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While standing in line trying to get some food in the southern Gaza Strip, he yelled at the journalist Fakri Ibrahim, saying: 'Send this picture to Israel and the world.'
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black like you.
Summary: A quick glimpse into a potential future of Carol and Maria that highlights moments of intimacy and connection, underscoring the strength of their bond in the face of uncertainty. (A/N at the end)
Tag: @masterajoy314 @lppriceisright @gr00vyminibus @zeezeecave @blacksapphhicmaddonna @xenaizogie @scribblecake @blkbinz @megamindsecretlair @shuririsecretl0v3r @marvelsassbutts
Words: 1331
Maria stood at her kitchen window; salt and pepper brows slightly furrowed as she overlooked the slightly overgrown grass.
“Need to get Paul over here to cut my damn grass.” She thought to herself as she waited for the water for her pour over to boil.
Maria had never really cared about the appearance of the yard. That was Carol's domain. She religiously cut the grass every Saturday morning, pulled every stray dandelion, and refreshed the garden with colorful annuals with each season.
Well, at least she used to. It had been a while since she'd dared to even step outside.
Maria sighed and made her way over to the kitchen table, where before, they'd share mornings over toast and eggs, hers scrambled with cheese, Carol's sunny side up.
But it had been 3 months since their last breakfast, which culminated in Carol having a meltdown because she couldn't understand why her egg was runny, even though she'd never taken them any other way.
The doctors had warned her that Carol's condition would worsen, and quickly, but Maria had no idea how rapid the decline would be.
Carol had always been a little clumsy, a bit forgetful, and even more prone to bouts of anger. But when she lost her 4th set of keys and blew open Maria's backdoor for the 2nd time when she couldn't remember where the spare was, Maria knew something was wrong.
Carol never got sick.
In their nearly three decades of living together, not once had Carol even seen a doctor. She barely even seemed to be aging, still looking like the 30 year old airman who disappeared and then crashed back into her life and her heart.
It took Fury and Monica to convince Carol to agree to be evaluated by the physicians at S.W.O.R.D. and even then, she denied anything was wrong with her for the days before and after the evaluation.
"Extraplanetary Neurocognitive Degenerative Disorder" also known as E.N.D.D. or "Space Dementia'' was the final diagnosis after several days of blood work, imaging, and assessments.
They explained that Carol's earlier brain manipulation compounded with numerous interdimensional travels, copious exposures to cosmic radiation, and prolonged periods of isolation had resulted in her brain neurons essentially burning out. She would have periods when she appeared completely normal as the Kree DNA in her blood attempted to heal the broken connections. But those days would reduce in number over time.
Maria was familiar with dementia, as her grandmother had died from Alzheimer's when she was a teenager. But E.N.D.D. was different. Carol was different. How do you explain to a 60-something year old superhero, who physically looked and felt like a young woman, that their brain was essentially deteriorating?
There probably wasn't any good way too, and the disclosure of her condition resulted in Carol going AWOL for an entire week before she made her way back to the bayou bungalow with her only excuse being she "missed a turn."
There were no treatments and definitely no cures for E.N.D.D., but Maria was advised to provide Carol with support and lots of reassurance to help slow the progression and ease the transition. This of course meant no further space exploration, thus leaving Carol grounded both figuratively in her mind, and literally earthbound.
In the months since, the good days with moments of clarity and ease grew scarce, while episodes of confusion and frustration intensified. Carol found herself grappling more often with the simplest of tasks or details, her mind betraying her at every turn. Even mundane stimuli began to overwhelm her, adding to the burden of her deteriorating cognition.
Interactions with the outside world became fleeting and fragmented, with Carol retreating into herself more and more with each passing day. Small bouts of connection offered brief glimpses of the woman she once was, but they were quickly swallowed by the overwhelming darkness that consumed her.
So when Carol strolled into the kitchen just as Maria poured her freshly brewed mug of coffee, freshly showered and with a large smile, Maria felt she was seeing a ghost. A reminder of the woman she'd fallen in love with so long ago.
"Morning my love." Carol chirped as she sauntered over to her usual chair, pushing damp blonde hairs back on her forehead.
"Good Morning. Would you like some coffee or tea?"
"Yes, I’ll take a cup of joe, thank you."
Maria fought the urge to question not only Carol’s presence but her pleasant disposition and this request. Carol seldom drank coffee. In fact, she could barely think of a time since their officer training where Carol had asked for the drink over her routine allotment of fresh tea.
Yet, she knew that any questioning could possibly send her love into a spiral, so she walked over the counter, grabbing Carol’s favorite cat mug and pouring a steaming serving of coffee.
“How do you want it?” She asked, walking over to the fridge. “We have some coconut cream, oat milk, Monica’s almond joy creamer, and I think some condensed milk in the pantry.”
Maria’s mind was spinning. She so desperately wanted this moment of normalcy to continue, but she could not remember how Carol took her coffee. Was she the one with memory issues? Something so simple was about to derail a well-needed good day.
“Come on Rambeau, you already know. I take it black like you my love.”
Maria couldn't help but chuckle at Carol's playful response. This flirtatious reassurance from Carol was like a warm embrace, grounding her in the familiarity of their love and connection, something she’d missed for a while.
"Carol Danvers, are you being fresh with me this morning?"
"Depends, is it working?"
A small part of Maria still felt on edge. What did this mean? How long would it last? Why did she feel guilty?
Almost as if right on cue, she felt familiar arms wrap around her waist, Carol’s warmth a gentle stopgap to her mental queries. Maria leaned back into the embrace, closing her eyes as she savored the moment of comfort and security. In Carol's arms, she found temporary reprieve from the doubts and uncertainties that so frequently clouded her mind.
Even if Maria had been primarily a caregiver to Carol for the last year, she was still her wife. She allowed herself to enjoy their connection, setting her worries and allowing herself to be fully present with the woman she loved.
As Maria leaned back into the embrace, she couldn't help but notice a hint of confusion flicker across Carol's face. Maria gently brushed her fingers against Carol's cheek, offering a silent reassurance that everything was alright.
With a soft sigh, Carol nestled her head against Maria's shoulder, their embrace speaking volumes of the love and understanding they shared. Together, they lingered in the quiet comfort of the morning, savoring each moment as if time itself stood still.
Suddenly, a familiar chime pierced the tranquil atmosphere, causing Carol to startle. "What was that?" she asked, her voice laced with a tinge of alarm.
Maria chuckled softly. "Just an Amazon notification, probably a delivery update or something. Nothing to worry about."
Carol nodded, but Maria could see the lingering tension in her eyes. She reached out, gently cupping Carol's face in her hands. "Hey, it's okay. We're safe here, together."
