#whole lata tongue

[the-lavender-room]

Oh just you wait until I finish watching Spider-Man 2.

[sabraeal]

Desert & Reward, Chapter 14

[Read on AO3]

Written for @paintercat, who also guessed the correct winner for Trope Madness this year! With two correct guessers, we had to determine the kitty winner via points, but I thought there should be SOME award for getting so close. Took a few extra months to get the time to work on this one, but here it is!

Obi has never made a secret of his experience. I know how to ignite a flame, he’d told Miss once, and Master too. An easy joke to make, a safe one, the kind that said he was a harmless sort of rake, encouraging good girls to keep their distance. And what was Miss but the best?

Except she never did. No, instead she trusted him too much, putting herself so close to him that he’d catch himself wondering if he could light a fire where it didn’t belong. The sort of conflagration that would burn down the whole life he’d built for himself from the ashes of the last one.

Careful, he’d tell her sometimes, when she ventured too close, putting bare skin mere inches from his, hate to find out you’re an easy tinder.

Standing here, the candles above turning her gown into gold so solid she might as well have been cast, it seems as different sort of joke entirely. How he’d flattered himself thinking that she might even smolder near him. He’d spent years at Lilias keeping the cold from seeping into her bones, and not once had there been the trace of smoke, not a single ember.

Makes sense; just because the candles burned on an altar didn’t mean the idol catch too. And now he has three years with which to disappoint himself daily.

“I should have known,” he says, giving the door a rueful grin. “You can’t count on dads for anything.”

Her mouth twists, somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Well, I could have told you that.”

The breath he’s holding rushes from him like sand coursing through a glass. “You’d be the expert. You’ve got more dads than anyone I know! Your old man, Lata, Marquis Haruka. Legally I think you can even claim that His Maj--”

“Please.” Her mouth pulls into a grimace. “Don’t even joke about that one.”

“Fine,” he relents, sinking down into one of the hardest stuffed chairs he’s ever subjected himself too. It seems that this is not an antechamber for guests His Majesty wants to linger. “Consider it my wedding gift. Don’t say I never give you anything, Miss.”

His smile meets silence, his mistress stock still save for her hands. They lace and unravel endlessly, a patchwork of his mistakes. “I didn’t say...” Her mouth works around sounds that refuse to come. She shakes her head, finally knocking a few loose “I just wish I knew why you never told me.”

Obi’s joints lock on reflex, his heart racing in his chest, wondering if she could possibly mean--?

Ah, no. Obi has more secrets than there are stars in the Lilias sky, more bodies buried than even the Wistal catacombs could hold. When she glances at him, mouth wrinkled with misery, he knows it could only be the one most recently exhumed.

“It wasn’t personal,” he tells her, though the words lost in the cavernous expanse of the room. “It just happened, and...”

It wasn’t supposed to matter. That’s what sits at the tip of his tongue. His favorite sort of excuse. I’m not anyone worth knowing about, don’t you agree?

It’s the sort of answer that would work on Master, making him throw up his hands or earn Obi a long, quiet look before a labored change of topic. On Miss, though, he knows better than to try.

“I didn’t think it would change anything,” he admits instead, drawing each word out like a horse at a quartering. “It’s not like I thought His Majesty would actually expect me to..to...”

Her mouth may stay serious, but her eyes spark, and oh, if anyone is a quick tinder around here, it’s him. “Actually be a lord?”

“See, you get it.” He slumps, the brocade of his chair rumpling his jacket. “Who would have thought they’d actually box me up and ship me out to some country seat, making me look a numbers and letters. Can you imagine, Miss? Me, looking at ledgers?”

Her dress shimmers when she sits, perching on the footstool too close to his knees. “I remember you reading one or two when the occasion called for it. Didn’t you spend a whole day going through the logbooks when Touka Bergatt tried to--?”

“That was for Mister, Miss,” he grimaces, hunching down. “I don’t just do it for anyone.”

“Not even Iza--?”

“Especially not for him.” He’s the one that frogmarched him into this whole disaster in the first place. Political expediency his ass. “You know that he was the one to float the idea that Lata could dump all his responsibilities on me if he went through this adoption thing. And then this whole marriage--”

The small hand hovering by his knee flinches back, burying itself in Miss’s lap.

“Ah, Miss.” He doesn’t think when he reaches out; it’s all instinct when his hand closes around hers. A poor one, he realizes, her cool fingers curling over his palm with no leather to mute the feeling. It’s a good thing this damned jacket covers his arms, otherwise she might see the goosebumps tracking up them. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’ve been the best thing to happen since His Majesty shipped me south.”

The tension sighs out of her, fingers pressing flat to thread through his own. “I hardly think Lata needs Izana to tell him how to shirk his duties as a lord.”

“Fair enough,” Obi snorts. “He was doing a good job of it all on his own.”

There’s a curl at the corner of her mouth, the barest hint of humor, but it’s gone the longer she sits, gaze fixed on where their fingers knit together. “Obi...”

When Miss looks at him, it’s always head-on, resolute, confident in whatever request she’ll make of him. But now she shifts on her cushion, her gaze filtered through the dark lace of her eyelashes. “I know you didn’t mean for it to feel personal when you didn’t tell me. But it’s just that...”

She glances up, her fingers gripping the barest bit tighter. “We’re still close, aren’t we? You aren’t...?”

Obi’s been stabbed before-- multiple times, in a host of inconvenient places, including one where the only comfortable position was ass-up on his belly-- but still, this is worse. An knife is an inconvenience, but Miss’s disappointment...

“Of course, Miss!” He doesn’t think when he squeezes her hand, their palms pressing close as a kiss, but oh, he wishes he had. It would save him the trouble of his mouth dying up the moment he needs it. “Really, I thought it would never matter. Something we could both laugh over once His Majesty sent me back off to Lilias, maybe even get a free dinner off of dear old dad. But...”

A corner of her mouth lifts, wry. “Then we got engaged.”

“Ah, well...” He scrubs at the back of his head, if only to keep from tugging at his shoulder. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“But I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me after.” Her mouth pulls thin, cheeks puffed enough to threaten a good pout. “It seemed a little more than trivia then.”

“Mm, right.” His grin bears teeth as he adds, so sweetly, “Kind of like what happened between you and m-- Zen.”

She has the grace to blush, even if she won’t look at him. “Ah, that...there was never a right time.”

“His Majesty said that all happened half a year ago.” It’s his turn to pin her down now, watching her squirm beneath the directness of his gaze. “That’s before I even left Lilias.”

“Ah, well...” It’s hard to keep up this glare when her finger absently traces down the bones of his hand. “The letters came with the same messenger. And when you said Izana was recalling you to the castle...”

His jaw nearly drops. “You already knew what it was for.”

“You would never have left if I told you.” She finally looks at him now, jaw in it stubbornest clench. “You don’t care about titles, but I think we both know, if you climbed any higher in the guard, other people would. I thought I could wait until you came back, when everything would be more settled, but...”

