#A Gift for Amma

[honeylavendermilktea]

my mother blessed me with 3 beautiful things:

1) my looks and body

2) the ability to fall asleep quickly

3) the ability to poop quickly.

[pastel0rchid]

A Gift from the Gods (3)

Hiccup x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.4K (Sorry it's short, this was a bit of a filler chapter)

Warnings: Descriptions of stitching wounds

A/N: 'Amma' means Grandmother in Old Norse. I searched this up on Google, so if somehow anybody knows Old Norse and it's incorrect, please tell me XD

Previous Chapter .~.~. Next Chapter

Stab, tug, pull.

Stab, tug, pull.

Stab, tug, pull.

These movements had become monotonous after the first few stitches. A scrap of leather placed between your gritted teeth as a muffled grunt of pain occasionally breaks the silence of the hut you had been dragged to.

Throughout the fiery agony that licks up your arm, your eyes remain squinted into a glare at the blond Viking tasked with keeping tabs on you. The rope, thankfully, remains in his hands instead of around your wrists. The elder, who you are guessing was Gothi after remembering Hiccup’s earlier conversation, would shake her staff at him when he tried walking close to you.

So now you sat in the middle of the hut, Gothi by your right side stitching up the cut while the Viking stood watch.

Her movements were precise like she had done this plenty of times to others in the village, gaze focused while she stopped stitching to wipe away the blood that flowed from the wound with each stab of the needle.

The needle had been hot when it was first stabbed into the sensitive skin around the open wound, having been held over the open flame crackling behind Gothi in the assurance of sterilizing it. The searing sting had caused a scream to be muffled by the leather clenched tightly in your mouth, a line of sweat instantly appearing on your forehead as tears prick at your lash line.

With each impale of the needle, the sharp pain slowly devolves into a dull throbbing, your cheeks having long since been dried with salty tears.

Gothi soon ties off the final stitch, lathering on that orange paste Hiccup had applied earlier, before wrapping it with a scrap of cloth.

You take a shaky breath of relief, thankful that the pain is finally over.

While Gothi turns to put away the materials she used, your eyes glance towards the hut entrance, reaching a hand up to swipe the excess moisture from your previous crying. If you could just be fast enough in spreading your wings, you could avoid the Viking and-

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, lass.”

The gruff voice of the blond Viking causes your gaze to snap over to him. He knew what you were thinking, had you truly been so obvious? You keep your eyes squinted into a glare as you look up at him from where you remain seated on the floor, your wings slowly lowering back into a relaxed position from where they had opened ever so slightly.

So that’s how he knew, you didn’t even realize that your wings had responded to your thoughts, too focused on planning your escape… which quickly slipped from your fingers like every other attempt.

“Do what?”

You snapped at him through gritted teeth, annoyance clear in your voice at every attempt to escape being thwarted by some Viking. Your voice sounded foreign to you though, hoarse from the misuse of it over the past few days and the lack of water to moisten your throat.

The Viking doesn’t seem to get angered at your irritation, he only laughs while leaning against the wall, the rope remaining in a loose grip in his hands. His dismissal of you and his relaxation show he doesn’t see you as a threat, only annoying you further.

You could feel the thrumming of your heart, displeasure flowing through your veins like molten lava, as the Viking continued to laugh like you had said the best joke he’d ever heard.

“You wouldn’t get very far,” He says with a lopsided grin under his mustache, revealing a silver tooth that glistened in the sun, “Stoick already has others waiting outside with weapons ready.”

Gothi walks back towards you, waving a dismissive hand towards the blond Viking before grabbing the elbow of your uninjured arm and tugging it to signal that she wants you to stand. Your gaze turns from the Viking to Gothi, you can’t help the way your eyes soften as you follow her orders, getting to your feet.

She reminded you of your grandmother on your mother’s side, who used to be the village elder like Gothi is.

Your thoughts are filled with memories of your grandmother.

The times she would help clean your wings when you would play too much outside with the other children. The way she always smelt of the freshly baked bread she would bring over in the mornings. Her gentle voice while she told stories of your ancestors as you sat by the fire under the starry night.

~~~

“Do you see the stars, my little spitfire?”

Your grandmother looks down at you as you sit beside her on a log by the freshly lit fire, warmth surrounding your little body as the fire pops and crackles. It was the end of a wonderful birthday, having turned five and taking your first full flight above the village with your parents.

“I do, Amma. They twinkle so prettily.”

Smiling up at your grandmother, she smiles back while her right-wing wraps around your form, a comforting move she would always do when sitting with you. Her gaze goes to the sky as she begins speaking, telling you your ancestors’ story like she would do every year on your birthday.

“Just like the gods gave us the stars, so did they give us this wonderful gift of flight.”

The story begins and ends the same every year she would tell it, but you would always listen to it with as much intent as a young girl could. This was your history, your reason for being.

She recounts how your ancestors were held captive by neighboring villages and details their nightly pleas to the gods for salvation. The night before they were going to be executed, your ancestors awoke with great pains in their backs. From the oldest of the captives to the youngest, everyone endured this quick suffering.

The gods had answered in an unexpected way, wings sprouting from their backs to aid in their escape. The captors had no idea until in the morning when they opened the cells to drag them toward their end, only to be shoved aside as they all flew off. Women carried the children that were too young while the men helped keep the elders afloat.

They flew over forests and oceans until they found a clearing surrounded by thick woods that would need an axe just to get through the bushes. It was perfect, so they set up camp and never left.

Generations go by.

Buildings get built, families get made, lives get lived.

The story ends with your grandmother looking back down at you with a smile on her lips, just like you loved listening to the story, she loved telling it.

“Our wings are a gift, my little star. We must cherish them like we do each other.”

Your mother walking over signals the end of storytime, her arms gracefully picking you up as she nuzzles her nose against your cheek. A greeting done for generations, learned from the dragons that inhabit the surrounding forest.

As your mother carries you back to the hut to sleep, you look over her shoulder towards your grandmother, waving your goodbyes as a yawn leaves your lips. Exhausted from celebrating your birthday and experiencing your first full flight, you lay your head on your mother’s shoulder, taking in her soothing scent of lavender as you drift off in her arms.

Unbeknownst to you, this would be your last birthday celebrated with your family, for a few months later, the village was attacked.

~~~

You rip yourself from the memory with quick blinks of your watery eyes. Your heart feels like it is slowly squeezed by a fist in your chest.

Why did it have to happen? Why was your family ripped from you when everyone was finally happy?

Why were you the sole survivor? Forced to be left alone.

A small tug to your elbow brings you back to the present, Gothi and the blond Viking staring at you after you had planted yourself to where you stood. Gothi watches you with a calculating gaze as you swipe your thumb against your eyes, gathering the unshed tears and flicking them away as if nothing had happened.

The blond Viking pushes himself off the wall as you begin to be dragged out of the hut by Gothi, the older woman having a surprising amount of strength for such a small physic.

“Come on, lass. It’s dinner time and Stoick is expecting your presence.”