For a moment, Carol hesitated, her gaze searching Maria's face for reassurance. Then, with a soft smile, she leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Maria's lips.
In that fleeting moment, amidst the tangled web of their worries and uncertainties, Maria found solace in the enduring strength of their love. And as they gazed into each other's eyes, a silent vow passed between them - to weather whatever challenges lay ahead, hand in hand, heart to heart.
"Fill up my cup
You ask me how I like it baby
My love
You already know
I take it black like you"
Inspiration:
A/N: I've read a few other stories that capture Carol's memory lost as due to other conditions and this idea came to me. We only have a small glimpse of an older Maria and Carol in The Marvels and just wanted to give an alternative to what was offered. I don't think there's any multiverse, AU, or dimension where their loved is not challenged but I also refuse to believe that there isn't any multiverse, AU, or dimension where their love doesn't conquer all.
Also, this is dedicated to all the caregivers to those with cognitive issues (development or acquired). You all are fucking rockstars!
Also, someone on A03 suggested hearing from Monica's POV. Whatchall think?
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Fuck all that soft launch shit 🤣🤣 if shana had a man THIS WOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED and tbh.. yk.. Ian even mad, I mean.. its Kingsley 🤗.
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I'm so inlove with this, really. You are phenomenal girl. 💖👏🏿
Lullaby
Summary: Carol grapples with the complexities of an alternate reality, lost loved ones, and unexpected connections. Binary provides comfort and understanding, but it's still not her Maria. Yet it's unknown if these two can recoup their unique bond that transcends dimensions.
A/N: The Marvels Spoilers…Carolmaria was HEAVYYYY on the brain today partially because Lashana and Brie both posted the Captain Marvel lego characters on their stories today! Then I started listening to sappy country music and got stuck on this song and then reread the inspo fic and decided to do a lil Carol/Binary drabble which kept drabbling....READ THE INSPO FIC FIRST and then enjoy
Tag: @masterajoy314 @lppriceisright @gr00vyminibus @zeezeecave @blacksapphhicmaddonna @xenaizogie @scribblecake @blkbinz @megamindsecretlair @shuririsecretl0v3r
Words: 1315
Inspo: 1) See You On The Other Side by @marvelsassbutts
“I slip in bed when you're asleep
To hold you close and feel your breath on me
Tomorrow there'll be so much to do
So tonight I'll drift in a dream with you”
“Carol, you know I’m not her right?”
“Yes. I know.”
“And you’re sure you’re okay with this?”
“Honestly, no. Not really.”
Binary attempted to conceal it, but Carol could discern the disappointment in those brown eyes she had missed for so many years. Instantly, guilt washed over her, as she despised once again being the cause of a Rambeau's dejection.
“It’s not that I’m not okay with it,” She stammered. “I know you’re not her, and I’m really okay with that. Like a part of me is glad you’re not her because I really enjoy you, but then there's just everything else. It’s just – “ Carol’s voice cracked and she quieted, her emotions swirling in a vortex of exasperation. As much as she wanted to stay here with this Maria, she needed to get far away before she combusted.
“I’m sorry,” she managed before rushing out of the room, navigating the maze of hallways through blinding tears, and then taking to the sky, her safe space.
•·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊˚.ೃ࿐*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊˚.ೃ࿐*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊˚.ೃ࿐*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊˚.ೃ࿐*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*
“I’m guessing you used to run away from her too when you got upset?”
Carol was startled by the sudden sound of Binary’s voice behind her. She had been so caught up in her haze of emotions that she’d miss the other hero’s presence amongst the stars.
“Oh shit.” She blurted out, rapidly attempting to clear the messy tears from her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to jut off like that. I just needed a moment.”
Binary shrugged causally. “It’s okay. I just wanted to come check on you. I know this has been a lot for you.”
“Yea it has,” Carol replied, her tone laced with exasperation. “I’m really struggling to process it all you know. Since Hala all I’ve been doing is processing. The Blip, Maria’s cancer, reconnecting with Monica, losing Monica. And now I’m processing finding Monica, finding you, a Maria in another reality, but not the Maria I knew. That’s a lot of fucking processing you know?”
Binary tried to hide her smile, not wanting to make Carol think that she was making light of her frustrations, but she couldn’t help but laugh and Carol’s ability to be adorable even in the midst of a meltdown. Carol caught the smile, which resulted in her giving a little chuckle at how juvenile she sounded in this moment, not at all like the 60-yo super hero she was.
The two hovered for a while, just sharing the moment.
“I’m not used to being found, you know? Usually when I take off like this, I’m just on my own.”
“Yea I figured. But I also imagined you needed someone to ground you and seeing as though I’ve already demonstrated that I can handle you, I figured I was the right girl for the job.”
“You’re never gonna let that go huh?”
“Never.”
They both laughed and Carol felt once again placated by this woman’s meer presence.
“You ready to rejoin this world Carol? Unlike you, some of us actually have work in the morning.” Binary teased, bumping Carol’s shoulder gently.
“Yea, we can head back.”
The two headed back into the X-mansion, no words shared between them as they meandered the now quiet, dark halls. As they approached the guest quarters where Carol and Monica had taken residence, an unspoken buzz enveloped them. Binary, uneasy with these new emotions, was first to speak.
“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow Carol. And try to stay earthbound at least until the sun rises, okay?” She jeered Carol as she fought off a yawn.
“Aye aye captain.” Carol retorted, throwing her arms up in a playful defeat. “Good night.”
“Night.”
Binary turned and proceeded towards her station. Just as she was about to turn, Carol called out to her.
“Wait!”
Binary froze as Carol quickly caught up to her.
“I just wanted to say thank you for coming to get me tonight and sorry again about earlier.”
“You’ve said that like four times Carol. Like I said, it’s all good.” She reassured Carol and started to walk away, but the blonde woman persisted, walking alongside her down the hallway. Growing slightly frustrated with the woman's nervous presence, Binary stopped and turned around.
“Something else on your mind Carol?” Binary questioned, a hint of annoyance lacing her words.
“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind staying over tonight, with me, at my place. I mean I know that was the plan before, well that was at least part of the plan, but yea. You know only if you want to.” Carol nervously pushed her hair back, unsure at how her advance would be taken after the night's earlier rejection.
Binary raised an eyebrow, trying to reason through the bewilderment of this oh so familiar stranger.
“Sure.” She smirked. “But only on one condition.”
•·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊˚.ೃ࿐*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊˚.ೃ࿐*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊˚.ೃ࿐*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*•·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊˚.ೃ࿐*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*
“I feel ridiculous in this thing!” Carol pouted, pulling at the satin bonnet that covered her golden locs.
“You mean to tell me that your Maria never made you cover your hair? Just had white girl hair all in her face every night?”
“Well for one, she liked my white girl hair, and I was usually behind her so it didn’t really matter.”