“But His Majesty collared me into going to Cacciatore straight from the castle,” Obi sighs, itching at his brow. Knowing the king, he probably planned it that way too.

“I meant to write it in my first letter, but it just...didn’t fit.” She grimaces. “Or in any of the ones after. It just seemed better if I told you myself, in person. And when you invited me, I thought that would be the perfect time to-- to--” she takes a steeling breath, meeting his eyes-- “to tell you everything.”

It’s too much to look at her, to let his world narrow to just the two of them, so he shakes his head, settling back in the chair. “Maybe it’s a good thing I never told you about Lata.”

He feels her glare rather than sees it. “What do you mean?”

“You never would have married me if I did.”

“T-that’s not true at all.”

“Oh really?” He cracks open his eyes, leaning forward as he says, “That so, Shirayuki Forzeno?”

He’s too close; her breath catches and it’s as loud as a moan in a bedroom to his ears, enough to make even his skin heat beneath his collar, but when he pulls away--

She grips tighter, enough that her knuckles pale where they hold him. “Say it again.”

He has to be hearing things. Making his own wants out of her needs. “M-miss?”

“Say it again,” she says slower, too clear to mistake. “Please.”

“Um...” It’s an effort to keep his voice from cracking. “F-Forzeno...?”

Her nose scrunches, cute enough to kiss. Oh, he’s slipping if he’s letting thoughts like this out of their vault. “Not that. My name. I’d...” She glances up at him, and it’s not anger in her eyes, but something he’s never seen on her. At least, not pointed at him. “I’d like you to say it. Just one more time. If you don’t mind.”

“I...” He licks his lips. A terrible idea, since now they’re sensitive, tingling when her breath fans across them. “Miss, I don’t think...”

“Obi.” It’s a word he feels rather than hears, vibrating the air between them. “Please...”

“Shira--”

The door swings open, rattling when it hits the wall. “Are you two still in here?”

Zen fills the doorway-- well, as much as he can-- folded arms creasing his coat as much as his frown does his face. “What are you up to?”

Obi springs from the chair, palm cold where Miss’s no longer hits into it. “Oh, nothing that would interest you, Highness,” he assures him with a grin that keeps trying to slip from his mouth. “You know how it is, being newlyweds. Basking in each other’s company. Whispering sweet nothings. Maybe even getting in a few--”

One gloved hand stalls him. “Save it.”

“But, Master, as my best man, shouldn’t you--?”

Zen grimaces. “I’m here in an official capacity. My brother has informed me that the documents you...reviewed yesterday are ready to be signed.”

It’s only then that he sees the other figure in the door; a man middling in height between both of Clarines’ Highnesses, his mouth pinched like he’s bitten into something sour.

“Yuuha,” Obi says with relish. “Now doesn’t that kill the mood.”

“Could you go any slower?” If it was possible for Zen to pace up a wall and over the ceiling, the past few minutes would have been crucial to the discovery. As it is he’s wearing a trench in a carpet that costs more than most men would see in their whole lifetime. “This was meant to take a few minutes at most, not a quarter of an hour.”

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Obi drawls, squinting at the words scrawled in front of him. He’ll give the clerk this much; he may be a prick, but his writing’s neat as a pin. Even if he might be more comfortable reading with a magnifying glass. “It’s come to my attention only idiots sign contracts they haven’t read first.”

Zen huffs, throwing himself into the nearest armchair. “You didn’t bother when you started working for me.”

“Yeah, and I got an earful for it.” He hands the page to Miss, who merely skims it before she sets it to the side, waiting for him to finish the next. “I figure now that I got stuff to lose, I should probably be more careful with it. Unless I want to go the way the last Marquis Conti went.”

There’s some more sighing at that, but he must make his point, since Zen only grumbles, “Well, just hurry it up. Otherwise everyone’s going to be wondering what you’re up to in here.”

Obi can’t help the grin that stretches his lips. “Doesn’t that only help our story? You know, lovers who can’t keep their hands off each other?”

With a waggle of his eyebrows, Zen’s skin flushes. “That’s--”

“I know that Izana says passion was supposed to rush us to the altar,” Miss interjects, taking the last page from his hands and signing her name with what looks more like chicken scratch than a name. “But I thought it was more...our friendship was sufficient courtship, not that we were eager to jump into bed. Or, I suppose, that we were eager to cover up just how quickly we took that leap.”

“W-why not both?” It’s with iron resolve that he clamps down on mentioning just how he’d like to fall into bed with Miss. “Though maybe it’s better the first way. More yearning. Makes sense why we’re turning the wedding night into a wedding afternoon--”

“Just sign it already,” Zen sighs. “Or else we’ll never make it to the party, and I spent forever planning it.”

“You’ll understand if you get married,” Obi tells him, signing his name primly, right next to Miss’s. He doesn’t think about how nicely they look next to each other. “Or when, if His Majesty gets his way.”

“Don’t remind me.” Zen jumps up from his chair, snatching the contract from his hands. Despite the theatrics, there’s a spring to his step, and the smallest hint of a smile on his lips. “Now get going already. I’m going to have to field enough questions about what you two were up to as it is.”

“Oh!” Miss leaps to her feet, cheeks flushed as she takes his arm. “People won’t really...?”

Zen’s grimace is his only answer.

“Best not to ask, Miss,” Obi assures her, brushing past the clerk at the door. “I hope there’s free booze.”

“What are you talking about?” Zen grumbles. “You can’t make guests pay at a wedding.”

Miss gives him an amused look. “You know,” Obi murmurs into her ear, “I think I could get used to this lord business.”

[hissterical-nyaan]

The Promise

Pairing - Bucky Barnes/Desi! Female reader

Warning - Angst, sad ending, more angst

Summary - Bucky Barnes broke one promise that meant the most to Y/N

Word count - 1.5K

A/N - This is my first ever fanfic, I am very anxious so please be gentle with me :) This was created purely to make y'all cry lol. This is a songfic of "Lag ja gale" of Lata Mangeshkar ji. I absolutely adore that song and found it quite fit for this story!!! Also English isn't my first language and there might be grammatical mistakes. Thanks to @soradragon for beta reading this and helping me complete it, you are a blessing. Love you 💙 happy reading folks!

It was  peaceful in Wakanda, a cool night had taken its place from the hot humid air of the day, the stars were shining bright and serenity hung in the air.  It was impossible to imagine what the next day would have in store for everyone. No one had a clue that tomorrow was the day that would change everyone's lives forever.

There was the sound of soft humming coming from the modest hut which housed the one and only the White Wolf and his lover.

Inside was you, singing songs softly in your mother’s tongue before the two would go to bed for the night. It was a nightly ritual the two of you shared. For Bucky had found your voice so soothing it would chase away the recurring nightmares that would haunt his sleep every night. Bucky Barnes was unable to sleep without his love in his arms, without her angelic voice singing for him, and without her soft hand weaving through his hair. 