Taglist: @spiderlily-w1tch-blog @millie--billie @persipeoni @honethatty12 @oscarissac2099 @up-l4te-4t-n1ght @morishitoshi @nctikki @vexis-world @fries11 @ddamm @ok-boke @moejoeflow

[meepinmeat]

Cele/Hypo Affinity Gifts

Or rather, what happens if you give the Celestials the Demon's Gaze (the Hypogean's fav gift) and what happens if you give the Hypogeans the Sacredite Pendant (the Celestial's fav gift)

The idea to do this and find out what they say and their reactions as well is from @jailr0s3 on Reddit. There's already Dionel's and Berial's reactions in two replies of the comment section but here, amma drop all the Cele's and Hypo's

Starting with my Merlin's old man,

Appreciate the honesty really, I love how he says his feelings as is and to be fair, if someone gave me a demonic item as a gift I would be tossing it into the fire and send it back to the depths of Hell that it came from

The way she hesitates before asking that because ain't no way the magister would legit give a demonic item as a genuine gift. But who knows, maybe her flames can extinguish the nightmare fuel within the thing lol

As straightforward as ever, love to see Scarlita sticking to her duties as always (she will proceed to yeet the demonic item into oblivion)

Bro was hurt, backstabbed and betrayed by one Demon's Gaze. If he could, there would be a single tear dropping from his eyes because how dare the magister give him that? Lmao

Now for the Hypogeeeaaaans starting with Phraesto!

When the reality and fantasy are both equally as bad as one another, but he surely reacted with grace

Absolute savage and ruthless, ate and left the crumbs (or should I say, the shattered pieces of the crystal for the pendant?)

Got to critiquing right off the bat. He mentions it's holy but definitely of course, not pretty to his absolute perfectionist standards heh

But yuh, that's all of them!

[featheredclover]

Shab-e-intezaar

Oneshot inspired by this word prompt by @arshifiesta

The night of awaiting 

_________

The streetlight burned as dusk coiled around the city of Lucknow. Like a bunch of princes to their favourite courtesan, a flutter of moths were drawn to the light.

Khushi stifled a smile at the impish comparison, as she hurried along the narrow roads of Lakshmi Nagar. 

———

“Amma, I am home” , she said with flourish, dropping her handbag onto the chair and her jootis kicked off elegantly over the mat.

“Hmm”, came the buzz of mild acknowledgment from Garima Gupta.

Khushi huffed out a breath in mock exasperation. 

“What is there in this god forsaken serial that I can’t get you to give your eyes a break for a second? The same old rich man- poor girl nonsense!”

“Hush Khushi!”

She tied her hair into a quick knot, and left for her evening bath, leaving her mother with her precious LED box.

———

“You just have to cook the chapatis baccha, I have made the curry” Garima smiled fondly as Khushi stood bent over the stove.

“Aah! AD break I assume?” She smirked.

“Of course!” Garima laughed, “Love stories…..”

Khushi spun around at her mother’s change of tone.

“They remind me of what your father and I shared”, her eyes misty with memories.

“Lies” Khushi smiled , “Papa wasn’t rich”

“He was rich in his heart! Joke all you want, but one day you’ll realise what I am talking about Khushi. So many proposals have come your way, but I have rejected them for I know that you deserve to marry for love”

“What rubbish! I’ll marry someone who mints money!”

“We’ll see”

And with that Garima was off to the living room again.

If she had paused, she would have seen the tell tale signs of a lie on her daughter’s face. The flushing of cheeks, the biting of lip and the nervous gesture of hands.

Khushi Kumari Gupta was in love.

————

She laid the fresh bed sheet over her mattress, humming an old Bollywood tune. Her room was set in muted tones of pink. She was a magpie in all essence. Her nani’s jewellery, her papa’s books and all the gifts she had ever received, were all stored beautifully in this room.

Her parents had worked hard over the years to buy this flat in the heart of Lucknow. Her papa’s death in that fatal car accident years ago didn’t dim her mother’s will to work. And so Khushi grew up with her mother as the headmaster of a government school, with ambitions of being a teacher herself.

She placed the test papers she had taken pains to correct in a file, and pushed them away on her desk with a sigh of relief.

“Semester exams done!” She said out loud to herself.

Switching off the lamp, she stood up and plunged the room into dimness.

With the strategy of a woman in love, she grabbed a book from her bedside table and walked with measured leisure to the ornate window.

The moon hid behind the clouds as she searched for him. Her fingers flipped the pages, hoping its flutter would bring him to his window. The window framing the wall neighbouring hers.

And then like the bride waiting for the moon on her first fasting, she was assuaged as the clouds cleared and the moon lit up his handsome face, shining the harsh lines of him into light.

“Arnav”, she breathed out as if parched from his thirst. Thirst of the man who had stolen her dreams, her heart and her peace.

“How were the semester papers? By your expression I can guess you are glad to be rid of them”, he smirked wickedly.

“Laugh all you want, but at least I don’t sit hunched over a computer all day!”, she said tongue in cheek.

He smiled, hands lifted up in defeat.

“I am a verified corporate slave”

He took a sip from his cup, his eyes holding her captive.

“Beautiful night”

She shook her head, “You say that every night”

“And I mean it every night”, he insisted, his voice ringing against the dark.

She cleared her throat, “So the heroine and hero got stuck in a lift today”

He chuckled, “I am amused how Garima aunty suffers this everyday”

“Tell that to her,” she grinned.

“That her favourite show lacks originality? No way!”

“It’s cliche! But it works…”

Arnav set his cup aside, resting his forearm on the ledge, leaning over.

“They sell dreams don’t they? We wait all our lives. Some live and lose. But they sell our dreams to us..”

Khushi sighed, “Making the wait bearable?”

“Agonising” his whisper lit up her night.

—————

The staff room was not unaffected by the lazy afternoon. The fan whirred in the corner as the two friends sat hunched together.

“Her wedding was simply stunning! Her dad spent so much.”

She looked on, bored as Payal recounted their colleague’s wedding last week. She had missed it due to her cousin’s wedding the same day.

“Payal! What about the groom? Does he suit Sheetal?”

“Well….he is balding. And he has a paunch. But that won’t matter in America would it?”

“Sheetal had a poster of Salman on her wall”, Khushi mumbled.

“So what Khushi? Life is not a movie. No one is going to get a Salman or Shah rukh. We are going to get nice men with heavy pockets”

“Akash is certainly not just a nice man” she smirked.

Payal playfully smacked her hand, before settling down despondently.

“His mother doesn’t approve.”

“Does that matter? He is willing to fight anyone for you. He got that apartment near the junction-“

“Yes! But I didn’t want him to give up his family. I want him to have everything he wants”

Khushi closed her hand over Payal’s fist.

“He loves you. And if a few sacrifices are what life demands from him, that’s okay. Because how happy he’ll be with you matters the most!”

She smiled, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

“Thank you Khush”, she choked out.

————-

She stood by her window, gazing out at his closed one, her hand drying her waist length hair gently.

 Payal had texted her this morning, asking her to be one of the witnesses for their registered marriage. 

It was happening. After all the hardships, Akash was finally marrying Payal. She couldn’t be more happier for the two of them.

Raizadas were going to lose another son, she thought. Arnav had left the grandiose of Sheesh Mahal two years ago, to live in this humble settlement.

“Just exhausted, Khushi. They wanted to control everything. My life, my soul, my very breath”

She recalled his words with a pang. He had to suffer so much, before he could finally break free.

And now Akash…..

Walking over to her almirah, she looked for her favourite Anarkali. 

White. For purity. For innocence. For new beginnings. 

For Akash and Payal.

She was happy for them. Why wouldn’t she be? She had been a Cupid to their story, nonetheless.

But when her gaze settled on the neighbouring window, she felt a twinge of anxiety. She hadn’t revealed her own heart to Arnav, let alone expect him to return her love. 

