#and like of course shed be offended!!! them implying that she just like. lost her baby? like yeah!

[doodlebeeberry]

i like her. very much

[vagrantblvrd]

AU where Luke and Leia are the children of the queen of Naboo and powerful and well-respected Jedi Knight, just about the age to marry and it’s this Responsibility hanging over their heads.

Their parents would never marry them off to someone horrible, but that’s not the point, and anyway, anyway, they know their duty.

(It breaks their parent’s hearts, but barring the same sort of Very Specific and Unique events that conspired to allow Padme to marry Anakin the best they can hope for is to like their future spouses, so.)

But then!

Conspiracies and the whatnot, and whispers of war spreading across the galaxy thanks to some faceless warlord pulling strings from the shadows and so on.

Worlds that co-existed, thrived, suddenly at one another’s throats and out of fear for their children’s safety they arrange for them to visit dear friend Bail and Breha on Alderaan.

(There’s meant to be a celebration, eligible suitors for Luke and Leia while keeping them far from skirmishes that have taken place too close to Naboo.)

Unfortunately Leia gets sick just as they’re about to leave, nothing too worry over, lose sleep over, but travel would only make it worse so she’s to stay behind while Luke and leaves for Alderaan on schedule.

(He visits her, the night before he leaves. Sneaks into her rooms the way he used to when they were younger and supposed to be asleep hours ago but young and foolish and the kind of reckless rebellion of the young and so on.

Leia’s tired, still recovering but she still manages a smile, a laugh, when Luke tumbles in through the window a though their parents haven’t been training them since they were young.

Politics, of course, but their father is a Jedi Knight and their mother is the queen, and anyway, anyway, any clumsiness they show these days are deliberate, so.

They talk, aware this may be one of the rare chances they’ll get like this again, what with their duties and responsibilities and privileged as they are the universe is far from fair.

Luke smiles, jokes, but there’s a flat tone to it that Leia hears all too clearly and Luke -

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he says, wry twist to his mouth.

It’s a childhood joke borne of the stories their father and his former mentor would tell them at bedtime, well-worn phrase that heralded the kind of adventure that made them into legends, and now -

Leia grips Luke’s hands tight in hers because she does as well, dread a heavy weight in her chest.

“Don’t go,” she tells him, knowing he has no choice in the matter. “Luke, please.”

It’s on her face, in her voice, her yes, and there’s nothing they can do.

So.

Luke smiles, jokes, reminisces with Leia about the adventures they had running around the palace and its grounds and causing no end of trouble to their minders when their parents were busy until Leia falls asleep and Luke slips out the window and back to his own rooms without waking her.)

Leia knows long before word reaches Naboo that Luke’s ship was attacked in transit, all hands lost.

(Knows when their father senses it too, his rage and grief enough to send her to knees, draw the tears she refused to shed until then. She’s Force-sensitive, yes, but her father and brother are stronger, and if he’s so certain Luke is gone, then there’s no hope left for her.)

BUT THEN.

Luke’s not dead, of course he’s not, what kind of story do you think this is?

As it turns out, Luke’s ship was attacked, but one of his guards, escorts, manages to get him to an escape pod and away from the ships painted to look like one of Naboo’s allies turned jealous and bitter and angry over years and some insult or other.

(Conspiracies on conspiracies and so on.)

Lands on a planet, rocky and desolate and very much alone, injured.

Stumbles out of the escape pod, emergency supplies held tight in hand and absolutely certain he can’t stay there. Can’t wait for rescue to come, not knowing if whoever attacked his ship might find him first and finish the job that claimed his ship and the lives of people he’s known since he was young.

Manages to get a decent ways away from the escape pod before exhaustion and his injuries lay him low.

Cave in the distance he might be able to seek shelter in, assuming there are no native predators or otherwise living there, and he almost, almost makes it before he passes out.

Comes to however many hours later to a voice he doesn’t know pitched low and annoyed, but the hands checking him for injuries - he hopes, would be the worst luck to be robbed, looted, after recent events - are surprisingly gentle.

“What?”

Luke said that out loud, didn’t he.

“...Yes.”

Luke would laugh if it didn’t feel as though his head might burst, result of his skull meeting with a bulkhead at inadvisable speeds, and that had happened before the escape pod landed, so.

“Sorry,” Luke mumbles, because he does have manners. “But if you are robbing me I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer.”

There’s a long pause then, whoever is there with him so still Luke has a moment to wonder if they’ve left, offended by Luke’s words or disappointed he’s not worth robbing and then -

“Hmm.”

Luke frowns, risks opening his eyes and sees a kneeling beside him, oddly shiny.

“’Shiny’.”

Luke squints, tries to make out the figure, but it’s difficult as there seem to be two of them, and -

“I think I might have a concussion,” Luke informs the oddly shiny figure, and passes out again.

Later, however many hour later, he comes to with that same annoyed voice in his ears, but now there’s a fire merrily burning.

Nice, because it’s nighttime now, and cold and -

“You’re awake.”

As far as observations like that go, it’s incredibly unimpressed.

“Hmm,” Luke hmms, fuzzy memory of his oddly shiny companion doing the same, and also Luke being a natural-born smartass,

(Hereditary, he’s been told, along with stubbornness and fondness for eschewing things like common sense and a flair for the dramatic.)

There’s a sigh, long and heavy, and then the sound of the oddly shiny person moving closer, shadow falling over Luke that he can’t see with his yes closed the way they are, but, well.

His father is a Jedi Knight and he and Leia take after him in noticeable ways.

Luke opens his eyes and thinks oh, and hmm, and Leia is going to kill me, because his companion is indeed oddly shiny.

Or, well.

Perhaps not so odd, what with the armor and all.

Din - because of course it’s Din - is super unimpressed with Luke and his everything and Luke is just ??? because Mandalorian???

Not known to be BFFs with Jedi or Jedi-in-training, like Luke???

But Din can be excused for not partaking in this old feud/rivalry/animosity between them because Luke isn’t dressed as it befitting someone of his position, no.

He’s wearing the clothes he prefers on long trips when the are no other dignitaries along because to start with, they’re comfortable? But also Luke likes to tinker??? Little projects and such and maybe his father sent along a speeder or some other tinker-able vehicle to keep Luke occupied on the trip, use when he gets to Alderaan or...whatever.

Doesn’t look like the royalty, especially after recent events, and nothing to mark him as the prince of Naboo, or a Jedi-in-training and sworn enemy of the Mandalorians, and really, it’s incredibly, amazingly convenient, but it is what it is.

Din grumbles and complains, but he stays with Luke until he’s able to stand on his feet and even walk a fair distance without falling on his ass, and sighs when Luke invites himself along later that day when he says he has business elsewhere,

And then the two of them traveling to...somewhere, Din didn’t volunteer that information and Luke was too grateful to be headed away from where his escape pod crashed and potential search parties (doesn’t feel like trusting to the fact they’d be friendly towards him) and so on.

Doesn’t chatter incessantly as the annoyed set of Din’s shoulders heavily imply, because Luke is still injured and while his head isn’t an agony at the moment, it’s hardly a joy to deal with.

But, he does talk.

A lot.

About everything and nothing, off on a tangent here, there, wander far and wide the better to annoy Din into forgetting what questions he asked Luke. (The ones asking who he is, how he got there, and where the hell he’s going next, because Din’s patience lasts only so long.)

To Dins quiet horror, however, he actually starts to like Luke???

Like.

Annoying, yes, with the talking? But he doesn’t complain about all the walking they’re doing, or sleeping conditions when they make camp for the night and so on.

And, alright, sometimes it does get a bit lonely out here - conveniently far enough away from settlements or cities where someone would definitely recognize Luke - but he doesn’t tell Luke that, goodness no.

They run into trouble, after a while.

People who took part in the attack on Luke’s ship and other baddies on Mandalore connected to them and it’s a matter of bad luck meeting worse luck, and anyway, anyway.

There’s a fight, and some guns with the pew-pew shootout and Luke being the one to save Din’s life, escaping with him to some abandoned mine or underground tunnels, something and -

“Ah,” Luke says, breathless from the running and hiding and saving Din’s life and then hauling him somewhere that was supposed to be safe, even with the help of the Force.

(His head is killing him again, nowhere near healed enough to expend as much effort as he has just now, but it that or die, and he’d rather not get Din killed as well since the man’s only shown him kindness - and his special brand of charm - and anyway. Yes.)

He’s expecting it to be the people who ambushed them, but to his surprise, wariness, dread, it’s a Mandalorian. (Armor’s a dead giveaway and all.)

One who cocks their head when they see Luke’s face, blaster dipping slightly at the sight of him.

Luke tries for a smile, but Din groans, low, pained, and the best Luke was able to do was check the wound wasn’t life-threatening and slap a patch-job bandage over it before they made a break for it, and -

“I don’t suppose it would be asking too much if you had medical supplies, would it?” Luke asks, expecting to get shot for his trouble - sass, snark - but the Mandalorian holding them at blaster-point huffs out a laugh and holsters said blaster.

Jerks their chin towards a side tunnel and strides off, clearly expecting Luke to follow, and after a moment’s hesitation - no way to know if the Mandalorian is taking them to their deaths - but no better option available to them, so Luke follows.

(Murmurs an apology to Din when he groans again, guilt heavier than Din’s arm slung over his shoulder, the weight of Din and his armor, knowing he wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d left well enough alone after stumbling on Luke. So.)

Mystery!Mandalorian leads Luke to a room with medical supplies stored neatly. Clean and well-lit and after getting permission - nod of Mystery-Mandalorian’s head and wave of their hand that seems more amused than mocking - Luke sets about properly treating Din’s injuries.

Fumbles a bit, because Luke’s still injured himself, over-extended himself in the earlier fight, and it’s catching up to him now they’re somewhere arguably safe.

(No one actively trying to kill them, anyway.)

Mystery!Mandalorian watches as Luke tries to et his hands to stop shaking - stress, injury, exhaustion, any of a dozen reasons and he swears, low under his breath because now isn’t the time -

He startles when Mystery!Mandalorian takes the medical supplies out of his hands, didn’t notice him moving close enough to do so, and allows the hand on his shoulder that guides him into sitting on a stool as they do for him what he can’t in that moment and looks after Din.

Watches quietly, closely, but Mystery!Mandalorian knows what they’re doing, and truthfully Luke knows if they intended them harm there would easier ways, more efficient ones than this.

So.

He watches Mystgery!Mandalorian tend to Din’s injuries, and blinks up at them stupidly when they turn back to him, head tilted just so.

“What?” Luke asks, and Mystery!Mandalorian huffs out a laugh, quiet breath of laughter and then it’s Luke’s turn to be treated.

Careful, gentle hands and Luke’s mind drifts while Mystery!Mandalorian cleans and dresses a blaster burn on his shoulder, graze courtesy of a shot he hadn’t seen coming, attention on Din instead and he knows if it were a normal (...somewhat) normal situation he’d get a lecture on that lapse.

(A lecture, his father’s face stern, and under it worry, concern for him Luke’s never doubted, and after that his mother and quiet, soft words interwined with the same firece love his father has for his children. .)

As it is...

“Thank you,” Luke says, hopes Mystery!Mandalorian hears the things he can’t find the words for, the gratitude he feels.

Mystery!Mandalorian studies him for a long moment, Luke returning their regard best as he can even as he feels his mind going slow, stupid, as exhaustion rolls over him.

He can feel Mystery!Mandalorian watching him, them, unexected guests, visitors, complications, and there’s another sigh.

A gesture towards an unoccupied medical bed, slight tilt of his head that feels of that same brand of amusement from earlier.

Luke eyes it longingly because he’s tired, isn’t he, too much happening in too short a period of time and this feeling in the back of his mind that something is happening.

Whispers and rumors building towards something catastrophic if left unchecked and murmurs though the Force he’s known all his life.

“Rest,” Mystery!Mandalorian says, gentle, kind. “I’ll keep watch.”

It shouldn’t be a reassuring as it is, shouldn’t feel like Luke is breathing his first full breath since the alarms on his ship started wailing, intangible dread he’d felt once they left Naboo’s made real.

And yet...

There’s something about Mystery!Mandalorian he can’t help but trust, and Luke’s mind is tired, muddled, clear thought a struggle but the way the Force coils around them is enough to set his mind at ease.

“Thank you,” Luke says, and the words aren’t enough to articulate what he means, but it seems to be understood anyway.

He makes his way to the medical bed, and it isn’t long until he falls asleep, swears he hears Mystery!Mandalorian say, before he does, strangely soft, fond.

