#Desi girls must know this

[desi-ambivert-nerd]

Hey Desi girls! ATTENTION PLEASE!

I have said this many times and I will say this that we're taught to love others, be sensible, be witty, be responsible, be respectful..... but many of us aren't taught about self-love.

Self-love and self-esteem are two important words. I'm not supporting narcissists. But just look at yourselves in mirror, without any makeup, without any eyeliner and lipstick.... and say : I love you to yourselves. That's self-love, self-acceptance....

You're beautiful as you're. If you don't suit modern or traditional beauty standards, don't feel sorry, just dress up as you want and bear a smile.

Here you go with this beautiful retro song:

Here Lata di(I miss her a lot😭😭) will tell you how to fall in love with yourself.

Apni Ada Par Main Hoon Fida

[matan4il]

Buddie 615 meta

Before we really get into it, I’m just gonna snicker for a second over the fact that the death doula is named Natalia. Why? The name is related to the Latin term for Christmas Day, which is the holiday when Jesus was born. So the word that the name comes from is related to birth, natal. There’s a touch of irony there, that they gave this name to the girl who is not just a death doula, but who looks like she’s actually into death (who thinks dying for a few minutes is cool or amazing. I have to say, it’s not. It’s a good thing to accept death as a part of life, one that heightens life’s meaning, and help others do the same, it’s another to think that the physically and emotionally scarring experience of being dead for a few minutes is “cool”) and I think that’s an interesting tone to choose when introducing Buck’s new Love Interest. (if you’re into it, you can find more name meanings for 911 characters here) ~~

The scene of Eddie and Chris at the cemetery was very touching. It also spoke volumes on how Buck has taken the same role in Christopher’s life as Shannon. We saw in eps 611 as well as this one that Chris is hoping to be heard by the parent that life has taken away from him (Shannon for good, Buck temporarily). What I find interesting is that with the hospital visit, Eddie must understand this on some level. Even with the guardianship reveal, no one has ever explicitly referred to Buck as Chrstopher’s other dad. But he is, and moments like this cement it. We talk about these parallels, but Eddie gets to live them. He witnesses with his own eyes his son talking about Buck in the same way he does about Shannon. Eddie KNOWS what Buck is to their family unit and it’s not just an emergency guardian. ~~

Which connects me to something I touched upon in my 614 meta, Eddie’s journey. He’s supposedly been okay with dating again since 406, but in the last ep we discovered that he’s still held back by past trauma from his failed relationship with Shannon. She’s featured heavily in this ep, too. Her being Christopher’s mom means she’s a presence in Eddie’s life who will always be there. A reminder of how things can go wrong, meaning romantically, but also just in terms of how unexpected death can be.

It pained me to go from Eddie admitting in 614 that he didn��t want to be alone, to him echoing the words of their deceased vic, “We’re all gonna die alone.” That’s something I’ve heard people saying not so much regarding the question of whether there would be someone by your side when you pass away. More like, when death claims us, we all embark on that last journey into the dark unknown on our own. Whether there’s something after death or not, we’ll all discover that completely by ourselves. That’s such a deeply lonely thought, and we see Eddie trying to deal with it in this ep by not postponing seeing his parents. He realizes he was wrong to assume they got time, because death might come for us at any given moment, just like it happened with Shannon. It’s a continuation of his journey, which is obviously not over yet, but to me it’s quite surprising how this week’s ep actually joined Buck and Eddie’s with the common theme of death, but specifically death intertwined with their romantic life. I think each of them is such a fascinating character in its own right, so why the need to connect their journeys like this? I am staring at you, 911. ~~

I was happy that Eddie brought up what a bad idea it is for Buck to be dating someone they helped on a call. This has been a theme with Buck since he meets the snake lady on a call in 101, through Ali in 202, Taylor in 206 and now Natalia. In other words, this has a big, red sign al over it that says it’s doomed to fail, but our Buck is once more failing to notice that. Hopefully the rest of the events in 6b will help him learn and stop making this particular mistake, where he connects his idea of having self-worth only as a firefighter with thinking he can only be romantically desirable to those he helps on calls. ~~

I wrote in this ask reply about the insanity of how Buck and Eddie seem to always start dating again in consecutive eps. As if 911 is not unhinged enough about that, we also have Buck and Eddie being obstructive with the other guy’s dating attempts, first Buck suggesting ghosting to Eddie as a way of blowing off his date with Vanessa in 614, and now Eddie right away pointing out that it’s not a great idea for Buck to be dating Natalia.

We have seen Buddie dating multiple people over the course of almost 5 seasons now, and not a single time have we seen either man on screen approve of their best friend’s romantic partner. Almost like there’s just no one who’s good enough for the man they love so much, right? No one, because on some level, they know what we do, too. That no one else can compete with what the two of them have together. Which is why none of these LIs feel right and acceptable as partners for their best friend. ~~

I love that right off the bat, we got a reminder that Eddie knows Buck better than everyone, on very intimate levels. Just like Eddie knew when Buck was having an emergency session with Dr. Copeland back in 404, while even Bobby as their captain didn’t, we now saw Eddie knows how well Buck handles his taxes. It’s such spouse behavior. Most of us do not have best friends who keep tabs on how we handle governmental bureaucracy, right? But then the end of this ep circles back to this idea and gives us that scene at the cemetery where Eddie proves that this is true not just when it comes to the small things of daily life. He sees Buck, knows him, understands him and Eddie accepts him in every possible way. Which is why he can say that Buck has indeed been different since the lightning strike, an awareness we don’t hear from anyone else, not even from Maddie, Buck’s very close and loving sister.

It reminded me of how Buck said in 309 that Eddie can be honest with him. Then in 511 Buck repeated a variation of that, saying Eddie doesn’t have to pretend with him. In 513 and 514, Eddie got to be indeed fully open with Buck, just as this was paralleled in 612, where Buck was honest with Eddie. This ep continued to expand on this theme, with Eddie reassuring Buck that he doesn’t need to be anything for anyone. And I loved that in an ep where Buck has just started dating someone new, where he thinks she sees him better than anyone, the person who still gets him the most is Eddie, and that’s the person Buck shares himself with the most, too. There is not a single thing Natalia said to him or that he said to her during their date that can rival the intimacy of the cemetery talk. And if Buck still needs a wake up call to see that, well. I do think there’s a good chance he’ll get one, maybe even very soon.

~~ (my weekly meta posts) (my Buddie gifs) (all of my content)

~~ ~~ My tag list will follow in the reblog, please let me know if you wanna be added/removed here.

~~ I'm so thankful to the beautiful @eddiediaaz​ for the meta gifs this week! Not only did she step in when my regular giffer couldn’t do it this week, she also made so much effort to make sure the gifs are made as soon as possible, so the meta can be posted as early as possible as well. She’s just amazing and I hope everyone gives her a big round of applause! Merci, cherie!

~~ Thank you to anyone supporting these meta posts. I could never express enough how grateful I am and that they continue to exist thanks to you!

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.162 Mind blown

I woke up around 8:15, refreshed and as happy as one who needs to bury his mother can be. This is the second day in a row Desiree let me sleep in. Could this be our new normal? I really hope so and tiptoe to her room and peek in. She's still asleep, so I shower, eat, and tend to the money tree. I thought she might be awake by then, so I check in again and she's still asleep! Not only is she still sleeping, she's tossing herself all around that crib, working those back muscles like a boss. Today is the day she'll sit up, and I can't wait until she wakes up to prove it.

She has been winning at this infant game lately, so I put some extra bubbles in her bath. She doesn't know she's being rewarded, but she is having the most fun ever. I've never heard her giggle so much; it's such a treat for my ears. The only thing she loves more than blowing raspberries now is babbling. She swears she is spreading salacious gossip with us, and I go along with it, saying, "Oh, for real? I know, right? Whaaaaat? That's crazy," every now and then, hee hee. I also try to get her to say daddy, but she's still not quite ready for real words. She'll get there, though.

After fresh clothes and a bottle, I take her to the hallway for showtime and call Sophia to watch because she won't want to miss this. Desi grins when I sit her up. I think she is excited and ready to show us what she's made of, but she's probably still high from an epic bath and a full belly, heh. She was still a little wobbly at first, but that did not deter her smile. I would later learn she had a special grand finale planned, but let's not get ahead of the story. I told Sophia about her rolling around in the crib, so she suggested I sit back and let her figure it out. She chanted her name, and I joined in.

We made a big ruckus for Desi, and she didn't know what to do with all of that attention and was grinning up a storm. Honestly, I think we distracted her because she'd been sitting up quite nicely but toppled over shortly after we started cheering. My heart sank a little because I was certain she was ready, but the day wasn't over yet, and she looked quite happy with herself.

As I bent down to pick her up, she said something. I'd been listening to her talk all morning, so I didn't think anything of it, but Sophia thought she heard something familiar.

"Luca! Did she just say dada?!"

I gasped and turn my attention back to Desi.

"Did you say daddy?? Can you say it again?"

She giggled, blew some raspberries, and said it again. She called my name! We have a little genius on our hands! Sophia looked a little miffed, but she was much too proud to be mad.

It's almost midnight, and I am pooped. Sophia usually takes out the trash, but with all the stinky diapers Desi generates, we've been taking it out multiple times a day. I just had to get those things out of the house before I turned in for the night. At 11:54, I walk in the door and see Desiree sitting up on the play mat with a smug expression, as if she had been doing it her entire existence. I knew today was the day! We only had six minutes to spare, but she did it!

I scoop her up and plant kisses all over her face. I started to take her upstairs to bed, but then the best idea came to me. The smooches are reward enough for her, but I plant her in the highchair for the first time to try solid food. She's hesitant about this new vantage point, and her head is like a swivel rotating around, trying to view everything. Her world is so big now, and it's intimidating, but I think she's excited too.

"You're a big girl now, Des! I'm about to blow your mind. I'll be right back."

I go to the pantry and bring back a jar of mashed sweet potato; it's the only food appropriate for this moment, heh. I had sent Sophia a picture of Desi sitting up, and expected she would rush downstairs to see in person, but she must be asleep, so I went ahead without her. I open the jar, and the sweet aroma grabs Desi's nose. She doesn't know what it is, but she's definitely interested.

I scoop out a teaspoonful and put it in front of her mouth, but she doesn't know why I'm doing it, so I put on a show for her. The airplane routine works just like they said it would on the parenting forums, and I shove the spoon in her mouth while she's excited and laughing.

She closes her mouth and lets the sweet potato sit on her tongue for a moment before deciding what to do with it. Then she looks at me with an expression I've never seen her do. It's hilarious and looks like she'd just learned the secrets of the universe or something.

"See? I told you I was going to blow your mind."

She smacks on the sweet potato a bit more and sits there quietly, looking like she's thinking about the meaning of life or something. I'd never seen a child contemplate so much before, and it's so funny. To me, it's just sweet potato, but for her, this is a whole new ballgame.

She likes it! Actually, I think she more than likes it. I think she loves it. I didn't want her to have so much food on her stomach while she's asleep, but she finished the entire jar! Every time I tried to walk away with it, she screamed for more until there was nothing left. She's only supposed to have half the jar, but today is a special day, and she can have whatever she wants.

[ktficworld]

Loving you is not easy, my dear

Pairing: Steve Rogers x desi!reader

Summary: America thinks Steve Rogers can do better and maybe, they are right.

Warning: heavy racism(seriously, I'm not using this word lightly), angst, hurt/comfort, trolling, protective!Steve, reader gets her revenge on the racist bastards 😈

A/n: posting after so long. Already know traction is going to be shit but I'd really appreciate if you reblog this. I'll try to keep it short(I failed💀)

Tags: @sunshine-on-my-mind @slutty-daddy-pedro

This wasn't supposed to happen.

You weren't ready to get dragged through the mud just yet.

You and Steve have been dating for a year. You were a regular software engineer. Wandering around on the internet, to help fellow programmers with their problems. Little did you know, that none other than Tony Stark was there for help under the disguise of 'toiletdistroyer'; frankly, you should have known by this username, but oh well.

So, you caught the billionaires eye and he offered you a job on the spot. And of course, you took it, much to your parents dismay and happiness. With tears filled in your eyes and aachar, parathe stuffed in your tiffin. Of you went to America.

You didn't meet the captain for a good month and honestly, even if you had. You wouldn't have given two fucks about him since you were stressed to the brim with work and moving in.

You slowly met every avenger. Tony was the first, of course. Then it was Bruce Wayne Banner as you worked on the technical part of a bio-tech project he was developing. He was good but was shy and mostly kept to himself. Afterwards followed, Natasha, she was sassy and perfect. You liked talking to her about girl shit and somehow, she took a liking to your weird ass and you befriended black widow.