She had her share of sleepless nights, worrying that any day now, he will bring home a woman. Her heart will break. And all those unplayed heartbreak CDs in her possession will finally get a chance to echo in her room.

Slipping on a pair of jhumkas, Khushi draped a dupatta over her and walked out to say goodbye to her mother.

———-

“Arnav!”

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Empty tea cups rested on the coffee table. Her mother greeted her with a soft, serene smile.

“Amma-“

“Isn’t it time? Payal will be waiting” , her mother interrupted.

“But-“ , she frowned.

“After all, you'll be late when you reach there”, she turned back to Arnav, “I think you should stay there tonight beta”

“The register office is fifteen minutes from here!”

“We are going to Agra. Did you think the Raizadas would let Akash get married here?”

She stared at him. Unsure of the change in plans, of this tea with her mother, unsure of him and the way he was looking at her.

“It’s a four hour car ride Khushi, you better leave now!” Her mother was now on her feet, almost pushing her daughter out of the door.

“Shall we?” 

Her hand slid into his.

Agra it is.

————

“Please sign here” the grumpy man mumbled.

She looked on as Akash’s two colleagues signed the paper.

“Khushi”, Arnav placed a hand on her waist, pushing her forward.

She took the pen in her hand, muttering a prayer under her breath before noting down her signature.

Joy and claps filled the air as the couple was pronounced husband and wife.

Khushi looked on with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, as Akash kissed Payal softly, ignoring the registrar’s gasp of outrage.

Love had won again.

————-

She was a romantic. She had always been. Even when she had first visited the Taj Mahal with her mother at the young age of ten, she had found her heart aching at the majestic symbol of love. Shah Jahan’s number of wives or his harem didn’t matter. There was love that thrived beyond graves, and that’s all that mattered.

Khushi soaked in the beauty the monument was, under the cover of the night. Wrapping her dupatta, firmly around her shoulders, she walked beside Arnav, who seemed so deep in thought, she almost felt jealous.

“I never thought it could be more beautiful”, she broke through the silence.

“You love the nights, not surprising”, Arnav smiled.

Rows of trees lined their path, the distant lights illuminated their footsteps, as the breeze swayed.

“Shab-e-intezaar”, he said out loud.

“Shab-e-intezaar? What are you waiting for?”, she asked, puzzled.

He smiled in that mysterious way of his.

Her breath left her as he caught her wrist and pulled her against him. Wide eyed, she looked up at him, pure shock and pleasure running through her whole being.

“This”, he whispered, before his mouth came down on hers. 

His lips were unbearably soft. The slight way he moved against her was driving her crazy. Something primitive rose within her, as her hand clutched his shirt, pressing herself against him firmly.

He was quick to know her. Entangling her within his arms, he tightened his hold.

Breathless she broke away, resting her head against his. She felt his warmth on her nose, before her head was tilted up.

“I love you Khushi”, he kissed her again.

Khushi’s hand tightened on his wrist.

“I love you too”, she whispered back.

Arnav broke into a delicious smile. Holding her hand he stepped away.

Ignoring the sudden bout of shyness flooding her, she held his eyes as if her life depended on it.

He bent down on one knee.

“Happiness found me, while I was leaning against my bedroom window one night. I still thank whatever gods are up there, who brought me to you, Khushi. I am in love with you. With your spirit, your heart, your eyes. I am just a man in love with you”, his voice wavered at the end.

She swallowed thickly, her vision blurring with emotion.

“With the blessings of Garima aunty”, he cracked a wry grin, “I would like to ask you if you want to be my wife? Spend the rest of our lives, no longer separated by walls and windows?”

“I will”, she let out a sob.

She crashed into him, arms entwining around him as he almost tumbled onto the ground.

His laughter filled her ears, and she glanced up at the beautiful Taj Mahal, framed by their night.

Love had found them. After a long shab-e-intezaar.

----------

Hope you liked this story! Dedicated to all those beautiful nights ~ I urge you to look out your window tonight and wish something special for yourself ;)

Let me know what you think of the story! All constructive criticisms welcome ❤️

Tagging:

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Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

[alezangona]

The Sweetest of Nights

My Submission for #varadevaloveday!

Deva squints through one eye, focusing on the sapota that hangs from the tree’s highest branch, slingshot pulled back and ready to disarm. He hesitates for a moment, tucking in his lips as he moves his hand just slightly lower to fix his position. Then, taking in a deep breath, he releases the shot. 

The rock sails through the air, making its way to the mark, before missing it by a hair’s breadth. The rock tumbles to the ground joining its fellow fallen comrades in a small heap. 

Deva curses, irritation passing across his features and he runs his fingers through his thick curls, wanting nothing more than to tug them out of his head as the humidity smothers his dwindling patience. 

“Your curls are your money makers, idiot. Don’t go bald already, it’s bad for our reputation.” Deva huffs, turning around to look at his friend, unamused. 

“You try to spend fifteen minutes failing to shoot down fruit in this weather and let me know how you fare.” Varadha just smiles at that, plucking the slingshot out of Deva’s hand. He picks up a stone from the ground, throwing it up and down as he tests the weight. Seeming satisfied with whatever result he was looking for, he loads it into the shot and aims up towards the top of the tree. Within the blink of an eye, the rock disappears from his grip and the sapota falls to the ground, only to be picked up by Varadha.

“Here!” He places it into Deva’s waiting hand. 

Deva wants to look unaffected by it all. But seeing Varadha’s face breaking into a pleased grin at the thought of being able to do something that made Deva’s life easier stops him in his tracks. He doesn’t understand why that smile is so disarming, to the point that it has stopped his breath at times. Or why even just a hint of it makes him lose track of his thoughts, mind wandering instead to the flawless shape of Varadha’s lips that resemble the curve of Madhana’s bow. So, he looks down at the fruit in hand, peeling it as he tries to calm the pounding of his heart. 

“Here.” He hands Varadha half of the fruit, looking up at him once more. Deva didn’t think it could be possible, but Varadha’s smile deepens further at the gesture and he pops the fruit into his mouth, eyes closing in pleasure as the sweetness of the taste overcomes the humidity of the summer day. 

Nothing else needs to be said as they spend another hour among the grove, Varadha shooting and Deva peeling the fruits. Sometimes they’d stand together, watching as their mark would hit the ground. At other times, they’d sit under the shade, chewing leisurely as they discussed anything and everything, including how much they were annoyed by Rudra and his gang of miscreants.

“So…” Finally, Varadha turns towards Deva, wringing his sticky hands together. “My dad gave me money earlier today as a gift for doing well on last week’s exam. I was thinking, maybe you and I can use that today to go to the fair?” 

“I thought you were trying to save up to buy that game?” Deva’s brows pull together as he studies Varadha. “Why the fair?”

Varadha shrugs, his long face turning off to the side. Once again, Deva is overcome by the sheer beauty of Varadha’s profile among the light of the setting sun that bounces off the greenery of the grove, to which he could find no other comparison but the intricate sculptures that lined temple walls. 

“It’s your birthday tomorrow and I know your dad is going to be taking you and Amma out of town for a few days to celebrate. I just wanted to spend time with you before then.” 

Warmth spreads through Deva’s body like wildfire at the statement. He knows how important that game is to Varadha considering it’s the first thing he will ever gift his brother Baachi. He’d been saving up for months to buy the Chaturanga set by Rakhi, hoping to teach his younger brother all the strategies the way his father taught him. Yet, he’s willing to put his goal aside for a second just to what? Celebrate Deva’s birthday? 