“You really are just like your father, aren’t you?”, and with no little amusement, “Skwalkers.”

And then shenanigans???

Luke waking up to Din staring at him from his own medical bed, at a loss regarding their situation, everything, and annoye (at himself???) about it, because Luke saved his life, didn’t he?

Saved it, and saved it again by getting them to safety and out of the hands of whoever attacked them, and that’s about the time Mystery!Mandalorian shows up, and Din is -

Not thrilled???

Doesn’t recognize the armor, person, regarding the two of them with this underlying amusement. (It rankles, that amusement, leaves him wrong-footed.)

Still, he follows Luke’s lead when he insists Mystery!Mandalorian is a friend - “Well,” Luke allows, at the look Din gives him when he says that. “He hasn’t tried to kill us. Yet.”

Which.

Fair, if not a ringing endorsement, but it’s not like they have much choice in the matter when Mystery!Mandalorian tells them to follow them, and off they go.

Underground tunnels and such until they get to some sort of base.

Other Mandalorians and Din is like oh, no, because these ones he does recognize.

“Resistance,” he says to Luke who’s picked up on his unease, gaze flicking to Din’s behind Mystery!Mandalorian’s back as they’re led down corridors to meet with what must be leadership.

Because Mandalore and unrest and that same something Luke’s known about his whole life and the way it affects the universe around him and just, yes.

Mystery!Mandalorian cocks his head as the lift they’re on descends, listening in, and still that amusement.

“Indeed,” he says, and something about it snaps Luke’s attention to him, makes Din...wary.

Just as well the lift stops, doors sliding open and then more corridors that seem to go on forever until they reach a set of doors.

Mystery!Mandalorian glances back at them for a moment, and huffs a quiet laugh at whatever he sees, and then they’re pressing forward.

It’s...not what he was expecting.

An office of some kind, with a holomap table off to one side and monitors and consoles beside it. A stripped down version of the control room they passed by floors down, and a slight figure in armor, head bowed over the holomap table.

Mystery!Mandalorian clears their throat, a courtesy, and the armore figure lifts their head, looks over at Luke and Din.

At Mystery!Mandalorian, and there’s a look exchanged between the two, silent conversation before Mystery!Mandalorian glances at Luke and Din again.

Sighs, and reaches up to remove their helmet, crooked smile on their - his face - at the way Luke goes so, so still beside Din.

Silence stretches long enough for Din to feel it, the weight of the revelation even if he doesn’t understand it.

“Hello, Luke,” he says, tired, aching.

Sharp inhale, and Luke tears his eyes away from Mystery!Mandalorian to look at Din, something so very wrong with the smile on his face.

“It’s Ben,” he says, and his voice cracks as he looks back at Mystery!Mandalorian, laughs at something Din doesn’t understand, something that makes Mystery!Mandalorian wince, even as he holds Luke’s gaze when he looks back at him. “Old Ben.”

Din frowns, because the man is older than them, Luke, that much is certain, but surely not old enough to have earned a title like that.

Because, look, alright.

Look.

Obi-Wan and sekrit missions because everyone knows trouble’s brewing, and a duchess of Mandalore contacted Padme, and things kind of just. Grew from there, to the point Obi-Wan went to Mandalore as an emmisary, ostensibly for political reasons, but really to help root out what information he could with Satine’s help and things went wrong.

Had him, and Satine, presumably killed in an uprising, no longer a threat to an unknown enemy.

Until the resistance took root, grew, and other such things.

Satine and Obi-Wan at the head of it, getting what information back to Padme, Anakin they could and everyone agreeing it was best for the time being if they stayed dead.

And then Luke’s ship being attacked and everything that followed, and anyway, anyway welcome to the resistance Luke Skywalker and friend, glad to have you.

Luke is understandably confused, angry at having been left in the dark, and angrier still that he has to admit to the necessity of it.

(He understands, but he’d still mourned for Obi-Wan, his father’s former mentor, teacher, and beloved uncle to Luke and Leia. He understands.)

And then there are briefings, because it’s very much a war the resistance is waging, against a common enemy and while Luke pay close attention to everything he and Din are told, he watches Obi-Wan, Satine.

Thinks oh, of course, when it hits him why the way the two of them interacts seems strangely familiar, known, because it’s the way his parents are, isn’t it?

Familiarity and trust, a knowing, and that little knot of anger buried deep in his chest at the deception involving Obi-Wan’s supposed death all those years ago unravels until he’s no longer breathing around it.

And then!

Shenanigans in which Din very much tries to NOT be part of this madness, because no, okay, no.

Simple bounty hunter and so on, and Luke don’t look at him like that, it won’t work -

So of course that’s when things go to hell and the base is attacked and Luke is taken and Din finds himself staring “Old Ben” down in the aftermath because this may not be his war to fight, but Luke is an idiot.

“Well,” Obi-Wan says, corner of his mouth quirking. “He does take after his father that way.”

Dramatic Rescues and Dine being So Done with everything, but also, like. Being heroically injured by shielding Luke and Luke’s pale face and fear in the back of his eyes as he leans over Din to keep him from bleeding out.

Striving for calm, soothing Din in between yelling for help, Obi-Wan and the others on their way, and Din laughing at him because he was told Jedi didn’t panic.

“Shut up,” Luke says, laugh all wrong. “I thought nothing could get through Mandalorian armor?”

Well.

Things go fuzzy for a bit, Din remembers pain and blood and yelling - a lot of that - and then he wakes up in a medical center somewhere.

Not the resistance base, but he doesn’t recognize it.

“Idiot,” is the first thing he hears, and then, “Stupid,” and so on, and when he turns his head Luke is glaring at him.

He must make for a terrible Jedi, Din thinks, because Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachment, are they?

Dangerous, terrible, and yet.

“You are, yes,” Din says, voice haorse, more of a croak, and when he laughs at the affornted look Luke gives him for that it hurts - still healing and all - but so very worth it.

And then, okay, and then.

It comes out that Palpatine has been building a base of power for himself for years, slow patient, and setting his enemies at one another’s throats to weaken them.

Conspiracies on conspiracies and Din watches Luke as his father - his father, mother, and sister who hasn’t left Luke’s side since they arrived - tell them.

(Because, you know, because. Luke’s family and secrets weighing heavy and of course, of course Leia would not be held back, would not just let Luke’s death go so easily.

Would investigate, relentless, until she stumbled over everything and her parents and a shared look and she gets it from you, you know, and me? you have to be kidding, and I get it from both of you, now tell me what’s going on right now.

Adventures, because Skywalkers. A chance meeting with a scruffy smuggler and his long-suffering Wookie friend, and a rickety, rusty freighter

.Hey, that’s no way to talk about a lady, and as if you’d know, and don’t encourage them, Padme, and Of course not, Anakin, and heavy, resigned sighs because Leia has always been terrifying like her mother and somehow more stubborn.

A resistance - “Rebellion,” Obi-Wan says, glint in his eye when Anakin looks at him, “seems more fitting don’t you think?” - growing as well in secret.

Both brought into the light with recent events and untold battles ahead, and just.

It’s a lot.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Luke says, and Din doesn’t tense at his voice, quiet, something sad to it under his amusement.

Din hmms, glances towards Luke.

So much has happened since they meet, learned of things far bigger than them, and still -

“We’re meant to be enemies,” he says, a Mandalorian to a Jedi, albeit one still in training if what Luke told him is true.

Luke cocks his head, and still crosses the clearing to sit beside him.

Hmms, right back at Din and Din bites back a sigh, watching Luke from the corner of his eye.

With everything that’s happened, they’ve learned, the old grudge seems petty in comparison.

Also, Obi-Wan and Satine, and it hardly seems important anymore, long before his time as it was, and while Luke’s certainly many things, he’s never felt like an enemy.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, calm, cool of the night and so much between them they don’t have words for yet, and none of it unwelcome.

When Luke gets to his feet, holds his hand out to Din, he doesn’t have to think about it when he takes it. Lets Luke pull him to his feet with that surprising strength of his, and falls into step with him just as easily.

And then they have Adventures and death-defying shenanigans and such. Steal kisses here and there and never put a name to this thing of theirs, but it’s strong enough to last through a war and to the other side of it.

Would-be Empire scattered and broken and a good bounty hunter’s experience is invaluable in stamping out the remnants.

Almost as much as a Jedi Knight who earned their title through countless battles and conflicts, steady familiar presence at his side.And really, really, it shouldn’t surprise him so much when Luke gives him this soft little smile when Din comes home after a solo mission, small green gremlin of a kid he’d found (rescued) in his arms and knows their little family has gained another member.

(And again and again, because Luke’s just as bad as him and Finn and Rey are fine on their own, but Grogu? An absolute nightmare and evil mastermind and Din doesn’t care what Luke says, the small green gremlin child gets it from Luke’s side of the family.)

Also, though.

The day Finn and Rey met Poe (Ben a little confused, bemused, blissfully unaware of what he was witnessing) signaled the beginning of the end and Luke is absolutely laughing at Din, don’t think he doesn’t know what that looks like by now. >:(((((((((((((((((((((((((

[bramble-rose]

ABOUT REN SOHMA

(spoilers ahead)

Okay…. So take a deep breath.

I think Ren and Akira were really in love with each other and I think Ren is suffering from a form of postnatal depression.

In the manga it is often hinted that Ren had seduced Akira and would be a slut who was not worthy of him and had exploited his situation ...

After reading the story again, I do not think that was the case.

Akira was very ill and his diagnosis was that he was going to die very young. As the head of the family, he stood above everybody - which separated him from the other family members. Added to this was his illness, which further isolated him. The family had been urgently looking for a wife for him to bring an heir onto the scene, but no one was good enough. And I think this is where it started.

Ren was one of the many housekeepers of the Soma clan and was responsible for Akira. She cared for him, was always near him and noticed his emotional state, his loneliness. At least that is how it is told. She fell in love with him over time, but remained silent for a long time until she finally confessed her feelings to him.

It is also said that Akira had chosen her, among all the other women ... But Ren, as a simple maid, did not meet the level of esteem intended for Akira's future wife. There was much contradiction. Ren was insulted and not considered good enough. She was told to be a dirty witch, who was far below Akira and got his affection with tricks. It is implied that she simply seduced him. Ren is beautiful, you have to leave that to her.

However, both professed their love for each other, Akira also said that Ren alone recognized his loneliness and he married her in spite of all.

From this marriage, none other than Akito emerged - the reborn God of the Junnishi.

However, it were the already born Junnichi who knew about the pregnancy before Ren and Akira, because in a vision Akito appeared before them and announced that another banquet would be forthcoming. Ren was raided by the Junnichi one morning out of the blue .… And voila! All at once Ren's presence was no longer a thorn in the side of anyone. God would be born! Everyone was very happy - and everything was just about the kid. About Akito. About God.

And here is another important point.

Ren is disregarded as a person. Nobody cared about her anymore. Akira was also incredibly happy about the pregnancy. Through the vision everyone knew that Akito would become a girl and out of fear and jealousy that everyone would only love this girl, Ren threatened to abort Akito if she wasn‘t raised as a man ...

At this point you should think, why thought Ren that way? Even to the fact that only the baby mattered anymore and that she was just a vessel to everybody ... would it have been different if Akito had been a boy? Yes, I think so.

It is said that Ren was ashamed that the God she was going to give birth to was female. I think that's not the case. I think it's actually a messed-up jealousy for 'Daddy's Little Girl'. Ren was afraid that this child would drive a wedge between Akira and her, as Akito would be the God of the Junnishi. She would be all over the place. Ren saw Akito as another woman not as her daughter. She was a Rival (which is a trope that is often used in manga and anime… and it is really strange)

Well, Akira, of course, agreed to Ren's threat but was still happy about the birth.

Ren did not even want to hold the child.

This fight and all this points are important to understand why Ren has lost her mind. At first she was not good enough, she was insulted over and over again, even her family's home offended. Then she became pregnant and suddently everyone only loved the child, everyone was waiting for God. For the special Entity ... She was just their birth machine and the man she loved thought only of the divine child.

So as a toddler Akito had a hard time suffering under Ren. She physically and verbally abused Akito and raised her as a boy. Ren constantly blamed her, no matter what, that she would be useless and that Akira and Ren would not need her, Akira and Ren as a couple would be the only special onces because their connection had produced a special child.

From this time on it's always about who Akira loves more. His daughter or his wife?

A strange question since there are so many different varieties of love, but Ren's psyche and self-perception were already disturbed at the time. Otherwise she would have noticed that there is no reason for jealousy.