Next up, was his best friend. Bucky. He caught you wandering outside the stark building because you came too early and so he joined you and the birds chirping. He was cute and funny, but not your type. Thankfully, he wasn't interested and quickly friend zoned him.

Then you met him.

You whistled as you sauntered into the lobby. Clocking out early from your shift and cherry on top, it was Friday. You were going to have a fun weekend. Talking with your parents, watching kdrama and being gleefully single.

Your whistle was disturbed by something squashy yet hard coming underneath your foot. You retreated your foot and glanced down with furrowed brows. It was a brown leather wallet. With a sigh, you bent down and picked up the lost wallet.

You opened the wallet to see the identity of the abandoned wallet's owner and your eyebrows disappeared into you hairline as the stupidly handsome face of the captain appeared in front of you. He must have dropped it in a hurry.

Your eyes darted around as you bit your bottom lip. The sane thing to do would be to go to the reception, hand her the wallet and go your merry way. But he might still be around and also, the receptionist looked too bitchy for you to deal with. So you went for the less sane option, of course.

You took a deep breath and glanced up at the ceiling. "Hey, Friday. Is Captain Rogers still in the compound?"

"Yes, miss. Shona. Captain Rogers is in the parking lot." The robotic voice of Friday said from above.

"Thank you, Friday." You said and deeply sighed. Yes, you could do it. No need to be nervous. What if he's Captain America? You ain't a criminal. With that peep talk, you rushed to the parking lot.

You almost tripped while trying to find Steve in the parking lot but in the end, you found him. He was swinging his leg to climb on his bike when you shouted to get his attention.

"Captain Rogers! Captain Rogers!" The man stopped mid-way, setting his foot back on the ground as he turned around and you almost died at the sight of him. He was wearing blue jeans, white T-shirt and blue jacket, making his sapphire eyes pop as some blonde hair strands falling over his forehead. Oh, girl. Get a grip on yourself!

He was startled by your incessant shouting as he looked at you with his doe yet alert eyes. "Yes, miss. How can I help you?" He asked, ever the gentleman and you internally sighed in relief that he didn't call you ma'am.

You waved his wallet and said. "Your wallet. I think you dropped in the lobby."

His eyes widened as he patted his pockets and a sheepish look appeared on his face. "Ah, I think I really dropped it. Sorry." He said and walked up to you.

You gave him his wallet with a smile and bit your lip when your hands touched. Fuck, were you on your pms?

You peered at him through your lashes as he checked the insides of the wallet and promptly shoved it in his jeans back pocket.

He glanced at you and with a shy smile, said. "Thank you, miss."

"Oh, no problem. You can call me shona." You didn't know what divine energy of confidence came over you as you extended your hand for Steve to shake.

Steve looked at you funnily but shook your hand nonetheless. "That's not your real name, is it?" He asked timidly after the handshake, his touch lingering on your hand as you unwittingly savoured the feeling.

You beamed at him and shook your head. "Nope."

"Then, what is it?"

You told him your name and the smile on his dashing face faded away as he looked down. You could not blame him, most people had the same reaction and that was why you gave your nickname, not actual name.

"I'll probably butcher that." He muttered sadly as he scratched the back of his neck.

You chuckled and waved off his concerns. "It's alright. Most people can't say my name. Only few special people have made it into a special group who can pronounce it outside India." And it was true. Only few people were able to say your name without getting their tongue twisted, including Natasha.

Steve raised an eyebrow. He bent down, close to your face and whispered, in a husky voice. "And what are the requirements?"

You hummed as you pretend to think with your finger on your chin and said, dramatically. "A lot of dedication and practice."

Now it was his turned to be amused as he leaned even closer and asked. "And what will I get if I get into this special club?"

You were caught off guard as you spluttered out. "Um, what do you want?" And you also had kdramas to binge for fuck sake.

"A dinner sounds good." He said with a lopsided grin.

You gave him a thumbs up and said. "Perfect! Now I need to go. I have a weekend to enjoy, bye." You said and rushed out without a second thought or glance at Steve.

When you sat down in the metro was the time when your dumb mind actually processed his words and you froze In your seat. Wait! Did he just ask you on a date?

He did, in fact, ask you on a date.

After he learned to say your name. You two went on a date and you knew you were doomed. Those blue eyes had effectively captured your heart as you slowly fell for him.

And who won't? He was so soft, affectionate, caring, supportive. He was perfect. You didn't know what he saw in you. You were so... Regular.

But whenever you would say this to him. He would look at you all offended and ask why not? You were beautiful, intelligent and his sunshine. And you melted everytime he said that.

You told your parents and you had to make your mother take an oath that she won't say anything about your relationship to any of your relatives as she just couldn't stop giggling. Thankfully, she kept her oath.

You also officially got introduced to the avengers. Bucky and Natasha already knew about it and everyone was happy for you and Steve. Yeah, Tony did throw a tantrum about how he didn't figure out your budding romance and how Rogers whisked you away from under his nose. His words, not yours. And he also earned a slap to the chest by Pepper for that.

You both decided to keep your relationship private. Steve did not want to make a circus of his relationship in the media and you also wanted to lay low. You wanted to take the Katrina Kaif route, one day you're single and the next day, poof! You are married.

But the Cosmos had another plan.

You didn't know who it was, a reporter or a fan. But someone captured you and Steve in a not so platonic way. You were sitting on his bike, one hand occupied with an ice cream and the other, draped over his board shoulder. He was holding you by the waist as you both kissed. Ice cream long forgotten as you both were smiling into the kiss. But someone had posted it on social media and overnight your very private relationship was in front of the entire world to judge ans comment about.

You woke up to a cold bed and your phone exploded with texts and calls, ranging from judgmental relatives to your friends from India and America to the entire avengers team.

You furrowed your brows at the slew of messages and calls and decided to call Steve but instead his phone blared in your shared room, making you sigh. What the fuck was going on?

You scrolled through your contacts and paused when Natasha's name appeared. You hovered over her number hesitantly before calling her. Just after two rings, she answered.

"Hello, Natasha. What is going on and where is Steve?" You asked her in a sleepy voice and scratched your head.

On the other side of the line, Natasha sucked in a sharp breath and replied with unusual franticness. "Shona, somebody leaked a photo of you two and now the world knows that you both are in a relationship. Steve's in the living room, come here quickly and don't open your social media!" Natasha cautioned.

"Wha-" You didn't even get a chance to comprehend her words before she hang up the call. You glance at your phone incredulously. You sat up straight when your brain finally processed the given information. Your relationship was public. Your Katrina Kaif moment was ruined even before it materialised, ugh! So unfair.

And telling you not to open your social medias? It was like telling a child not to eat the candies from the jar. You bit your lip and opened the hellhole called twitter. And the number one trending hastag was:

#CaptainAmericaisdatingwho?

You tapped on the hastag and was instantly greeted by the picture of you and Steve. Your eyes widened as you took in the picture, whoever clicked it had good photography skills as you looked decent in it. You scrolled down and made a decision you would later come to regret, started reading the reactions of the people.

He is dating an Indian? Why? Did he not find any good girl in here? Insane.

If they have a child, what would be their skin color?

She probably put him under a spell or something.

Wait! She works for Stark, meaning this is a work-place relationship. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

Captain America is taken😭😭😭 why God! Now I need to find someone else to obsess over😭😭😭

Look how she's eating. Like, get some manners girl! 👇

You looked down to the image attached. You were eating rice with your hand and winking at the camera, granted it wasn't the neatest sight but eating food with hands made it taster(yeah, fight me on it!).

That was it, you could not take it anymore. You burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter as you giggled at the comments, doubling down in your bed.

Tears gathered in your eyes as you laughed your ass off on these racists misery. You knew damn well that you would face some form of racism whether you dated Steve or not and it was funny to see them whine like anyone gave a shit.

You scrolled some more laughing at the whiny racist and the memes people made along the way. However, one comment caught your attention as you halted to read it.

Why isn't Steve dating her?

You looked down at the photo and your heart dropped, all your happiness fading away. You stared at the woman's photo for what felt like ages as you observed her porcelain skin, her blonde hair and her perfect figure. She was the epitome of an American woman.

You looked at Sharon's perfect face and could not help but echo the poster's thought. Yeah, why wasn't he dating Sharon? Why was he dating you? A regular girl while he was captain fucking America! He could have anyone he wanted. A model, an actor anyone he wanted and he wanted you? Why?

Much to your detriment, you scroll past it and onto the next comment which said:

So, she's the ugly one in the relationship 🙈🙈🙈

The comment plunged into your soul like a rusted dagger as your breathing becomes a shallow pounding in your ears. You glanced forward, where the full length mirror was sitting and stared at your reflection with critical gaze.

You brought a hand to your face, it was so dull. Your eyes had dark circles and were puffy. Your lips weren't plump enough. Your eyes weren't big enough. Your body wasn't curvy enough. You only had brains. No, you didn't! You weren't special, anyone could do your job with enough practice. You were nothing out of the ordinary.

You were snapped out of your destructive thoughts as your phone was snatched out of your grip. You whipped your eyes to the perpetrator and a very furious Natasha glared back at you.

"What did I tell you about not checking your social media?" Natasha asked, enraged as she waved your phone in her hands.

You didn't want Natasha to be proven right so you scoffed and replied. "Telling someone not to do something will only make them do it more. Haven't you heard of reverse psychology, agent?" You snarked and Natasha shook her head in displeasure.

"You coming with me?" Natasha asked.

You paused to think and then shook your head. "Let me shower first. I feel dirty and sleepy."

Natasha nodded thoughtfully and said. "Okay, I'll stay here."

You whined in protest but quickly shut up after receiving a steely glare fron the black widow which would make even the toughest villians pee their pants. You showered, taking extra long as you got distracted by your thoughts yet again. And made your way to the living room with Natasha in toe.

And you heard it before you saw it. The annoying voice of one of the most famous conservative journalist as he said that Steve Rogers could do much better, that this relationship wasn't going to last and that he wished it won't last long.

The last part made your stomach churn in uncertainty.

The pattering of footsteps alerted the other avengers of your arrival. Tony and Steve were standing next to each other as they talked in hushed yet aggressive tone.

Tony looked annoyed than ever as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. While, Steve? Steve looked like just one poke and he would snap. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were ablaze as he stood taut.

Both of the man's gaze snapped towards you as Steve's face softened and he rushed towards you, blocking your view to the TV as Tony hastily turned it off.

"You finally done sleeping, sleepy head?" Steve asked affectionately as he caressed you cheek.

You hummed absentmindedly and forced a smile on your face. "Slept like a baby." You said and the air was so thick with tension that it was strangling you more than your own mind as no one dared to talk about the elephant in the room.

Eventually, Steve cleared his throat and said in a whisper. "You already know what happened but don't worry, I'm with you." And pulled you into his embrace. Yes, why are you with me, Steve? What do you like in having to deal with all this drama when you could date any white woman and keep the peace?

You tried to reciprocate his hug but it was a half hearted attempt as you were fixated onto something else.

"Yeah, don't do anything stupid." Sam said when you and Steve parted. His face was empathic and knowing and your heart broke at that. Still, you gave him a half smile.

"Hey! That's my line!" Bucky yelled in offence, making Sam scowl at him.

"You don't own a sentence, Buchanan." Sam countered.

"Don't call me that and I would copyright..." They kept bickering but you tuned them out as the seed of doubt started sprouting in your consciousness.

📷

But it only got worse. The hate just didn't stop and everyone was piling up on you. Indians did come to your defence, questioning the racism and the unrequited hate you were getting.

But some were also interrogating you. Why were you dating captain America? Why were you flying so high? That he may just be using you and would leave you for an American sooner or later. This sentiment was also shared by your relatives.

Your parents were on your side but you could sense that seeing you get attacked was upsetting them. You put up a brave face in front of the world but you were crumbling down from the depths of your being. You were falling down an abyss and no matter how hard you shouted for help, your mind didn't let up its torment.

You didn't tell the avengers or Steve because they was already so stressed out dealing with all this fiasco. He was so distraught that he didn't even notice you withdrawing from him. He didn't notice how you slept on the edge of the bed instead of in his arms. He didn't notice that you avoided mirror like a plague. He didn't notice how you were drowning in your minds stupid tricks.

That was until it boiled over.

It was a quiet evening. You were walking back to the compound after running some errands. Apparently, Indian species were hella expensive and hard to find in there so you shopped for them by yourself. And it was also because you liked these non-eventful and tranquil moments that you had reserved for yourself.

You were absentmindedly trudging forward as the compound just entered your peripheral when a shout jolted you out of your trance like state.