You had an awful day today, throughout the day you felt anxious and restless. As if your mind has been screaming at you that something bad was about to transpire. You had no idea what, but it was bad. if there is one thing you hated most, it would be not knowing what will happen next.

You liked being prepared for everything! Your distressed state made you itch for your ma's presence and her wise words. So the next best thing to feel like she was there was to sing your ma's favourite song. It was a song you had  beautiful emotional memories attached to.

Lata ji's masterpiece ‘Lag ja gale’. The song that always left you peaceful.

"What's on your mind, chaand? No cheesy love songs today?" Bucky teased lightly, slightly puzzled by the song choice. Normally, you would sing more happy, sweet love songs when you were in a good mood, not to forget how out of character you acted the entire day. 

"Acha? You said you don't like my cheesy songs na, so I thought today I will comply with your wish and not sing my ‘overly romantic, Shona Babu songs.’”  You shot back, poking your tongue out as not to worry him. Bucky pouted slightly.

"Arre baba okay now don't pout, I was just joking. I will sing the cheesy songs again tomorrow, right now this song just feels right to me.” Hearing that, Bucky mumbled a quiet yes and snuggled deeper into you, holding you tightly and moving his head ever so slightly to listen to your voice.  

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hasin Raat Ho Na Ho

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Jaa Gale Ae Ae… (Embrace me, dear, who knows whether or not this beautiful night will ever come again. Maybe in this life we may or may not meet again)

You remember the first time you met Bucky, in Shuri's lab. You were a   good friend of Shuri. You were a researcher staying in Wakanda with T'challa's permission and eventually befriended the Princess. The two of you loved to talk about anything and nothing. One day Shuri told you about the Winter soldier staying here in Wakanda. You had heard many things about him, but never had you seen him in the flesh. Till you saw him come into the lab, bruised and eyes swiming full of emotions, but the distraught was the most clear in those blue piercing eyes.

It was at that moment that you had decided you would help him, and try to soothe the aches and scars that had been covering his fragile heart. He was put in the cryo soon after your first encounter, but you couldn't help but think about him often.

Ham Ko Mili Hain Aaj Ye, Ghadiyaan Nasib Se

Ji Bhar Ke Dekh Lijiye, Ham Ko Qarib Se

Phir Aap Ke Nasib Men, Ye Baat Ho Na Ho (I have been given today, this time by destiny. To your hearts content see me closely, who knows, if your destiny, may present this situation again.)

Six months later, Bucky came out of the cryo and on his request, was given a small hut away from the palace in the fields. You often saw him, with his tiny herd of goats. You remember how one tiny goat - which Bucky had endearingly called Steve -  was the one who caused you to talk to Bucky. Maybe that's why he was still your favourite goat, afterall he was responsible for giving you the love of your life.

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hasin Raat Ho Na Ho (Maybe, in this life, we may or may not meet again. Embrace me dear for this beautiful night may not come again)

Your phone rang suddenly. Bucky moved his head from your lap as you moved to get the phone, it was your brother who was calling you. It puzzled you, it was nearly midnight in India. "Y/N….jaldi aaja yaha… ma aur papa ki car crash ho gayi...I am so sorry, hum unhe bacha nahi paye." You went numb...The words didn’t make sense, you couldn’t make sense of them... Ma papa? No, no this can't be happening. You...you just talked to your mom a few hours ago! Bucky’s arms wrapped around you, holding you so close. He whispered some words into your ear trying to soothe you. But you couldn’t hear them, your mind just kept repeating your brother’s words inside your head like a mantra. That’s when the tears fell, soaking Bucky’s shirt. You didn’t remember you screamed. 

Paas Aaiye Ki Ham Nahin Aaenge Baar-Baar

Baahen Gale Men Daal Ke Ham Ro Le Zaar-Zaar

Aankhon Se Phir Ye Pyaar Ki Barsaat Ho Na Ho (Come closer to me, as I will not be able to come to you every time. Put your arms around me and let us cry our hearts out. Who knows, if our eyes will ever see these tears of love again.)

You couldn’t imagine what you would be without Bucky, your Bucky. He was your rock, You couldn't live a day without him. From the day you confessed your love for each other till today, not a day has gone where he wasn't showering you with love. Even through all his trauma and pain, he did his absolute best to be there for you, his sweet, sweet Y/N.

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hassin Raat Ho Na Ho

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hassin Raat Ho Na Ho (Maybe, in this life, we may or may not meet again. Embrace me dear for this beautiful night may not come again)

Remembering the past left you in an emotional mess, you didn't even realise when the waterworks started.

"Chaand? Hey, no shhh why are you crying? Is everything okay? Talk to me."

"Bucky?"

"Haan chaand?"

"Promise me that you will never leave me." You uttered in a broken whisper

"I promise."

He broke that promise. Bucky Barnes broke his promise and left his chaand. It happened so fast, the Avengers fighting Thanos, and suddenly everyone turning into dust.

You felt helpless and scared, numb and cold. what was happening? Bucky had told you to not come out of the palace unless told. He didn't want you to be in harm's way. No, his Y/N was too precious, he can't risk it. You reluctantly agreed, but you weren't of much use on the battlefield anyway. You just hoped your love would return to you very soon.

Steve broke the news, and your whole world collapsed in front of your eyes.

"Steve, no..no it can't be... please tell me you are lying. This isn't the time to joke around! Where is he!?" you couldn't help but scream at him. All your dreams, hopes and future with Bucky shattered. He was gone, in just a snap.  It couldn’t be real, this was a sick joke. that had to be it. A sick joke…

But deep inside, you knew it was real. All of it was real. The world around you seemed to crumble, all of it came down, it was as if someone let a glass cup fall and it shattered in a million pieces. Unable to be put back together again…

Now you had no one, no mom and dad, no Bucky...He was your rock wasn't he? He wasn't supposed to go...

After a few days, Steve offered to take you to America with him. The least he could do for his pal was to make sure the girl who had his heart was taken care of. But you couldn't go, it was too painful. Brooklyn will always remind you of Bucky, and you promised him when the time came to go back to his home, you will go together. No, unlike him Y/N L/N knew how to keep her promise.

You went back to India, to start a new life. A miserable one. If only you would have known that the last song you’ve sung to him would come true. 

You never sang your mother's favourite song again

Tagging - @spiderrpcrker @a-dragon-under-the-stars @lil-stark @jacquessouvenier @soradragon (I hope you won't mind me tagging you!) And I also hope you liked it :))

Translations (please let me know if I forgot to translate something) -

Chaand - Moon (an affectionate term in this context)

Acha - Really (in this context, it can mean many things otherwise)

"Y/N….jaldi aaja yaha… ma aur papa ki car crash ho gayi...I am so sorry, hum unhe bacha nahi paye." - "Y/N please come fast here, mom and dad were in an car crash, I am so sorry but we couldn't save them" (ma = mom, papa = dad)

Haan - yes

[zahraguillory]

Stillness Amidst Chaos

Open Starter

Location: Refugee Camp

TW: Loss(parental, familial, sibling, children) (note: don’t have to match; only have to respond to the part at the refugee camp really lol sorry, got a little long)

“The Glasswater Masquerade? Why must I attend this year?”