When Akira finally died, the secret is revealed ... Akira loved Akito. Of course, she was his daughter. But he said he wished that Ren could have loved her, too. He was sad that the two didn‘t got along and especially noted that Ren should have been happy about the birth of her child.

While he is dying he told Akito that she was special. She was God, she didn‘t need him or Ren. She was the God of the Junnichi and would be able to move on because everyone else has been waiting for her. She was born to be loved. After that he only talked about Ren, who was not called, even though her husband was dying.

He said that Ren and he had experienced true love and that their love was so special that they have begotten Akito, the God. That this would prove how special their love was.

So yes, Akira loved Ren deeply. Of course he did, she was his wife. Even though her outbursts made him unhappy, he always wanted the best for her. His last word was even 'Ren', as far as I can remember.

So what can you read from it? Akito was present during her father's monologue and as a small child she might thought that her father did not love her as much as she believed ... Akito's eyes are drawn throughout the scene without light effects. Actually a stylistic choice to describe the absence of emotions: Her father died ... she is traumatized.

When Ren stormed in she claimed Akito would not be needed anymore now that Akira was dead, Akitos supposed divinity would not be real and that the invisible bond between Akito and the Junnishi wasn‘t real (btw, it actually exists, Ren was wrong).

Ren felt helpless and was angry and sad that her husband died before she could said goodbye and blamed Akito.

Later that day Akito got a secret box from one of the housekeeper (she has no name). Supposedly it was a last gift from Akira to Akito to show how great their love for each other was. In the box was supposedly Akira's soul ....

Everything that happend to this point has made Akito extremly insecure and years later she stil believed that her father's soul is in that box.

Years later Ren learned about that box and wanted it for herself since everything that belonged to Akira belonged to her. She didn‘t know what was in it but that didn‘t matter. Ren even used Rin to get that box… and that ended badly.

But what does all this say about Ren?

I think through all the things that happened before and during and after the pregnancy Ren suffered from some kind of postnatal depression and never got over it. And after Akira died things got worse.

Akito is not directly one of the Junnichi, but she is obsessed with the spirit of God. And like almost all other parents in Fruits Basket, Akito's mother has been influenced by the curse.

Most parents in the story are violent, neglect their children, mock them, terrorize and abuse them and have no direct connection with them. Especially the mothers are greatly affected. So is Ren.

Ren thinks of Akito as the one who took Akira away from her. Emotional and physical. The loss has driven her crazy and the bond and the curse are something she can not grasp and understand, and so she loathes it. Because with the curse her and Akiras love started to fall apart. She does everything to torment Akito, insulting her, unsettling her and tries everything to destroy her identity. Both as God as well as a woman.

She even goes so far as to sleep with the man Akito loves the most.

( I can not help thinking, that Shiguri, as the mastermind he is, didn‘t just do that because he was so keen on her, he even said he just got into Ren because he thought Akito would look like Ren if she was raised as a woman ... So Shigure took advantage of Ren to imagen he has sex with Akito? That's weird … but that's Shigure, you never know what he's really thinking. And then there is the whole Kureno thing going on... But when Ren found out about this she was furious. Akito again took her place.)

All this does not make Ren's deeds better or excuses them, but it sheds another light on Ren, who is being vilified by everyone. And it absolutely explains why Akito is the way she is. The abused abuses ... but Akito is a different topic.

In the end, however, both were victims of a third person involved, beginning from the marriage of Ren and Akira, to his death and the question of who loved whom, and who would be the right heir as head of the familiy. This person was respinsible for and kept fireing on the hatred between mother and daughter. She had her fingers in the whole game: The housemaid without a name.

She insulted Ren for years.

She questioned everything Ren did.

She kept her away when Akira died.

She spur the hate/war between Akito and Ren… using the box/Akiras Souls and both their feelings.

She claimed Ren was insane.

She blindly obeys to the old family rules without thinking.

And… she, as one of those who raised Akito, let her do whatever she wanted and never taught her morals or boundaries.

She let both run amok and called it disgrace in secret….

And after Akito had seen her mistakes and wanted to change, the maid refused to change, claiming she was too old...

[ellstersmash]

Three: Sixteen

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solas x f!Lavellan (Modern!AU)

Rating: overall E for Explicit | this chapter T for Teen

|Previous Chapter| |Next Chapter| |Read on AO3|

--

Athi moves the rearview mirror a fraction of an inch. Returns it to its original position, then back. Tough to tell if her discomfort is due to a misjudged angle or the fact that it’s been more than a year since she’s driven anything other than her bike. Not as if she could have let him drive, though. Not in his current state.

“Take this to Saelac,” Solas murmurs. 

He has his eyes shut, but his thumb is still softly stroking hers the way it has been since she pulled onto the freeway. She expected him to pass out right away, but then this city’s policy on roadwork seems to be: Not if we can help it. Every street is scarred with what must be two decades’ worth of springtime patches, and if he couldn’t sleep through a little bit of air turbulence, he sure won’t manage it here.

“How was your week?” he asks, words quiet and slurring together. Enunciation is hard work.

So she tells him about the bar. About the missing, well, everything, and the cleaning list, and Tali’s prediction that Seggrit will be getting more involved with the day-to-day operations, and how for all that she gripes about it, his absence is what makes her job mostly tolerable. Solas nods where more or less appropriate, sometimes smiling sleepily at her tale from the passenger seat.

She tells him about the houseplant she bought. Remembers she forgot to water it today. Yesterday, too. Fuck.

And she tells him about Sera. About their argument and Dagna moving in, and how odd that will be. How sudden it all is, and maybe destined to be a disaster but worth a try, right? She gets the sudden urge to retreat. Three steps at least away from this talk of people moving in together, of possible futures that they’re far too brand new to traverse, even in conversation, even unrelated to either of them entirely. And maybe he feels it too, because he perks up only to fixate on the rally. Asks her when and where and what's it for and who's in charge and whether or not they got a permit and has the audacity to frown when she admits she won’t be there.

"How unfortunate," he says.

Athi groans."Not you, too."

"Excuse me?"

"Sera already gave me shit about it, so if that's your angle I don't want to hear it."

"I did not intend to ‘give you shit,’ no. I was hoping to invite myself along."

"Really?"

"Yes, it is a worthy cause. I had no idea Sera was such an advocate for social reform."

“Then you don’t know her very well.”

“Clearly I have misjudged her.”

“Why are you interested?”

“Why would I not be?”

She tries not to twist that into an accusation. "You just don't strike me as that kind of guy."

"The kind who cares, or the kind who takes action?"

Eyes on the road, it’s impossible to tell if he’s as offended as he sounds. She shrugs. "Both? Seems like you'd rather dig up the past than fix the future."

“Perhaps you have misjudged me, for I do not see the two as mutually exclusive. Take this next exit, then left at the light.”

The change in subject is a welcome one, but she needs her hand to downshift. Squeezes his before she lets go. Not an apology, not for that, but a no hard feelings. His house is only a few blocks away from here, but that’s as much as she remembers because the streets in this section are laid out in a grid and the corners are basically identical.

“Third one down, take a right.”

The yellow house with the overgrown garden jogs her memory. The plants are sad and brittle and dying now and the last time she passed it was early spring, so the perennials had not yet bloomed and the rest was only partially planted. But it must be a sight to behold in the throes of summer. The colorful pinwheels and kitschy glass butterflies sticking up from the withering stalks imply a love of whimsy, and there’s a small white bench surrounded by unlit lanterns under a nearby tree. She hopes she gets to sit there one day. Hopes the neighbors are friendly.

He has her park in his driveway, nose to the garage and she wonders if he’s filled it with more piles and boxes of dusty books or if he just doesn’t want to bother with the door.

Solas points out the house key for her, then grabs his luggage. Once she realizes the lock is upside-down and gets it open, she flicks the front hall lights on and it’s jarring. The house has that hush which places sometimes get after a prolonged vacancy—an absence of sound to soak up and spit out, and the jingle of his keys in her hand and the scrape of his suitcase on the doorframe are too loud. Like it forgot it was ever lived in. 

But nothing else has changed. Not the clutter in the office. Not the cobweb high in the corner. Not even the slight skew of the painting hanging in the living room. Maybe if they’d made these plans before he had left, he’d have tidied up . . . or maybe not. She doesn’t know him well enough to guess.

“If you do not mind, I have been looking forward to a shower all day,” he says and leans his bag against the wall. Starts down the hall toward the kitchen, then stops so abruptly she nearly runs into him.

“I haven’t kissed you yet,” he says, half epiphany, half confession.

Athi threads her arms around him, pleased to discover the tension between them is gone. “I’m very aware.”

His gaze rests on her lips and he blinks slow, as if the effort to open them again is monumental. When he lowers his face to kiss her it is terribly gentle and maybe it’s not on purpose. Maybe it’s just because he’s tired, but it makes her melt. 

Without a reason not to, her hands wander. Slide over the row of tiny gray buttons on his shirt, push the boundaries of his collar. They graze along his throat and through the short dark hair on his scalp, barely there but for the way it catches on her fingerprints. She presses closer before they part, her dazed and him borderline delirious.

“Ok, go shower,” she urges him. “And don’t doze off in there. I’ll have to make fun of you.”

“After that? It is unlikely I’ll be able to sleep at all.” But his dopey grin belies the truth. “Though if you are concerned for my well-being, you are more than welcome to join me.”

Gods, she never sees it coming. He slides straight from stumbling and sleep-deprived to smooth insinuation like it’s his default setting and she wants to say yes. But she knows better. 

“See, that sounds sexy right up until you’re trying to get to sleep with my hair dripping cold water all over the both of us. Besides, I have some snooping to do.” Teasing, of course. She doesn’t care where he keeps his linens or what lies hidden under his socks.

“By all means, peek anywhere you like. Except the attic, which is strictly off-limits.”

Her eyes light up. “Why, what’s in the attic?”

But he only laughs and heads up the stairs. Pauses halfway up and calls down, “Do you need anything?”

Right on cue.

“I’m good,” she assures him. “Go.”

A sharp squeak is followed by the rush of water through old pipes as she skims the shit on his refrigerator. A coupon for an oil change and receipt from an art supply store. Nothing interesting in the least. His magnets are a confused but equally unenlightening collection of local restaurants’ takeout info and unused metal clips.

A few books sit on the island. Sundered: The Scientific Renaissance of Post-Veil Thedas; The Fade: Fact or Fiction?; and An Exhaustive Documentation of Suspected Elvhen Artifacts Destroyed in the Divine Age. She lifts the cover of the top one, flips pages until she comes to a black business card serving as a makeshift bookmark, scans a few lines:

After their own dark period, the Qunari appear to have focused their collective efforts toward adjusting to these new laws of nature. Extensive, detailed records show rapid technological advancement through experimentation and invention, much of which laid the foundation for generations’ worth of progress. Indeed, many modern conveniences can be traced back to their early successes.

Not exactly light reading. Though pretty typical for him, she suspects. What unsettles her is not the books or the boring refrigerator door. It’s the fact that in all of these rooms—the entryway, the study, the kitchen, the living room—all these living spaces, there are no pictures. Not of anyone. His home is steeped in history, but not his own. She's good at being alone, but at least when she inevitably uproots she takes the memories with her. He has nothing. No drawer full of snapshots to match hers, like some sort of trail to prove his existence.

Maybe they’re just very different people. Maybe he doesn’t feel the need to prove anything. Maybe he isn’t the type to take pictures. Or to keep them. Maybe his memories are painful. Maybe they were lost in some tragic accident that hasn’t come up in conversation yet.

Or maybe she’s reading into stuff she shouldn’t be. Again.

At the top of the stairs are two doors and two doorways. Bathroom’s straight ahead, shower still running. Next to that is a closed door, presumably the attic. The leftmost room is closed as well, but unlocked; there's nothing inside but a few file cabinets. The door to the right hangs open, revealing another bedroom. It is small and tidy with minimal furniture: a dresser and a full-length mirror, and a large bed flush with the corner, the thick crimson comforter slightly rumpled near the pillows on one side as if slept in, then hastily remade. A singular nightstand bears a simple swing-arm lamp.

She hunts through his dresser until she finds his T-shirts. Picks a white one with a logo on it from the middle, between freshly-washed and never-been-used. Not beloved—in case he cares—but not the crisp got-it-for-free-and-couldn’t-throw-it-out kind either. Sheds her clothes that smell like beer and citrus and bitters, all but her underwear and leaves them folded neatly on top of the dresser. Then she pulls on his shirt and knocks on the bathroom door frame.