“We don’t have to do that, Varadha.” Deva remarks as he nudges his shoulder, brimming with happiness at the implication of Varadha caring about him. For a second, Varadha’s face falls and his hand comes to scratch against the back of his neck. 

“You have other plans then for tonight?” 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying and you know it.” Deva tilts his head, gazing rather fondly at his friend. It always amused him how Varadha seemed to be the smartest boy he knew, yet the dumbest at the same time. Charming. “I’m saying that I don’t need to be at a festival with you to enjoy my birthday. I’m just as happy here as I would be over there. What it ends up coming down to is you, ra. There’s no need to go around doing something like wasting your money on me when you should be saving it up for Baachi.”

“You’re so thick-skulled sometimes.” Varadha shoves his shoulders, sending Deva tumbling towards the roots before springing back to his original place. “I’m asking because I want to do this with you, asshole. So, can we just go and celebrate before you disappear for an entire week?” 

Deva couldn’t possibly say no.

~*~

“It’s your birthday, Deva. I’m pretty sure I should be getting you something, not the other way around.” Varadha huffs as he tries to settle the giant toy Deva won him somewhere across his shoulders. Deva refuses to hold back his laughter at the sight of the big, orange monkey draped colorfully across the black canvas of Varadha’s lanky frame. At the sight of the laughter, Varadha replies with a playful push against his arm, almost toppling over when he forgets to balance out the extra weight of the stuffed animal. 

Deva catches him in the nick of time, pulling with slightly too much power that it brings him and Varadha chest-to-chest, so close that he could make out the fading details of a dark mark on Varadha’s cheek. He swallows tightly, not understanding the sudden constriction of his chest as Varadha’s gaze meets his, so open and tender, despite the annoying primate dangling behind him. 

“Learn how to be careful will you? I won’t always be around to catch you, you clutz.” Deva means for it to sound firm, but is almost embarrassed by how breathy it comes out of him. Varadha doesn’t seem to notice however as he steps away with a roll of his eyes.

“Please, there isn’t anything we could fight about that would break us up like that.” Finally, he ties the legs of the animal around his waist, a triumphant gleam in his eyes when it stays in place. “Hell yeah! Finally figured it out!”

“You know you also could’ve given it away or left it on the streets? It’s just a toy.” Deva laughs, catching up to him again.

“Are you insane? It’s mine now. I’m not parting from it for all the gold in the world.” 

They spend the rest of the night aimlessly wandering around the festival. Sometimes they play the games set up by vendors, winning too many prizes by the end of it all, that they end up giving them away to the smaller kids around them. They go up to the food stalls, ordering chaat and sharing it as they watch people go by, idly commenting on what must be going on in each of their lives. They hop on the roller coaster, pendulum, and wipeout in quick succession, taking a moment to soothe their stomachs by riding in a swan boat across the small pond. 

Finally as the night draws to an end, Varadha tugs a pleasantly tired Deva along to grab a bag of cotton candy that he insists they eat on the Ferris Wheel where they can get the best view of Khansar. They walk through the crowds of people, under the glowing canopy of lights, dragging the monkey and bag of cotton candy behind them as they make their way towards the giant circle that looms over the festival. To Varadha, it looks like it could almost be as big as his Shiva Mannar’s court. Though, that might just be because of the balmy buzz that was overtaking him this night as he spends time in Deva’s presence.

He hadn’t let Deva know, but Varadha has been on edge for days now as the family trip approaches. It’s selfish of him to want Deva near him at all times when he knows how much Deva looks forward to the outings since Dhaara is a busy man and can only spend so much time with his family. But when he is able to make time, he takes them to some of the most beautiful locations across the world. 

During a dinner at his home one night, Deva expressed his favorite place so far had been the Channakeshava temple in Belur, where he claimed the intricacy of the sculptures was so mesmerizing that he felt as if his eyes weren’t enough to take in the beauty. Dhaara meanwhile, explained to Varadha with pride how the temple took three generations, over the span of a hundred years, to be built, and despite how many times it was pillaged and plundered, it was repeatedly rebuilt and repaired and has lasted to this day. 

Then, Dhaara looked at Varadha, really looked at him, stating the history of the temple wasn’t quite so different from that of Khansar. That the beauty of this city too, came not only from its foundation but its ability to grow and thrive despite the toils it faced during its history. There was something about the conviction in his tone that shook Varadha to the core and he could suddenly understand why his grandfather had such a soft spot for this man. Then Dhaara’s demeanor changed and he was back to being a jovial man who’s charming nature was enough to light up the dim room they were sitting in. 

That night, as Deva walked him home, he handed him a picture he had taken of one of the sculptures with a shrug, stating how he didn’t have to take it. It was just something he saw that reminded him of Varadha. 

To this date, the picture was taped to the wall in his room, above his desk. Sometimes he’d catch himself looking at it as he finished his homework, wondering what exactly Deva noticed about it that reminded him of Varadha. In the end, all he could make out was a stunning sculpture with a sweet smile. 

Still, the small picture and the never ending trinkets lined up beneath it, always brought with them a deep sense of euphoria because it seemed that Deva too would think of him when he was away. It wasn’t just Varadha waiting for his return. 

It won’t be till years later, during Deva’s absence, that Varadha will come to understand his feelings. It won’t be till then that he realizes that he didn’t just love his dear friend, but that he was in love with him.

But for this night, he tried to set aside his anxiety surrounding Deva’s departure and let a glowing smile light his lips as they sat across from each other in the small compartment of the wheel, their knees brushing against each other. As they passed from point to point, they’d gaze out of their cart, letting the sweet candy melt against their tongues as they took in the bright lights of the city. 

“Thank you for this,” Deva murmurs once they get high enough that the sounds of the festival begin to dim. “I had a lot of fun.” Varadha shakes his head at him, getting up from his seat and plastering himself next to Deva instead.

“I feel like I remember telling you before that there’s no need for please and thank you between friends?”

“Yeah, yeah. But still. It’s been a lot of fun and I know it’s dumb to say since it’ll only be a week, but I’ll miss you when I’m gone.” 

Varadha doesn’t know how to answer, so he throws an arm against Deva’s shoulder and pulls him in closer. 

“I guess we’re both dumb then because I’ll miss you too.” At that, one of Deva’s arms comes up behind him, wrapping across his torso. They rest their heads against each other, young minds not being able to put a name to the feeling expanding between them, but content to be in each other’s company without seeking an answer. 

A clanging sound interrupts them and they pull apart in time to see the distant clock tower striking midnight, their cart coming to a stop at the top-most point. 

“Shit, Amma’s gonna kill me.” Deva shoots up in his seat, panic shutting off his ability to think. He can’t believe he didn’t notice just how much time had passed. 

“Rey!” Varadha grabs his arm and pulls him down when the cart begins to swing from the momentum. “Sit down will you! What are you going to do? Jump off?”

“I don’t know! Maybe.” Deva groans, burrying his face in his hands. “I already got in trouble last week for going home late after we went to the movies. She’s going to murder me, ra.” 

“Don’t worry,” Varadha peels his hands off his face. “I already talked to her and got permission to keep you out late today. She won’t kill you, not for this.” The tension melts off of Deva’s face, only for confusion to take over in its stead. 

“This late? Why?” 

“Na potti bangaram kosam (For my short gold). Happy birthday, ra.” Varadha playfully pinches Deva’s cheek and laughs when he shoves him away, face souring. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a short necklace, handing it over to Deva who observes the square pendant hanging from a black thread. “My mom helped me find it, she said it’s a charm for good luck. I just thought it looked cool.” Varadha shrugs, trying not to make it seem like too big of a deal.