"Go back to your country!"

You whirled around, only to come face-to-face with a regular white man. Seriously, he didn't even look like a Kevin or intimidating, just run of the mil white guy, very easy to blend in the crowd.

You raised your eyebrows and exclaimed. "Excuse me?"

The man tutted and took a step forward, you taking a backward step. "Didn't you hear me? I said, go back to your country."

"This is getting old. Try something new." You said with a bored voice and crossed your arms on your chest.

"Seriously, first you take our jobs then resources and now our hero? Just because you don't have anything in your country, doesn't mean you should come running to us and mooch off of us." He ranted with a grunt.

"Why? You wanna date him?" You eyed him from head to toe. "To my knowledge, Steve is straight and even if he wasn't. I don't think he would date someone like you." You snided.

His jaw ticked as he took a step forward. "You don't deserve him!" He spat.

Yes, you don't deserve him. Your mind supplied as your grip around the shopping bag loosened.

"He deserves better." Yes, he deserved better.

"You are nothing." Yes, you were nothing.

You were so hypnotised by your minds scorching affirmations that you didn't see the approaching threat.

You yelped as your back hit an electric poll, grocery bag falling on the ground. The man lunging forward for an attack but before he could even lift his hand, a punch from his left side shoved him away and he landed on the ground with a pained grunt.

You let out a shuddery breath as you slowly glanced to your left, your whole body trembling with fear. Your eyes landed on Steve standing there, panting heavily as his knuckles were painted crimson, by whose blood? You didn't know. His eyes were ablaze and his face was murderous as he began charging towards the whimpering man on the pavement.

This snapped you from whatever demons were holding you as marched towards him and shrieked. "Steve, stop!"

You stopped in front of him and wrapped youur hands around his. He halted in his steps, his face instantly softening as he unclenched his fists and dropped his offensive stance. He cupped your right cheek and you spluttered out a sob.

You glanced down at his bloody knuckle and coked out. "Steve, let's go."

He glanced behind you at the whining man and then nodded. He tucked you in his embrace while your gaze never left his knuckles. This was all your fault. Because of you, he almost lost control of himself and if he would have done something then you would have also smeared his name. Maybe it was good to end things.

📷

The room was pin-drop silent, only the sniffling of you and Steve and the clinking of the first aid kit being shut closed reverberated through the walls. Steve had started to talk as soon as you left the man writhing on the cold sidewalk but one finger of yours on his lips and he shut up, accepting your silent plea of solace. But you couldn't push back the inevitable any longer.

You lifted up the first aid kit and set it inside one of the cabinets in the bathroom. When you came back, you sat down on the coffee table ahead of Steve and peered at him through your lashes, your heart breaking when your gaze landed at his pretty face. You would miss him.

It was Steve who spoke first. He intertwined his bandaged hand with yours and softly said. "I'm sorry, you are suffering so much because of me and I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect you."

Swallowing, you looked down as tears beaded your eyelashes and muttered out. "I think we should break up, Steve. It's not working out." Saying those words was like stabbing yourself in the chest with a scorching knife.

Steve instantly stiffened and his grip on your hand grew tight as he refused to let you go. "Why?" He asked and before you could reply, his bitter laugh made your head snap upwards as he shook his head.

"Why am I asking this? This should be pretty obvious to me," He sniffled as few tears slid down his cheeks. He glanced at you and you had to bite your lip to hold back your own tears as his pained and misty eyes stared into yours. "Is there nothing I could do to change your mind? To make you give me a second chance? Do you not love me anymore?"

The last part was like a slap to your face as you furiously shook your head and yelled. "I love you with all my heart, body, mind and soul. I love you more than anything in this world, more than I could ever articulate."

"Then why are you leaving me?" He asked in a whisper.

And the flood burst gates open as you broke down. "BECAUSE I DON'T DESERVE YOU."

Steve immediately placed you in his lap as sons wrecked through your body. "Why would you say that? You deserve the world, doll."

"No Steve, no! You are Captain America and I'm nothing. You are gorgeous and I'm ugly. You are perfect and I'm not." You cried into his chest, selfishly seeking his warmth.

Steve jutted your chin upwards and gazed down at you with soft offense. "No, honey. I'm not perfect, I betrayed Tony, I have done so many things that I regret. I have cried in your arms multiple times and you have seen me vulnerable." He said through his own tears.

"But you are so pretty. You should be dating a model or an actress, not me."

"Who like me for being Captain America? No way and," He held your face in his palms and continued. "You are the most beautiful, most intelligent, most amazing woman I have ever met. I won't trade you for anyone."

"Then why I doesn't feel like it, Steve? You asked in a defeated whisper. "Why can't I see myself the way you see me?"

"I can help you look at yourself like I look at you. Please just, don't leave me. I can't live without you. We can survive this storm." He murmured softly kissed your sore eyes.

Your lips quivered as you brought your hands to Steve's face. "I want you, Steve. I want you so much but holding you feels like a sin."

"And holding you feels like a dream. A dream I thought I would never have," He said quietly and gently pressed his forehead with yours. "Just give me another chance. Give us another chance."

"Okay." You replied. Your sobs had ended and draped a heavy blanket of fatigue over you in their farewell as you melted into Steve's hold and Steve snuggled in you more. You didn't know when he placed you on your bed or when you fell asleep in his arms. You let yourself fall into his bliss as all the demons left you. Because in this moment , Steve was yours and you were his and that was all that mattered.

📷

You yawned as you got out of your slumber. The bed was cold again as Steve was nowhere to be found. Again.

Maybe he realised you were right and moved instead of kicking you out. You sniffed a little and turned around, so you were facing the front of your room. But your face instantly scrunched up in bewilderment as you took in the sight.

There were polaroid pictures hanging from the ceiling by a white thread, all facing away from you. You scratched your head as you tentatively got out of the bed. How the fuck did someone hang these and you didn't even stir? Was this from hydra?

The last thought made you gulp as you gingerly reached out for the first picture and pulled it close to read the text written on it with a marker.

Do you remember the time when you handled the toughest project alone?

-Tony

"Huh, what?" Now you were even more confused as you flipped the glossy paper and burst out into a fit of laughter.

It was a picture of you handing Tony a golden toilet trophy like you were handing an Oscar with a megavolt grin as he was rolling his eyes but still, he begrudgingly received the award.

You wiped off a tear from your eye and refocused back on his question. You hummed to yourself as you took a trip down the memory lane. It was a very important biotech project and there had come a point where the connection between the software and hardware had broken and no one could figure why because everything was normal and nothing seemed faculty. It turned out to be a software issue as the code had malfunctioned and needed to be rewritten in a more efficient manner.

You led the team who did that and boy were those days exhausting. Overtime, frustration, failure after failure and of course the moral of the team going down. But you managed to keep the team together and pulled through. Providing excellence.

You smiled a little at that memory. You weren't that useless.

Sighing, you stepped forward to the next picture and read the text on it.

Remember when you got hit on and Steve scowled?

-Natasha and Wanda

You turned the photo around, showing you, Wanda and Natasha. You and Wanda were eating a leftover cake while Natasha was drinking wine straight from the bottle.

You remembered that night. You were minding your own business and not touching alcohol since you didn't want to wake up with a pounding headache. when a guy suddenly materialised next to you and ordered a drink for you without even asking and began flirting.

You smoothly pulled yourself out of that situation and gave the drink to Natasha but Steve had witnessed the whole interaction and he looked like he wanted to sucker punch that poor dude. He was teased relentlessly about it for a month.

Now that you thought about it. You were hit on multiple times on multiple occasions. It was a game of sorts between you and Steve. Since your relationship was private, it was amusing to see people ask you or Steve on a date. You always relished in watching girls flirt with Steve because he would always get uncomfortable and nope out of there like his life depended on it. It was fun because no matter how much they flirted with him, you knew that the man was yours.

You chuckled and caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. You weren't that bad looking.

You walked up to the next polaroid and snatched it closer.

Remember when you comforted me when everyone was sleeping?

-Bucky

Your eyes filled with tears as you flicked to see yours and Bucky's image, it was clicked during lockdown when everyone stressed a lot about cleaning everything. You were pretending to sing with a cleaner bottle in your hand as a microphone and Bucky was using a broom as his guitar.

With a reminiscent smile and you thought back to that one stormy night when Steve was out on a mission and everyone was sound asleep.

You being the insomniac that you were started trudging towards the kitchen for some late night snack but stopped mid-way when you heard whimpers coming from Bucky's room. You went inside without asking but saw him crying alone in his bed. He was so resistant to your comfort and even yelled at you for intruding on his privacy: but he was right about it. However, he caved in the end and cried his heart out while you held him. Then you both watched anime and ate chips. Sleep was nowhere to be found that night.

You bit your lips as you went to the last and final picture, that was dangling before the door.

Remember why I love you?

-Steve

You burst into tears as the realisation dawned on you that it was he, who did all of this. To make you see yourself through his eyes and everybody's eyes. And no, you didn't remember why he loved you because there were too many moments and reasons to remember all that once.

Warmth bloomed in your chest as you finally looked at the picture and it was just like your relationship. Sweet and simple. With you both in the bed, hair messy and lazy smiles on your faces. It was a morning selfie that you taken sporadically on his phone.

You loved him. You loved him so much and you wanted to be with him till the end of the line. Because even if you were just a regular jane, you loved him and he loved you and that was all that mattered.

In your whirlpool of emotions, you didn't register the the bedroom door clicking open and Steve walking inside. It was when his strong arms enveloped you, did you got out of your reverie and glanced at him, teary eyed.

You hugged him back and wept louder in his chest as he rubbed your head. "I love you. I'm sorry for telling everyone about what you were going through but I thought it would help, please stop crying."

You slapped a hand over his lips and cried out. "Shut up. You lovely little dork. I love you. You did nothing wrong in my eyes."

With hope twinkling in his eyes, he removed your palm and asked. "So, will you give us another chance?"

"Yes! This one incident won't make my problems go away in a snap but I want to be with you and learn to love myself like you love me." You said through a smile and leaned to kiss him when-

"What about the trolls?" Tony's voice made you shriek in surprise as Steve gave him an exasperated look.

"Really, Tony?" Steve said with displeasure.

"Yeah, really asshole?" Natasha said and slapped Tony on the head.

Tony scrunched up his face in indignation and said. "But I need to know. She's not used to the attention and hate. And she can't even deactivate her social media because she is one of our representatives from tech."

This made a bulb go off in your head as you held up your plam and said. "Don't worry, Tony. I'll have it handled. Plus, we didn't really publicly announced our relationship, did we?"

Steve narrowed his eyes at you but you just grinned at him devilishly. Time to troll the trolls.

📷

You softly closed the bathroom door as you stepped outside, your white saree grazing the floor. You looked ahead and your jaw went slack, Steve was his blue powder blue shirt and black pants and his blonde hair practically glowed in the golden light of the evening. He looked so gorgeous that you just couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

But then you realised his intense stare on you and you quickly looked down, heat raising to your cheeks. "Stop, staring, it's creepy."

Steve let out a throaty chuckle and said. "I can say the same thing about you."

You opened your mouth to reply but the Bucky's exasperated voice interjected with a grunt. "You both can do this later. Now, come on before the sunsets and the light is gone." And harshly thrusted his phone in the direction of the door.

You chuckled. "Alright, let's go." Steve held your hand as you both walked outside the compound and into the evening sun. After, finding a place where the background was greenery instead of a concrete jungle. You perched on his Harley. Your hand snaked around his neck as his came down to rest on your butt while he stood in the middle of your legs and both came forward to kiss each other.

Bucky clicked the picture but Steve didn't let you go until the need for oxygen became dire. You smiled bashfully and wiped your mouth as you finally got off his bike and went to the very unimpressed Bucky.

He shoved your phone into your hands and ran away before he had to endure any of your pda any further.

You shrugged it off and looked at the photo. Thankfully, it was good and you gave Steve a thumbs up before posting it with a caption:

I corrupted the golden boy and I'm not sorry 😈

Steve also posted the same picture but his caption was more modest:

My love ❤

And. It. Blew. Up, again.

The haters and racist started whining again. Sane people supported you both and laughed at the haters, going as far as making memes. You were trending again, many famous people also came out of the woodworks and congratulated you both which made you roll your eyes.

You didn't care about the public thought of you. You wanted to troll the haters and you successfully accompanied that.

However, it didn't end there. As your devil incarnate friends decided to add fuel to the fire by posting pictures of you and Steve being all over each other with a complimentary middle finger emoji. And apparently, everybody had one.

Either you two were pervs Or your friends were nosey as fuck. Natasha and Bucky agreed with the former assumption.