It was well-known that every year the Elysi Royal Family, the Stonewards, threw a glorious party out of Glasswater Keep. It was a festive occasion to celebrate a season of life just after the Spring Festival itself. Of course, every year the invitations made their rounds and the prestigious families, whether of nobility or royalty, made decisions about how to represent themselves at the gathering. Zahra had been lucky in the years since her sister Fatima, the Crown Princess, had started a family to not have to attend any royal function unless she chose. For the most part, she usually went to the masquerade — it was an opportunity to showcase a new, and daring, outfit to outdo the year before — but this year her projects at the Rashmi Citadel were starting to accumulate and the chance to work on them in peace would be nice. The plan was to sail for Amrit, settle in her little cottage in Lata, and put her nose to the grindstone.

Until now.

“Your mother would like you there. If it’d be more amenable, you can consider your attendance to be as a representative of the Magaesterium Council.”

The suggestive note in her stepmother’s voice did not go unnoticed. Misaki had always known how best to soothe the rebellious voice inside Zahra’s head. Though there was also something else in her stepmother’s eyes that made her feel this was more important than just wanting her to be there. Sighing, she acquiesced to the pressure.

___________________

The ball was loud, as usual. People were twirling on the dance floor in an array of colors. The outfit she’d worn this evening would definitely have tongues wagging as it’d surpassed last year's outfit which pleased Zahra greatly. The crescent moon cloak she wore was open down the middle to reveal the front of her nearly sheer lilac gown as she stood just outside of the ballroom doors enjoying some fresh air, and a glass of wine, after finishing two back-to-back dances. Little tendrils of amethyst hair had escaped the elaborate, thick braid and a lacquered black nail was used to tuck them back behind an ear. Something glinted off the starry artwork painted on her nail, pulling her gaze toward it just a second before the world turned upside down.

Something slammed into her from behind. Ears ringing, screams seeming to come from everywhere as her palms scraped against cool stone. Managing only to crawl just a couple feet in the direction of the ballroom when something struck her on the head. . .  and the lights went out.

___________________

Glimpses of chaos and horror. That’s all Zahra remembered by the time they made it to the refugee camp. Blood matted hair coated in debris and dust against the side of her head, staining her dress and cloak in various places, heels lost to the rubble as she fought her way through — not just for herself though — to get out alive. The blood wasn’t all her own. No, some of it was from the injured and the dead. Some of it from the enemy. Some of it. . .

Brown eyes stared down at the two figures laid out before her, their too young faces covered in a mixture of dust, blood, and tears. She’d tried so hard to save her niece and nephew; just young children of 18 and 17 with their whole lives ahead of them. Sweet Alix-Mari and Javed had been terrified when she found them. ‘Everything will be alright, I promise’ she’d said to them, but had failed. How would she explain this to her sister and brother-in-law when they were found? If they were found. And where were her own mothers? Zahra sat there barely aware of what went on around her, shaking from trauma and a head injury as she waited for some word of the rest of her family. She couldn’t go home without them.

A hand cautiously touched her shoulder and there was. . . mumbling. Was someone asking her a question?

[lifeofbouyd]

Mother-in-law

Sometimes I look back at my life and wonder if I made the right decisions. Like, did I do the right thing by leaving her? What if we were still together, what would our kids look like? Maybe I think about it too much or maybe I didn’t think about it enough. But I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks about things like these. We all have that one “X” we wonder about sometimes.

“Sometimes mi think mi salt to rass eno”. But at the end of the day, it is what it is. I had seen this chick a few times while I was in sixth grade, but I had never gotten a chance to say hi. She’d either turn her head away whenever she saw me or looked right through me when our eyes met. I left my school early several times just so I could see her in the evenings. If you asked me, she was my girlfriend long before I even knew her name. I stalked her for weeks before her stupid ass boyfriend decided I should stop coming to see her. Like, who the fuck he think he is? I was checking out his girl and he be cockblocking. Nigga had the audacity to collar me, threaten me then shove my face off. I warned him, fixed my collar and acted like he didn’t shove my face off. Thinking he would walk away feeling like a winner. Instead, he thought I turned the other cheek. Again he shoved my face off, this time I almost fell. With my temper in my head and my blood boiling in my veins, I used him to uninstall half the bathroom decor. Tucked my shirt in and walked out. Walking like I owned the place. I was approached by at least twelve of his friends with all of who had sticks and stones. Call me a fool if you want but I ran for my life. Through the gate and over the bushes. As much as I wanted her I didn’t think she was worth the trouble at the time. After all, there’s no way I could win that fight. I called it a loss and dodged that side of town completely.

I hadn’t seen her for about three years so I had forgotten completely. Out of sight out of mind as they would always say. My brother invited me to a party one evening. Claiming there will be girls waiting for me. Of course I went, I had nothing else to do. I got dressed up and pulled up like we owned the place. So many girls I didn’t even know who to talk to. I had to be easing them off.

Bro: Yow bro, I got a girl I want you to meet.

Me: How she look?

Bro: Come and see

I went with expectations of meeting anyone, as I had no idea who I was gonna meet.

Bro: Meet Chin

At the time her back was turned so I anticipated her face. She looks pretty from back but when she turned to say hi I almost fainted. I couldn’t even talk.

Chin: I think I’ve seen you somewhere before. Do you know me? I stood there in amazement, looking at her from head to toe. Are you ok?

In my mind, I answered her several times but in reality, my mouth scratched like an old tape.

She couldn’t help but laugh when I finally said hi. After standing there for so long even I thought I was dumb. We talked and talked and talked some more about shit I don’t even remember. Within minutes we knew everything about each other. Just like that, she became my girlfriend. We exchanged numbers as I was about to leave and received a kiss on the cheek. Overwhelmed with excitement I couldn’t even sleep that night. I finally got the girl I wanted so badly. We spent most of our nights on the phone and texted right throughout the day. I was head over heels for her, balls deep in love. I couldn’t even sleep if we were mad. For a week we arranged link ups to take her virginity but something always came up. She could hardly ever leave the house so I decided I’d go take her virginity there. Her mom was cool but sure as hell she was no fool. She realized what I was up to from early and she tried everything in her power to stop it. Whenever I came by she’d ensure she found something for her to do or try to insult her so I wouldn’t like her. The harder she fought me out, the harder I tried. Funny thing about this, she kept calling me son-in-law to my face then. I was baring the name and not playing the game.