“It’s open,” he yells, and she rolls her eyes. “Extra toothbrushes are in the lower right drawer, and the toothpaste is behind the mirror.”

“Uh huh,” she answers, but is beginning to regret turning down his offer. The shower curtain is nothing but a clear liner and with no door to keep it in, the steam does blessedly little to conceal his form. There’s still time; for more than a moment she contemplates stripping back down and slipping in, but then he shuts off the water and stretches a dripping arm out for his towel so she goes for the toothbrush instead.

By the time he emerges with that same towel wrapped around his hips, she’s finished and gives his reflection an appreciative glance.

He returns it and tugs on her sleeve. “The Lothering Museum of History will be thrilled to have your endorsement.”

“Why am I not surprised that you don’t have a real shower curtain?”

“This curtain is perfectly sufficient.”

“Hey.” Athi raises her hands and follows him into the bedroom. “Not complaining.”

She also doesn’t complain about the precious seconds between him losing the towel and gaining a pair of pajama pants. He’s fit. Cut, not bulky. Studying old stuff and reading books and attending conferences can’t possibly be a direct line to muscle definition and she wonders what he does to work out. If they could do it together. He doesn’t strike her as a runner, but he might enjoy climbing.

Solas interrupts her plans with a brief kiss, trades the overhead light for the bedside one. Four in the morning is hardly late by her standards, but she can tell as his head hits the pillow that he feels it. He tucks her hair behind her ear and smiles, sleepy and sideways.

“Thank you for coming over.”

Athi turns her head and kisses his fingers and whispers, “Thank you for getting naked.”

She’ll be the funny one forever if it means his nose will always crinkle like that.

“I am sorry that I am not—”

“No.” She presses a thumb to his lips to cut short his apology. “That’s not what I’m here for. Really enjoyed the view, though.”

His face is shadowed by the same light shining in her eyes, but the expression he wears is warm. He hits the switch and the room goes dark. She scoots in closer. Tangles their legs. Wriggles until she’s comfortable. It doesn’t take long, like a sign, or a nod from the universe.

We just fit.

Solas is asleep before she’s even ready to try. There are freckles scattered across his shoulders, constellations to trace while she waits. Tries to match his languid breathing. Thinks about where his pictures went. Almost there, then hits the last and loudest stop on her train of thought’s meandering track, and she’s jolted awake.

The bookmark. The business card. The cleaning and packing up. The answer has been stuffed into the back pocket of her least-favorite jeans for weeks.

Seggrit is selling the fucking bar.

--

She wakes up alone. Sprawled out in sheets that smell like him but without the him they belong to. Adjusting, she stares into the middle distance and listens to a faraway set of sounds—the fridge opens, then shuts, the clink of dishes and creak of the floor.

Seggrit is selling the bar. She has no idea what to do with that news except to tell Tali, have her check the books to confirm. They’ve been behind by at least a month for as long as Athi’s worked there, usually more, and if he’s really going to get rid of the place he’ll have had to catch up.

She rolls out of bed, digs her toes into the carpet. It could be nine or noon or later for all she knows. The sun here is strange, and there’s no clock in this room to tell her so she goes searching for one downstairs.

A mosaic-faced antique by the sliding door claims it’s noon.

“Good morning,” Solas says from the kitchen.

She mumbles something resembling words. Seven more steps and she hugs him from behind and they fit so well and his heart is beating fast and he stops whisking eggs to stand there with her all quiet and it’s not morning anymore and he should have stayed in bed and she needs to text Tali and—

“I want coffee,” she whines. Doesn’t mean to whine, but there it is. What if he doesn’t have any? What if he’s one of those people that doesn’t keep coffee in their house?

She might cry.

“There is a bag in the cupboard at the end there, next to the mugs. I was going to make it for you, but—”

“Say no more.”

Gods, she’s glad he didn’t. No one makes it strong enough, and he’s too cute to disappoint so she would have had to drink it anyway. Pretend that pisswater was fine.

Cupboard on the end, right where he said. She slides it off the shelf and can’t help but flutter as she examines the packaging. It’s the same as the ones she bought—or tried to buy then he bought for her—at the coffee shop last year. Or maybe he just asked for “something strong” at the shop and this happened to be what they gave him, but regardless, he thought of her and that feels good all on its own. Her butterflies settle as she opens the bag, breathes in deep. Pours a generous pile into a fresh filter and fills the reservoir with water.

“Roast date on this is yesterday. Did you really leave me sleeping alone in your house?” she teases and pushes the button to start the brew cycle. “What if I had woken up and you were gone?”

“I did consider that possibility, but weighed against the certainty of the alternative, it seemed the wisest course of action.” He arches an eyebrow. “Was I wrong?”

“No.” Athi revisits the cupboard to shuffle through his assortment of mismatched mugs. “And thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

She selects one of the mugs, a pleasantly rounded stoneware dip-painted in orange and teal and gray. Her unofficial favorite. There is a newspaper, folded twice, laying on the counter between a plate covered in foil and two clean ones. Solas is reading rather than cooking. Maybe he’s fine with rubbery eggs, but she’s not so she leaves her mug to watch the coffee brew, plucks the spatula from his hand, takes over.

“Seggrit’s selling the bar,” she blurts out as she gently stirs, then scoops a heaping golden spoonful onto each plate. “I think.”

To his credit, Solas looks up from the article he’s so engrossed in. “Really?”

She nods.

“How do we feel about that?”

She shrugs.

“Perhaps you should buy it,” he says and moves his plate and his paper to the island. Yanks open the silverware drawer and hands her a fork. “You wanted to put your name on something, right?”

She snorts. “Didn’t mean literally.”

They eat breakfast right there in the kitchen. Hip to hip, or as close as she can get. Sausage from under the foil and rich maple syrup and toast and almost-perfect scrambled eggs and coffee he bought and didn’t make just for her.

Not a bad morning, truth be told.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Solas asks out of nowhere.

“Hmm?”

He is watching her intently and it occurs to her that she’s been grinning at empty space this whole time.

“Oh,” she says, “it’s nothing,” but her face won’t cooperate and Solas doesn’t buy it.

“It must be quite a pleasant piece of nothing to warrant such a smile. Are you sure it’s not something?” His voice drops low and he leans closer. “Perhaps even something you want to share with me?”

“They say 'bits' here, by the way. ‘Two bits for your thoughts.’ Just so you know.”

“Fascinating.” He doesn’t even pretend to sound sincere.

Oh, she wants to be brave. She makes him work a little harder for it. Keeps it locked up tight until he says please, then she scrunches her nose up where the honesty tickles, and spills even though it’s scary.

“I just . . . it’s nice waking up with you, and”—damn her burning cheeks—“I could get used to it. That’s all.”

Meeting his eyes afterward is a rush. Risk and reward all wrapped up in one because he is beaming right back at her.

“Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Fuck it. Athi polishes off her coffee. Slides her plate away and faces him fully. Fills her chest with air and bravado. “So what do you want?”

He looks at her quizzically.

“Yeah, context. Before we kissed—at my place, like for real—you asked what I wanted. I said I wanted you, which, I mean, I’ve wanted you since . . . ” She wants to say since the beginning but that’s so fucking cheesy. “Gods, since the coffee shop, I think. But when I asked what I meant to you, you deflected.”

Solas pauses. His gaze drifts, then snaps back. “You are right. I apologize.”

“Also not an answer.”

A full minute, or maybe an hour, passes as he percolates. She can almost see him directing his thoughts this way and that, organizing a response that shouldn’t be this complicated while her own mind skitters from one unsavory possibility to the next. 

“Should’ve sent my questions in ahead of time,” she jokes.

A brief, self-deprecating chuckle as he folds his fingers around hers. “In all fairness, your answer to the same question was efficient, but also vague. Is it so wrong of me to consider my own more carefully?”

“Got me there.”

“I was not trying to win. This conversation is an important one, and I feel it must be approached with both candor and subtlety.”

Candor and subtlety? Athi sighs. New tactic. “Listen, did you avoid the question on purpose?” 

She takes a steady breath—

“No.”

—and lets it out. “Well then, to be honest, I was kind of hoping we could make out at some point today so . . . how about we put the heavy conversation on hold, just for now, and I return the favor and make this easy for you?”

Solas’ smile is indulgent, if a bit weary. “That would be fine.”

“Good. Ok.” She leans her chin on one hand. “Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Like, not just sleeping over and having breakfast, even though we’re obviously really good at that. The whole deal.”

He smirks. “Yes.”

“Only me?”

“Yes.”

Athi claps her hands together. “Good! Excellent response time,” she says, satisfied. Stacks their dishes while she speaks. “Anything else to add?”

“That’s it? That is all you want to know?” A mixture of relief and disappointment is plain on his face.

“Ha! Cute. No, see, I want to hear that elaborate answer of yours, I do. I want to know absolutely every single thought you’ve had about me since day one. Also why you stopped coming to the bar”—she starts counting off on her fingers—“and how long you’ve felt this way, what you and Bull get up to at your secret little club meetings, about a zillion other things . . . But as I said,” and she shrugs, “I have plans.”

“I stopped coming to the bar because I already felt this way. Not”—he gestures between them—“exactly this way, of course, but the first stirrings of it. I had been alone a long time, and it frightened me. Next question.”

“Hold on. Same question. You’ve liked me that long?”

“Yes, though I find it hard to believe that you, of all people, did not notice. If anything, I have been too demonstrative of my feelings this past year. Given the circumstances, that is.”

“Too demonstra— Seriously?” Athi is at a loss. Frozen mid-bewildered-flailing, mouth agape like he’s just grown another pair of eyes right in front of her. “Maybe I, of all people, didn’t notice because we spent all that time together and you never said shit, and then—and then!— you invited me over to ask for dating advice which kind of cancelled out any prior feelings you may have demonstrated. I mean, what the fuck?”

“Ah, that’s right.” Solas sighs heavily. “I suppose we may as well sort this out now.”

“Yeah,” she hisses. “Let’s.” She props one elbow on the counter, rests her chin on her fist. Waits for an explanation.

“Athi,” and he scratches his jaw. “I do not know exactly how you remember that conversation going, but the subject of my inquiry—the woman I mentioned meeting—was you.”

Three beats to process, then: “What!?”

He winces—fair, it was piercing—and he half-hides his face in his hands before continuing. “I was attempting to casually express my interest and it did not occur to me that you’d misunderstood my meaning until recently. At the time, I assumed that you were simply not as interested as I had allowed myself to believe and therefore left before the situation became uncomfortable.”

“Well, I did do that.”

“Then, while I was away, I became convinced that a misunderstanding was possible if not probable, so I resolved to try again once I returned.”

“Oh no . . . ” she trails off and grimaces, and Solas just nods.

Such a mess, and for no fucking reason. They stand there in a dazed silence for a while, looking at anything but each other. Finally, Athi peeks over and Solas has his head hanging low like a puppy shamed for eating from the garbage. It’s so sad and so stupid and she can’t keep from laughing. First a little, then a lot, then he’s laughing right along with her.

“So you’re telling me,” she wheezes out between giggles. “We could have been banging for no less than six months already?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She’s swept away by another wave of laughter. When it finally subsides, she’s left with aching cheeks and tears in her eyes.

“Come on,” she says and grabs his hand, squeezes it tight, pulls him toward the stairs.

“What? Where are we going?”

“To make up for lost time.”

[le-fils-de-lhomme]

In your opinion what youtubers are particularly bad offenders at making bad media criticism/analysis?

So I’m not going to name youtubers who are the worst offenders but I want to name some trends that I feel mark something as bad media criticism. I’m doing this because I don’t really want to deal with stans and also because I want you to make your own decisions. 

So, I think one of the biggest marker of bad media criticism is when you see the title of a video and it’s reminiscent of those Cracked videos or articles from back in the day. A good example of this is people who assert that Beauty and the Beast is about Stockholm Syndrome. The argument is Belle is locked in with Beast with no means of escape and falls in love with him due to Stockholm Syndrome. It’s short, sweet, and snappy. It also ignores any and all parts of the movie that contradicts this. Stockholm Syndrome being the media trope that won’t die is a discredited disorder that gained prominence through bad science and bad analysis.

In Beauty and the Beast, Belle isn’t there against her will. She makes that choice out of love for her father. She also does escape at one point in the movie because the Beast frightens her. The Beast lets her go at the end of movie because it is symbolic of the character growth that he has gone through. Arguments like that may seem sound but often times those arguments are built upon a shallow to nonexistent understanding of the source material. Of course you can blame this on the fact that one interpretation of stories gets absorbed into the wider culture at large. It becomes the only interpretation and people then don’t often go and explore that story because of that one interpretation. It’s understandable but it’s a tiresome trend coming from people whose stated profession would imply that they’re interested in enlightening people about media.