Bucky posted you both kissing on a picnic.

Natasha of you sitting in Steve's lap.

Sam posted a photo of your head resting in his lap.

Heck, even Peter posted a photo where Steve was kissing your temple.

There were many more but you that was enough for the day as you switched off your phone and tossed it on the bed side table.

"I just wish, no pray that my parents don't see any of these pictures or I will be having an interesting phone call with them. The relatives are still blasting my phone but I ignored them as always." You rambled to Steve as he slid under the covers.

Steve let out a raspy chuckle and said. "I don't think they haven't seen it yet as we're all over the, well everything."

You groaned and pouted at Steve because he didn't need to always tell the truth but as soon as you locked eyes with him you melted in his oceanic blue gaze. He pulled you into his comforting arms and you happily obliged.

"Steve, now that the whole mess is kinda resolved. What's next?" You asked as you gazed into his sapphire blue eyes.

He hummed and gazed back at you. "What's next? Good question, but I don't think you want to hear the answer to that. Would ruin the fun. " He whispered and leaned down to kiss you before you could question him further.

[chivgf]

One Last Time (pt. 1)

izogie x reader

summary: the mighty agojie attacked the men of your village. your husband, along with many other warriors died, but you and the women have a choice; join the agojie, or leave with nowhere to go. you choose to stay but are in no way prepared to find comfort in the same cold-blooded warrior who stuck her machete through your husband's heart. (Izogie calls reader a nickname throughout fic.)

warnings: violence/death (duh, if you scared you shoulda stayed tf home!), kinda fucked up romance given the fact that Izogie murdered your husband but she's just a girl. idk what other warnings i need to add so yeah just read it & i hope you enjoy enough to anticipate more parts possibly???

A/N: ik this part is kinda short but it's pretty much just an intro to this series, plus ive been working on this for months on end and i need to publish it before i start to despise it.

Spite and resentment consumed you as you watched your husband bleed out on the dirt. You remembered her face vividly. Sharp jawline, thick eyebrows and full-ish lips. Scars that could've created roads to walk on. Bursting out of your hut like a mad dog, you kneeled down over his weak body.

“Efosa!�� you weeped. “Wake up, it is not the end! You must fight.” Tears streamed from your eyes like mini rivers. Your blood stained hands reached down into the sack on his belt and retrieved the wooden charm you gifted him before the war. You held it close to your chest and closed your eyes to avoid taking another glance at him. You could hear the metal clanking and battle cries cease.

“I will never forg--”

Before you could speak a last word to your husband, a hand grasped your shoulder firmly. Your body jerked and you turned slowly, afraid. It was her. There was a formerly healed scar on her eyebrow that appeared to have reopened during this fight.

“You have to come with us,” she spoke. Her eyes started on you, then moved to your husband. A disgusting smirk formed on her lips. She was proud to have killed him.

“I refuse to go anywhere with you! You are a monster. You find this amusing?” you spat at her. The smirk fell quickly.

“On your feet. We are taking you all to Dahomey.”

“My home is here. I am staying here.”

“I will not ask you again.”

“Good,” you replied, turning your focus back to Efosa.

Without a doubt, she stuck to her word. She aggressively snatched you up and threw you over her shoulder, taking you to the march line. You began kicking your feet and punching her back like a child throwing a tantrum. “Let me go!” you cried. “You killed my husband, you savage! Don't touch me!”

“If you continue to disobey me you will end up just like him,” she said without hesitation.

You were silenced. You stood quiet in line the entire march to Dahomey.

•••

“...any woman who does not wish to stay, is free to go.” General Nanisca ended her speech and watched many women make their exit. The woman from the battle was burning holes into you with her eyes, watching, waiting for you to crack and leave like a weakling. You refused to give her the satisfaction. You stared back into her brown eyes, clenching your jaw in nervousness.

“Let us move along then,” Amenza, Nanisca's most trusted warrior spoke. The intense eye contact was finally broken.

Moving further into the palace you were sent to sit with more experienced Agojie and wait for further instruction. You found yourself next to a woman with a small Afro and two braids on the sides of her head.

“They call me Desi, who are you?” she said as she studied you.

“Does it matter?”

“Mm, fair enough. Freed captive or Mahi?”

“Mahi,” you replied.

“Ah, I see.”

“Who is she?” you pointed as Nanisca, Amenza, and the husband slaughterer walked past.

“Izogie. Strongest warrior I know. Ran into trouble?” she asked, picking at her frighteningly sharp nails.

“You could say that.”

“My advice? Put it behind you. You will need her more than you will ever know.”

You nodded your head. She did seem strong. And smart. Perhaps you would need her. But you didn't want to think about that; for now she was still the same woman who ripped your life from you in a matter of minutes.

“Go and bathe yourselves, you know the drill,” Izogie boomed, walking to the area that you were in. You and Desi followed the other women heading to the baths, your hand in hers. An uneasy feeling consumed you as you felt Desi let go of your hand and walk at a swifter pace. “Eh-eh,” Izogie interrupted, grabbing your arm. Desi continued to scurry along. “Not you.”

You looked down at her hand. Her nails were like Desi's, only sharper and more deadly. Making matters worse, they were also digging into your skin. You whined at the pain a tad, but refused to say anything. When she finally released you, a little bit of blood slowly trailed down your glistening arm. You weren't sure if she even noticed. You covered the nail marks with your hand. “Have I done something?”

“Taken a liking to Desi I see.”

“Not necessarily.. she was informing me of the way things should work in advance.”

You impatiently awaited a response, but there wasn't one. She just stood over you, her frame completely blocking you from joining the others. You were micro compared to her, and she found it extremely amusing.

“If that is all, I'd like to go bathe now,” you croaked, breaking the silence. Her chuckle released some of the tension on her side, in turn building up some on yours. “Was there a joke?” you said, slightly irritated. She saw you as nothing but a pampered village wife, and you knew it. Izogie placed her hands on her knees and bent down to your level, once again reminding you of how small you are to her. Her face only inches away from yours, she whispered into your ear two simple words before walking away from the entire conversation.

“Be careful.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine as she made herself scarce. The scent of essential oils and incense lingered in the air, making you dizzy. Unsure of what she meant, you stumbled in confusion to the baths. There were many bodies taking up space in the water, but nowhere you looked was a familiar face. You scanned and scanned for Desi, your head still spinning a tad bit from your confusing conversation with Izogie. What about Desi was there to be careful about? She seemed sweet enough, no?

After a minute or two of searching for Desi, you found it pointless and decided to just bathe and get it over with. The steam from the warmth caused you to sweat as you let yourself sink into the water. You let out a small wince as a mix of the sweat and hot water grazed the nail imprint in your arm. “Ah!” you whimpered aloud, quickly looking around to make sure no one heard you. It was awkward to be alone in the baths with everyone speaking to people that they knew, so you found it easier to just close your eyes and pretend that you were alone, just like at home. You tuned out all of the loud voices and started humming a song to yourself, and finished up your bathing.

•••

You flapped out your mat lazily. It was your first day in the palace; no training yet, no nothing, yet you felt like you'd been worked half to death. The smell of palm oil and Jasmine floated in the air as you smoothed your mat out more and sat down on it. There were many women around you, some talking to absolutely no one, just like you. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to speak to anyone. You had no appetite at mealtime, and you weren't in the mood for sleep either.

Your thoughts of your late husband rang loudly in your ears. You had rarely ever been without him. He went to battle, yes, but he would always return safely to at least kiss you goodnight. Now, his caring and loving was simply just gone. Every part of you wished he was a ghost, haunting you in the sweetest ways. Brushing past you with a cold breeze when you feel alone, showing up in your dreams when your memories of him fade.

You found your restless body wandering around the dark palace. It was silent for the most part, besides the light and distant voices of the wives conversing in their quarters. It was surprisingly calming; the fires burning through the chilly night to warm you. After a while of aimlessly walking around, you started to hear faint noises. Your ears rang slightly as you strained to listen further. There was grunting and hacking, like someone was cutting down a tough tree. You followed the noises and a trail of sandal prints. The prints let you know this was none of the girls and women you had arrived with; this was someone who'd been settled.

Tiptoeing to the gate, you peeked around it curiously to find her.

Why couldn't you avoid her? What is her problem... What's yours?

You tried quickly to make yourself scarce from her, as she was equipped with her machete and swinging it angrily at the hay soldier ahead of her. Unfortunately for you, Izogie senses everything.

She tucked her machete in close to her and bent her knees in a defensive position. She continued to inch closer to you, asking, “Who is there?”

Low hung your head as you slowly revealed yourself to her.

“Ahh, it isYona.”

You looked up and raised a brow. “Yona?”

“Dove. You are meek and gentle; far too passive to make it here.” She placed her machete gently back into her scabbard and folded her arms. You rolled your eyes and sighed deeply. You knew you were not a warrior, but where else would a Mahi woman go in Dahomey? You could only live off of the streets for so long. Stepping closer, she followed your wandering eyes with her head. “Look at me,” Izogie demanded.

“I am not a dove,” you spat. You raised your head to meet her eyes. “I can do this, I will survive here.”

“Mm,” she nodded and retrieved her machete. “Show me.”

It was scary, to say the absolute least. Never in your life had you touched a weapon with intention to use it. Not even for defense. You reached out, your hands grazing her sharp nails once again. Recalling the moment those same nails broke through your skin sent a chill down your spine, but you managed to mask it. Holding the machete tightly in a fist, you bent down low like you'd seen your husband do in training.

“Swing it.”

“At what target?” you inquired studying the four hay soldiers to your left.

“Me.”

Your heart dropped. You didn't want to hurt anyone. Maybe that was your problem; you weren't willing to put anyone's life at stake, even if your own depended on it. Not to mention, Izogie is not only second-in-command, but has much experience. You don't have an ounce. A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it and moved closer, still low in position.

“Are you sure?”

“Yona, you would not ask the enemy such questions. Show me that you are a warrior. Show me that you have what it takes.”

You shut your eyelids tightly, took a breath, then studied her. Her eyes, to be specific. Efosa used to say, “The weakness is in the eyes,” but you could not find it. There was a strange coldness that she carried in her gaze; never breaking, never shifting.

“I've got all night,” she taunted, motioning for you to bring it on.

You noticed the same smirk on her face from when she stood over you, her blood covered hand on your arm. Blood that belonged to your husband. Anger consumed you as your breathing started to pick up. You gripped the machete tighter and began to follow her movements. After a minute of mirroring her, you took your first swing. It was wild, but you didn't care all that much. She dodged swiftly by an inch. Watching the fire from the torches dance on her face, you slid on the dirt and took another wild swing, this time at her lower half, cutting a gash in her clothing and her lower thigh. She let out a dry grunt but stayed focused on dodging your relentless jabbing and swatting with the weapon.

Your eyes were mad and fierce, your fury practically burning your skin. Izogie lunged forward at you, grabbing hold of both of your wrists with just one of her hands.

“That is enough, Yona.”

You pretended not to hear her and continued to struggle to get loose. The look in her eyes changed from demand to worry as she disarmed you and tossed the machete to the side. Still you fought, grabbing at her shoulders and taking her to the ground. It was like your body was moving way ahead of your brain. Izogie quickly overpowered you and climbed on top of you, pinning your wrists down near your head. You felt restless and weak underneath her.

“Enough!”

Her voice echoed in your ears as your vision started to get blurry and dark.

•••

“No, Miganon, what she needs is food. She hasn't laid one finger on anything since her arrival,” Izogie complained.

Nanisca scoffed and leaned over you.

“Take that up with her. She is awake now.”

You quickly scanned your surroundings. You lie on a highly elevated mat in a tent. There were weaponry decorations everywhere, a horn made of elephant tusk, and a pot of indigo dye. This was Izogie's personal tent.

Izogie watched from the tent's entrance as you took in everything. As you slowly locked eyes with her, you two exchanged no words. Your face carried a look of shame, remembering the actions that led up to this moment, while hers carried a look of guilt and concern. You keep your actions were irrational, especially since you would have to fight alongside her from now on, but you couldn't bare the pain of staring in the cold eyes of you husband's murderer.

Izogie took a breath before finally moving closer and speaking up.

“How..”

There was an odd change in her voice, was it hesitance that you heard?

“How are are you feeling?”

Your initial thought was to give her the silent treatment, but you decided against it and answered her question.

“I've been better,” you replied weakly. Your stomach growled, and you wondered if it was just as loud to the outside world as it was in your head. Clutching your torso, you tried to sit up for a second.

“Woah, careful,” Izogie rushed over and supported your back, holding you upright. She shook her head at her own actions. Why was she going out of her way to make sure you were alright after you...