Eventually, she went to the market one weekend, leaving her to oversee her younger siblings. I had nothing but myself holding me back that day and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna stop my own progress. As soon as night fell I was in her bed. Kissing on her neck, grabbing on her ass, hickeys on her breast, hickeys on her sides. I slowly rubbed my tongue along her shoulder while squeezing her nipples. I made her beg me to take her virginity. With gentle rubs and soft strokes, I stole her virginity. She “meowed” like a cat and moved like a snake until she vibrated like a phone. Somehow her grandmother saw me leaving in the morning and that was a whole “nother” drama. She got beaten so bad I thought she was stung by a bee. They wanted her to retrieve her virginity as if it was something she could pop back in. They were under her skin, trying to find out who’d run away with the prize. No matter what they said or threatened to do, she never ratted me out. I didn’t see her until weeks after that. Looking freshly painted and even thicker than the last time I had seen her. Again she invited me over. It would seem she had forgotten that twenty-eight inch machete across her body. Either way, I was dying to fuck her so of course I showed up. Just as I was about to leave her stepfather came. Knocking the door as if he was a police. I dodged under the bed with the twenty eight inch machete, premeditating to slap the shit out of him if he caught me. After trying to convince her to leave me he left. He claimed her mother hated my guts and wanted me thrown in juvie. I fucked her again and again before spitefully falling asleep. I passed her mother on the road while going home and again she called me her handsome son in-law. Asking when last I had seen her daughter as if she thought I was a fool. I played it cool. Acting like I was unaware of her “fuckery”.

She hated me so much she got her a man. Now that’s just fucked up. Crushing my dream like that and she still had the guts to call me her son-in-law. I wanted to slap her so hard so many times and I wanted to slap her daughter for taking the bate. For months I never spoke to her. Acting as if she never existed. I was doing fine till her boyfriend said no one could take his girl, even if they tried. I wanted to hit them where it hurts. Her, Her mom, stepdad, grandma, and boyfriend. I spent weeks premeditating my revenge. Finally, I caught her alone one night in her grandmother’s washroom. I didn’t even wait for an invitation. I banged her hard against the machine causing her to scream. We ended up in his bedroom in her grandma’s house where I banged her till my heart was pleased. I walked out of his room fixing up my clothes only to see her grandma and mom sitting in the living room. They had this what the fuck just happened kinda look on their face. They thought it was her boyfriend inside. With a smirk on my face, I said good evening like I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Me: Mother-in-law, lata eno.

I could see her heart melt in her chest as I stepped through the door and that made me feel like I had won. Her grandma couldn’t even talk. And as for her boyfriend who was playing music outside, he almost fainted when he saw me. He knew what just happened and he knew he had lost his bet. All that talk about his girlfriend. A total waste of time. Would you believe he chased me all the way home? Threatening to punch me in the face for fucking his girl on his bed. I had nothing on me at the time so of course I ran like a coward. Her mom beat her purple and he punched her in the eye. This made me furious, I wanted to kill them. I grabbed the machete I had taken from them months back and jumped on my bike. I rode breathless to her house to defend her. He came out like he was don, the kingpin, the big man. He attacked me with a bread knife and in seconds he was on his back. I raised the machete to off with his head but she begged me not to kill him. I punched him in the face several times before escaping in nearby bushes on my bike. it was the talk of the town as I had brought them shame. I dodged that side for months before going back and when I did, it was just the same again. I’d fuck her whenever, wherever and there’s nothing her mom could do about it. Eventually, she gave up. She realized there was no stopping us from being together. Life was good, but like everything else in my life, I fucked that up too. I don’t even remember why or how we broke up after going through so much shit back then. We planned on having kids and getting married. Somewhere along the line life happened. No wedding, no kids, no communication. Just an “X” mother-in-law who will always hate me.

Over the years I’ve realized that there will always be someone trying to fuck things up for you. But if you really want it, do everything in your power to have it. Enjoy life a little. Make memories, make mistakes and have no regrets.

[writingforweirdlings]

Shield-maiden Within

Summary: Reader is a Saxon woman who doesn’t like the whole ‘a woman can’t do what men do’ thing and so she runs away… with the vikings, and Bjorn trains her.

Characters: Reader, Bjorn Ironside, Ragnar Lothrbrok, Floki

Fandom: Vikings

Word Count: 1936

Disney Movie Writing Challenge, @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen 

AN: I think this is the longest thing I have ever written but I hope you guys still like it even thought the ending is crap...

I hate it!

I couldn’t do what I wanted because I was a woman and according to the men we shouldn’t diddle daddle in the ‘masculine area.” Bunch of nonsense if you ask me.

I walked into my room and slammed the door. I threw myself on my bed and lay there staring at the ceiling. If I can’t pursue what I want there’s no point in sticking around any longer.

I sat up at my realization. I ran to my closet and started pulling out a travel bag and filling it with clothes I might need. I quickly changed out of my dress and into some pants and a shirt. I slipped my boots on and then went to look at myself in the mirror.

Should I cut my hair? I shook my head and instead started to braid it. I looked out of my window and noticed it had gotten darker out, perfect.

I put my cloak on and grabbed my bag. I raised the hood and then very quietly left my room. I made sure to avoid the guards that were around.

I made it out of the castle and into the forest before it hit me that I had nowhere to go and no food. “Shit.” I looked around, “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“You should try being quieter for one,” I froze.

“Who are you?” I looked around.

“What are you doing out of your castle?” they questioned.

“I’m running away,” I respond.

“Without any food rations?” they sounded a little amused.

“Well I didn’t really plan it out, it was a last minute kind of thing,” I explained. “Wait! Why am I telling you any of this? I don’t even know who you are.”

I heard a branch breaking and turned around to see a very very tall man looking at me. With the moonlight I was able to see his features, he had blonde hair, a strong jawline and enchanting blue eyes. What can I say, I’m a sucker for blue eyes.

“My name is Bjorn,” he stepped a little closer to me, looking me up and down.

“Y/N,” I extend my hand for him to shake, he just stares at it and I pull my hand back. “So, you're one of the pagans?” I give him a once over. “I thought you vikings were supposed to be scarier.”

“Do I not frighten you?” He stalks towards me.

I walk backwards and stop when my back touches something. I jump away, bumping into Bjorn and looking behind me.

“It is just a tree,” he says with not so well hidden amusement.

“Yeah well for all I know it could have been something dangerous,” I say looking back at him. “Sorry,” I try to pull away but he grabs hold of me.

“Why were you running away?” he asks in complete seriousness.

“My father wouldn’t let me train with the guards, said it wasn’t a woman’s place to be around weapons or doing what men do,” I mimic his voice. “Anyway, he always said the same thing when I asked so I decided to leave,” I finish.

“Come on,” he says pulling me with him.

“Wait! Where are you taking me?” I start trying to get out of his hold.

He takes my bag and throws me over his shoulder, taking me to wherever it is he’s going. What have I gotten myself into?

I stare at the ground as we walk, we don’t say anything to each other.

I start to hear voices and I assume we’re getting closer to the place.