“Well we’ve already talked about this Carol. I don't do little spoon.”
“Yea yea I know.”
Carol continued to adjust the garment on her head, clearly hesitating at joining the other woman in bed.
“You getting in here or not?” Binary invited, holding the blanket back to make room. Carol slid into bed, feeling Binary’s firm, warm body behind her. A long arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.
“Is this okay?” Binary probed softly.
“Yeah.” Carol replied, though her body remained tense with anticipation and uncertainty. She took a deep breath, attempting to be present in the moment, but the emotions began to surge once more. Her breathing grew shaky as she tried to control the flood of feelings, desperate to avoid ruining yet another moment between the two of them.
“Hey, where’s your head at? You can tell me.” Binary questioned, but all Carol heard was Maria. Her Maria. And the sobs returned with vengeance.
Binary held her firmly, absorbing the laments that shuddered through Carol’s frame as she spoke soft, comforting words that she hoped would somehow penetrate the grief and confusion that consumed Carol’s mind.
When Carol awoke, she was baffled by the presence of another in her bed as it had been so long since she’d shared such close quarters. She gently rolled over, the momentary shock of Binary’s presence piercing through the fog of sleep, bringing her back to reality. Her face flushed as she realized that once again she’d become a total mess around this woman who’d she only known for a few weeks. Yet it was so easy to just crumble around her because even though Binary wasn’t the woman she’d loved for decades, she was truly the next best thing.
She watched as Binary slept quietly, her face a constellation of beauty and solace. She reached over and softly wiped the small droplet of drool at the corner of Binary’s mouth, amused at the similarity of the Rambeau woman in this dimension. So many desires stirred in Carol’s mind, but none more pressing than just watching Binary sleep. She’d never tired of that face. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring after her repeated eruptions of emotions. Yet, even if nothing came of their relationship or they found a way to return her and Monica to the right universe, this moment would stay with Carol forever. Eventually her eyes grew heavy and sleep also found her, drifting off into calm dreams, serenaded by the quiet breaths of Maria Rambeau.
“How long do you wanna be loved?
Is forever enough?
Cause I’m never, never giving you up.”
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URGENT HELP PLEASE DONATE TO HELP MY FAMILY DURING THIS DIFFICULT MOMENTS.
I am Kelly, My family is in danger. They are trapped in a city in Gaza called Rafah. They fled there because my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer and the only chemo treatment she could receive was there. Due to a militia that is increasingly taking over the country and bombing hospitals, all of the disabled, sick and elderly had to flea to Rafah to get medical treatment. Hundreds of thousands of Gaza people fled out of Rafah earlier this week after the militia overtook the Gaza military. My family was unable to flee because my grandmother is elderly and sick.
As of yesterday, my grandmother, disabled aunt, aunt who is sick with Malaria and my two teenage girl cousins were trapped at the top of an apartment building that has been overtaken by militia. They are helpless.
My aunts are sick and they have been injured. My two cousins are just children. Please help my family.
TARGET $650/$3500
CLICK HERE TO DONATE
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Reminder to not stop talking about Palestine even after the strike is over!
Reminder to not support pro-Israel brands even after the strike is over!
Reminder to not stop donating if you can even after the strike is over!
Reminder to keep attending protests if you can even after the strike is over!
Reminder to not stop talking about Palestine even after the strike is over!
Reminder to not stop uplifting Palestinian voices and artists even after the strike is over!
Reminder to not support settler colonialism, imperialism, or genocide even after the strike is over!
Reminder to not stop talking about Palestine even after the strike is over!
Reminder that this fight isn't over until all Palestinians can feel safe on their land!
Reminder to not stop talking about Palestine even after the strike is over!
Reminder to not stop talking about Palestine even after the strike is over!
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10 children a day lose their limbs in Gaza. All hospitals in Gaza are basically barely functioning and the amputations are done in unsanitary conditions and without anesthesia
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Sneak Peak- Love Makes You Weak Pt. 2
Part 1.
Background: A different type of Izogie storyline, moreso a backstory of her life pre-TWK because I feel like she deserves her own feature film. Written from the POV of someone in the palace.
A/N: Alright y'all. I missed my girl and I really want to revisit this story! My goal this year is to actually finish some of the multi-chapter fics. 😅 So here's part of the 2nd chapter. It's unedited (and an early work in my writers journey *cringe* 😬) and may change a bit but wanted to get it into the world and outta my damn folder of WIPs.
Translations/Definitions:
ilari: he Alaafin of Oyo appointed certain religious and government officials, who were usually eunuchs.[29] These officials were known as the ilari or half-heads, because of the custom of shaving half of their heads and applying what was believed to be a magical substance into them
Alaafin of Oyo: "owner of the palace" Equivalent of King of Oyo Empire
Oba: King
Eso, the Esho: special warriors
Tags: @zeezeecave @gr00vyminibus @masterajoy314 @xenaizogie @blacksapphhicmaddonna @lppriceisright @slytherinmates @scribblecake @blkbinz @megamindsecretlair
A litany of injuries and knowledge of herbs had earned my current position amongst the healers-- those selected few tasked with maintaining health within the palace walls. As a former Agojie myself, many of the women sought my care, and Izogie was no exception. We never talked about her early days in the palace, but she'd often share stories of battle, and sometimes of her life before, including her younger brother, Simu.
"Do you ever miss him Izogie?" I asked her one evening, hoping that the topic would take her mind off of the gash oozing across her chest.
"Yes, but his memory must suffice huh?" She added, sucking in air sharply as I dabbed at the wound.
"Do you ever wonder where he might be? If he's still alive?"
"No, I don't have time for such things."
"What do you mean."
"My brother, is gone, probably dead. Spending time thinking on such matters is nonsense. Otherwise--" She stopped mid-sentence.
I looked up at her face, contorted with pain not related to my touch as I was pounding a poultice of herbs for her wound.
"Otherwise?" I probed her, now curious with her uncharacteristic silence.
"Otherwise I remember what it was like to love someone so much that you might sacrifice everything for them."
"Isn't that what we do Izogie? Ajogie are warriors. Chosen because of our love of the King, the kingdom. It's why we fight isn't it."
"Yes, but fighting for the king is different than this. My love for Dahomey fuels my drive to fight. My love for my brother makes me want to end it all. That love is dangerous. A distraction I cannot afford."
I took no heed to the conversation, as Izogie was equally liable to share a jarring lesson in the same sentence as a casual joke. Yet, when the time came, several months later, I remembered her despondent words.
After months of negotiation, our king had finally agreed upon a cease-fire with the Alaafin of Oyo. There was no official title for the event, but what came to be known as the first "Soldier's Fete" would serve as the two waring nation's attempt for peace, even if temporary. The festivities would take place in the Oyo capital and center around the sparing of the nations' finest warriors, and people of both nations filled the streets, an excited energy permeating throughout.