Deva just swallows, looking intently at the silver pendant resting in his palm. It makes Varadha nervous enough that he grabs it out of his hand and pulls it over Deva’s head. 

“See! It looks great on you!” Varadha beams at the choker lying at the dip of Deva’s neck. “Mannarsi craftsmanship is unbeatable you know?” 

“I beg to differ,” Deva says immediately, but then his voice softens noticeably. “But yeah, this gift is hard to beat.” 

~*~

When they walk home that night, it’s in anything but silence. Varadha shares the story of how he happened upon the necklace and thought it’d be perfect for Deva considering how he keeps ending up in dangerous situations. Deva defends himself saying that he only gets roped into those things because of Varadha, to which he can’t argue. The words keep drifting from their lips even as they approach the intersection where they need to separate to get home. Yet, they stand at the street corner, bringing up the most redundant of tales in an effort to make the night last longer. 

Finally, they pull themselves into a bone-crushing hug, clinging to each other as the cool breeze brushes against them.

Unable to part just yet, they stay there for a while longer, letting time pass them by under the midnight sky.

~*~

Author's Note:

So sorry for the late post! Really tried to get it out by Valentine's Day but I was traveling and kept falling asleep as I wrote. But I've been having so much fun getting to see everyone else's work! Love the talent in this fandom!

A huge thank you to @rambheem-is-real and @deadloverscity for hosting this event!

[hc-geralt-23]

The Dragon and the Witcher: A Tale of Love and Destiny

Chapter 1: The Convergence of Worlds

As the sun set over the vast plains of the Continent, Geralt of Rivia found himself on a seemingly ordinary contract – exterminating a pack of vicious monsters. However, a strange portal suddenly materialized before him, swallowing him whole. As Geralt fell through the swirling vortex, he could feel the very fabric of reality being twisted and torn around him.

When he regained his senses, Geralt discovered he was no longer in the world he knew. Instead, he found himself in the heart of Westeros, a land of dragons and noble houses, in a time long before the rise of the White Wolf. Confusion and curiosity filled his mind as he looked around, absorbing the sights and sounds of this unfamiliar land.

The sprawling city of King's Landing stretched before him, its towering structures reaching for the sky. Dragon banners fluttered in the gentle breeze, and the distant sound of swords clashing echoed through the city streets. Geralt could sense that this world was unlike any he had encountered before, both in its grandiosity and the palpable aura of power that surrounded it.

Chapter 2: A Targaryen Discovery

In the capital city of King's Landing, meanwhile, the Targaryens were gathered to witness the birth of their newest member – a girl named Y/N, the firstborn child of Viserys and Amma. The child bore the unmistakable silver-haired beauty of her Targaryen ancestors, a rarity even among their family.

Unknown to even the wise maesters of Westeros, Y/N possessed a powerful magic inherited from her dragon-blooded lineage. Her arrival into the world had unknowingly set events into motion, opening the portals between realms and drawing Geralt and his destiny closer to the House of the Dragon.

As Y/N grew, her connection to the dragons became evident. She had an innate ability to communicate with them, understanding their thoughts and needs as if they were her own. This gift both fascinated and frightened her, for she recognized the responsibility that came with it. Yet, she also longed for a life beyond palace walls – a life of adventure and purpose.

Chapter 3: The Witcher and the Dragon Princess

As Geralt acclimated to his newfound surroundings, he soon came across the magnificent dragons housed within the Targaryen stronghold. Drawn to their awe-inspiring presence, he couldn't help but marvel at their majesty and beauty. It was during one of his visits that he stumbled upon Y/N practicing her archery, her silver locks gleaming in the moonlight.

Drawn to her beauty and grace, the Witcher cautiously approached the young Targaryen, his heart slowly awakening to emotions he had long buried. Y/N, too, felt an inexplicable connection to Geralt, sensing a kindred spirit in him. It was as if their destinies had intertwined, guiding them toward this fateful encounter.

As the two spent time together, they discovered their shared sense of isolation and longing. Y/N yearned for freedom beyond the constraints of her birthright, while Geralt carried the weight of being an outcast due to his Witcher mutations. Their conversations flowed effortlessly, their laughter echoing through the halls of Dragonstone.

Chapter 4: Forbidden Love

Despite their growing affection for one another, Geralt and Y/N knew that pursuing a romance was riddled with complications. The Witcher hailed from a foreign land, and Y/N, a princess, carried the weight of her family's expectations. Their love seemed destined to remain a secret, buried beneath layers of duty and societal norms.

However, fate conspired against them as whispers of their clandestine meetings spread throughout the kingdom. While some viewed the union as an opportunity for an alliance, others saw it as a threat to their own ambitions. Geralt and Y/N found themselves caught in the crossfire of political games and power struggles, their love put to the ultimate test.

Chapter 5: Trials and Tribulations

As tensions heightened, Geralt's unparalleled prowess with a blade became essential in protecting the woman he loved and her dragon-kin. Battles against rival houses and supernatural threats alike united Geralt and Y/N in their fight for survival. Together, they embraced the challenges they faced, their separate skills complementing one another.

Their shared experiences and the trust they built cemented their love, giving them the strength to face the countless obstacles thrown their way. Geralt, with his stoic determination, became a beacon of strength for Y/N, while Y/N's unwavering support and inherent magical abilities enchanted Geralt and bolstered his resolve.

Chapter 6: The Prophecy Fulfilled

As the final battle between the rival houses loomed, a prophecy spoken by an ancient seer emerged, intertwining Geralt and Y/N's destinies. Only the union of a Witcher and a dragon-blooded Targaryen could end the cycle of chaos that haunted both realms. It became clear that their love was not just a personal affair but a destiny that transcended their individual lives.

Geralt, armed with his knowledge of monsters and the elixirs that enhanced his abilities, stood side by side with Y/N, whose mastery of magic and command over dragons became pivotal to their success in the upcoming battle. Together, they harmonized their unique talents and shattered the chains of despair that threatened to consume their love and the world around them.

Chapter 7: Union of Worlds

With their enemies vanquished and the realms once again at peace, Geralt and Y/N celebrated their triumph, reveling in the love that had blossomed under the shared admiration of their respective worlds. They knew their love had defied fate, crossing boundaries to forge a unique bond between two realms.

Joined by their loyal companions, including the Targaryen dragons, Geralt and Y/N embarked on a new adventure – exploring the uncharted territories of their intertwined destinies. The worlds of The Witcher and House of the Dragon became forever linked, with love acting as their guiding light.

Epilogue: Infinite Paths

Though their journey would always be fraught with uncertainty and danger, Geralt and Y/N faced the unknown with unwavering determination and profound love. Their choice to defy the constraints of their respective worlds united them in a truly extraordinary tale, forever etching their love into the annals of history.

"The Dragon and the Witcher: A Tale of Love and Destiny" serves as a testament to the power of love, bridging the gaps between worlds and propelling two souls toward an everlasting bond. Through the sheer force of their will and the magic that bound them, Geralt and Y/N's love endured through the ages, inspiring generations yet to come.