“What have you got there Bjorn?” I hear someone ask.

“A bear, what does it look like I have,” he retorts.

I smack his butt, “don’t you dare compare me to a bear again viking!” I yell at him.

“You weigh almost as much as one,” the amusement has returned.

“You look and smell like one!” I smack him again.

“Keep that up and I might just take you somewhere more private,” he smacks my butt in return.

“Why-why you-how dare you insinuate such a thing!” I yell and start hitting his back and squirming around.

“Bjorn what are you doing with Lord Y/L/N‘s daughter?” Bjorn sets me down and I look around and your eyes fall unto the sea blue eyes of one of the men. Such beauty.

“I found her in the woods alone,” Bjorn responds dropping my bag on the ground.

“Why didn’t you take her back to her home,” blue eyes looks at me. I feel like he’s looking into my soul.  Oh great now I got chills.

“It is home I am running from,” I speak up.

“Why would you want to leave your home? You have everything you need there,” he scrutinizes me.

“I have everything but my freedom to do as I please,” I respond.

“And what is it you want to do?” another man asks.

“I want to learn to fight but my father never let me, he would say that the guards would protect me if it ever came to it but what will happen when they are all killed? Who will protect me then?” I confidently answer.

“Hmm,” he looks at Bjorn.

“Eg vil ad pjalfa hana,” (I want to train her) He says in his native tongue.

“Pu vilt hana ad koma med okkur eins vel ” (You want her to come with us as well)

“Ja” (yes)

I look around the camp and look at one the men, he seems unstable, I think as he fidgets not staying still for long.

“You will stay with Bjorn. He will look after you and train you,” I look back to the depth of those sea blue.

“I didn’t catch your name,” I blurt out.

“I am Ragnar,” he smiles a little.

“As in The Ragnar?” I look at him with wide eyes.

“You’ve heard of me,” he states, smile growing.

“Who hasn’t?! I mean you’re like one of the greatest fighters to ever live!” I start bouncing on my feet. “Wait! If you Ragnar and you're Bjorn that means… I’ll be trained by the legend's son,” I look between them and I start jumping up and down. I hug Bjorn and then run over and hug Ragnar. Both men are too startled to do anything.

“Sorry, I got really excited. This is exciting!” I say with a huge smile.

“You won’t be too excited after tomorrow,” Bjorn laughs.

“Shut it Legend Jr.,” I push him, with little to no effect.

“You should get some rest, tomorrow will be a long day,” Ragnar says looking at us.

Bjorn nods and I still have the huge smile on my face. He pulls me lightly by the arm and leads me to his tent. We get in and he gestures for me to take the bed.

“Where will you sleep?” I ask him.

“The floor will do just fine,” he answers.

“It’s your tent you should sleep in your bed and I’ll take the floor,” I step away from the bed.

“No. You’re sleeping in the bed,” he says with determination.

“Fine but you have to sleep with me,” I say. “No! Not like that, I meant we would share the bed… in a comrade way, fully clothed,” I finish awkwardly.

He looks at me for a bit and then burst out laughing.

“It’s not that funny,” I feel my face get hot. He just keeps laughing.

He sobers up and wipes away some stray tears. “We’ll share the bed,” he says.

He starts taking off some of his clothes and boots. When he takes his shirt off I turn around with cherry red cheeks. I take my cloak and boots off and then lay down on the bed. I scooted to the farther end so Bjorn could lay down.

Skip Awkward Night and now it’s Training Day

I was surprisingly very comfortable considering I was sleeping on a bed, on the floor. I snuggled closer to the warmth that was surrounding me.

At that moment, I felt something tighten around me, I froze. What do I do?! I opened my eyes only to be greeted by someone’s very naked chest. My eyes widened and I slowly moved my head up.

That is a mighty nice jawline. I think to myself. Wait! Bjorn has a very nice jawline… oh right duh I’m in his tent. I start to relax but then it hit me, Bjorn has his arms wrapped around me.

I try to wiggle my way out of his embrace but he only tightens his grip on me. I manage to get an arm out and I try to take his arms off but it doesn’t go as planned.

“Trying to get away I see,” I freeze at the sound of his voice.

“I was just-” he nuzzles my neck.

“You were what?” he keeps nuzzling.

“Training!” I blurt out. “We’re uh training today and I just wanted to uh go out and you know stretch.”

“Mmm,” is all I get in response but he does let go of me.

He lays back with his hands behind his head, smirking at me, Hel damn you Bjorn. I think to myself as I crawl over his body to get out of the bed. He wore that stupid smug grin on his face the whole while. I change into new clothes, I’ve never been one to be shy of my body because let’s be honest I am GORGEOUS!

Bjorn raises his eyebrows but looks away, how gentlemanly.

After I get dressed I go out of the tent but stop immediately, because I have no idea where I’m going. After a few minutes Bjorn comes out of the tent, walking past me so I follow hoping he’ll lead me to the food and he does.

Another Time Skip

Bjorn was teaching me the basics of fighting the ‘viking way’ and after that he handed me a shield and an axe.

I look at them and weigh them each in my hand, shield’s pretty heavy but I can do this, I tell myself.

I take the stance he showed me before and I look to him. He nods his head and lunges at me.

I hold my shield up to block his attack, he stops and backs away giving me the chance to attack him and I do. I’ve never fought before but I would watch the guards when they train so I had a slight advantage but that was nothing compared to how the vikings fight.

He blocks me with his shield and moves away from me. I charge at him and he holds his shield up so I duck under and cut him on his leg, nothing too serious, but he stumbles a little.

He looks at me with wide eyes. That’s right Legend Jr. I did just did that. I smirk at him and go back for more.

We keep this up until lunch time, by then we both have a bit of blood on us but they aren’t serious injuries so we’re fine.

“She did that to you?” I look up at the new voice, he’s the guy that wouldn’t stop fidgeting from last night.

“Eg lata hana gera petta vid mig,” (I let her do this to me) I narrow my eyes at Bjorn but he just laughs with the other man.

“Come on let’s eat,” Bjorn nudges me with his shoulder.

I follow him to the spot from this morning. I might not be one of them but I think I could fit in nicely, given time.

Tag List: @uncomfortable-writers @archer-whovian-violinist @brok3nsurvivor 

[infinitheismworld]

Let Your Passion Be Your Profession…

"Find a work in which you find that inner expression, you find happiness in it."

This is the voice of Mahatria… Welcome to discover a new you… Wishing you most and more…

Find a work in which you find that inner expression, you find happiness in it. Make the world recognize that expression of yours, you find success in it. Offer the results you produce through that work unto him, you find God in it.

Which means when I choose an expression in life where, my work itself becomes my source of happiness, my work itself becomes my source of success, and my work itself becomes my source of experiencing the divine, because my self-expression gives my happiness, I’m making the world recognize. The excitement I get when I play snooker, somehow nothing in life gives me. You should be doing snooker parlor business. That’s what you should be doing. And isn’t it nice for what do you like playing others come and pay? Truth be told, I like talking, and I make the whole world pay for my talks. Isn’t it beautiful? You do what you like, and the world pays you for that.