Something clicked. You forgot that you'd injured her during your little explosion. You grabbed hold of her forearm with both hands and leaned over the mat. There on her thigh. That laceration you created. Pain inflicted on her, of your doing. Even after everything she'd done, you couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't fully deserve that. War is war, sides are sides. None of it was in her control, and it wasn't personal. You had to keep reminding yourself of that to get by.

Your head felt extremely heavy, but you still managed to pick it up to look at her. “I apologize,” you murmured. She looked down at her thigh, then back at you.

“I've had worse, trust me.”

The tent fell silent for a few moments before she spoke again.

“You should eat something.”

A nod from you was enough to send her straight out of the tent without hesitation, and when she returned, in her palms rested a fresh bowl of stew. The smell made your mouth water.

“Don't just stare, eat up.”

She passed you the bowl and leaned against one of the wooden posts set up in the tent. She watched you as if she was obligated to; as if she didn't have other things to tend to. You began to dig into the food she brought, completely ignoring the fact that her eyes never once left you. There was a deep regret tracing her face as you felt her presence move closer to you. Slurping the remains of the stew and wiping your lips, you looked to your side in curiosity. Her right hand was fidgeting with something in her beltsack nervously before she started to tell you something.

“You dropped this,” she presented you with Efosa's wooden charm. “..during the fight.”

You dropped the empty bowl immediately and grasped for the charm, your hands shaking as you turned it every which way to make sure nothing had happened to it. A great sigh of relief escaped your fragile frame. What would you have done if you'd lost it?

“I carved this myself, you know,” you told her, a tear forming in your waterline.

“It is very..”

Izogie grappled to find the right words, practically walking on eggshells so that she wouldn't trigger anymore negative emotions.

“It takes skill to create something like that.”

You let out a dry chuckle. The irony was too much for you to handle.

“What about your skill? What techniques work best for you when you leave your tent prepared to take a life?”

“I leave with intent to protect, not to kill, Yona. The Agojie are not just cold-blooded murderers, you must understand-”

You cut her off. “Save it. No words will remove that sight from my mind. How can you do something like that, then pretend it never happened? Tell me how, Izogie!”

“This is my life! I cannot change his fate, and for that I apologize, but you have no right to fault me when he, too, was rushing at me with a machete in his grip. He was trained not to stop until his target was down, as was I. Tell me, Yona, was I supposed to stand there and die? What else could I have done in such a situation?!” she raised her voice, slightly losing her breath after her statement.

She paced back and forth, her nails scratching her chin softly while she tried to think of what else to say as best she could.

“I am sorry! How many times must I repeat it until you forgive me?” she mumbled, her voice lessening to a whisper. In the short amount of time you'd been there, you'd taken note that every one of these warriors looked up to Izogie. They spoke of her as though she was some sort of unmovable force, yet you, in all your physical weakness, moved her with such ease.

“I don't know if I can.”

At your words, Izogie nodded and peeled back the entrance of the tent, clenching her jaw before removing herself. The sound of her footsteps retreating left an uncertain reaction in your body; you weren't quite sure if you wanted her to stay or not. The words she spoke to you were circulating through your mind, and you couldn't help but feel like she made a point. Before you could swim around in your mind for too long, you heard the tent open up once more. Expecting Izogie, you felt a pang of hope creep in, but it was just Desi, holding wildflowers.

“What's this?” you laughed, hands outstretched to receive the flowers she was handing you.

“I picked them myself, by the river. I figured you would appreciate some color,” Desi smiled sweetly, the new wooden beads attached to her two braids clanking in the wind. “That is very kind, Desi.”

She nodded. “The palace whispers, you know? About you.”

“Oh? What do they say?” you asked as you propped yourself up to listen better.

“They whisper that you were the cause of that cut on Izogie's leg; they also whisper that you are aiming for high ranks. They say that General Nanisca is next in your movement. Is it true?”

A snort escaped your nose; you'd never heard something so absurd.

“You cannot be serious. There is no movement, it was a simple fight,” you clarified firmly.

“I see, so you are just another palace myth?” she chuckled, but you didn't find anything funny. You shook your head and rubbed your temples.

“I am not in the mood for jokes,” you stated. You turned over on your mat and faced away from her. “You may leave, thank you for the flowers.”

“But I have just-”

Desi was interrupted by something. Rather, someone. You flipped back over to see why exactly she'd stopped talking so abruptly mid sentence. A tall familiar figure loomed over her shorter frame, its hand on her shoulder.

“I believe you were asked to leave.”

Izogie guided her out of the tent and walked to her weapon stand. You noted that her legs and hands were drenched in water as she placed her scabbard on the stand and removed her sandles, tossing them to the side.

“You are back,” you stated plainly, a pinch of relief lacing your words.

“Well yes, this is my tent.”

Facing away from you, she continued to dress down into clothing that provided more comfort for sleep. You couldn't help but watch, unable to fathom how one could be so rough around the edges, yet so graceful in every movement she makes.

“You are wet,” you added on top of your previous statement, your eyes still glued to her. She finally turned to face you. You'd never noticed how pretty she really is. You suppose nobody talks about things like that all that much in the palace unless speaking of Ghezo's wives, but Izogie was genuinely a good-looking woman in your eyes. You'd never blatantly admit that though, no.

“Any other observations you would like to voice before I lay down to rest?” she responded in an exhausted tone. She reached behind her stand and pulled out an extra mat, much more shabby than the one you were laying on.

A sigh escaped your lips before you shook your head no and spoke up again.

“Is that for me?”

“Do you really think that I would force you to-”

She stopped herself to take a grounding breath.

“I am not the monster you think I am, Yona.”

And those were her last words to you that night.

[chutkiandchotte]

On gold-diggers

So if you watch any amount of Indian tv at all, then you are familiar with a common belief in the world of rich people of ITV (and IRL as well of course, this is how audiences think too), that poor women are always on the make, looking to trap rich husbands for a better life, the double edged sword of the term "gold-digger". I uhhhh rambled a bit on this topic.

The idea of the "gold-digger" is so ingrained that we all instantly understand the negative power of it. We may object with horror and anger when the asshole hero, or his backwards family levy this charge against our beloved female lead; but we, the very same audience won't hesitate to turn around and levy the very same charge against the "vamp" character; the girl in tight clothes who drinks alcohol and *gasp* has no sanskaars - like clearly, SHE is in it for the money, otherwise why would she put up with such a toxic boyfriend?

(like of course it cannot be that the vampy girl is sticking around for the same reason that WE the audience are falling for this toxic male lead despite knowing how much he sucks - it cannot be that she finds him hot & values his good qualities & as for the bad qualities, he's just a traumatized lil baby, i can fix him! - no, that can't be it, because then it feels uncomfortably close to relating to the vamp, and that cannot happen, of course!)

no, she, the vamp, only loves his good looks and his money and his hotness, she doesn't love his "true" self at all, she's a GOLD DIGGER!!! we revel in the power of the gold-digger charge, and how it humiliates her.

----------------------------------------------

what inspired this rant? i had an intense argument with someone on another platform, about Lavanya's character (from IPKKND). this person insisted that Lavanya was a gold-digger who never loved Arnav. But La is rich, I argued. So what, she said. Even if she is rich, she isn't as rich as Arnav. Arnav is 10000 crore guy, Lavanya is just 1000 crore girl. A gold-digger. She just wanted him because he was a "catch" while Khushi wants him for his true inner self. But La put up with his family for his sake, I argued. She did so much to please him. Well, this person said. That's the proof. Lavanya tolerated all of Arnav's and his family's BS without objection, hence, she MUST be a gold-digger. didn't I know? rich men are always targets of "girls like Lavanya". of gold-diggers. she kept using that word over and over again for Lavanya, probably because by then she had realized how much it was pissing me off. (what can I say? i can definitely be an easy target for trolling at times).

internalized misogyny often goes like - most women are sluts/stupid/useless/greedy schemers/<insert other sexist tropes>, but I - I will prove myself worthy of men's affections by being not <sexist trope>, then maybe I won't suffer the negative consequences those other women do!

and yes, I speak from personal experience. what woman HASN'T harboured deeply toxic thoughts borne out of internalized misogyny at least once in her life? we live in society, how do we escape it's influences?

and caught in these confusions, when we read stories, we project.

------------------------------------------------------

there are, of course, real life cases where there are women who (to quote Amy March) look upon marriage as an economic proposition and make matches based on financial gains. the horror!

of course, that its both men and women, who make decisions about marriage/love based on money, doesn't cross often our minds when we think about gold-diggers. that in desi society at least, majority of marriages ARE economic propositions involving heavy financial transactions, is not at all the same topic. because those transactions are done by the elders; by the men in power, and their enablers. those are transactions that keep society running in its status quo. the horror! the gold-digging horror of it comes in, when its a woman by her own volition seeking to better her financial status as easily as she possibly can, without making any sacrifice or compromise! how dare she? how dare! doesn't she know the tax of living for a woman is sacrifice. you can't pass go without it.

and the OTHER much much larger parts of reality definitely don't exist while people are busy labelling women as gold-diggers. the parts where the leading cause of sudden death for women is murder at the hands of an intimate partner, where 3 out of 10 women have been abused by a partner (and this is just reported stats - who knows what the real figure is). And what about the reality where one of the key aspects of an abusive relationship is financial abuse & power imbalance due to the victim having no resources.

in India, especially, the sad, sorry, disturbing TRUTH is, justice is a monetary transaction. the richer you are, the more you can get away, especially in the matter of women, since as a society we are ever-ready to disbelieve women.

this is also why in this reality we live in, many girls families themselves INSIST on paying dowry - on sending more and more gifts even after marriage - because you know what they're buying? no, not merely a "respectable" husband for their daughter. what they are paying for is the safety, respect, and dignity of their daughter in her married family and their own "standing" in society. its a grand and most successful blackmail scheme; because everybody knows, the girl who brings nothing to her husband's house, is fair game for every other type of exploitation. she's got to pay her dues somehow.

---------------------------------------------

so. when a poor girl marries a rich guy, it might seem like a fairytale on the outside. it might seem like, its every poor girl's dream. but in REALITY, what it is, is the girl signing up for a statistically much higher risk of being abused, raped, and murdered. not a dream so much as a nightmare.

yet, its always the woman's character that is on trial - SHE has to prove that she isn't a greedy schemer out for his money but a pure hearted girl genuinely in love - while all HE has to do, is stand there and be hot and rich; he never has to prove that he won't abuse her. heck, he will provide categorical proof of being a future abuser, and its absolutely no stumble in a romance path. the power of the word gold-digger is always hanging on her head; the hero as well as the audience, her lover and society, ever eagerly searching to judge her for the same; a little slip, and she could be in vamp territory!

-----------------------------------------

I tend to be...passionate...about my fictional people opinions. I have definitely heard "its just a story" many times in my life. But I disagree.

These conversations we have about fictional characters are reflections of our realities. And these are Indian daily soaps, not grimdark crazy premise sci-fic/fantasy HBO shows. The same court in which we judge fictional characters, also becomes a court in which we judge real people around us. This is the power of stories, the danger of them - they can reiterate the worst that is in us, reinforce our worst selves; or they can open us up to new perspectives and expand our empathy.

i mean we have seen SO MANY iterations of the angry anti-hero young man, embodying every trope of toxic masculinity, and then turning out to be a perfect husband at the end. character development and taming the beast. alls well that ends well. men can be fixed. sometimes love looks like hate. etc.

i long for a story where we see a heroine who IS a "gold digger"; who is practical, realistic, and smart, who has a career and ambitions but maybe has tasted too much of poverty to ever choose it for herself if given an option. who chooses and chases a guy because the thing that matters to her is financial security and an easy life. why does this girl always have to be the villain? if abusers can reform, why not gold-diggers? why can't SHE be hit with a character development stick, in the same general standard of dignity as a corresponding male lead, and learn some lessons and fall in love and become the best version of herself? and if she does get to do all that, why does she HAVE to be humiliated in some evil way, and/or die at the end, why can't she live, learn and have a happily ever after?

why, in fact, do we reserve so much passionate vitriol for the fictional female offenders - the vamps and the career girls and the ex girlfriends - the ones driven by jealousies and insecurities - while keeping infinite reserves of forgiveness for their male equivalents?

----------------------------------------------

No - Lavanya has to be a gold-digger, a hopeless harlot, for Khushi to be a perfect wife, for Arnav to be absolved of his sins against Lavanya as well as Khushi, for the audience to be in no danger of relating to a woman as evil and out of bounds as Lavanya, for us all to maintain our collective delusions that rich men are victims of those women, as opposed to being their predators.