There is also a trend of youtubers who want to have it both ways. They want to be clowns and they also want to saying something serious about the state of media when it suits them. Humor can be a way to point out a problem in a way that make it accessible to your audience. However, if your whole schtick is being as nitpicky as possible and being comically ignorant of how the business of production works it’s going to be hard, nigh impossible for you to step out of that mold and say that what you’re doing has something significant to say about the state of whatever piece of media you’re looking at.

Related to the above point there is a trend here and all over the internet generally, of using terms that are in common use but misunderstanding how they’re defined and used. Death of the Author is misused often. Plot hole as a concept seems to have lost any and all meaning. People have begun to label things as plot holes that were just things that weren’t explored in the work in as much detail. People have learned a couple of these terms through pop culture osmosis and continue to misuse them to shape their relationship with media.

A very prominent trend I’ve seen is that youtubers won’t approach something neutrally. Of course no one is obligated to be kind in their treatment of something they disliked. But at the same time there are many good movies out there that I dislike that doesn’t automatically make it bad. There are movies that are objectively bad. There are movies that are very flawed. But sometimes certain things just aren’t made for you. For example I do not like the movie Amelie. It is a movie that is well-acted, well shot, and has a very nice, cute aesthetic. It is not a movie that comes together for me. I don’t care for it. It does not mean that it is a bad movie. Though of course, many people won’t click on a video where the youtuber said “Yeah I saw it. It’s okay. It kind of petered out in the middle.” The algorithm promotes videos that have catchy, colorful thumbnails and controversial titles. People who want to make being a youtuber a career need to get that engagement and ad revenue somehow. 

A lot of these people do not have many qualifications for what they want to create. I’m not saying you need to have a degree in whatever you want to review. The people who have the most interesting insight to impart to you are on YouTube but they’re not the most popular people. They’re doing stuff like giving free lessons on how to light a scene to create a mood, how you transform a page of script into several shots that convey both the script and your vision, and giving you basic editing tips. These things require a skillset and they’re not as easy as the trend of youtube analysis. This section is a bit of a rant and is off topic. I guess I’m getting old. 

I can’t really describe this next trend in one word. There are many ways to analyze media. Sometimes that can work really well and shed a lot of light that the viewer may not have considered. Most of the time it ends with the youtuber creating a critique of a well-established director with a distinct style. The youtuber may dislike how the director did X thing in the movie. To demonstrate why the director did X thing wrong the youtuber will reference another director who they say did X thing correctly because they appreciate X thing. So therefore the first director doing X thing is a demonstration of [Assertion that is kind of wild and depends on being able to read the first director’s mind]. 

And if you want a real and true pet peeve of mine apart from my mini rant is this. There are people especially on the left leaning side who I feel, value art as as a means to radically change minds because of whatever meaning they ascribe to it. There are some studies that show that art, particularly movies can get you to think about changing your mind. The majority of people don’t consume art in that way. There is art that is explicitly political like Sergei Eisenstein’s work. Many Hollywood movies that feature the US military glorify it. But is the consumer really looking for or aware of that political meaning? Ultimately art has to make money. You have to get a little bit of a return in order to make your next project. Your art has to have some commercial value, unless your a person who has enough money to live on and therefore you don’t have to profit from your art then go you. You’re very lucky. The biggest downside with political art, all art really, is that you can have the clearest possible meaning. You can be completely unsubtle and people will still misinterpret what you have created. And so we return to the first point. 

I hope this helpful. Please let me know what you think. 

[thefangirlslair]

PERPETUAL WINTER (A Sasusaku Fanfiction) Part II

Note: It’s finally here. Wow, the last time I updated this was last May. Time flies so fast. Thank you to everyone who patiently waited for this. I hope this is okay. I don’t know if I did a decent job in making their emotions real but let me know please. Thank you! Their whole conversation wasn’t really the way I planned it. But it just happened as I was writing it, like it has a mind of its own. I hope it was okay. I’ve been anxious about this ever since I typed the first word. Aaah! So yeah, here you go. I hope I finish the whole PW series before this year ends. Thank you again for reading! Xo

PS. Been listening to a lot of sad songs while I wrote this so I included some songs. But I was listening to Back to You by Alex & Sierra and I got emo. Lol. This is also up on my ffnet!

--

Excerpt: "Can I kiss you?"

Her mouth opened in surprise, her eyes widen in shock. Her breath comes in puffs, visible in the winter cold. Sasuke waited patiently, offering a silent prayer to her. He doesn't pray to any god now for he believes there is none. But if Sakura heeds his prayer then maybe there really is one.

Seconds felt like infinity until she firmly answered, "No."

-

Sasusaku Pairing (10,304 words)

(Disclaimer: The lyrics aren't mine but from the writers of the songs I used. See author's note at the end. I feel so fucking horrible right now so I haven't reread this since I finished it. So I'm sorry for the typos and such.)

A Poor Attempt at Writing Fics

SasuSaku Edition X

Perpetual Winter Part 2

"When will we ever be truly happy?"

A quiet hum was the reply from the other line, his mother probably contemplating about what to say to him. He didn't mean to be this vulnerable but this is his mother, the only person he could trust with his whole life. More than his best friend, of course.

Few seconds passed and he heard Mikoto say, "Maybe when we accept that things aren't always meant to be."

He sighed, looking outside while leaning back on his first-class seat inside the plane headed to New York. The sky is a bit dull, thanks to the winter of the upcoming Christmas.

"Yeah," he quietly agreed. "Maybe then."

He heard his mother sigh in return and asked, "Did you at least talk to your father before you leave?"

He closed his eyes and thought about his talk with his father earlier, "We're okay now. He called me while I was with Itachi."

At the mention of his brother's name, he's sure he heard a quiet hitch in his mother's voice when she spoke. "I can't believe it's been 10 years. Time flies so fast."

10 years since Itachi died and yesterday was the anniversary. He went to Itachi's grave and stayed there for hours, talking to his dead aniki once in a while and just thinking about everything. Before he went home, his father called him.

There's no question that he loves his father, but they just don't get along really well ever since he was a child. Their relationship was forever scarred when he agreed to the heir position. He thought, and probably his father as well, that their father and son connection was truly lost.. until yesterday when Fugaku called him.

He couldn't even remember the last time they talked on the phone, or the last time he heard Fugaku as a father, not as the Uchiha patriarch.

"I'm not proud of most things," Sasuke remembered his father say. "I've done things I regret and will forever haunt me. But if there's one thing I'm proud of.."

He held his breath as he waited for his father to continue. Then he heard his emotionless father in a strong but cracked-on-the-edges voice, "It's the two of you. I'm proud of your brother, and I'm proud of you Sasuke."

If he could cry by then, he would've cried. But there are no tears left to cry now for his last tears were already shed years ago. But nonetheless, he felt his heart ache because of his father.

His father added, "I'm sorry. For everything."

It's nothing new, this ache that's been living in the beating organ of his body for so long now. His heart will always ache because of his family. Most of the time, it's in a painful way, but not this time. This ache is the kind you feel when you know something heavy is being lifted from you. Sasuke sighed.

"Tou-san," he whispered through the phone, and looked down at Itachi's grave. The snow lightly falling around him touching the stone and his hair.

He heard Fugaku softly gasps on the other line, definitely shook by his address. But then later replied, "Yes, Sasuke?"

He smiled softly, feeling the air around him shifts as if comforting him. Nii-san, he thought by then.

"Thank you," he sincerely said. "And I'm sorry, too."

Looking back from yesterday as he opened his eyes to reality, he felt warm. He said to his mother, "Yeah, it is."

Mikoto asked, "When are you coming back?"

"Just in time for the Christmas ball. I have to be there," he said gruffly. He heard his mother laugh softly.

"Will you bring a date?", Mikoto asked in a teasing voice.

He snorted, "You know I don't do that, right?"

Mikoto sighed. 9 years have passed since her son broke down that December night, following the shattering of Sasuke's heart. She will never forget that night. She knew as she held him on the floor sobbing his heart out that it would take an awfully long time to heal, but not this long. Her son is 29 now — driven but tired, strong-willed but fragile, loved but lonely.

"Do you have at least any plans? You can even bring just a friend, you know that," Mikoto pushed.

There was an announcement that the door of the plane is closed and now ready to take off. All electronic devices should be turned off and Sasuke exhaled inwardly for he has avoided his mother's prying. Mikoto also heard the announcement and nearly rolled her eyes.

"I need to go. I'll call you when I get there," he said to Mikoto.

"Okay, son. Take care. Don't overwork yourself," concern and love evident from her voice. Sasuke smiled gently.

"Aa. You too."

Sasuke finally turned off his phone and waited for the plane to take off. He thought about what his mother implied earlier. Bring a friend?, he thought. As if I have a lot to choose from. I only have Naruto and-

He sighed. That "friend" is definitely unavailable. She's probably off somewhere in America where she's happily living her life with her husband. The last time they met, she was newly engaged. He didn't bother to know how she's been doing for the past 3 years. He didn't want to risk the longing he might feel. Only God knows he does.

But he remembers that it was winter, as it always been for the both of them. Green eyes across from him, pink hair blowing in the cold wind, red lips on his skin — he remembers it all.

As the plane drifts, so does he — where the memory of their last reunion lives.

--

3 years ago

Love is just a state of mind.

This was his mantra every single day since the day he left Japan. Yes, there were doubts, but he strengthens his resolve every damn day when he wakes up. He remembered saying it to himself yesterday, and even earlier when he woke up. He always tells himself that maybe it's just all in his head now — that he already moved past every shit he went through, that he's not stuck loving the same person for only god knows how long; the same person he broke in front of him that first snowfall of that year's winter and he's now reunited with, wearing that smile and that fucking ring.

'Love is just a state of mind', he repeated for the second time today as he watched her talk outside. 'You actually don't love her anymore. You're just nostalgic of the memories. You're just being dumb.'

The little jolt of pain from his chest says otherwise. He's been telling himself that line since he went to study business the following year when they broke up. But today, Haruno Sakura managed to put all Uchiha Sasuke's progress he worked hard for more than 2000 days in just less than an hour within her orbit. She's so lethal.

'Love is just a state of mind, my ass.'

He watched her talk animatedly outside the café. In her rush to talk to that 'Neji-kun', she mumbled a quick 'excuse me' to Sasuke and forgot to bring at least her scarf outside. Sasuke watched as she repeatedly hunch her shoulders to her neck and run her gloveless tiny hand on her arm.

And even though he saw how her hand holding the phone shake a little because of the cold, he could also see the happiness radiating from her smile and the brightness of her jade eyes even from where he's sitting.

It stings a little, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. Not when she looks that way — not his anymore, but still so beautiful.

Timing is a funny thing. Once you thought you're over it, one pink-haired beacon of spring will bloom in your eternal winter and blow all your progress into next week. What a woman. He will never find anyone better.

Sasuke fought with himself to look away from her and when he did, he looked at the chair that she occupied a few minutes before she went outside. It reminded him of a time when sitting across from her bright eyes and even brighter smile once annoyed the hell out of him. Not because he hates it but because he's started to like it; he even craved for it.

Innocent coffee hang-out as they do algebra, group study with some of Naruto's friends for an upcoming english quiz, spontaneous pizza parlor visits after watching movies — all of them ending up across from each other. Never beside her, no. Always across, right there in front of him, as if saying 'look at me'. She never did say it, but he looked nonetheless.

Always.

Sasuke was pulled back to reality when he felt a tap on his shoulder as she moved towards her recently vacant seat, "Hey, sorry about that. Someone just checked in if I'm still alive or not."

She said it so lightly that someone might think she's only talking about the weather. He wanted to point out her ring finger and wordlessly ask if the caller was the same person who gave her that ridiculously huge piece of shit, ('she was never the flashy type. she hates the offending thing,' he thought) but he didn't. He just nodded and sipped his coffee that's as bitter as the taste of the truth is.

"It's fine," he added quietly.

He watched as she shivered on her seat as she takes a bite out of her muffin. "So," she drawls on. "How have you been?"

'So it begins.'

"Good. Business is doing great. Economy is booming as ever. Foreign investors are st-"

"Oh c'mon, Sasuke," she interrupted. "I'm asking about you, not your company or Japan's economic state."