A small entourage from the palace, including a small number of Agojie, wives, and attendants, proceeded through the streets of Oyo-Ile. Vendors with baskets of food, crafts of all kinds, called to one another and guests all around us as we processed into the Oba's palace, where we would be housed for the duration of the event. At the evening meal, I watched as Izogie, unusually quiet, stared at the young boy across the room.
There was no mistaking the resemblance between the pair, deep brown skin, heavy brows, large doe-like eyes. The boy, barely older than when Izogie entered the palace, already tall, muscular, exuding a familiar bravado as he sat next to the King. His head half-shaven and painted with symbols, he was a stark contrast to the sickly child from the village. Few in the village had ever laid eyes on the boy, Ashanti shielding him in her hut, spending whatever money on oils and potions promising to bring strength into his weak form. When the boy went missing, most believed he had just succumbed to illness and in her grief, Ashanti concocted a tale of his disappearance. Yet, here he was, jeering with the Oyo king, bringing smiles to all around him.
That night, I walked the long halls attempting to relocate my quarters after preparing for potential injuries of the next day's events. I saw Izogie quickly cross the shadows heading away from our lodging. Curious as to the warriors suspicious activity, I followed quietly. I came across her holding the young boy from dinners face, the largest smile brightening her oft-serious face.
“My sister, I thought it was you.” The boy whispered.
“Simu, is that really you my brother?”
K. Bye!✌️
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When I listen to these tragedies I just feel so infuriated and hopeless, when will this shit end.
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OMG MWUAHHHHH, I MISS YALL BADDD 💗💗💗
I miss the core four.
@zeezeecave
@gr00vyminibus
@blacksapphhicmaddonna
Love yall! ❤️
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CRAZYYYYY
To Love Is To Be Human
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!!! I haven't posted in a while since I'm busy with my last uni semester and graduate admission stuff (I'll catch up on stuff I missed, I promise). This will be my last fanfic I'll post for a while because I'd rather post about the genocides going on instead, and I want to refocus my writing on a novel I've been working on. If I do post a fanfic in that time I'll provide links on how to boycott the genocides (there's a strike from Feb 18-24, please participate ffs). I hope y'all are having a good Valentine's Day so far! <3
Word Count: 6.3k
Contains: Ion wanna spoil it but mentions of blood.
Inspo: ... My mind???
Taglist: @mybonafidefeelings @gr00vyminibus @blkbinz @masterajoy314 @xenaizogie @scribblecake @blacksapphhicmaddonna
Check Out This Post First Before Reading!
~~~
I usually don’t believe people when they claim to love me.
Of course, I put on a pleasant smile and return the sentiment, just to avoid conflict. But disdain, spreading like mold at the bottom of my heart, stings my chest with each heartbeat.
People throw such a sacred word around so easily, not even really meaning it. It only breeds expectations that they know they’ll never come close to meeting, leaving the recipient of said flippant love in shambles when their actions say otherwise.
I’ve been hurt a few times, and disappointed a million more. I’ve always loved people way more than they loved me. Exes would accuse me of “doing too much” when really they were just insecure that they were doing too little. And they were. They were incapable of loving, yet somehow it was my fault.
To feel love for someone – not that surface-level honeymoon fluffy bullshit that people chase after – but that type of love that weighs on your soul every time you think of, speak about, and talk to your person is what I want, what I deserve. Because if I’m capable of not only feeling it but giving it as well, someone out there has to be on the same wavelength as me.
It may be intense for some, but that’s the only way I know how to love. The only way I know I’m alive and living. Just human.
And now, I’ve been shot with Cupid’s bow once again. This time for my best friend, Izogie.
We’ve been friends for two years now, but it feels like we’ve known each other for decades. She listens to me, like really listens, and she cares about what I’m talking about. Even bringing it up days later when I’d forgotten the conversation. She shows up for me too, like right now.
Blood-stained water flowed into the drain of our self-car wash section. I had hit and ran over an animal on my way home, and I felt too queasy to wash the blood off my car myself, so I called her. Not even twenty minutes later, she pulled up to the nearest car wash and took over.
“What kind of animal was it?” She asks, aiming the high-pressure hose over my tires now. The red filth peels off smoothly under her precision. “‘Cause that thing really left a mark.” I shrug,
“No idea. I was too scared to look! But the thing was pretty big by the way it slammed into my car.” I look down at my shoes, grimacing at small animal chunks that float down the miniature stream. A chuckle from her tore my gaze away, wondering what was so funny. Her eyes were on me and a smile curved her lips.
“You are too cute sometimes, Fei, I swear.”
Smile brighter than the sun. Laugh as sweet as sugar. Eyes that twinkle like stars. Embraces that make my heart soar. That’s my Izogie.
I purse my lips and look away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction that she could make me cheese with the smallest of compliments. She probably already knows though.
Once there were no more red specks on my car, and thankfully she found no dents to fix either, I gave her a grateful embrace in exchange for her help. She never asks me for anything in return, even though I would give her the world if she let me. She’s told me she loves me plenty of times, and out of all the people who’ve uttered those words to me, I believe her the most.
The sun hits my hand that’s on the top of the steering wheel as I press the gas. Leaving the car wash section, I peep in my rearview mirror to see Izogie standing next to her car, waving see you later. My heart tickled at the sight of her grin, yet it hurt for me to smile.
The slightest chance she might not love me the way I love her will be enough to freeze my heart over.
~~~
“Oh my gosh, these are so beautiful!” I gush, admiring the vibrant hues of the bouquet that I picked up from my doorstep. As I unravel them from the plastic wrap, a small pink envelope drops onto the kitchen island.
“Ooh, a letter!” My fingertips buzz with excitement as I set the bouquet to the side. Izogie picks them up and looks for a vase while I tear open the letter. The feel of sturdy parchment twisted the ends of my lips up. And it’s not even flimsy notebook paper.
Folding it open, I begin to read the penned letter:
Dear Feimata,
You are the center of my world, and my love orbits around you.
Love,
Your Secret Admirer
The more I read that short, sweet sentence, the hotter my face became. I’m the center of someone’s world. The darkness of doubt attempts to overshadow my mind, but my joy is shining too bright this time around. I will enjoy this moment for what it is—no need to dig deep and overanalyze like I usually do. I don’t know who this person is anyway.
“Their handwriting sucks,” my best friend plainly criticizes as she peeps over my shoulder. I whip my head to her, holding the letter to my chest in offense.
“Zo, don’t be mean! It’s the effort that counts,” I read it a few times over, taking note of the pen strokes of each letter. “If you’re jealous, just say that.”