[warnermeadowsgirl]

MASTERLIST

PRABHAS & CHARACTERS:-

One Shots-

Against all odds [A.bahubali × Fem!OC]

Imagine [Prabhas × Reader]

Family on Sets [Prabhas × Fem!OC]

The Quiet Moments,The Shared Whispers [Prabhas × Fem!OC]

The Warrior's Heart [A.bahubali × Fem!OC]

Series-

Aria Prabhas Uppalapati [Dad!Prabhas × Mom!FemOC]

1)A New Chapter Begins

2)A Night to Remember

3)Embracing the Quiet Moments

4)Welcoming Our Little Miracle

5)A Celebration of Tradition and Love

6)Aria's First Steps and First Word: Nanna

7)Introducing Aria: A Joyful Revelation

8)A Day Out with Nanna & Amma

9)Aria's First Day at Preschool

10)Daddy's Little Star

11)Aria's Boyfriend Announcement

12)Aria's Orange Adventure: Riding with Nanna in the Lamborghini Aventador

14)Daddy's Little Surprise

RAM CHARAN & CHARACTERS:-

One Shots-

So Comfy (Dhruva × Reader)

Morning Talks(Dad!Dhruva × Mom!Reader)

Mood Swings (Ram Charan × Reader)

Imagine 1 (Ram Charan × Reader)

Imagine 2 (Ram Charan × Reader)

Imagine 3(Boy Bestfriend!AbhiRam × Reader)

Best Birthday Gift Ever (Ram Charan × Reader)

[chaiandtakkar]

Whispers Beneath the Stars

Chapter 1

May 1998, Bangalore

The hum of the dial-up internet still echoed in 16-year-old Khushi’s ears as the cyber café finally sprang to life.  This was her weekly escape. When things got stifling between Amma and Appa, Khushi ran to this hidden corner of the world. Tucked away from the humdrum of burgeoning Bangalore, the café was a safe haven—a small cubicle with a plastic chair, a flickering monitor, and the thrill of connecting with people miles away. 

She drummed her fingers on the desk, glancing at the timer on the computer screen—50 minutes left of her prepaid hour. Anytime now, she thought, the minutes ticking louder in her mind. 

She leaned forward in her chair, squinting at the glowing screen. They had a rhythm, she and Skybound. He always showed up five minutes after her, like clockwork. And today, just as expected there it was—the familiar sound she had been waiting for, the uh-oh of ICQ, signaling a new message. The chat room opened, and a message blinked at her from an anonymous familiar visitor. No names exchanged.. Just conversation. A secret she indulged in every week.

She smiled. This stranger was becoming her favorite part of the week.

Skybound: Back again, I see. Couldn’t resist the allure of my charming personality, could you?

Khushi bit back a smile, fingers flying across the keyboard.

OceanBreeze:Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I just needed a distraction from my boring life. Figured I can use a laugh.

There was a pause, the cursor blinking as she waited for his reply. All she knew was that he was from somewhere up north, but beyond that, he was a mystery. And it didn’t matter—this was the one place where she didn’t need to explain herself or carry the weight of everything happening in the real world.

Skybound: A laugh? I’m always here to serve. Need me to trip over something?

She exhaled a soft giggle. For a moment, she glanced around the café, her lips caught between her teeth, suddenly self-conscious. Laughing in public wasn’t something she did often—it was something Amma would find out of place. Here though, with Skybound, she didn’t have to hide.

OceanBreeze: Oh, please. You sound too coordinated for that. I bet you’re the type who walks in slow motion while everyone else stumbles.

Skybound: You got me. But it’s not my fault. The universe just gave me the gift of looking good from every angle.

OceanBreeze: Wow. Humble too, I see.

Skybound: What can I say? When you have your sisters constantly criticizing your every move, you’ve got to boost your own ego. It’s survival.

Khushi rolled her eyes, though a grin tugged at her lips. His humor had a way of easing the heaviness she carried.

OceanBreeze: So how many sisters do you have, anyway?

Skybound: Three sisters. Why, you want one?

Khushi burst out laughing in the quiet café, earning a few glances from the other cubicles. She quickly typed back.

OceanBreeze: Three sisters? You’re living in a circus, not a house!

Skybound: You have no idea. They run my life. I just exist in their kingdom, like a court jester trying not to get fired.

OceanBreeze: Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re holding your own pretty well. three sisters and a sense of humor? You must be some kind of superhero.

Skybound: I’ll take that as a compliment. But you — appears no siblings at all? Seems a bit too quiet. Doesn’t it get lonely? You can certainly have some of mine, free trial.

Khushi paused for a moment, the cursor blinking at her. Lonely. It wasn’t something she thought about often, but there was a truth in the word that made her pause. She brushed it off, typing quickly before the feeling settled in.

OceanBreeze: Sounds like a good trade to me! How about you take my Chikkamma for a week, and I’ll take your sisters?

Skybound: Deal! But I warn you, they might try to turn you into their personal doll. Are you ready for glitter and fashion critiques?

OceanBreeze: As long as I get out of the cooking lectures, I’m game!

Skybound: Just remember, once you step into their world, there’s no escape. I might be the handsome prince, but I’m still trapped in their castle!

Khushi laughed, shaking her head. She could almost picture him now—some guy with an easy grin, confident in a way that wasn’t obnoxious but just enough to make her wonder.

OceanBreeze: And here I thought you were living the glamorous life.

Skybound: Glamorous? Me? Ha. My life’s a mix of tea breaks and avoiding household chores. But hey, it’s a peaceful existence.

OceanBreeze: Tea and avoiding chores sounds a lot like heaven to me right now.

Skybound: Oh yeah? What’s got you running from home today?

Khushi paused for a second. She could feel the cool Bangalore breeze through the café’s windows, and the hint of rain in the air seemed to match her mood. The silence between her and Amma at home had been growing louder, and escaping to the café was the only way to breathe.

OceanBreeze: Same old. Amma wants me to be more responsible, Appa wants me to study harder..

The cursor blinked as she pressed send. Skybound's reply came swiftly.

Skybound: Ah, the classic. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m supposed to be peeling vegetables right now.

Khushi could imagine it now—this mysterious boy somewhere in a bustling household, juggling demands from three sisters while plotting his own small rebellions. It felt surreal, talking to someone she’d never seen but could picture so clearly in her mind.

OceanBreeze: I knew it! The glamorous life. Next thing you’ll tell me is you’re also a master chef.

Skybound: Nope. But I can manage pretty decent pakoras without setting the kitchen on fire. Does that count?

OceanBreeze: Impressive. A man of many talents.

Skybound: What can I say? I aim to surprise. But what about you? Any secret talents?

OceanBreeze: Hah. I wish. Mostly I’m just trying to survive the week without upsetting Amma and Chikkama.

Skybound: Well, you made it here. That’s gotta count for something. Plus, you’ve got me for company. That’s a win, right?

Khushi’s smile softened. His words wrapped around her like a warm blanket, easing the tension in her shoulders. He had no idea how much she needed this, this simple escape into lighthearted banter, a world where she didn’t have to carry the weight of her family’s expectations.

OceanBreeze: Yeah. I guess that’s something. Your simple life sounds like the kind of escape I need.

Skybound: Who knew avoiding chores could be so inspiring? You should try it sometime.

OceanBreeze: Maybe I will. But for now, I’ll just live vicariously through your peaceful existence.

Skybound: My peaceful existence is here for your entertainment, any time.

She laughed again, the sound softer this time. There was something about him—his mix of devilish charm and simplicity—that made her feel lighter, like the weight she carried wasn’t so heavy when they talked.

OceanBreeze: Thanks for that. You have no idea how much I needed this tonight.

