate and also it made me smile.

I agree with all of my comments, really. It’s strange to see my thoughts repeated when it’s been so long since I originally wrote them. It’s like when you see someone else write a review on a book you loved and you feel like hugging the screen because they have fully encapsulated your thoughts to a tee. It’s like that, only less coherent.

Has Anything Changed?

One thing I did notice is that my focus seemed to change between my first read and my reread. In my original review I was flailing over the friendship between Gaby and Maggie. I even call their friendship one of the highlights of the series. Whilst I did love their close friendship it was never my focus during my reread. In fact, I hadn’t really give it a thought. Instead, it was all about the romance and Gaby and Rafa (Rafa, who is probably my only book boyfriend ever) and they were what I was flailing about in my reread. Reading my original thoughts I don’t disagree that I loved the friendship aspect of the series. I loved the friendship between Maggie and Gaby. It’s the central part of a lot of the books. Gaby makes decisions based on making sure she keeps Maggie safe and Maggie totally doesn’t freak out at Gaby being this totally awesome fighting machine. Or about demons. Girl has staying power. True friend!

I do find it strange that my focus differs between my readings, though, and I think it’s very much to do with the type of reader I am from now and then. Whilst romance has always been a thing I’ve enjoyed it’s only within the past year or two I’ve fully embraced romance everywhere because I am a hardcore card-carrying romance reader. I mean, I like to think me embracing romance began when I started this blog but I think I was still hesitant. Instead, I focused on friendships and story and all of that and yes those things were brilliant in the book but damn that romance! I do love a slow burn romance which spans on entire series.

Basically, looking back at my original review I agree 100% with those thoughts. I am even shocked to remember that the first time I read the series I binge read and almost fell into a reading slump and the same can be said the second time around. It seems, whilst many things change when it comes to our reading tastes and bookish trends, many things also stay the same. In this case, The Rephaim series by Paula Weston is still an absolute favourite of mine and will be for a long time to come, I think. It had romance and friendship and an action-packed plot and I simply cannot recommend it enough.

Have you read this series? What did you think? And isn’t it strange you focus on different things when reading as time passes? It is certainly true when it comes to different genres but I never noticed during a reread before.

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