She scoffs, shoving her hands into her sweats, “Nothing to be jealous of. I’m not going anywhere regardless of who you date.”
Be still my beating heart.
“Really? What if I like them so much that they take up all my time?” I challenge. She leans on the counter and looks me up and down.
“Oh, trust me, you won’t,” she smirks. My shocked expression at her confidence pushed her to elaborate. “You’re not the abandon-my-friends-while-I’m-in-love type at all. I know you, Fei.”
And then my heart aches. Because she doesn’t really know me. Not all of me. And now I feel bitter all over again without even meaning to.
I fight to keep my smile from falling, but she could feel my energy change. She places a hand on my shoulder, “Sorry, did I upset you?” She’s even attentive when it’s not in my favor.
I shake my head, “N-No. I’m just wondering if this person is… safe?” I lie to avert her attention. She raises an eyebrow and asks what I mean.
“Like, if they’re not like a stalker or something. Because they know where I live, it was on my doorstep.” I explain, jutting the letter to the door.
When I look back at her, I catch a peculiar expression flash across her face. Before I can decipher it, her thick eyebrows furrow in worry, and the hand on my shoulder brings me closer.
“If you’re scared, I can stay here for a few days,” she offers, caressing my sides to soothe me, but all the touch is doing is lighting a flame within me. “I have renovators coming by my place tomorrow anyways so it’ll be unlivable for a while.”
It’s not like she hasn’t slept over before, but this time feels different. She wants to stay to protect me, to make me feel safe. The thought of waking up together for the next few days sends my heart soaring, and I can’t help but lean into her embrace.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure! If I’m not at my place, I’m over here,” I feel her laughter vibrate in her chest. “I practically live here already!”
I laugh as well and my arms wrap around her. I feel her head on top of mine and I sigh. It’s moments like this that I want to last a lifetime. The feelings that rise within me are indescribable, but the closest word I can search for is home.
“Thanks, Zo.”
After our classes, we return to my place with her duffel bag of essentials. The clatter of her setting up her things in my bathroom could be heard from where I was preparing our dinner in the kitchen. I then hear her call out to me from my bedroom’s doorway.
“I tried to put my things in your closet, but it’s locked.” The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and my hand stirring the pot falters.
Without looking back, I answer, “Oh, that closet is filled to the brim with junk, use the closet on the other side instead.” I feel her stare on my back linger before it fades away. A breath of relief escapes my lips when I hear the shuffling sounds resume. That was close.
I fix up our plates and we move to the living room to eat and watch our shows. While we enjoyed our meal and shared laughs, I let my mind imagine how this is exactly what it would be like if we were together.
I gaze at the side of her face as she leans forward toward the TV, immersed in whatever action scene is taking place. Studying her side profile, my eyes trail down her toned arms to her hands.
My hand itches to intertwine with hers. I search for an excuse to do so, but really, I don’t need one. We’ve cuddled a handful of times already, another session wouldn’t hurt.
Before my mind could psych me out, I lay my head on her shoulder and slipped my hand in hers. I feel her jump, but she recovers quickly and lies back on the sofa so we’re comfortable.
With my cheek pressed against her shoulder and my thumb caressing her hand, my focus is long gone from the movie playing. The shouts and sound effects fade into the background, growing muffled in my ears. My vision zeros in on a blue beaded bracelet that encloses her wrist, making my peripheral blurry.
She’s never worn that before.
“Fei?” Her voice brings me back and I lift my head to look at her.
“… yeah?”
“Did you hear me? I said, ‘Ash and I made each other a friendship bracelet to celebrate 20 years.’”
Oh. Ashanti. Her childhood friend.
“Oh…” I look down and fiddle with the flimsy bracelet that spelled out the girl’s name, wrestling with the urge to rip it off. “How cute!”
I could no longer stay seated on the couch. I had to get up and do something or I was going to cry. And there’s no reason to cry. They’ve been thick as thieves since forever, and it’s normal to celebrate. But that’s not stopping the burning in my throat and the stinging in my eyes.
I feel so fucking selfish wanting her all to myself, but a part of me doesn’t care.
I gently unravel myself from her hold and scoop up both our plates from the table. I walk into the kitchen and deposit them into the sink, then grab a sponge to clean.
If I look up over the counter that borders the living room from the kitchen, I would surely meet her dark orbs, but I don’t. And she doesn’t ask me what’s wrong, though I know she wants to.
The shrill sound of the faucet running drowns out my thoughts, and I scrub away the fragments of my desires as my fantasy of unbridled love circles down the drain.
~~~
“Fei, you have another gift from your stalker!” She calls out into my apartment as she enters.
My feet hit the ground in excitement, and I’m scurrying to the front door. I grab them from her hands when she’s just barely locked the door behind her and make my way to the kitchen. She laughs at my enthusiasm, commenting on how cute I am.
They’re roses this time. The corners of my pillowy lips turn up, and I can feel my eyes brighten. I take them out of the plastic, but when my fingers wrap around the bouquet’s stems, I wince.
Peeling my hand away, red oozes from the cuts of my inflicted wounds. In seconds, she’s by my side and inspecting the damage, grumbling about how careless someone would have to be to leave thorns on roses.
The tiny sounds of sangria droplets hitting the bright white-gray marble kitchen counter tickle my eardrums, and any pain I felt before ceases from my senses as euphoria washes over me.
Izogie wraps a paper towel around my hand, then stops to look at me.
“Fei… are you alright?” She puts her hand on my back, and that’s what finally takes me out of my trance-like state. I nod my head, gently closing my fist around the red splotchy paper towel. “Then why are you smiling?”
The question made my face fall. My eyes dart across her expression, and its the same one like the other day. Her overall demeanor seems concerned, but her slightly widened dark orbs are saying something else. But I can’t quite place it.
“No, I…” my voice trails off. I don’t have an answer, not one that makes sense to the average person, so I shift my attention to the red envelope instead. Using my free hand, my fingers skillfully open and fish out the letter:
Dear Feimata,
You are like a rose.
Your petal-like beauty is ever enchanting, and your love is all-consuming to the point it might pierce my skin.
But I’ll only hold tighter and embrace the pain of your thorns.
Till now and forever,
Your Secret Admirer
An itch catches in my throat, ripping me into a coughing fit. Her hand pats my back until I take a sip of water from a glass nearby.
Izogie takes the note and reads it. A scoff leaves her lips, and she flicks it onto the counter, as if it was some wretched thing.
“This is just getting weird now,” she says with a disapproving shake of her head. I couldn’t block the pang that ached my heart fast enough.
“It’s not weird!” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. Her eyebrows furrow, and then she fully turns to me.
“You’re literally bleeding right now.”