He paused for a second to look at his coffee and say, "There's nothing to say."

Sakura actually snorted out loud for that, something that she did a lot when they were younger. "6 years and nothing happened to you? Only your business? Oh please, you know I know shit about business and all that."

That made him smile a little, "You know a lot more than you think. You're the smartest person I know."

A look of surprise and something he couldn't put a finger on flashed in her green eyes, and for a moment he thought she would blush like she always did when he pays her a compliment. Instead, she answered back steadily.

"Thank you. But still, I'm more on the medical field than your corporate expertise. I want to know about you."

It's making him frustrated. There was a time when he could catch her off guard and make her blush like crazy that makes him go crazy himself. Now, the woman sitting in front of him is so hard to read and so poised and feels so unattainable that even Uchiha Sasuke, the Uchiha Sasuke, feels inferior.

He swallowed the slight insecurity that suddenly gnaws at his bones for talking to this newest version of Haruno Sakura. She looks different; she sounds different. He now wonders if she smells, feels and tastes different too. He halted his thoughts before it goes worse.

He leaned back on his seat and shrugged a little, "I'm okay. Busy as always. I rarely have free time like this one."

She offered a small smile, "I bet. How's Colonel Mustard?"

He smirked at that, "Still grumpy and lazy as hell."

"How does he look like now? Do you have any pictures of him? I wanna see," she exclaimed with a tiny hint of excitement. How could he stand a chance to that face?

'You're hopeless, aren't you?', his own thoughts mocked him.

Sasuke took out his phone and scrolled down to his photo gallery. When he saw the picture of his cat taken by his blond idiot best friend, he tossed it to her and she caught it as naturally as a pro. He hid a smile.

As she scrolled away, he asked her back. "How are you?"

She briefly looked at him just then and answered distractedly, "I'm fine. I'm still pursuing my medical career and it's all good. Hard, but I think I can manage."

'Of course, no doubt about that,' he silently praised.

"I'm not so homebody anymore so I got a few friends. I got them when I started to attend a music class because I wanted to learn piano. I could play it really well now," she added. A hint of pride could be heard in her voice. "Oh, and guitar too. I didn't know th- oh!"

He heard the coo from his companion and silently watched her smile and comment on how his pet seemed to be weirder than before.

"All of his positions are so weird and funny," she said, her fingers covering her lips as she laughs. "And I guess Naruto can't be a photographer even if he wanted to. These photos are terrible."

He smothered a chuckle, "You know he's an idiot at everything." He paused for a moment and asked her, "How did you know it was the dobe who took it?"

She gave him a look that says 'Really? You're asking me?' and he immediately knew. Do you honestly think Uchiha Sasuke likes taking pictures of his cat? Hell no.

'You're so predicable, Uchiha. You think you're so sly, aren't you? Look at you now, asshole.'

Sakura returned her eyes to his phone, still browsing for his cat's terrible photos, until he saw her flinch a little and stopped scrolling. His brain automatically went from zero to 100mph and racked itself for what could've made her act like that. He's also annoyed that he noticed her flinch. It's because he's staring at her. Idiot.

She finally raised her eyes to meet his and said, "I guess you still kept it, huh?"

She brought his phone back to him and his eyes fell to what was displayed on it. Sasuke fought a shiver inside him because he immediately knew what she was talking about. He regrets that he decided to save it instead of ignoring it.

It was taken maybe 4 or 5 years ago in his apartment in London where he was studying business, and was recently sent by Naruto ('#flashbackfriday when your cat was still a bitch and you were still a workaholic ass. oh wait, you still are!', the blond captioned) through text. The photo was simple — Naruto taking a selfie with his cheeky grin, Colonel Mustard obviously scratching and struggling on the blond's arm as they lounge on Sasuke's room, and Sasuke in the background typing with his one hand and holding a cup of coffee on the other.

He didn't know Naruto was taking ridiculous selfies with his pet, but he did know that his best friend has this annoying habit of barging into his house and his room without a care. He already gave up scolding him.

But the one that made Sakura flinch and Sasuke's heart clench was the tiny and a bit blurry object on Sasuke's bedside table in the background — a frame with their picture together when they started dating. The said frame is currently in a box hidden somewhere in his old bedroom in their family house. He hasn't seen it in years. But seeing it now after so many years through a selfie photo of his best friend made him relive the said picture.

It's the only thing he kept from all the physical reminders of what once was. He was aware that it wasn't good, that he shouldn't have kept it on his bedside table and see it every time he wakes up. But it's the only thing he could look at without hurting much, because it reminded him of a good and innocent time. And with the life he had after their break-up, lonely and bleak and just plain cold, that picture gives him a hint of warmth and spring.

Or maybe he's just a masochistic son of a bitch.

It was a picture of them on Christmas Eve, the first one they shared as a couple, with them only just a few days of being official. You can say they were drunk — with liquor, with each other, with love. They weren't wearing fancy clothes nor inside a fancy house in a fancy party. They're in Naruto's apartment with a couple of their high school classmates, sweaty and lit and inebriated, counting down the seconds to Christmas.

Both their faces aren't shown in the picture, but you'll know it was them. Sasuke was facing away from the camera wearing a plain black t-shirt; his wide shoulders, blue-black hair peeking through his cap, and tall height as a give-away to his identity. The slight curve of his arm indicates that he was holding onto something. Or someone, rather.

Around his torso was a pair of arms, coming from a petite form that's obviously standing at his front. Then there is something peeking from his shoulder. The only things you can see are her bright pink hair, and her equally bright green eyes staring straight through the camera. You can tell she's smiling even if you can't see her mouth.

His face was sideways, so anybody would see the slight curl of his lips partially hidden through pastel strands of Sakura's hair. Throngs of people and their red plastic cups with confettis falling around are all a massive blur in the background. The only clear picture was the picture they made together — drunk in each other's arms but sober to know that it's all real.

God knows he would kill just for them to be back in that moment. It's foolish, it's dumb; but it's what his heart wants. He knows it deep in his gut and in his soul. He had never wanted anything ever.

But then, things change. People, too. And Sasuke is aware that this Sakura sitting across from him now is getting married to someone she chose to be with; someone she said 'yes' to; someone who isn't him.

Truth hurts. These are the facts, and he can't argue with them. No matter how much he shield himself from the onslaught of emotions running through his whole being as they look at each other 6 years after the worst time of his life, the truth is hitting him on the face. It's sitting on her left hand's ring finger and it's blinding and suffocating and god, he wants this misery to end. When will this ever end?

'How do I unlove you, Sakura?'

Sasuke wanted to maintain their eye contact, but he needed to breathe. He looked away and closed his lids, took a breath and held it for a few seconds as he thought hard before releasing it. He hoped that Sakura didn't find it weird.

As expected, she patiently waited for him to speak up. She obviously still remembers his habit of sorting out his thoughts first before blurting them out. He wanted to laugh. Sakura and the world have clearly moved on with their lives while there's him stuck on the same shit he's been doing since forever. So predictable, so pathetic.

He fought the frown that was threatening to form on his face and opened his eyes to look at her. "Yeah. I kept it," he finally said.

Sakura was just looking at him, analyzing him with those eyes of hers. 'Stop looking at me,' he thought.

Sakura finally replied, "I kept mine, too." His heart lurched for a moment. He remembered her own copy — same night, same party, same drunk picture; but in a different angle. Sasuke gritted his teeth to fight his urge to bite his lip. It's a habit of his when he doesn't want anything to spill from him and she knows it, so he just nodded stiffly in return.

She then added, "Why?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, hiding his nervousness and anxiety. "It reminded me of a good time," he truthfully answered but used with a light and careless tone.

Sasuke saw her frown at that. He felt the gears turning in her head as she prepares her next queries. Sasuke thought, 'I gotta divert this conversation.'

"Don't worry about it," he blurts out. "When my mother saw it, she told me I should not dwell on the past anymore. So I think she kept it hidden in our ancestral home."

He almost sighed with relief when he saw her face changed expression and settled with a small smile, "How's Mikoto, by the way? Does she still have insomnia?"

"She's doing okay now," he answered her, thinking about his mother and her insomnia when Itachi died. "She's good, don't worry. Her pies are still the best," he managed to give her a tiny smirk.

Sakura smiled, "That's good to know. The last time we saw each other, she looked worn down."

He frowned at that. 'They saw each other? When?'

His confusion must've been written all over his face so she said, "Didn't Mikoto tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Her eyes widened a bit for a split second and softly answered him, "She sent me off at the airport before I went to the States. Mikoto was actually the one I saw before I boarded the plane."

Sasuke didn't know what to say, what to think. His mother? Why would she do that? What did they talk about? Why didn't Mikoto tell him?

He just continued blankly looking at her, lost for words. Sakura looked back at him with an awkward expression. Apparently, Sasuke wasn't the only one who felt uncomfortable all of a sudden.

After a few silent seconds that felt like hours, Sakura broke the silence. "We just briefly talked for a few minutes before the gates closed. She asked me what happened to us that time and how you were doing then."

Sasuke clenched his fist under the table and scoffed, "I hope my mother didn't tell you how miserable I was."

'Still am,' he corrected in his mind. 'How miserable I still am.'

Her eyes were steady on his when she answered, "She did, actually. She knew I was as miserable, too."

He's now regretting the vulnerability in his words. There's a pang of pain he felt in his chest where his heart lays beating weakly by the minute. He fought the need to clutch it like he did that night when he broke down in front of his mother in their living room.

'Why are we here? Why am I fucking here?'

Sasuke swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and concealed his true fucked-up feelings with a humorless smirk. "Aa. That sounds like my mother," he quietly replied.

He needed a minute. It's only been what, an hour of being reunited with his first love, and she's slowly but surely breaking down his armor with little to no effort? He wanted a drink or a smoke; anything but this already cold bitter coffee in front of him and this girl, this stranger, that has the face of his long lost love.

Sakura offered him a tiny smile and said, "Yeah. I hope I can see her before I leave again soon. Would it be okay to have her number? Or is it the same as before?"

"No."

Sakura blinked and looked taken aback at first with his abrupt answer, "No to what?"

"All of it," Sasuke dryly replied.

Sasuke couldn't take this any longer. He couldn't understand a thing, much less feel anything at all. All he has is this numbness slowly gripping his whole being.

Green eyes flashed for a second and he heard her say, "Why not?"

He countered with, "And why should you?"

Irritation can be heard clearly in her tone as she spoke, "She's not just another person in my life, Sasuke. I just want her contact number so I could talk to her."

"And I said no," he said. "There's no reason for you to reach out to her anymore."

He knows he's being irrational and being a bit childish to be honest, but he couldn't understand why she's doing this. Add that to the gnawing leech of ache in his cold and broken heart, you could say he can't think straight at the moment.

It doesn't help that she looks gorgeous while breaking his heart all over again.

Instead of being angry like he anticipated, Sakura's face turned concerned. 'That face,' Sasuke inwardly sneered.

"Are you okay?", Sakura calmly asked him.

He replied, incredulous. "Am I okay? Really?" He scoffed, "Yeah of course, you just told me my mom spilled my guts to you and now you're here trying to reunite with her like nothing ever happened. So why shouldn't I be okay?"

Sasuke was trying to compose himself because he could feel his voice starting to shake and rise from too much emotions. The last thing he wanted to do is create a scene in this coffee shop. He kept his face as blank as possible.

Sakura just stared at him for a long time before answering, "It's been 6 years, Sasuke. You should be okay." Then like just an afterthought, she added. "We should be."

'How is that supposed to mean?', he screamed in his thoughts. 'You're perfectly fine, absolutely okay. You're getting married, you got your life altogether and planned out, you still look amazing and I'm here wondering what the hell am I doing with my life."

With all those thoughts, only few words came out, "And what makes you think I'm not?"

"Your face says it all, Sasuke. I know you," Sakura replied, still using that calm tone she has.

It's grating on his nerves so that's why he didn't fight when he abruptly slammed his fist on the table as his voice rose slightly, "Stop it!"

Her eyes widened in response and darted around the place. In his peripheral, he saw some customers glance at them curiously. Fortunately, there are only few. It dampened his rising mood and slightly pulled him back to himself.

His eyes were boring into hers when he said through gritted teeth, "Stop saying you know me, Sakura. Like you said, it's been 6 years. Many things changed."

Not all of them, he could admit. Just like his feelings.

She sighed in response, "Yeah, I could see that. Just like when you opened the door for me. You never did that before." She concluded it with a small smile.