EVEN in a show like IPKKND which went out of the way to have a different, ground-breaking narrative...there's this reading of the text. There's the cognitive dissonance to judge/hate Lavanya for certain traits while finding Arnav sexy for those same ones.

I don't think it is at all surprising that Indian tv can never seem to get over its madonna/whore complex - because honestly, we the audience, seem to enjoy it too much!

[driversatellite]

this love | h.s | part three

synopsis: harry and y/n were in a secret relationship for years and unfortunately it had to come to an end, but a year after the split they find themselves face to face once again, maybe they can mend what was once broken.

harry styles x desi!reader  

part three: harry and y/n talk for the first time in almost a year 

word count: 2.5k

series masterlist | main masterlist | last part | next part

Even though the show had ended no one was making a move to leave, Quinn and Zoya were going through their videos and pictures of the night, trying to find the pictures to post, while they raved about how great the show was, while Y/N was trying her best to keep it together. 

“Wasn’t the show amazing Y/N?” Zoya asked. All Y/N could do was nod her head, she had completely broken down at Sign of the Times and she wasn’t sure how she pulled herself together, but she was hanging on by just a tiny thread. 

She was taking a picture of Zoya and Quinn when her phone vibrated, she handed Zoya her phone, before opening her own phone, it was probably just Kiara checking in to see how the night had gone. But it wasn’t Kiara’s name that popped up, it was Harry’s. 

Y/N didn’t hesitate opening the text, she read over the words and started to panic, she didn’t know if she was ready to talk, especially tonight. She was having an internal debate trying to figure out her best move, maybe if she ripped off the bandaid and talked to Harry tonight she’d feel better, but on the other hand, she was already a mess and she didn’t know if she’d even be able to get through the talk. 

Zoya and Quinn noticed Y/N’s strange behavior and looked to one another, worried for their friend, “Are you okay y/n/n? You seem out of it.” 

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, I’m just not feeling great, it must have been something I ate, I’m gonna run to the bathroom, I’ll meet you guys outside.” 

“Are you sure, we can come?” Quinn asked and Y/N immediately shook her head. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, actually, I’m feeling a lot more sick than I realized, I don’t want to spread it to you, if I have anything, I’ll get an Uber home.” Y/N explained, she needed to buy time and she definitely didn’t want Quinn and Zoya hovering over her while she decided. 

“No y/n/n, it’s fine, we don’t mind.” Zoya assured her. 

“Honestly, I’d rather just be alone, I’m a whiny bitch when I’m sick, and I know you guys wanted to go out after the show, so don’t let me stop your plans.” Y/N explained. 

Zoya and Quinn share a look, they knew Y/N wasn’t going to back down anytime soon and they didn’t want to push it, “Okay, if you say so, just text us when you get home okay?” 

Y/N nodded and gave them a grateful smile, “I will, you guys text too.”

The girls shared a quick hug before parting ways, thankfully the arena had emptied out, there were very few people left, and most of them were arena staff. Y/N let out an exasperated sigh before plopping down on the ground and burying her face into her knees. She didn’t even try to stop the tears this time, and this time they were falling fast, she didn’t know what to do, she was so conflicted. 

Jeff had stepped out to see how empty the arena had gotten and to gauge if Y/N had left, but to his surprise he spotted her crumpled figure on the ground. He was a little glad that she hadn’t left yet, but he knew that her on the ground crying was definitely not a good sign and made a beeline towards her, but a security guard had beaten him to her. 

The security guard looked at the girl in pity, he felt bad telling a crying girl to leave, but it was his job, “Excuse me miss, I’m afraid you’re going to have to exit the arena.” 

Y/N looked up with her tear streaked face, she took a deep breath before responding, “Shit, I’m sorry.” 

She was starting to get up when Jeff jogged to them and started to help her up, “She’s fine.” 

Y/N was stunned to see Jeff, but nonetheless took his helping hand and stood up. The security guard narrowed his eyes at Jeff, “Are you sure?” 

Jeff nodded and held up his badge, “She’s got clearance.” 

The security guard’s eyes widened at Jeff’s badge, “Sorry Mr. Azoff, I didn’t know she was your guest.”

Jeff waved it off, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” 

The security guard gave them one last smile before walking to check the rest of the arena, while Jeff turned to look at Y/N, who honestly did look like a mess, but Harry wasn’t in better shape when Jeff had left him. 

“It’s good to see you Y/N.” Jeff said, pulling the girl into a hug. Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from falling when she hugged him back, she did miss Jeff, he was a great friend to her, and never failed to make her feel better.  

“It’s good to see you too Jeff.” Y/N choked out. 

The pair pulled apart and Jeff nodded to backstage, “Come on, he’s waiting.” 

Y/N glanced to the backstage area, before looking back to Jeff, “Is he mad?”

Jeff shook his head, “Not mad, but he’s shocked.” 

She sighed, “I wouldn’t have come, it’s just my friends are huge fans and they’ve been wanting to come and I didn’t want to ruin their night, but I guess I ruined H’s instead, way to go me.” 

“You didn’t ruin his night Y/N, he’s just shocked, to be honest we all are, this is the last place we expected to see you.” Jeff said as he guided her through the backrooms. 

“Yeah, me too. I can’t believe I’m actually here.” Y/N said as she looked around, it had been years since she had been backstage at Forum and was marveling at how nothing had really changed. 

“Well did you enjoy the show at least?” Jeff asked and Y/N gave him a knowing look.

“I think you know the answer to that.” 

Jeff laughed as they approached Harry’s green room, “Well I’m glad you enjoyed the show, and it really was great to see you. I missed you.” 

Y/N hugged Jeff again, “I missed you too Jeffrey.” Jeff chuckled as he pulled away, and then knocked on the door. 

Harry was quick to answer, he was losing his mind waiting for Jeff to grab Y/N. He pulled open the door quickly but faltered as soon as he saw Y/N. She was actually in front of him, he couldn’t believe it. Y/N was also standing still, she was in shock, she definitely wasn’t expecting to be this close to him again. 

Jeff glanced at the pair before deciding he needed to get away to give them their own space to talk, “Well I’ll leave you two to it.” He bid them a quick wave before practically running to the other greenroom. 

Harry’s eyes hadn’t left Y/N, he was at a loss for words, the only word he could get out was a measly, “Hi.” 

She swallowed hard before looking up at him, “Hi.” 

Harry opened the door wider and motioned for her to come in and she slipped in, she looked around and saw the yellow sofa and the familiar throw pillows, it felt like nothing had changed. 

Harry closed the door and walked towards the sofa and Y/N followed, they took a seat and sat in silence for a moment. 

She looked around once again, before looking back to Harry, “The room is nice.” 

“Thanks,” Harry smiled, “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“Yeah, you and me both.” Y/N mumbled. 

“You look good.” Harry said, taking her in, now he could really see every little detail of hers that he had missed so dearly. He could even smell her familiar scent of jasmine and gardenia hanging in the air. He had missed everything about her. 

Y/N smiled softly at Harry’s compliment and her cheeks heated up, he never failed to make her act like a schoolgirl with a crush, “You look good too H.” 

Harry swallowed before looking back to her, “So did you like the show?”

Y/N nodded, “Of course I did, you were great, I mean you’re always great.” 

Harry smiled at that, before sighing, “Why did you come? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” 

Y/N looked down at her hands at his question, “My friends are really big fans and they already bought the tickets and I couldn’t say no to them be-” 

“Because you hate disappointing your friends.” Harry finished for her and she nodded. 

“I also didn’t want to make a huge deal out of things, so I thought if I didn’t tell you, maybe you wouldn’t even notice me.” 

“I’ll always notice you Y/N.” Harry said without missing a beat.

They sat in a few moments of silence before Harry broke it, “How’s school?”

“It’s okay, one more semester and then I’ll be on rotations.” Y/N told him. 

Harry grinned at that, “That’s exciting, I’m proud of you.” 

Y/N felt a lump in her throat, but she pushed it down, “Thanks H.” 

Harry could still read her like a book, so of course he saw the tears ready to spill, “Fuck, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” 

He scooted closer to her trying to figure out how to comfort her, Y/N just shook her head, “No, no, it’s fine, it’s just, this is hard.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Harry says, before taking a deep breath, “Can we talk about us?”

Y/N glanced at him with an unreadable expression, “What’s there to talk about?”

“Y/N, I still love you.” He said as he took her hand into his. 

Her lips quivered and she swallowed her tears, “We can’t talk about this right now H, you’re touring and I know you won’t stop anytime soon and I’m still in school” 

“I know, but y/n/n, I don’t think you understand, this year has been hell without you, I didn’t know it could hurt this much. It quite literally physically pains me to be away from you.” Harry said, a few tears slipping from his eyes. 

“I know, how do you think I feel? I just, I just can’t do it again cause what if it doesn’t work, the first time broke me enough.” Y/N said, not stopping the tears this time. 

Harry wasn’t stopping his tears either, “I can try, I’ll be better, I promise, I’ll do my best to make things work. Just seeing you again showed me that I never stopped loving you, I don’t think I ever will, you truly are the best thing to happen to me, I need you.” 

“I need you too H, I literally couldn’t function properly without you for a whole month, but I just can’t do it again, I can’t go through another break up with you if something goes wrong this time. I just can’t do it.” Y/N cried. 

Harry took her other hand into his, “We can work together, we can do this. I believe in us, we were something, don't you think so?” 

“I know, I just can’t bear the thought of being away from you.” Y/N sniffled. 

“We’ll figure it out, I swear y/n/n. If it means me coming here every time I have a day or two off I’ll do it, I’ll do anything for you.” Harry pleaded. 

The pair sat holding hands as they sobbed, Y/N looked up to Harry’s eyes and saw how genuine he was being, but she knew she couldn’t make him do all of that accommodating just for her, it would put too much strain on him and that was the last thing she wanted. 

“I’ll always love you H, but right now isn’t the time for us, just give it more time.”

Harry’s heart broke hearing that, but he knew she was right, they just needed to wait a bit longer, “Can we still be friends until then?”

Y/N gave him a watery smile, “Of course we can, I can’t imagine my life without you.” 

Harry smiled at that, he was glad she felt the same way he did. She gave his hands one more squeeze before pulling away, “Well, I guess I’ll see you around then?”

“Let me drive you home?” Harry asked. 

“Okay.” 

Harry gathers some of his essentials before motioning to Y/N that he was ready. The pair quietly walk out of the room and head to the back where Harry had parked his car. Surprisingly Jeff was still there, Harry stopped once he spotted him, “Where’s everyone else? Did they go home?” 

“Yeah they did, also they said something about brunch tomorrow morning, but you’re going to have to check with them about that.” Jeff says and Harry nods, he didn’t think he’d be in the proper mood for brunch in the morning, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud.

“Oh, okay, I’m going to drop y/n/n back home.” Harry says and Jeff smiles, he was glad that at least they were talking enough for Harry to drop her off at home. He bid the pair a good night before walking off to check on some more details for the next show. 

The drive to Y/N’s was quiet, the radio was on but it was quiet and neither one of them wanted to say anything worried that any statement would cause another breakdown. 

Y/N looked out the window, she had tears streaming down her face, but they were silent, she was so torn up, she really wanted to be back with Harry but she thought they weren’t ready. She thought that they needed more time, they both needed just a little bit more time. 

Harry pulled into the complex and parked in front of her condo. He hadn’t been to her new place yet and was trying to take as many details in. Y/N looked at Harry before opening the car door, “Do you want to come in? I can make you some tea.” 

Harry wanted to say yes, he wanted to say yes so badly but he knew it wasn’t a good idea, “I don’t think I should, I have an early morning.” 

She nodded, “Ok, it was really good seeing you, I missed you.” 

“I missed you too Y/N, more than anything.” Harry murmured. 

“Goodnight H, drive home safe okay?” She said as she climbed out of the car. 

“I will, good night.” Harry smiled softly. Y/N closed the car door and walked the short distance from the driveway to her front door, she unlocked the door and stepped in and gave Harry one last wave before closing the door. As soon as she closed the door, the waterworks started again and Y/N was on the floor with her head between her legs sobbing. 

Harry waited until the door was fully closed before reversing out of the driveway and driving away. He wasn’t in better shape than Y/N, he drove straight to Jeff’s place, he didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t trust himself to be alone. 

---

[rose-reads-visualnovels]

This is something I have been meaning to ask for a while but have been afraid to in case it gets taken the wrong way, but I must ask:

How does Utuna handle race ?

It's something that has been making me a bit nervous to check the series out since a lot of people don't seem to mention it.