“Maybe they were just in a rush and forgot to cut them off?” I peel off the bloody paper towel to see that the bleeding stopped. I hold my hand up to show her, but she only gulps.
“By the note she wrote, it seemed intentional.”
Right. It does. But I can’t bring myself to think of this… strange gesture as weird. If anything, I feel more inclined to defend it.
“But even if it is… she seems the most real about her feelings for me than anyone I’ve ever met, despite not showing her face,” my voice trails off as I keep my eyes glued to the folded letter.
A few beats of silence pass, and I muster the courage to look at her from the corner of my eye.
Her own gaze was glued to the same paper, her nail idly scratching against the kitchen counter, her mind cleary being in a different place. She thinks I’m crazy. Surely she does.
Before my mind could send me down a rabbit hole of self-loathing, she murmurs, “... most real, huh?”
My eyebrows jump in surprise. Her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, and her eyes shift from my pricked palm to the thorny roses, barely blinking. There’s no way.
“You jealous, Zo?” I tease her, my lips quirking up into a smirk. Like a deer caught in headlights, she finally meets my narrowing gaze. Her usual smile returns and she playfully rolls her eyes.
“As if I could be jealous of some,” she waves her hand dismissively towards the flowers, “obviously tortured poet. Who does she think she is? Edgar Allen Poe?”
I giggle, glancing between the thorns, my palm, and her. “Well, he’s my favorite poet, so that’s probably why I don’t find her strange– wait,” I pause and cross my arms, “since when did we establish that this person was a she?”
She blinked a few times then shrugs casually, “Well, the handwriting is too pretty.” I purse my lips, not fully convinced that that’s the reason she thinks my secret admirer is a woman.
“Zo, if you saw my secret admirer, you’d tell me who it was, right?” I ask. It was her turn to cross her arms.
“If I knew her, him, them, whatever, I’d have already left here to give them a piece of my mind,” she takes my hand, and my heart skips several beats. “Let’s get you patched up.”
~~~
I’m holding the first two letters in each hand, my eyes darting back and forth between them.
There’s something so off about these, but for the life of me I can’t figure it out. It’s making my scalp itch.
I set them both down on either side of the 3rd letter that I picked up earlier on my doorstep. They wrote in red this time, and it came in a black envelope. Each letter inscribed and stained into the parchment paper seemed like they were pressed in with growing frenzy, each stroke straying from its usual poised and curved style:
Dear Feimata,
My limitless love for you is bursting at the seams, and each passing day it gets harder to contain, because I’m afraid this intensity will only scare you away.
But I feel it eating away at me, and my good sense slips with each breath you take away from me. I can only hope you can accept me as I am.
Till my last breath,
Your Secret Admirer
The words float around my head, replacing any original thought. I try to continue to decipher each message, down to each word, letter, and pen stroke, but my attention keeps being pulled to my admirer’s choice of flowers on my desk.
Red vibrant roses, but bleeding black seeped into the tips of every petal, like their love came with a touch of darkness. Of mania.
“Fei, what’s taking you so long? We’re gonna be late!” Her voice calls from the kitchen, making me jump in my seat. I hastily open my drawer and shove the flowers inside. When I take one last look at the letters before stashing them away as well, my eyes widen.
It’s the handwriting. The first letter’s handwriting is different from the last two.
The door swings open and I shut the drawer. Spinning around in my swivel chair, I smile sheepishly at Izogie, hoping my charm will get me out of a lecture about tardiness. The roll of her eyes and beckoning gestures let me know it worked, but the next words out of her mouth sinks my rising mood, “Ashanti is waiting.”
Fuck her. Like literally, fuck her. Fuck her!
I press my lips together to suppress a quivering scowl. Afraid that my attitude will lace my tone for the next few minutes, I silently walk past her and approach my front door. Her footsteps follow me with the same silence all the way to her car.
The place Ashanti picked for our “Galentine’s” date was pure shit. A stuffy club with drunk, clumsy people stumbling into each other while flailing around (dancing).
Izogie had gone to the bathroom, and I could no longer smooth out the irritation wrinkling in between my eyebrows. Ashanti sat with her elbows on the table next to me, her chin resting on her palms as she looked at me, amusement etched on her full features.
“Not your scene?” She asks, her voice struggling to be louder than the bass of the club. I grimace at some woman spilling her drink on the floor near us and huff. Ashanti giggles and my frown deepens. “I guess that’s my answer.”
I open my mouth, then close it. There’s nothing really for me to say that would ease the tension between us. Not that I care enough to fix it in the first place.
“What are your plan’s for Valentine’s Day?” She tries again. This girl is persistent as hell. I close my eyes for a few seconds, hiding the fact that they’re rolling hard before I answer.
“I don’t know. The same thing I do every other day, I guess.” I reply, not bothering to overcome the grating volume of this place, which only made her lean closer to me to the point her shoulder was touching mine. She was close enough to where I could smell cheap, fruity beer on her breath. I look down and see her matching friendship bracelet with Izogie’s name spelled out in the beads.
My fingers clench tightly around my half-empty glass, visions of me smashing it against her head right in the middle of this club flashing across my mind.
I put the glass to my red, plump lips and take a swig of the cocktail instead. I’m too sober to deal with this shit alone.
Then something warm slides onto the skin of my thigh. I glance down, eyes narrowing to see better under the strobe of colorful lights, then they bulge in disgust. It’s her hand.
I take another swig – bigger this time – before I go to chew her out, but she beats me to it.
“How can such a sexy girl like yourself not have a Valentine?” She purrs in my ear. I freeze and look around for Izogie’s figure amongst the crowd. What the fuck is taking her so long?!
I put my drink down slowly and turn to her, leaning back a bit to create some distance.
“I – I don’t… What is this even?” I stammer, both confused and nauseated. I breathe a sigh of relief when she takes her hand off my lap, only for it to hitch in my throat when she cups my hand on the table.
“I’ll just be frank here. I think you’re pretty hot, and I was wondering if you’d let me make your Valentine’s Day worthwhile?” Her manicured thumbnail caressing my soft, dark skin makes me want to rip them off her nail bed.
I take a deep breath. Calm yourself. I gaze at her again.
“What is love to you?” My question makes her smize falter, caught off-guard by my serious demeanor. She recovers quickly though, now smiling confidently like she is going to give her favorite teacher the right answer to a math question.
“Love to me is a strong, pleasurable emotion that you feel towards someone and waste no time in acting on it, of course!” She leans in again. “Which is what I’m doing right now, so I love ya, I guess haha!”
My face deapans. I guess.
“Such a primal response, which I expected. You’re really no different from an animal.” The venom in my words makes her recoil in shock. Unfazed, I down the rest of my drink and grab my purse. Fuck this bitch, fuck this club, fuck this night.