Pele asked this question, when he played the first season of football and at the end of the season when he got paid, Pele asked this question. You mean I get paid for playing football? Isn’t it beautiful? You can do in your life what you like the most and for that the world pays you. Your hobby should become your profession. If eating is your hobby, that has to be your profession. If dressing; somehow even when I’m talking, you’re not listening to the talk you’re only checking whether I’m wearing the right pajama kurta, whether the combination is right, you should be in that business, you should be a designer.

Somewhere, wherever you see your eyes only looks at whether his shoulders are developed, biceps is OK or not, whether his equator is coming out or it’s in the middle, you should be in gym business, you should be a yoga teacher. Some of the fulfillment I get, when I listen to chanting, when I meditate, when I see people in faith, when I go to the ashram. Somehow the fulfillment that I get nothing gives me. That has to be your future. Set a goal 40, 48, 50, 52, create enough for the generation and walk the path of your peace. I repeat you get only one chance to be yourself.

In Jewish scriptures there is such a beautiful reference to it. They say, when you eventually die and go to God, God will not ask you why you did not become a Messiah. But he will ask you, why you didn’t live as you. I sent you to earth for you to be you and why didn’t you live as you. A time was there in the world when a Jesus Christ was required a Jesus Christ was sent. A time was there in the world when a Prophet was required, a Prophet was sent. A time in the world when a JRD was required a JRD was sent.  A time in the world when a Lata was required, and a Lata was sent. A time in the world when a Rafi was required a Rafi was sent. A time was there in the world when you were required and that’s why you were sent.

They all did something very significant with their life because they celebrated their originality. In fact I’ve asked this question whenever I watch a live music concert. Hey he sings exactly like Mohammed Rafi, why he didn’t get so much break-through? I realized he sings like Mohammed Rafi, he is not original. Rafi was original, he sang like him. In fact if he had sang like him, he would have a future. But he chose to be a duplicate in life, when he would have chosen to be the original. This is me. This is how I speak. A little South Indian Brahmin tongue in my pronunciation, this is me.

Just imagine even my speech will stink unto my own years, just in order to impress you, all try to put up an accent and speak as if I’m come just now from America and tell you guys and girls happiness man. I cannot say Orange, Orange… My own son asked me after listening to a speech of mine when he was six years old. Appa, spell water, ‘I said WATER, he said then why whenever you say waterrr,’ as if there are three four R’s there, but that is me. Don’t ask me to be anybody else, this is me.

I will keep a bearded photo and come without beard. This is me. In fact, you are peaceful only being yourself. Think about in all of you sitting here, I’m not asking you to celebrate me. In fact, in no program of mine I want you to come and celebrate me. I want you to come and celebrate yourself. You are my subject. Think about it, I don’t care how many programs you have attended of mine. Think about it. When you leave my program, you won’t think of me. You’ll think of yourself and your life and leave. Because you are the subject in my program. And I want all of you to realize, you want to be happy you have to be happy with yourself.  

[sabraeal]

1) Congratulations on your 300+ followers! 2) my prompt would be: "When there's nothing left to burn you have to set yourself on fire." (from Your ex-lover is dead by the Stars) you may take it however you wish.

The Daisy Chain: Chapter 5

It hits her like a slap, seeing Mitsuhide posted in front of her door.

Wistal and Wilant jut together unpleasantly in her mind, overlaying each other in way that is both familiar and yet not. She’s seen Mitsuhide stand this way, Kiki to the other side, an endless number of times, but she’s never seen him in Wilant castle, never seen him stand with his back so straight, his mouth so serious.

For a moment, it’s like they both forget where they are, why she is standing in the hall, barefoot, and he is standing guard outside her room. His mouth splits in a cheerful smile, opening to call out to her, but then his eyes drop, catching the thin muslin of her shift and the way Obi’s thick dressing robe is cinched tight around her.

It’d been necessary, when she’d pulled the shift over her head and seen how damp it was between her legs. Her brow had furrowed, wondering how – but then she feels the phantom of his thighs between hers, how she had ground down against him as she took him in her hand –

The robe covers it, at least.

Mitsuhide’s eyes round, and she can seem him remembering what just happened moments ago, how he has seen what lies beneath –

His gaze darts away. “Zen is waiting.”

“I…” She presses her lips together, fighting the flush that burns up her neck. “Thank you.”

Kiki, for her part, says nothing. Shirayuki dares a glance up at her, but –

But there is no judgement there, only a strange sort of grief. When their eyes meet, she offers her a wistful smile.

Shirayuki steps through the door, and wonders why this feels like a goodbye.

Her room is as she left it – bed neatly made and desk a mess; the only thing out of place is –

Is Zen.

As soon as he sees her, he stands, hands bursting out from his side in a nervous motion. “I forgive you.”

She stares. “Excuse me?”

“I forgive you,” he repeats, more firmly, as if it might make him believe it. “I don’t – what happened is in the past now. I – we can move past this. Together.”

“Move…past this?” She expected him to rage, to call her a host of things, none of them polite and probably half of them well-deserved, but she didn’t expect this. Forgiveness.

She should have. Zen is a good man; a calm, even thinker now that the years taken some of the heat from his temper. And he would never – never use the words others have flung at her. Even in anger he would not have thought them.

“I…” His mouth works, as if the words have stuck to the roof it, a bitter taffy he can’t expel. “I love you.”

“Zen,” she breathes, and it’s like his name is the chill of the wind in how it burns her lungs, how it makes them frozen and stiff in her chest.

“That’s what I came here to tell you.” He paces, just between her chair and her bed, but it’s enough to tell her how restless he is, how nervous. “I want to be with you, to stand beside you. I want you to be my wife, Shirayuki.”

Oh, such words should not pain her so much, not when she had wanted them so badly. Even days ago, she would have –

– she would have –

Would she?

Every part of her goes cold when she ask, “When did you know?”

He stops, finally, his face every bittersweet moment between them, eyes shining. “I’ve always –”

“No.” The ice might swallow her whole, the way rime collects on her skin, the way her blood freezes in her veins. “When did you know that was why you came?”

“Shirayuki –”

“Was it when you left,” she asks, tasting the barbs on her tongue as she speaks, “or was it when you saw me with Obi?”

It’s Obi who always told her to look, that a man spills his soul the moment between a question asked and his answer, and oh, oh, the way Zen looks pained, looks tortured, that is all the answer she needs.

“I…see.”

“You asked me here,” he spits, cheeks flushed. “You said –”

“I said if you wanted my hair, you could come get it yourself.” She’s so cold she barely notices the way her nails bite into her palms. “And after two years, here you are.”

Even the silence stings.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, though he won’t meet her eyes, not now. “I didn’t – I wasn’t here for hair.”