Skybound: You’re welcome. Anytime you need a break from your perfect-daughter-niece duties, you know where to find me.

OceanBreeze: I’ll hold you to that.

There was a comfort in their banter, a lightness that made Khushi forget the weight of the day. She didn’t know his name, or anything about him beyond these fragments, but it didn’t matter. In this space, she didn’t need to. It was like slipping into another world, where nothing mattered except the words on the screen and the connection they formed.

Skybound:Well, stranger, until next time, then?

Khushi smiled, her fingers tapping lightly on the keys as she sent her final message.

OceanBreeze: Until next time.

Khushi smiled, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Talking to Skybound felt like slipping into a different world, one where she didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to hold back. Maybe that’s why, after all these months, she hadn’t asked for his name or shared hers. It was safer this way—letting him remain a mystery, just like she was to him. And yet, week after week, she returned. She couldn’t quite explain why, but something about him made her feel understood in a way that no one else did.

She logged off, the café’s hum fading as she stepped outside into the humid Bangalore night.

>>Chapter 2

Also on Blog here

@arshifiesta

[six-white-venus]

“all i want you to be is better than me”

my father went to Germany once. 

His tongue slithered and hissed at the food of the land the whole time he was there, for it had learnt to always fear new things. He ate boiled eggs and french fries and ice cream the entire time he was there.

I will never know how it would feel to be a foreigner so far from home, but this is how I see it: my father, clumsy german and english tinted so heavily with the words his mother first spoke to him, standing in a jewelry store aisle. I will never know, but his image haunts me all the same: my father, browsing through everything gold and glittering. His eyes scintillate brighter than any stone displayed. I would never understand it, but this is what he does: he looks at a ring of jade and thinks- mother would love this. He looks at the store clerk packing it up and thinks- mother would be proud of me.

(When he returns, his mother throws the ring back at his face. It seems to win her love, he needed 24 karats and he was lacking 6, the name of his elder brother and a degree from IIT.)

2. my father lost his job when he was 35

The man who read Mahabharata to me when I was in the womb now looks at amma with empty eyes when she says she can feel the baby kicking. The man who cradled my mother in the palm of his callused hands (carefully, carefully. For her, he was willing to learn not to break all that he loved) now misses all her appointments to the gynaecologist, sleeping in some random park bench with his resume tucked under his head.

My father is 35 and he wants to surrender himself to the sea but knows that just like all the others, it will chew and spit him out of its cruel jaws. My father is 35 and my sister is born. He holds her, but not for too long. When he turns to me, he tells me he’ll buy me all the biryani I want. He clutches my hand tightly as we walk out. 

He tells me he’ll stay.

3. i was 13 when I first remember hugging my father.

I am 13 and all baby fat is melting away with the unwanted emotions as I walk up to him one day and put my arms around him randomly. 

Broken shards and bandages, a heart that thinks and a brain that sings. I held him for the first time that day and discovered all over again: he has always been warm, my father. My hearth, my sun, my appa. And when he strokes my hair, my head almost fits the palm of his hand. The pressure is grounding and there is a father and a child, a boy and his mirror, a lonely god and his creation, in each other’s arms. Broken shards and bandages, a heart that thinks and a brain that sings.

I learn love from him all over again.

4. my father, he has always been hungry.

Hungry for the sweetest delicacies and the most scrumptious of meals (“More, more, more,” he asks. He is eight, twelve, forty-nine. father mine, I weep, do you think your plate can ever remain full?). Hungry for achievements and praises and glory (“I’m proud of you,” I tell him as he wakes up another day with me, “What for?” “I just am”). Hungry for love and money and the world (this globe has always been too small for his hands and yet, and yet, he can’t bear to hold it for even a second. It’s too heavy, he says, it has always been heavy.) Hungry for fulfilment, for peace and rest (more, more, more).

My father, he has never known what it means not to starve and so he says, ”all i want you to be is better than me.” He has never known to be enough, so he says, ”all i want you to be is better than me.”

But father, don’t you see? I am your daughter, your son, your child, and and and- see? I can’t even say who I am because I don’t know. I’ve never belonged and all boxes tear at the edges when they try to contain me. I’ve never known to smile without lying and to let my wounds heal without picking on them over and over again till they’re bloody. I hold my head high and wear the stilettos you gifted me even though my heels are cracked and my gait is faltering. My mouth always tastes like anger and it’s so tiring to hold all this bitterness in me.

Everything I do, it screams your name. Every poem I write, every tear I shed,screams and cries appa, appa look, are you proud of me?

Father, I’ve learnt to claw through scrapes to fill my belly and even though you’re giving and giving and giving me everything I yearn for my stomach still rumbles (more, more, more) and my claws are still unsheathed. Maybe some of us will never be sated, will never know peace. 

But I look at you, and I think: that’s okay. Father, you’ve taught me love and held me through my sleepless nights and brushed away all my tears. I am always filled to the brim with love, I think. Everything I create always comes down to those three words: I love you. Every word I utter sounds like I’ll stay, I promise I’ll stay.

“All I want you to be is better than me.”

But father, don’t you see? I am you. 

[zici]

You love me

Hello, this is my first time writing and posting a fanfic! The people on the server are so amazing, that I want to share this experience with them and everyone who loves #varadeva. Though it’s already a new day for me, I hope it’s still Valentine’s Day somewhere else. Hope you enjoy! Oh, strong language and implied nsfw, so strictly 18+

Chapter 1

"Deva make sure you bring the orchids to the venue tomorrow, I'll have to leave early to make sure the arrangements are perfect" yelled Kateri. Her son Deva just nodded while making his spiced hot chocolate. Kateri just shook her head at her son for only having consumed this drink in his entire life and not knowing the blissful pleasure of all the sweet dishes under the sun. At least he enjoys this despite being an ardent chiliphile she thinks. He brought his cup of piping hot drink to room and started enjoying it. He finds bliss in the little drink and hopes life’s gonna be like this forever with just him, his amma and his spiced hot chocolate. Oh how he’s proved to be wrong very soon.

“Deva, the owners community is rising hell saying they’ll withdraw their consent on selling their lands, as they are expecting way too much money. They are threatening to sell their lands to a big shot named Ranga and get this; he wants to develop a commercial space there” says Bilal. “Didn’t we already sign the agreement and pay the agreed amount? How can they raise their expectations now?”, Deva thinks. The project is already halfway through. The kids need this, they need a school, a place where they can learn and dream and not follow their parents’ footsteps towards labour. He instructed Bilal, “Let them sue, find a good lawyer to represent us for the lawsuit”. Though Deva was not showing any emotions, Bilal knew him enough to know he’s ticked, Deva put his mind and soul in wanting to gift the kids a school, it’s apparent he took this personally and not deal with his usual charm and chill. 

“Tinsukia Architects firm is retaliating sir. They’re searching for a lawyer and are ready to deal with the lawsuit” said Ranga’s assistant on the phone. Ranga just cut off the call and looked up to his boyfriend, and started whining “Look Rudra, a nobody architect is going against me when he should calmly step aside, I’m angry”. Rudra just clicks his tongue while lighting up his cig. Ranga could be a real pain in the ass if this continues, so he decides to fuck Ranga to shut him up and made a mental note to send Varadha as a Trojan horse to lose the lawsuit.