I know Utuna is a story about gender but gender and race are often interlinked and the fact that the story has the main antagonist and the main focus/love interest(?) are brown in a cast of (to my knowledge) exclusively pale individuals indicates to me that the writers have something to say about race.

I know no story is perfect, I just want to know what to expect, since the topic of race is a sore spot for me since I'm brown myself.

I really hope this question doesn't come across as rude or accusatory , and if it does I apologize ahead of time

Hey, anon!

No worries, I think this is a totally valid question. Anthy does seem to exude "exoticism" vibes since she's a mysterious and magic brown girl in an otherwise all pale cast, and you know anime is never that good at handling such topics. I do believe Ikuhara is attempting to subvert this trope though, as Anthy is supposed to embody an universal theme of womanhood that explicitly denies exceptionalism and othering. Another pitfall Anthy avoids is the "submissive desi wife", even if in the first arc she leans into this pretty hard, but again, it is an attempt at subversion.

Akio, as the main antagonist and also the only other brown character in Utena, is also supposed to represent more of a concept or idea of patriarchy that must be subverted than played as any racial stereotypes. Actually, he's only brown to tie his character to Anthy as he's otherwise entirely disconnected from the culture as far as I could tell.

I believe Revolutionary Girl Utena's handling of race isn't perfect (stares at Curry Trip episode), but the message itself isn't hurt by making Anthy brown, but might actually strengthen it. The girl who represents all women and their suffering isn't a privileged pale princess, but a marginalized brown witch.

This is just my opinion though, and there are tons of people more experienced with studying Utena and race together than me.

I hope my answer could help you somewhat, and that you watch RGU one day!

-- Rose, the Revolutionary Witch

[gacha-incels]

@frozenemus I want to eventually do a larger and much more researched post regarding misogynist men who are drawn to these types of games: socially, psychologically, financially and historically especially in South Korea. I don’t want to wait that long to reply here so I’ll let you know my thoughts so far which are by no means going to be a comprehensive look at everything.

Yes, I think these games pander to what this type of man already believes about women and this is why they will flock to them. The “gacha game” medium comforts him with the always-available cartoon woman who can literally be “won” (not through confusing things like treating them with respect but rather money),will never leave (until EoS), obeys all his orders (through gameplay), and always looks perfect (because she is drawn that way).

I believe these games and in effect all mainstream pop/entertainment media (among other things) serve to uphold the status quo in one way or another. This is not a phenomenon unique to gacha games themselves. Media like this can have a significant affect on its population, which is why you will see the US military finance so many films, tv shows and videogames. I don’t think any singular pop media can do something as drastic as completely change a population’s opinion regarding an issue, but rather it can flatter its audience by showing them an easy lie rather than confront an uncomfortable truth, which in turn serves to solidify certain concepts in a society. This media often reflects back onto the consumer a stereotype or dichotomy they feel safe with, which in turn creates a kind of feedback loop of comfortable falsity that becomes enshrined as truth. This can be something as seemingly benign as replacing an actual eagle’s cry with that of a hawk’s because that’s what the audience “expects to hear” or more sinisterly the “third world filter” used in many North American productions when showing scenes in a country viewers “expect” to be in poverty. There’s been a lot written within the past couple years regarding “copaganda” entertainment which exemplifies a lot of this type of thing. Similarly I believe it’s been studied that when in times of big changes or economy crashes, more sequel movies will be made and toy store aisles will have an extremely stark divide between “boy’s toys” and “girl’s toys”. It’s in part to comfort the society that fears the unknown future with both saccharine nostalgia and familiar dichotomies with clear and dividing gender roles to fit into. You don’t have to think or be worried- it’s all been decided already so just get in the box.

The medium of “gacha game” itself I believe is the first thing that should be considered- the first message conveyed to the consumer is what medium the “artist” chooses to tell their story. In a whole host of ways, interacting with a book is different than a play which is different than a movie, etc. You can find, for instance, older books where directors write about the need to recognize and utilize the unique facets of film to get meaning across rather than fall back on the familiar and easy stageplay of the theater. Off the top of my head, I think Tarkovsky, Cocteau and Maya Deren have written about it in their books, and a more contemporary book I especially liked was Doug Aitken’s “Broken Screen” interviews. Anyway you’ve probably read or heard of Marshall McLuhan’s “the medium is the massage”(message), it’s something I would like to elaborate on in a future post so I won’t get into it now. The most unique aspect of the “gacha game” is gambling and often spending large quantities of money for in-game anime style characters to play as/command. Like I said in the last post, these games ride or die on high spenders dropping cash to max these characters out. EVERYTHING about the game must cater to this consumer first and any “artistic intent” will be filtered through the expectations of these customers. None of the story beats or, more importantly, character designs can afford to offend the gacha gamer. Artistic intent and concepts are neutered simply by the medium itself- sorry but this is why I find it ridiculous to see so many people venerating Arknights and Limbus Company as making some incredibly progressive statements regarding capitalism or feminism. It is antithetical to the very medium with which they chose to tell their “stories”, especially when the companies can tell their incel playerbase “don’t worry, we fired that nasty female artist! this game is just fantasy, no need to think about real life atrocities or those hateful feminists.” This gives these men the ego boost they want and imbues them with a sense of power, especially over women who they frequently get fired. Even this is part of gacha games- the power these men get to control a real woman’s financial fate and to make a company publicly refer to feminism as a hate movement. What does this tell you about their intended audience? This is getting long so I’ll make another short post regarding some character design specifics. Hopefully this somewhat could answer your question lol

[sanaxo-o]

your moots as tbz members? :DD

OH FINALLY GOT THIS AHWJWHEHDH

Now I am only tagging the moots with whom I interact on a daily basis. Even if I did not include you plz don’t mind me 😭 it must have just slipped my mind because of the exams. But I love every single moot of mine.

Nara @o-onikix : Kevin

Hear me out, she is the literal definition of Kevin, the way this girl always spams me with the most random things on insta 😭. And she like listens to more western artists then me so that’s a plus on top of that her sense of humour makes me want to punch her sometimes (lovingly). Just like Kevin she is always screaming man 😭.

Ally @winterchimez : Sangyeon

Let’s be for real, if I don’t give Als Sangyeon then idk who else would it be (maybe Jacob? Kind of. She is very caring and calm when on call 💀😭) but then whenever we both talk it’s like chaos is always with us. Like my Sabrina girlie <3 I can always count on ally tbh, like I always see myself talking with her about my exams and shit and she is always there to comfort and support me 😞.

Izzy @from-izzy : Sunwoo

I know I once said it was Kevin or Jacob but the more me and izzy talk the more o understand just how much of a danger she is to the society with her craziness…and the way she flirts with me all the damn time?? Like damn girl..(she outdid me in that and I am scared) but then again izz is also like so sweet like Sunwoo (and delulu like him but let’s keep that topic for later). We both can go from talking about something random to something serious or calm in a snap of a finger.

Clo @cloverdaisies : Changmin

This girl, do you see her?? She is batshit crazy. Like the way she says the most unhinged things out of nowhere always gets me and I always see myself laughing whenever with clo. Like not even kidding man and then when we have those deep conversations I always see myself so invested and I just feel like protecting clo and just hugging her 😞. (And me and ally coming at your place to tuck you in bed and to take care of you ‼️)

Bar @sohnric : Eric

No please, if I don’t give bar Eric it’d be like a huge ass crime let’s be for real. Like the amount of energy this girl has all the damn time??? She would be running around the house at 2 am and I won’t even be surprised because that’s normal…but then again when me and bar are together it’s absolute chaos and madness (I am still gonna drive the car)

Gill @astrae4 : Chanhee

Ahh my fellow Chanhee girlie <3. I stand by what I said, Chanhee girlies are so pretty and gill is the definition of pretty. She is also so sweet all the damn time, and I just feel like saving her from all the chaos which goes on in the gc :)

Maya @kimsohn : Haknyeon

Ohh my fellow desi girl <3 this might seem very different but yes. I don’t even remember how we both started talking tbh. We just clicked so well when together 😭. And yk how you feel when you see Hak on the screen? All smiley smiles, that’s how I feel when me and Maya talk hehe. Like I love Maya so much yall 😞‼️

Fawn @juyeonszn : Juyeon

Man do I love her?? Yes I do. Do I simp over the way I simp over Juyeon? Yes I do. Do I love both of them loads? Yes I do. Sometimes fawn is so crazy (most of the times) but then we can have such calm conversations outta nowhere…it’s scary tbh.

Dora @littleroaes : Jacob

You guys don’t get it. Dora is literally so cute 😭. Like the way whenever I interact with her I always find her so cute. And the way I adore Jacob so much as an individual but also as a TBZ member is the way I adore Dora <3 and she is also so hardworking 😞‼️. Like the amount of efforts she put into her fics 😭. She deserves everything man

Special note: me, Sana, am announcing that I would be the one to drive the car when we meet 😼

[richincolor]

We have a ton of books on our calendar for July, so I thought it would be fun to highlight a few that caught my eye. Are any of these on your TBR list?

All the Yellow Suns by Malavika Kannan

A coming-of-age story about a queer Indian American girl exploring activism and identity through art, perfect for fans of Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. Sixteen-year-old Maya Krishnan is fiercely protective of her friends, immigrant community, and single mother, but she knows better than to rock the boat in her conservative Florida suburb. Her classmate Juneau Zale is the polar opposite: she’s a wealthy white heartbreaker who won’t think twice before capsizing that boat. When Juneau invites Maya to join the Pugilists—a secret society of artists, vandals, and mischief-makers who fight for justice at their school—Maya descends into the world of change-making and resistance. Soon, she and Juneau forge a friendship that inspires Maya to confront the challenges in her own life. But as their relationship grows romantic, painful, and twisted, Maya begins to suspect that there’s a whole different person beneath Juneau’s painted-on facade. Now Maya must learn to speak her truth in this mysterious, mixed-up world—even if it results in heartbreak.

What a Desi Girl Wants Sabina Khan

The romance of Becky Albertalli meets the nuanced family dynamics of Darius the Great is Not Okay in this YA novel from acclaimed author Sabina Khan. Mehar hasn't been back to India since she and her mother moved away when she was only four. Hasn't visited her father, her grandmother, her family, or the home where she grew up. Why would she? Her father made it clear that she's not his priority when he chose not to come to the US with them. But when her father announces his engagement to socialite Naz, Mehar reluctantly agrees to return for the wedding. Maybe she and her father can heal their broken relationship. And after all, her father is Indian royalty, and his home is a palace--the wedding is going to be a once-in-a-lifetime affair. While her father still doesn't make the time for her, Mehar barely cares once she meets Sufiya, her grandmother's assistant, and one of the most grounded, thoughtful, kind people she's ever met! Though they come from totally different worlds, their friendship slowly starts to blossom into something more . . . Mehar thinks. Meanwhile, Mehar's dislike for Naz and her social media influencer daughter, Aleena, deepens. She can tell that the two of them are just using her father for his money. Mehar's starting to think that putting a stop to this wedding might be the best thing for everyone involved. But what happens when telling her father the truth about Naz and Aleena means putting her relationship with Sufiya at risk . . .

Firebird by Sunmi HarperCollins

Caroline Kim is feeling the weight of sophomore year. When she starts tutoring infamous senior Kimberly Park-Ocampo--a charismatic lesbian, friend to rich kids and punks alike--Caroline is flustered . . . but intrigued Their friendship kindles and before they know it, the two are sneaking out for late-night drives, bonding beneath the stars over music, dreams, and a shared desire of getting away from it all. A connection begins to smolder . . . but will feelings of guilt and the mounting pressure of life outside of these adventures extinguish their spark before it catches fire? -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads

A Guide to the Dark by Meriam Metoui Henry Holt

You can check out of Room 9, but you can never leave. The Haunting of Hill House meets Nina LaCour in this paranormal mystery YA about the ghosts we carry with us. Something is building, simmering just out of reach. The room is watching. But Mira and Layla don't know this yet. When the two best friends are stranded on their spring break college tour road trip, they find themselves at the Wildwood Motel, located in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. Mira can't shake the feeling that there is something wrong and rotten about their room. Inside, she's haunted by nightmares of her dead brother. When she wakes up, he's still there. Layla doesn't see him. Or notice anything suspicious about Room 9. The place may be a little run down, but it has a certain charm she can’t wait to capture on camera. If Layla is being honest, she’s too preoccupied with confusing feelings for Mira to see much else. But when they learn eight people died in that same room, they realize there must be a connection between the deaths and the unexplainable things that keep happening inside it. They just have to find the connection before Mira becomes the ninth.