“I know.” Salt pricks at her eyes, but tears won’t fall. Maybe this all would be easier if they did. “It wasn’t the hair, it was the gesture.”

He stares at her, uncomprehending.

“You have only ever been you, Zen,” she tells him, every word torn from her. “And you’ve always – always known the grand gesture to make. You’ve always known how to – to kneel at my feel, to sweep me into your arms, to say all the right things. That’s who you are.”

“I don’t –”

“But at the end of the day, it’s all just gestures.” She wipes at her eyes. “I wonder sometimes if that’s all we’ve known how to do, to just do what needs to be done in the moment.”

Zen blinks. “I don’t understand. Is there something –?”

“I loved you because you always knew what to say. What I wanted you to say.” Her breath breaks from her, ragged. “But we’ve never known how to be. How to – to have something underneath that. We did all the right things, said all the right things, and then it’s all – all hollow underneath.”

“That’s not true.” He steps toward her then, color high on his cheeks. She’s gotten under his skin, just like Izana. “You’re saying this because you’re – you’re hurting. I haven’t – I haven’t given you the same assurances you’ve given me, because I’ve been – been scared.”

His gaze meets hers then, an endless blue. “We can fix this, Shirayuki. That’s what we do best. I can do better. We can both do better.”

Zen holds out his hand, just like he always has, waiting for her to grasp it, to come to him.

And she’s tempted, so tempted. Going to him would be easy. She’s started over so many times; chosen to work harder, work better, all for the goal of being by his side, and – and there’s a purpose in that. There’s a real, tangible goal, and in all her months of wavering, there has been the problem – without Zen, there’s no purpose to all this, to pushing herself so far only to give up, right when she’s being offered what she wants –

Something creeps down her leg, sticky and warm, slicking her thighs, and she – she –

She can’t go back from this. She can’t make it not happen.

She remembers the way she felt, her first days at Lyrias, rolling out of the wrong side of bed, always forgetting to turn on her burner at night, feeling like everyone was looking at her like she was under a microscope. And then opening her door to see Obi’s narrow back, shoulders hunch and face masked, relief flooding through her.

And once that is on her mind, there’s a thousand others waiting: Suzu lifting her up into the air as they fuse seed and stone; Lata rolling his eyes as she nearly slips out of the saddle, a hopeless student; Yuzuri smiling as they settling in the baths, arguing who has filled out more on Lyrias’s rich dinners; Ryuu forlornly staring at the space under his desk, too big to fit; Shidan smiling at her, proud like a father, as he tells her she’s gotten a spot at Wilant; and Obi –

Obi’s heart beating beneath her ear, the last thing she hears before she falls asleep on the coldest nights.

Maybe….

Maybe she doesn’t need a purpose. Not beyond living her life, on her terms, appreciating every moment.

Maybe it would not have been her choice to come here, not without Zen, but –

But it had been her choice to stay. She had made that one with Obi. And it could be her choice to stay again, made all on her own.

Her voice lilts strangely as she asks, “What about Obi?”

A muscle in his jaw tics. “What about Obi?”

“Is he…” She hates that she is even asking. “Is he forgiven?”

There is a single moment where Zen is deathly still, his face bone white, and that’s an answer too.

“Of course.” It’s not a lie, but Zen has never been good at telling the truth to himself. “I’m sure it was all…confusing. He wasn’t trying to…hurt anyone.”

He shifts back a step, halting. “You were lonely, and he loves you. He was only –”

“What.” Her heart pounds painfully in her chest. “How could you –? You can’t know that.”

“Of course I can,” Zen says loftily. “He told me –”

He stills, realizing his mistake. “That isn’t how it sounds.”

“You sent him up here, knowing –?” She shakes her head, trying to shake the briars from her thoughts. “You didn’t even tell me. I could have –” Her hands flex. “If I had known –”

“Obi would have never wanted you to treat him differently.” She knows he’s right, she does, but still, still – “And it wasn’t supposed to matter anyway.”

That gives her pause. “Was this – did you send him as a test?”

He gapes at her, and she knows, she knows it had never occurred to him consciously, oh no, but – but –

But in the end, he is Izana’s brother, and the Wisteria blood always runs true.

“You can’t think I would have predicted this,” he says finally, and now the bitterness wins out. “I certainly didn’t – didn’t mean for it to be a test, but even when I thought – I thought something might happen, I didn’t imagine –”

“You didn’t imagine what?” Her voice is flat, dead, a fox’s corpse in the snow.

“I didn’t imagine I’d come up here and find him – him –”

She waits.

“In you.” His hands tremble at his sides. “I never imagined you’d both betray my trust, not like that.”

“Betray you?” The accusation stings because it’s true. “You abandoned me –”

“Abandoned?” He opens his mouth, but then stills, the bluster slowly draining from him. “Is that what you thought? That I – that I no longer…”

He can’t bring himself to speak.

“What was I supposed to think?” she asks softly, gaze dropping to the carpet beneath them. “You barely wrote, and when you did, it wasn’t…” Her shoulders bow under the weight of her confession. “It wasn’t personal. I didn’t need love letters, but they weren’t – they weren’t the letters of a man in love, either.”

“It always seemed to be enough,” he admits. “I was always so focused elsewhere, and it was nice to not have to…to put in so much effort. I was glad we understood each other so easily.”

“I think, maybe,” she ventures, shyly lifting her gaze to his, “maybe we never really did. Not truly.”

Zen rubs at his face, sinking down onto her bed. “Was this always to fail from the start?”

She knows, even if she doesn’t know him as she should, that he is thinking of every warning Izana ever gave him.

“No.” She comes to him then, crouching down in front of him. “No, we loved each other, we did. We just…both took each other for granted. And perhaps we could have saved this, had we known, but…”

“It’s too far gone,” he agrees. “It’s like…rot in one of your plants. It can never truly be cut out.”

“No,” she sighs. “It can’t.”

“I would always remember tonight.” His hand fists around the edge of his coat. “I would never be certain…”

“And I would never know if you had forgiven me, fully.” Thinking about it turns her stomach. “I would always wonder if you paid attention to me because you wanted to, or because you were afraid to lose me.”

“Both, honestly.” He stands, letting out a heavy sigh. “Do you think…we could be friends still?”

“Yes.” She means it, whole-heartedly. “Not…now. While the wounds are fresh. But…in time.” She smiles sadly. “I think we always made better friends than lovers.”

He lets out a snort.

“Are you…?” She hesitates. “Are you going to stay?”

“For a time.” He lets out a breath. “With Mother, I think.”

“That’s…good.”

“Mm.” He looks back over his shoulder, eyes fixed to a knot in the floor just in front of her. “You should visit Wistal. Next winter. Get away from all this cold.”

She smiles wistfully at the same knot. “I’d like that.”

“Obi too, of course.” His voice cracks as he says, “After all, I’ve missed the both of you.”