His insides were in a turmoil. Is every word she's gonna say will continue to rattle his emotional and mental state? Is everything gonna remind them of their past? Is everything gonna slap him in the face that they never had a closure in the first place and maybe that's why?

She continued talking, "I noticed that you're taller, and that you've gotten a bit of tan. You're not as pale as before. Your hair is longer. You've become more tight lipped, but I guess that's because it's me you're talking to. I mean, after the way we ended I could unders—"

"I said stop it," he said quietly.

Her eyes remained the same, calm and collected. But he could also see a hint of determination and question in them. He couldn't understand. Why does she look like a girl on a mission? Those eyes are steady and serene but piercing and brave at once.

Sasuke inhaled deep and softly asked, "Why are you saying these to me?" His eyes are still looking through hers, "Why are you here? Why did you drag me here?"

He just wanted to drink his coffee and read his books in peace. He did not ask for her to be there at the other side of the road before he crosses it nor ask for her to come along with him. He did not want to see her engagement ring on her finger nor see her drink her black tea.

He did not ask for Sakura to come back in his life and remind him of what he lost when he let her go.

"I want to catch up with an old friend and have coffee with him," Sakura answered casually but softly, her eyes still seeking his as if wanting to see his thoughts.

His anger started to come back and he blurted out, "Friend? We're hardly friends now, Sakura."

"But we were once."

"Yeah, before I fell in love with you and you fell in love with me," he said with his voice shaking from too much restraint. "Before we kissed with the intention of something more than being platonic. Before I introduced you to my family as my girlfriend and you brought me to your parents' graves."

Sasuke heard her softly gasped at that last statement but he continued, "Before that night when we broke up. Before right now where we're here, acting as if none of those shit happened to us."

'Before we made love. Before we argued like kids and fucked like adults. Before we stayed up all night just talking about our dreams in the future and woke up in the morning realizing that our future was already right fucking there, staring at us in the face,' he all but screamed inwardly.

He leaned forward to look at her directly and fought the urge to grab her face to reiterate all of what he's saying. Then he whispered to her with a voice laced with longing and regret and desperation.

"Before right now where I'm asking you.. why you are here. Why are you here, Sakura? Why did you come back?"

Sasuke saw her eyes and her whole face soften as they continue to look at each other, until he saw them cast downwards towards the table. He followed her line of vision and saw her left hand.

Several thoughts came running through his head, all jumbled and don't even make sense. But one thing stood out to him even without her saying anything — she came back to Japan because of her engagement.

His eyes flicked back towards her face and saw her looking at him, almost apologetic and tender that he felt his chest tighten. Then Sakura spoke, "I think you already know."

He did; he does. Ever since she picked up her call and he was almost blinded with how fucking shiny her ring was and with how he felt like being punched to the gut, yes he knows. He will never have her back.

Not now, not ever.

Sasuke stood up abruptly, forgetting everything except picking up his coat. In his mind, he only wanted to get out of there. Get out of this café, get out of her life.

And so as soon as his hands found his coat when he stood up, he quickly strode towards the door. The faint noise inside the café was all but a noiseless background in his mind. He was actually expecting Sakura to call out to him, and when he finally opened the door to exit, all he heard was nothing but the howling of the cold wind outside as it snows.

The door of the café closes and so does his door.

—

He never paid attention to his surroundings. He just kept on walking and walking under the slight fall of snow around him. The streets are busy and the people are busier, all of them trying to make it through the day. Sasuke is the same. He just wants to make it through today of all days.

He never once imagined their reunion would be like this. He had this brief fantasy before about them seeing each other again, and finally realizing that they were meant for each other. They will throw away all the bullshit they went through and start again, fresh and new. They will never part. Never again.

But he didn't anticipate the fact that Sakura could be loved by someone else, too. And in return, she could love that someone back.

Sasuke should've known better. She was the smartest, most patient, most beautiful person inside and out that he ever met. He should've known that one person could see and appreciate that as much as he do, and will do everything to fight for her love.

And that's what Sasuke didn't do — fight for her.

He released a pained breath and watched as his mouth formed puffs of air because of the cold. He then noticed that he was in a playground, sitting on a swing in a nearly deserted park. His tall frame was hunched down on the tiny swing, his long legs bent as he stared into the ground.

He had no idea how he got there, but it may be a subconscious act. He always liked things that remind him of a much simplier and innocent times in his life. He also didn't know how much time has passed, but with the faint glow of the sun in the west he could tell.

"I thought you'd be here," a voice came and knocked on the closed door of his heart. He turned his face towards it, he saw her and suddenly his doors came opening again.

The winter sun was directly behind her, giving her this eerie glow. Like a nymph; a spring nymph being born in his perpetual winter. He shivered inside.

Sasuke couldn't see her face properly but he knows she's looking at him with those eyes of hers. He couldn't see them, but he could feel.

He watched her as she approached him slowly as if he's a wounded animal. In a sense, he is. He feels like it. He's wounded for the longest time, deep and real that he's full of bandages. And now, she's here to rip it all off and pour salt in his wounds.

"You left these," she said as she passed him his paper bag full of books and his scarf on her other hand. He never left her face but silently took the things out of her grasps and placed the books down as he held onto his scarf. After a few silent seconds, he finally looked away from her and stared at the thing on his hands.

She spoke again, "I knew you'd be in a playground. You have always been like that."

He heard the chains rattled as she sat down on the other swing beside him, facing the other way. They sat there in silence, watching as the sky took a break from crying too much snow and families in the park prepared to go back home.

If you ask Sasuke right now, this might be the only thing that haven't changed between their dynamic — the silence. They have never needed words ever since they became friends and silence is a comfortable companion back then. When they became lovers, it was like their platonic third-wheel aside from Naruto.

Right this moment, it's a bit different. The silence is there, but it rang like no other, begging to be noticed. An obnoxious loudmouth bother, a deafening pierce of a non-existing noise; it's right there between the two of them. And with a heavy heart, Sasuke took a breath and broke it.

"You're getting married."

Sasuke saw in his peripheral that she whipped her head towards him. He kept his face straight and forward, his eyes trained on two little boys riding a bicycle with their parents following behind. He felt his heart twitch in nostalgia.

Sakura returned to her original position facing the other way from Sasuke. You can hear the amusement in her voice when she spoke. "He finally said it," she softly said, as if she's talking to an audience.

He frowned, not caring anymore and looked back at her. He saw her fiddling with her scarf around her neck, noticed that she's not wearing her gloves. He can see the ring, subtly reminding him of why they're here.

"I was wondering when will you talk about this," she said while looking down at her ring, her voice still soft and quiet. She put down her hands in her lap, "That was the reason I said all those things back there."

She then looked back at him and he met her round and honest green eyes, "It was a bit childish of me, I know. But.. I just had a feeling you weren't being honest with me back there."

'Oh fuck,' he groaned inwardly. 'No, we are not doing this. You are not doing this to me.'

Outside, his face scrunched up in confusion and frustration. "Why? Why would you do that?", Sasuke's voice is as quiet as hers.

Sakura kept her eyes glued to him, "I hate seeing you like that. It reminds me of our last night."

All thoughts evaporated. Heartbeats stopped. Breath halted. Sasuke could only do one thing and that's to stare right at the love of his life. He felt something sting behind his eyes and he looked away.

"I know you weren't being completely true that night. Like I said, your face says it all. I know you good enough even before we got together."

"It kinda hurts when I saw you doing the same back at the café. It brought back sad memories," she looked down. "And also because.. I already know, Sasuke. I already know the whole thing why. Naruto told me."

He fought a groan that tried to came out of his lips. First his mother, and now his best friend. Who's next? His father?

"He came to visit me in the States right before I started attending Harvard. He told me everything. The company, the merger.. the arranged marriage."

Sasuke remembered drinking with Naruto a few months after their break-up. And the next day, Naruto told him that his father wanted him to go to Massachusetts to attend a conference. He didn't bother to ask for details because he was still hungover from the night before.

"He told me you're a mess; that I should go back and fix our relationship because he can't stand to see you that way. Mikoto actually told me the same thing in the airport before I left but in a subtle way. Naruto was pained and sad for you, but Mikoto was scared and concerned."

He knows she left a week after their break-up in December. Before the year ended, he remembered his mother ask him if he will follow her. He said no. He wanted to, but he didn't.

"I want you to know I understand, Sasuke."

He gripped the chains of his swing hard. He couldn't even feel the cold of it anymore. He's overwhelmed by so much information that two of his precious people tried their hardest to save him in the lowest point of his life by begging her to come back.

How pathetic can he be?

"You weren't supposed to know," he finally spoke. His voice was gruff and tired. He feels so tired.

"It's impossible though," she answered. "I would've known it when the news of your marriage comes out." After that statement, she looked up again and asked him. "Now that I think about it.. why haven't I heard anything about your wedding?"

He exhaled, "She called it off."

Yes, Karin Uzumaki decided not to marry Sasuke Uchiha. He remembered the furious face of his father, the relieved exhale of his mother, the anxious fidgeting of Naruto, the wide eyes of Kushina and the amused smirk of Minato. But most of all, he remembered the determined eyes of Karin and the gratitude behind her slim frames when she looked at him.

"Oh," Sakura softly said. "What happened?"

He played with the scarf bunched at his lap as he replied, "She fell in love for the first time. I told her to decide what she wanted to do and I will respect it. She decided not to pursue the engagement then."

Karin was there for him when he and Sakura broke up. She was his companion in social events, casual dinners, drinking alcohol; but that's just it. A companion, a friend; and to Karin, he is the same.

Yes, they did try to become something more. They kissed once or twice, tried lunch dates, and went to movie theaters. But there was no passion, no spark. There's only mutual respect and comfort, and those aren't the only things a relationship should have.

When Karin told him that she met someone that she used to be classmates with in high school and they talked, she asked him about how did he know he was in love with Sakura. He answered with, 'It has always been a subconscious thing, I guess. You just know.'

So he wasn't surprised when after a year, she told him that she's finally in love for the first time. He told her to do what she wants, and she did. She fought for her feelings, fought for her love. And now she's free, married just a few months ago. Sasuke was her best man because he was her bestfriend. Naruto was pouting the whole ceremony.

Sakura didn't reply this time but she nodded as she looked away. Sasuke turned his head towards her then, silently looking at her side profile. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and her breath is visible. Pink strands are blowing in the wind making him smell apples. Now he knows that she also smells different; she smells like flowers back then.

Looking at her after 6 years felt like a blessing and a curse at the same time. He felt like he was in a reality show, cameras are around him watching his every move and emotions that will run across his face; ready to laugh at him for the biggest prank of his life.

This is his reality. This is real and she's right there, wanting him to be completely honest with her. Say all his thoughts unlike that night; unlike back there at the coffee shop. He could do honest. He will be honest.

"You're still beautiful," he blurted out.

Sakura's eyes widen for a bit and she looked back at him. She blinked a few times, completely taken aback by his abrupt statement.

"I'm glad I haven't taken all your good parts," he continued. "I'm glad you've been able to move past the things that happened. I'm glad you're doing fine. I haven't told you I was proud of you that night when you told me you got in to Harvard so I'm telling you now — I am proud of you. I'm glad you're back.. even if it's because you're getting married."

Her green eyes were steadily shaking looking back at his black ones. Sasuke could see them shining and he hoped she doesn't cry because if she does, he is done for. He will be annihilated right there in the middle of a fucking playground.

With his eyes never leaving hers, he asked her. "Does he love you?"

Seconds stretched out and she finally managed to croak out a yes and a nod. Suddenly, Sasuke felt this incredulous urge to laugh. In the end, he let out a small chuckle.

He gave her a barely-there smile, "Of course he does." His voice was soft but it cracked in the end, "Who wouldn't love you?"

Sasuke saw her eyes gather tears and his fear of seeing them was finally falling from her eyes and right there staring at him in the face. His chest felt tight and his throat burned. He was only whispering his words but he felt like he shouted them to the heavens.

He twisted his swing with his legs to finally face his whole body to her form. He reached out to the chains of her own swing beside her thighs and moved it to face him. His legs widen and put hers between them so he could support the two of them.

As he looked at her face to face, from head to toe as they sit in an empty playground within an empty park, Sasuke felt alive. Given that he knew this woman silently crying in front of him is crying because of him, he felt alive for the first time in years. The dull colors of winter faded in the background and all he could see is the pink of her hair, the green of her irises and the gold of the sun slowly setting down behind her.

Tears kept flowing and her red-stained lips are shaking. Sasuke didn't fight it when he wiped her cheekbone with his thumb, and neither did Sakura. He used the back of his fingers as he wiped the other side. Sakura let him. It felt so surreal to Sasuke.