Ashanti’s offended shrieks are drowned out by the music and hollering club-goers as I strut towards the exit. A hand grabs my forearm and I yank it out of their grip on instinct, only to find out it was Izogie.
Her dark eyes were wide with concern, and her lips moved – probably asking me what happened. Not in the mood to scream a retelling of the last 5 minutes, I shake my head and slip through the crowd and out of the club.
It wasn’t until I got to her car that I remembered she had the keys.
“For fuck’s sake!” I shout, kicking my heel into her tire. With the cool night air, I can now feel the boiling under my skin from the rage and alcohol. My breath becomes labored the more I replay this terrible night.
Just as I was about to request a Lyft, the club doors opened and Izogie marched out. Ashanti stumbled out not too long after. I put my phone down and watched from the side of her car so they couldn’t see me.
Ashanti grabbed her arm and spun her around, clearly drunk and out of her mind. I can only see Izogie’s back, but from her rigid shoulders and clenched fists, I can tell that she’s pissed. Then she jabs an accusing finger into Ashanti’s chest, and the utter shock that ripples across the latter’s face gives me a sickening, gleeful feeling.
Ashanti’s mouth drops lower the more words – that I can’t hear from where I’m standing – Izogie says, then she leaves her there in the middle of the parking lot distraught. I come out from the side of the car, and watch how my friend’s scorned expression turns into one of relief.
She starts to jog towards me, and the emotions I’ve kept down all night rise up to the surface. The wordless hug she envelops me in coaxes tears from my eyes and I fully surrender in her embrace, feeling like everything is right again now that it’s just us.
“Let’s go home, yeah?” She suggests, caressing the top of my braided head. I nod.
Yes… home.
~~~
It’s now officially Valentine’s Day, and I haven’t heard from Izogie in seven fucking hours. She always texts back no matter how busy she is; She’s co-captain of the track team at our university and is a STEM major, yet she always finds time to shoot me a text, no matter how short.
I pace my messy room, littered with rejected dresses and jewelry that just weren’t good enough for our date.
Yes, a date. Not a date-date that I would’ve imagined, but it is so damn close.
I cried and poured out my true feelings about how I didn’t like – hated Ashanti on that ride back to my apartment. How she came onto me and how disgusted I felt. How I just wanted her fucking gone.
I watched Izogie grip the steering wheel in anger – not at me, of course, but at her best friend of 20 years. She looked betrayed and I didn’t understand, but I didn’t dig deeper to find out why. I was just happy she was picking my side. And even happier when she said she’d take me out on a date to make up for “Galentine’s Gate” on Valentine’s Day.
Now I’m in my underwear, make-up done, hair picked out in an afro, damn near biting my gelled nails hard enough for the paint to peel off.
“Where could she be, where could she be?” I murmur over and over to myself. A lightbulb flickers on in my mind and I dash across my room. Scooping up my phone, I swipe and tap to the location app; she constantly has her location on for me.
My gut twists in agony as the buffer wheel by her name spins, taking its time to update her last reported location. Once it finally updates, my stomach drops.
Her last updated location was three hours ago, at her apartment.
Her phone has been switched off for three hours.
Is she trying to hide the fact that she’s there with Ashanti?
My grip tightens around my phone as my sight blurs with salty tears. Dark thoughts surge onto the shores of my mind like ocean waves, overtaking and whisking away every rational grain of sand with it.
A new, numbing feeling is left, and I sit up straight. Slowly turning my head to my locked closet, I stare at the rusted knob. I lift myself off the bed and walk over to my drawer, sliding it open. I take out the letters, flowers, and the key to the closet.
Trudging to the closet with everything in hand, I unlock it. I’m greeted with darkness at first, then I flicker the light on to reveal a year’s worth of my mania.
From wall to wall, it’s just her.
Pictures of her looking at my camera, pictures of her candidly looking away, pictures with me in it, pictures of other extras in the photo scrartched out with her in the center. To fill in the white wall space between photos were hearts and loving messages I’ve drawn on the wall when I just couldn’t hold in my love for her.
I picked up one of her sweaters that I never planned to give back. Bringing it to my nose, I inhale deeply. It no longer smells like her, I’ve had it for too long. The exhale escapes as a whimper and I fall to my knees.
This was my safe space to express my love for her without fucking ruining everything.
And now it’s not enough.
I shakily tap to her contact and press the phone to my ear.
“Your call has been forwarded–”
“FUCK!” I chuck my phone out of the closet, the sounds of clatters and cracks following. My chest heaves as I pick up the letters and re-read them. Memories of Izogie’s reactions to the handwriting in the first two struck me and I laugh humorlessly.
“You wrote like shit on purpose the first time to throw me off, but forgot to write the same the second time,” I say out loud to a beaming Izogie on the wall in front of me like she’s here. “You think I don’t know what your handwriting looks like?! I know everything about you!”
Almost everything. I didn’t know she loved me as deeply as she did.
But now she’s not talking to me, and possibly with that fucking animal, when she should be on the date she promised me.
“I should have ran that bitch over like I did the other one two weeks ago.” I snarl through gritted teeth.
Memories of Yola jogging on a remote trail played through my mind like a movie. I sat there in my car staring into the sideview mirror, waiting to pounce like a lioness stalking its prey through the savannah grass as she approached. When she jogged past, paying my vehicle no attention with her headset on, I turned my key in the ignition.
It was pedal to the floor from there, she never saw me coming. And I backed up over her to make sure too.
I had to do it. She was flirting with Izogie during a track meet, and I overheard her saying she was going to “bag” her. Like my love was a piece of meat they sell at the street market.
She acted like a fucking animal in heat, so I treated her like one by putting her down. Simple.
A giggle escapes my lips at the image of her head knocking against my bumper. I slap my hand over my mouth, but that doesn’t contain the fit of laughter I’m sent into as her demise replays in my mind. I clutch my stomach and bend forward, wheezing out laughs and squeezing my eyes to release the manic tears of glee.
In between my gasps for breath, I look up at a clawed out Ashanti in one of the photos. A stiff grin stretches my face and I point to her, “I’m putting you down next.”
~~~
I’m outside her apartment, with the spare key she gave me in hand. I put my ear to the door to listen for their voices.
Silence.
I huff and unlock the door without a second thought. I step in and I look around, confused.
Her apartment looks the exact same. There’s no sign of any renovations done. I softly close and lock the door behind me, careful not to make a sound. Tiptoeing out into the living room, my blood runs cold.
Chairs are knocked over, and there’s blood splattered on the ground. Thinking the absolute worst, I desperately call out to her, “Izogie!” Please, please, please be okay.
I move quickly to the hallway, and a door – that’s always been locked every time I come over – swings open. I jump back, startled at who or what might be revealed behind the mysterious door.