Rana Joon and the One and Only Now by Shideh Etaat

This lyrical coming-of-age novel for fans of Darius the Great Is Not Okay and On the Come Up, set in southern California in 1996, follows a teen who wants to honor her deceased friend’s legacy by entering a rap contest. Perfect Iranian girls are straight A students, always polite, and grow up to marry respectable Iranian boys. But it’s the San Fernando Valley in 1996, and Rana Joon is far from perfect—she smokes weed and loves Tupac, and she has a secret: she likes girls. As if that weren’t enough, her best friend, Louie—the one who knew her secret and encouraged her to live in the moment—died almost a year ago, and she’s still having trouble processing her grief. To honor him, Rana enters the rap battle he dreamed of competing in, even though she’s terrified of public speaking. But the clock is ticking. With the battle getting closer every day, she can’t decide whether to use one of Louie’s pieces or her own poetry, her family is coming apart, and she might even be falling in love. To get herself to the stage and fulfill her promise before her senior year ends, Rana will have to learn to speak her truth and live in the one and only now.

[imaginespazzi]

Nivi you and this situation lmao fuck pazzi I wanna know this lore. Brown girl to brown girl what’s the tea? Why hasn’t she cuffed? Is she also brown 👀

Also you can also totally not answer I’m just nosy but anyways 😊💗

Oh dear the lore is so extensive I fear but now that you've invoked the desi code, I suppose I must give you something lmao.

She is not brown; she's latina. And technically it's not that she hasn't cuffed but she's graduating this year and when we started this, we knew this was gonna happen and were both very clear that we don't want to do long distance. But these wretched things called feelings have changed some things.

Basically it's very simple but complicated right now because we're basically in a committed relationship but we're not labelling it and we're just postponing a much needed conversation till May!

[eclecticwordblender]

Don't you get upset with desi gyns trying to bring justifications for their ""sanskari"" culture?

Also I think I'm going to have a hard time being friends with moid and hindu obsessed women here. No separatist women :(

i will answer both the paragraphs separately.

i have problems with the term "sanskaari" because it is rooted in some version of the madonna-whore binary (i’m sure there is a hindi term for this but english is my first language despite hindi being my mother tongue so i only know the english term). but i really would like to dissect what the woman means with the term sanskaari. honestly, my maternal grandmother often uses this term but more often than not she is referring to having non-aggressive behaviours or not dressing like a stripper (she is not asking anyone to not wear crop tops or shorts, this is more like dressing practically naked). so it really depends on the context.

that being said, sanskaars are closely associated with upholding culture and the responsibility of that is disproportionately (almost exclusively) assigned to women. so there’s a major problem. personally, as i have talked about before i have been very fortunate in terms of privilege. it is rather rare for someone to say things like thiin my bubble. my grandmother used the word sanskaari a couple of days back to refer to a male friend of mine who does a lot of housework and is generally the responsible sober driver after parties. so i don’t think i have experience being annoyed with that term, none that i can think of at the top of my head, but yes i get what you mean.

coming to the second part, i totally get what you mean. let me clarify i’m not a complete separatist myself. my separatism is rather limited to referring media created by women first and foremost, not engaging in any new romantic/sexual relationships and not making any new male friends. i have males in my life who i have known since before discovering radical feminism. i am rad leaning and agree with the ideologies but i haven’t adopted everything i preach irl as of yet.

that being said, hinduism and male obsessed women really do get on my nerves too. but you’ll actually be surprised how many women can be talked out of it! i do know that your are anti-intoxicants but i find the best way to get drunk or high and start talking feminist philosophy. more often than not, the girl is going to understand. she will probably admit that it would be difficult for her to adopt all this irl BUT SHE WILL UNDERSTAND AND SHE WILL BE A GOOD FRIEND. although i must admit that such experiences are also a product of my privileges. most male-centred women actually view feminism as a tool to make males better partners for them. if you cannot talk a woman out of this in 5 minutes, just leave her be. she cannot be reasoned with. she’s one of the few women patriarchy chooses to empower so as to posit that the emancipation of other women is not needed and that women have it easier. she doesn’t want to make it out of here.

you’ll probably not find many rad-fems in india. and it gets lonely so you need friends too. to resolve this paradox i make some provisions.

it’s okay to befriend a het-partnered woman, it is not okay to befriend a woman who thinks her heterosexual partner is "not like other men."

it is okay to befriend a religious woman, it is not okay to befriend a woman who tried to talk me into adopting her religion and one who votes on the basis of her religious beliefs.

it is okay to not cut off the old male connections i have but it is not okay to make new ones. if a woman alleges any one of my old male connections, i will believe her over any of them no matter what.

this is probably not the answer you were looking for but i just went on with whatever flow of thoughts i could gather.

[soulshinexx]

being a neurodivergent desi girl is another breed of agony... everyone around me is a delicate rose cultivated from the most selective and pure lineage, by design unable to disturb the beauty of even the new environment they were planted in. i am an invasive species devouring any others no matter how meticulously and lovingly my seeds were scattered. i’ll be a venus flytrap but less alluring. i won’t ever be a soft beacon of properness, politeness, and intellect whose thorns remain seamlessly hidden, undetectable among the alluring color i carry like a badge of honor to my genus name; all my rage and provocations must remain a gaping mouth which arches threateningly, rather than hesitating bashfully, before the hand about to pick me. i’m a threat, not by necessity but by design. whatever sweetness and romance the rest of my heritage was born with was somehow missing from me. if i exist as i am among the symmetrical rows of uniform, shy, yet captivating flora, i’ll taint years of work that generations of bare hands have performed as they labored to create a perennial legacy, a loose stitch among a centuries-old linen quilt. i can’t simply absorb the same raw nutrients from the sun and soil to grow, yet, doing otherwise would betray my needy instincts. i need to be hand-fed in order to thrive, because i lack the vibrance what every single newly germinated spore is guaranteed to display when it reaches maturity; yet, no hand could ever dare to go near me. i may bite in an unconscious response. i was made that way and the best i can do is attempt to change on my own terms. i’m sory i yelled, i’m sorry i approached a stranger to proclaim in an unfathomably loud voice what my new obsession of the week is, and i’m sorry i broke down crying and visibly scowled at the classmates who dared to take notice. i didn’t even know my body could betray my rational senses like that. i’ve learned better, but my mutated genes haven’t. I’m sorry to remain a stain on the family tree. I never wanted this to happen. I can’t control a thing, i wish someone would teach me. I’m not scary. I’m just deformed somehow. Please forgive me.

[madqueenalanna]

i just read sharp objects and i want to talk about it but like where to even START

in the back of my mind i am percolating a comparison between gillian flynn and vc andrews, which might not make sense to anyone but me. the generational trauma, the behind-closed-doors horror, the power in sexuality. vc andrews wrote about the unique, indescribable rage experienced by teenage girls exploring their bodies and sexuality in a deeply patriarchal society; gillian flynn writes about women in their 30s, those abused and angry girls all grown up and dangerous. both an exploration of a facet of women's inner lives that feels very difficult to explain and which is rarely explored in other media

anyway wow the generational trauma. joya abused adora, who became a teen mother and abused all three of her daughters. when amma was born, camille was about the same age that adora was when camille was born, and there's this weird sister-child-friend-enemy dynamic camille has with amma. none of them ever learned how to love each other, or themselves. camille turned her anger inward and destroyed her body; adora poisoned marian her whole life and finally killed her; amma mutilated the bodies of her classmates for her dollhouse. what the fuck is even going ON with these people

i still need to read dark places but between gone girl and sharp objects, i am fascinated by gillian flynn's take on these adult women's sexuality. amy does not seem to enjoy sex much at all except for the power it gives her over men; she thinks derisively about nick's desire, desi's, the appeal of girls like andie; she (and camille) talks about sex in kind of a clinical, detached way, the smell, the stickiness, this very open and raw but entirely un-sexy way. camille blames herself for being gang-raped at fourteen while drunk, but locks her various traumas so deep that even thinking about the event sounds like she's talking about someone else (and to willis, she is). sex is power and control, it's about using other people by letting them use you. it's gross. it's intimate. as someone with some... issues around sex, myself, i could see why it would rub people the wrong way but i found it oddly refreshing, in the way i find gallows humor to be funny

gillian flynn said in an ama that she wrote sharp objects as an exploration of female generational violence, a subject considerably less explored than male cyclical violence (no one is writing the all-woman atreus house, for example). her protagonists are ruthless, crass, secretive, kind of cold, unflinching in the face of monstrosity. amy notices that nick's hands still smell like andie after a hookup and thinks "she must have one rank pussy"; camille carves the word "clit" on herself and only later changes it to "cAt". vulnerability might exist for them, but it's buried so far down that even first-person narration can barely touch it

i feel like it's rare to see female protagonists like these that aren't given much justification or redemption and that aren't... i don't know, given masculine traits? like how in movies, women only know about cars bc they have five brothers, and they prove they're "cool" by having lots of sex, drinking heavily, always being "game" i mean god i'm so sick of it all. run cool_girl_monologue.exe. the violence that women do to each other and themselves can be horrific on its own. i don't think you could gender-swap these stories and change nothing else, they're about WOMEN

anyway gone girl was already one of my favorite books and sharp objects was unreal good, i need to watch the miniseries and read dark places

[butchkaramazov]

A Shade Darker Than Red: Chapter 11

Chapter 10

“Renu?”

I looked up from my book. “Hm?”

“Do you ever think about dying?” 

I put the book down, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Paro, this is extremely random.”

Paro, whose head rested on my shoulder, snuggled closer to me. “Dying is random,” she sniffled with a pout. “And you’re going away tomorrow.” She paused, looking up at me. “Now who will I talk to about dying?”

“A grave concern indeed,” I laughed, smacking myself internally when she stiffened. “I mean—we’ll video call each other, won’t we?”

Paro hummed.

A comfortable silence followed, broken only by Paro’s sudden question. “Renu, can you promise me something?”

I frowned. “Sure?”

“Renu—” she shifted on the bed, pulling me closer— “are you sure you won’t go to Delhi and fall in love with some other girl?”

I felt something tug at my heartstrings as I looked at her, her sharp nose and cold eyes, warm only when with me. Parvati Sinha was all icy glares and stiff greetings, cutting remarks and the looming force towering behind you. 

Now? She was simply Paro, the girl I had loved since I was five. The girl who looked at me with wide, pleading eyes and a possible lump in her throat. My fingers found their way to her wrists, her pulse throbbing violently.

“Renu?” she asked, her voice cracking. 

I kissed her forehead. “I would be a fool to ever stop loving you, Paro.”

“So that means you won’t fall for someone else, na?” she asked, her voice soft. 

“No, but I may fall on someone else,” I chuckled. “Or maybe trip over a cart while shopping. Or you know, maybe just fall and crack the Statue of Liberty. Maybe even fall and somehow set fire to the India Gate. Or the top of a building while trying to commit arson—”

I was cut off by Paro’s lips on mine—soft, cruelly so, and unsure. Before I could process what had happened, she pulled away. “I take that back,” she sighed into the slight dip of my shoulder. “I’m more worried about you falling in general.”

I grinned, placing my chin on top of her head. She still smelled of incense and alta, and delightfully so. “So no, Paro, I think I’d trip and fall from the top of a building before falling for someone else,” I murmured. “See how we ended in a full-circle, right back at death?”

Paro grumbled from somewhere in my shirt. “Mention your death once more and I’ll ruin you.”

I considered it. “I mean, I’m not complaining,” I said, tilting my head thoughtfully. “I think I would quite like that. Being ruined by you.”

“Uffo,” Paro grumbled, and I was briefly reminded of Sudha auntie. “Why must you be so poetic?”

I brought her hand up to my face, briefly kissing her knuckles. “Says poetry herself,” I murmured, low enough to not be heard by her. Paro snuggled back under the covers.

“So without any of your little innuendos or puns,” she clarified, her voice muffled from under the blanket, “I take it you’re going to come home to me one day?”

I knew she meant when I came home from Delhi and visited her, but the faint glimmer of hope in my mind made something tingle in the pit of my stomach. Coming home to her would certainly be nice, yes.

I hummed. 

Paro peeked out of the covers, holding up her little finger. “Pinky promise?”

I smiled, holding up my little finger to hers. “Pinky promise.”

@sarayu-sunrays @manujanolavu @lavanya-lakshmi @whenhanafallsinlove @arachneofthoughts @sonilaalbindi @desi-yearning @alhad-si-simran @thatpagalchokri @trashmeowcan @waitingforthesunrise @vellibandi @thesunandstarss @chanda-chamke-cham-cham @damnn-dorothea @the-unhinged-fanwinggg @watchingblsnowandforever @disproportionatelysculpting @bundle-of-glitter @bibliophile-dendrophile please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist <3

renu has to leaveee :D