He was finally touching her again after 6 years. This was what he wanted to do when she was crying that night on the side of the road where they broke up. She feels different, he realized — softer, more delicate. Even though he knows the past few years haven't been nice to her, she still managed to become more than what she was before and after they ended.

Sasuke knows it was long overdue, and that these next words should've been said that night, and all the nights before and after that; but he says it anyway.

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head no and opened her mouth, "No, you don't have to Sasuke-kun. I understand, you d—"

"No, Sak. You need to hear this," Sasuke interrupted. He looked at her intently, "I need this. We both do."

Right then, he realized that this reunion wasn't supposed to be the time where they would get back together as he wished for the last 6 years.

This reunion was for them to finally go their separate ways, to finally accept that things aren't always meant to be; and that includes them.

Onyx eyes bore into jade ones as he spoke freely, vulnerably, and longingly. "I'm sorry for not being the type to open the door for you. I'm sorry for diverting the topic when I felt like being too exposed. It's because you scare me with how much you know me and I was afraid you'll see how ugly I am inside."

She was shaking her head no as he continued, "I'm sorry for ignoring your calls when it all turned to shit. I didn't wanna hear how lonely your voice sounds, that's why. I'm sorry for bringing up your parents when we were arguing that night. It was insensitive of me and I was truly sorry as soon as I said it."

"Sasuke-kun, stop."

He couldn't hear a thing and his voice started to shake but he pushed through with all the pent-up remorse, pain and love bottled up inside him.

"I'm sorry for making you feel insecure, for making you feel less of a woman when we were together. I'm sorry for making you cry then and even now. I'm sorry I'm so messed up inside that I feel ashamed being able to talk to you right now."

He's blurting out his words and his eyes started to blur simultaneously. Sasuke couldn't see her clearly anymore, only the faint glow of her weeping eyes and the halo on her head made by the sun.

"Stop."

"I'm sorry for not fighting for you; for giving up. I'm sorry for breaking your heart, Sak. I'm sorry for breaking us. Not only that night but all the nights after I accepted my role in my family. I broke you when I said yes, and I broke us when you said it's over and I'm so, so sor—"

Sasuke felt her arms around him, her head against his shoulder and her tears on his sweater. He felt all the air inside him dissapear as his tears finally fell when he closed his eyes.

His face reached her head, and he buried it against her hair. And as he wound up his arms around her and crush her into him he whispered, "I'm sorry for letting you go."

—

They cried — for the loss, for the death, and for the love of them. They embraced for a long time, both of them not uttering a word. When their storm finally calmed and both aren't crying anymore, Sasuke opened his eyes and stared at the almost setting sun.

"Do you remember when you asked me before what my favorite song was?", his head was still against hers.

Sasuke felt her head move and put her chin on his shoulder, "Yeah, I do."

He reluctantly let go of her so he could look at her tear-streaked face. He offered a gentle smile, "I have an answer now."

In his pocket, he flashed out his phone and then he whipped out an old-looking earphones from the other. He earned a small gasp from Sakura.

"You're still using it," she said quietly.

"Hn. I barely use it anymore, but I always bring it with me."

It was the same earphones she gave to him on a random day after they listened to her favorite album which he loved. She taught him the power of music and how it moves people; and taught him how to appreciate it in any form.

Sasuke plugged his earphones to his phone and looked for his favorite song. When he found it, he gave the other earpiece to her and watched as she put it on her ear. It reminded him of that lazy, cold morning listening to Bon Iver and sharing earphones and body heat with Sakura.

He could see the anticipation in her eyes as she looked at him gently. He wished that she would understand that he is dedicating this song for her.

"Listen well." That's all he said before pressing play.

Guitar plucks started to flow through their ears and Sasuke saw the recognition in her eyes. He heard her whisper, "Death Cab, huh?"

He just nodded in return and earned a small smile from her. He felt a lot better now than he ever did before.

When the singer, Ben, started to sing, he was reminded of how he first heard this song while he was cleaning up his room in their house before he left for London to study. Along with their picture of their first Christmas as a couple, he also brought the album that contains this song that he found in his room.

It was obviously hers and she must've forgotten that she brought it there or she purposely left it. Eitherway, he brought it with him to London and listened to it almost every day for the first year of being alone in a foreign city.

He pictures Sakura every time he hears this song, especially when a certain part of the song comes.

All the girls in every girly magazine

Can't make me feel any less alone

I'm reaching for the phone to call at 7:03

And on your machine

I slur a plea for you to come home

But I know it's too late

I should've given you a reason to stay

Maybe that's why he loved this record so much, most especially this song, because he relates a lot to it. Their relationship was never perfect. Yes, their love lacked color but only on the outside. Inside, it's bursting at the seams.

But then, sometimes it isn't enough. When fact and fiction blur together, it could end in tragedy; and that's what happened to them. Sasuke didn't give her enough reason to stay other than the quiet love he has for her. Sakura was never the demanding one, but she deserved more than what he gave. She deserved an explanation, an apology, and a love that fights for her. That's one of his biggest regrets.

The song ended and the next song came, and then the next. Song after song, he silently dedicated them all to her. Every hook, every line; it's all for her. They sat there, hunched over his phone playing all the music, shivering from the cold but warm enough because of each other.

"I just wanna feel alive

And get to see your face again"

"I'll make it without you

Though my body's laying here

It's my mouth that must be lying now"

"I'm talking to what's left of you

Watching what I say

Counting all the freckles on your perfect face"

"I need to hear in black and white

That you don't need me now

Say you don't want me

That it's not like it was for you before"

"So don't go away, say what you say

But say that you'll stay"

"I'll be the one that needs you again

And I'll be the one that proposes

In a garden of roses

And truly loves you long after our curtain closes"

"When you're young you just run

But you come back to what you need

This love is good, this love is bad

This love is alive back from the dead

These hands had to let it go free

And this love came back to me"

Words flowed, lyrics lingered; Sasuke dedicated and Sakura listened. Together, they forgave; together, they let go.

—

"I need to go," Sakura whispered.

They're both silent after a few minutes from listening to his playlist. He could tell she understood. Her misty eyes and her lips swollen from too much biting are a few giveaways. She was nervous and anxious about saying something. Sasuke waited.

"I.. I wanted to say.." she stammered. She was fiddling her engagement ring as she find her words. Then, "It was good to see you again, Sasuke-kun."

Sasuke-kun. He felt like he finally redeemed himself because of that added suffix. He finally earned it back. She knows all that happened, she understands, and she listened to his apologies and regrets.

He will never ask for anything more.

She finally stood up from her swing and started to turn away towards the setting sun when he found his voice.

"Are you happy?"

Sakura looked back at him, her eyes soft and dreamy. A little red from the crying they did earlier but her vivid green still stood out from the dull hues of the snow.

She nodded her head, "I am. And I hope, you are too."

From the lonely swing he was sitting on he answered her, "I will be."

Sasuke watched as her green eyes flooded with moisture and she closed them as she took a deep breath. She was trying not to cry again.

"Is this the last time we'll ever see each other?", he asked.

When she opened her lids, she straightly looked in his black orbs. Their eyes have always been their best assets, and they use it well. Especially at times like this when words don't seem to flow easily.

Her voice was quivering when she answered him, "Maybe." His heart sting a little but then she added, "I don't know.. I hope not.."

He stood up, "Can.. can I be selfish for one last time before you go?"

He was aware that he decided to never ask for anything from her again. She went through so much just by being with him and even right now as they speak. But like she said, maybe this is the last time he'll see her — beautiful and ethereal with the setting sun bathing the snow-covered world behind her, making her rose-colored hair burn in the right way and her glimmering emerald pools pop out with emotions.

Sasuke watched her swallow first, as if sensing that he's gonna ask for something he wasn't supposed to, and she was right. He knows this is ridiculous and inappropriate because she is getting married to someone she is happy with, and she has every reason to deny him of this which he will respect if she does.

But he is Uchiha Sasuke; and he is selfish, and arrogant, and compulsive when confronted with feelings, and irrational when he wants to be.

He is Uchiha Sasuke and she is Haruno Sakura, and only God knows how much he fucking missed her and longed for her and cared for her and loves her.

He loves her. He always will.

And so he took one step, then two, up until he reached her shaking form. With anticipation crawling in his veins, making his skin prick and his lips tingle, he asked his final request.

"Can I kiss you?"

Her mouth opened in surprise, her eyes widen in shock. Her breath comes in puffs, visible in the winter cold. Sasuke waited patiently, offering a silent prayer to her. He doesn't pray to any god now for he believes there is none. But if Sakura heeds his prayer then maybe there really is one.

Seconds felt like infinity until she firmly answered, "No."

His shoulder sagged. He anticipated it, but it still hurt a little. He understands and he respects it, but he still wanted it. He looked down and forced a smile.

"I know. It's okay, I understand. I shouldn't have asked. It's ridiculous and completely absu—"

"Can I kiss you?"

Head whipped upwards as fast as it could that it gave him a sudden whiplash. He saw her soft smile and her even softer eyes and she's just so fucking beautiful it hurts and she's gonna kiss him.

All he could ever manage was to give her a nervous nod. He was like back to zero, no experience with girls and how to act with them. He was like a child being promised of being brought to an amusement park or given a new toy. He was like a high school teenager realizing for the first time that he was finally getting to kiss this girl that he really really likes.

Sakura stepped forward and looked up at his face, eyes roaming around as if watching for a shadow of doubt in it. Sasuke looked back and gave her a look of someone who will never get to have this chance again.

Her bare hands went up and held his face. He helped her by leaning down and pressed his head against hers. He closed his eyes and waited for her kiss.

Sasuke felt her breath on his lips and heard a murmur laced with strawberry scent. Her cold fingers against his jaw tighten for a bit as her words sank in him.

"Thank you, Sasuke-kun."

His heart stopped as he waited for her soft lips on his eager ones, but it broke altogether when he felt them on his forehead.

If it wasn't a sign of them really over; if it wasn't a sign for him to really let her go, then Sasuke doesn't know what it is.

He understands it now. She chose to be with this person she's marrying and she chose to be faithful to him. She chose to settle all tangled knots from her past to get ready for her future — her future without him.

He wanted to cry again but he didn't. He fought it hard, feeling his eyes water behind closed lids as he feels her lips linger on his forehead. He could feel her lips shake as she presses them harder to his skin. He clutched at her waist and gripped her coat hard.

No matter what happens in the future, he had this. He had this last moment with her, and he will be forever grateful.

All that happened was a blur after that. In the end, he remembered not watching her go. He immediately turned around as her lips left him. He wanted his last memory of her to be her smiling face close to him, not her retreating figure in the lonesome park.

No words were said after that. He sat in the swing again, noticing that the sun had finally set. Winter night came howling in and he is alone again.

Sasuke never saw her retreating back, nor her crying eyes, nor her last attempt to look back at him.

He will never know, because he will never see her again.

--

Sasuke took a deep breath as he walks out of the airport, finally in New York soil. He saw the car that was supposed to pick him up right there in the front. He watched as the driver took his suitcase and put it in the trunk.

All the while, he cracked his neck. He was tired. The flight was long and his brain was fogged with those memories from 3 years ago.

He can say he's doing better now. He really let her go that day, wishing her all the love and happiness she deserves. He really meant every word he said and every thing he did.

To say that he's not missing her would be a lie, though. She still manages to plague his mind sometimes and make him think of what she's doing right now. Where she is, how she's been, how happy she is; all those things. But for his welfare, he decided not to dwell on those things too much.

He's 29 now. 9 years have passed since they broke up, and 3 years since they had their closure. He dated once or twice, but it never really worked out. He really tried those times, but there was just something missing. It didn't feel right.

He isn't rushing through anything. Right now, he's just trying to make his way through every day, one step at a time. Who knows? Maybe this coming year might be the year for his love life. Maybe he will meet someone in his almost 3-week long stay in America. Maybe it's the time to finally open his closed door again.

As he opened the door of the car, he took another deep breath and silently hoped so, too.

~fin~

(A/N: Songs used are A Lack of Color - Death Cab for Cutie; Echo - Jason Walker; Make It Without You - Andrew Belle; Bulletproof Weeks - Matt Nathanson; Let You Go - Jason Walker; Don't Go Away - Oasis; Happiness - Rex Orange County; and This Love - Taylor Swift (please also listen to Ryan Adams' version of this because it fucking hurts) Thanks!)

part 1 | special chapter