There my Zo stood in what I could infer was her date outfit. Burgundy blouse paired with black dress pants that hugged every curve of her legs. If it weren’t for the dark wet spots of blood on her blouse, I would have melted into a puddle right there.
“F-Fei?” Her eyes bulged and blinked like she couldn’t believe I was here. I moved in closer, and then I could see the dark speckles of blood tainting her smooth foundation. I bring a hand up to her cheek, wiping some of it away.
“Zo, what happened to you?” I say in a small voice, inspecting her figure for any wounds. “Is this your blood?”
She shakes her head no, keeping her eyes downcast in shame. I furrow my eyebrows and step back.
She’s right, it’s not. I see no cuts or bruises on her. My gaze trails down to her bloody hands and see that she’s clenching a flimsy object in her right. I step forward and gently take her hand in mine.
Her chest starts to shake as sobs begin to rack through her body. I whisper reassurances as I work to pry her hands of the object, finger by finger. Beads etched with letters fall from her palm and scatter onto the wooden floors at our feet. I was able to make out what it spelled before it came apart: Ashanti.
“Can I come in the room, Zo?” I bend down a bit so I can meet her gaze. The question seems to upset her more and she shakes her head.
“N-no, please. You won’t l-look at me the same, I-I just…” Her words fail her and so does her knees. I catch her as she falls to them and hold her tight to me as she wails. Her bloody hands stain my dress as she clings onto me like her life depended on it.
I take the opportunity to see into the room behind her, and I’m gobsmacked.
From the ceiling, all the way down to the floors of the room, it was all me.
Photos of me aware of the camera, photos of me when my mind drifted. There was a rack of clothes that I thought I lost to the laundromat, neatly hung across the back wall.
I crane my head to view more and my jaw slacks. In the center left side of the room was a shrine-like display that was adorned with a blown up poster of my face on top. On the table shelves below were a collection of things. From where I could see, there were missing toothbrushes and a bag of what I believe to be my shed hair from wash days I’ve had when I slept over here.
Her secret room beats mine by miles. She doesn’t just love me in the same way I do her, she may even love me more. I never knew that to be possible.
And the cherry on top of all, Ashanti’s lifeless body is in the middle of it all, like an animal sacrifice for us.
Almost two years of her love for me trumped her pathetic twenty years of so-called friendship, and that fact alone is enough to make me happy cry.
This is what I’ve been waiting for. Praying for.
And now it’s here, better than what I’ve imagined it to be.
This is what I deserve.
“Zo… Zo, baby, look at me.” I tilt her chin up and my heart aches when I see her bloodshot eyes. “Why are you crying, my love?”
Then she begins to spill everything.
“She knew I loved you since we first met, b-but she still came onto you and betrayed me,” she sniffs and sits up, “then I saw you hurt and I was so livid, so I was gonna cut her off before our date today,” she glances back at her former best friend’s body and scowls.
“But then she b-broke into this room and called me insane, and I saw red,” she turns back to me, clutching my arms desperately, eyes darting across my calm face frantically. “Then I remembered you said that you wanted her g-gone, so I–I…”
I shushed her and gently pulled her to my chest again, no longer needing to hear the rest. I already can see what transpired.
We stay like this for several minutes until her sobs reduce to whimpers. I look down at her, smiling.
“Wanna know something?” I ask, giddiness in my tone like I’m back in primary school and it’s show and tell. She hums and gazes up at me. “The animal I hit the other week was Yola. I ran her over because she was going to hurt you. I killed her because I love you, just like you killed Ashanti because you love me.”
I can practically see her eyes twinkle at my murderous confession.
We really are the same.
“Can I tell you something too?” She questions, sitting up and pulling me into her lap. My Izogie was slowly coming back to herself. I nod my head, waiting in anticipation. “I’m your secret admirer.”
I look around her me-filled room and back at her, “Nooo, you don’t say!” I exaggerate, feigning surprise. She nudges me playfully and chuckles. I bite my lip and my eyes flicker down to hers. Noticing where my gaze is directed, she wastes no time closing the distance between us.
The slow, sweet, and serene kiss was the perfect paradox to the manic, iron-smelling, and chaotic room we were in.
We were not simple-minded, primal creatures that looked at the world in black and white. We understood the secrets of the abyss, the wonders of the light, and the nuances of gray in between.
And we accepted, embraced, and loved all the complexities of true love.
The love that makes us human. The love that makes us feel alive.
~~~
A/N: crazy how I'm starting my hiatus on an unhinged note but hey 🤷🏿♀️
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From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free 🇵🇸 🍉
Free Palestine, Congo, Sudan, Yemen, Tigray, Syria, Haiti, Hawai’i, Puerto Rico, Tibet.
I've made a list for some donation and free resources for those who need them.
Donation Pages and other resources you can help support
(Donation Page for Palestine, Syria, Lebanon and other refugee camps)
(The Palestine Children's Relief Fund)
(Donations go towards Palestine, Lebanon and Jordan)
(Purchasing eSims allows people within Gaza to connect to the outside to communicate with their families and also to show what’s happening within Gaza)
(A donation site which provides urgently needed humanitarian aid in moments of crisis and conflict in 70 different countries.)
(A donation page for Sudan Relief)
(A donation page to send water, food and aid to those who are living in Yemen.)
Other ways you're able to help for free, contact your local senators, boycott, inform yourself and others! Anything you are able to do is able to help.
Inform yourself about Sudan, South Sudan, Palestine, Somalia, Uyghurs, Congo, Libya, Afghanistan, Yemen, Syria and Morocco
Inform yourself about Haiti, Hawai'i, Puerto Rico, Tigray, Tibet, Uighurs, West Papau:
(A collection of resources for organizers and anyone who wants to learn more about Palestine.)
(A free daily button you can click to help the people of Palestine and other areas of crisis.)
(A comprehensive list of brands to boycott and reasons why.)
(Another list of brands to boycott.)
(Contact your local US senator.)
(Contact your local Canadian parliament)
(Contact your local UK parliament)
You can use this call script if you call your local US government.
Call Script: My name is {Your Name}. I am a constituent of {Representative's Name}. I am calling to ask that the Representative add their name to the Ceasefire Now resolution led by Representatives Cori Bush and Rashida Tlaib, regarding the unfolding crisis in Gaza.
It is absolutely urgent that the Representative demand a ceasefire, and that they call on Israel to allow humanitarian assistance into Gaza. The only way forward is addressing the root causes of violence: Israeli military occupation and apartheid, and ending U.S. complicity in this oppression.
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The sadness and despair in those eyes...
There are no innocent soldiers in iof, including the women. I've seen female soldiers laughing and dancing at the misery of Palestinian people and doing heinous acts just like their male counterparts.
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