“Represent his case, make sure you lose, try to be of some use, instead of being a deadweight” spits out Rudra. Varadha just rolls his eyes and sighs. Here we go again he thinks, as he always won all the cases he represented and yet his dear brother is dead set on ignoring them, well he doesn’t care for his validation anyway. He heard about an architect pissing off Rudra’s boy toy and now he has to clean up this mess. Varadha wishes to be anywhere else than here and starts flicking his jingle bell bracelet he made with his mother. He reminds himself that he’s doing this for his brother Baachi and he has to continue doing it to not be disowned by the family. He wonders about the guy that’s about to experience the Mannar family’s wrath. Well, he doesn’t care as long he and his brother are left alone.

“The Mannar Law firm has agreed to represent us Deva, they agreed to send the CEO’s second son himself. This definitely smells fishy. Let’s reject them Deva, we can find some other firm” requests Bilal. It really does smell fishy Deva thinks. One of the topmost law firm approaches to represent him for social good? He calls bullshit they surely want to jeopardise them but he’s intrigued and wants to pivot the situation. He asks Bilal to accept the offer much to Bilal’s dismay. 

“Sir these are meeting documents submitted by the Mannar Law firm , the lawyer would be here anytime soon”. Deva gets all the materials handed over to him and he starts skimming through them, surprised with the neat and precise information and appreciates that someone went out of their way to prepare this when they are planning to betray him, maybe to induce trust and stab later, he smirks. Just then, the door opens. In enters a man with an air of a prince with confident stride. Deva’s eyes widen a bit, losing their arrogant gaze. He forgets the reason they are in the room. His eyes, oh his eyes. So expressive, yet restrained and Deva wants to drown in his pupils and find his soul. He now notices his lips, so full and bee stung. And at the chin cleft, Deva lost his battle with rationale as he desperately wanted to bite on it. He subtly takes a breath in and scans the rest of his body and made up his mind to pursue this beautiful man. A small part of him hates that they have to go through this meeting but he has to remain professional and level headed to win this lawsuit and he offers his hand saying “Hello, I’m Deva Mahara, your client for next couple of weeks, hope we win this lawsuit”.

“Of course this man had to have a deep baritone voice, just my luck”, thinks Varadha. He sucks in a breath quickly, thinking he shouldn’t have agreed do this. Thinking it would be very difficult to work with someone who is his exact type. This man must be a good foot taller than him. His droppy eyes are razor sharp, disguised with indifference. A small smirk playing on his lips as if luring you in to trust him, to let go of yourself for him. Oh he’s definitely willing to, willing to let of his being if his brothers life wasn’t on the line. He schools himself to not be an amateur and get this over with as he has to maintain his image of an overachiever in front of the entire world. And he takes Deva’s hand, “Nice meeting you Deva, I’m Varadharaja Mannar, you’re representative for the lawsuit from Mannar Law Firm and rest assured, you are in capable hands”.

The handshake must have ignited their repressed emotions towards each other as they stare into each other’s eyes. As the first thing Deva observed was the bracelet Varadha was wearing and thinking how well it suits this enigma of a man. And Varadha wondering how a man’s hand could be this big.

“Shall we start the meeting?”, coughs Bilal.

@purgeprincesskore

[sometimesbrave]

read chapter 1: here, chapter 2: here, chapter 3: here

warnings: dead bodies

June 1986

***

"The death of me was so quiet

No friends and family allowed

Only my murderer, you, and the priest

Who told you to go to Hell"

- doomsday by Lizzy McAlpine

***

Today was the one year anniversary of Raja Mannar's reign in Khansaar. As a gift to their king, a Mannar Dhora delivered the Khansaar court the good news: Dhaara Shouryanga Raisaar's wife and son are dead.

They were both found in Odisha. They were captured to bring back to Khansaar. But they both had tried to escape again, so, they were beaten so much their faces were brutally disfigured and eventually they died. Raja Mannar had planned to hang the bodies outside Khansaar court, but he was advised against it, as it may instigate a few rebels. After seeing the two bloody corpses, he was finally at peace. This chapter has finally come to an end. No rightful claims to the throne remained. The throne of Khansaar belonged to him and him alone.

When Varadha received this news, his soul left his body. He felt as though he was observing himself from the outside. Then he heard someone screaming very loudly. Then he realised it was him. He had actually fallen to the floor, screaming his guts out while Baba hugged him to try and calm him down. Baachi was peering at his brother through the door, not understanding what to do.

After a few hours, Varadha went to the hospital to see the bodies against Baba's wishes. The most important thing now was to make sure the death rites were done properly. It was the least Varadha could do. He can deal with his grief another day. Today he had to be responsible. When he was about to enter the mortuary, Baba took him aside.

"Varadha, whatever you see in there, must be between us. You cannot get shocked. You must accept the truth that Deva and his mother are gone, forever."

Varadha nodded his head. He entered the mortuary and saw two bodies covered in white sheets. He asked the helper to lift the sheets.

The helper looked at Baba concerned, "Sir, I don't think that's a good idea."

Varadha would not budge from his position.

"I am ordering you to lift the face covering. I will not ask again."

The helper relented and lifted the covers off both the bodies.

Varadha did not recognise the faces. There was nothing recognisable. They were so beaten. The eyes and lips were swollen while the scalp was ripped in a few places on both of them. Varadha's hands shook as he approached the bodies. He stood beside the boy's body and began to cry. He fell on his body and started weeping hysterically. Baba tried to pull him away from the body when Varadha noticed something. The bruise Deva got after his fight with Rudra's pahalwan….the electric wire shocked him. The bruise spanned from his arm to his neck and it was no longer there.

This was not Deva.

Varadha looked at Baba in disbelief.

Varadha was about to speak when Baba interrupted him, "Varadha, you are just in shock. We should get you home as soon as possible and plan for the death rites. We have to honour your friend and his mother. We must leave now."

As soon as Varadha and Baba reached home, Varadha hugged him.

"That is not Deva and Amma", he choked.

"No, they are not.", Baba admitted,

"They are just dead bodies of couple of poor strangers who will be buried in a strange land."

"But why?!", Varadha asked in disbelief.

"Because you are not the only person who cares about Deva and his mother. There are few powerful people in Khansaar who want them to be left alone"

"Who are they? Is it a Mannar Dhora?!"

"I also don't know alright. Just be grateful that this worked out in your favour. The most important thing for you to remember is that Deva and his mother are dead to Khansaar. So, your behaviour must not raise any suspicions.", Baba warned.

Though Varadha was overjoyed that Deva and Amma are not dead, he was sad that these strangers' bodies were mutilated and not given to their rightful family. The least he could do was provide them a proper funeral.

Thus, Raja Mannar believed that, on June 27th 1986, Deva Shouryaanga Raisaar and his mother's pyres were lit by his traitorous son, Varadharaja Mannar.

****

tags: @deadloverscity @ghostdriftexistence @sambaridli @rambheem-is-real @sinistergooseberries @vardhamannartitties, @moonnpaww @literariyumi @sana2410 @varadevaficrecs

[hand-picked-star]

My 'KHAYALI PULAO'

(These are the snippet I wanted to see in IPKKND. After every rewatch, I just close my eyes and these imaginary scenes flash through my mind like they are actual scene. I am trying to articulate them here for my future recap. so that I can read them later and also hoping that some day an AI app will come where I can input these scripts and a scene will produce from the app😁😁)

His Everything

(bolna kya sikh liya ab hume hi chup kara dete hain,khushi musing in her head, Arnav smiling at his wife's antics searched his pockets for something and brought out a small red jewellary box)

Arnav: ye hain tumari sagun,meri taraf se.(surprising khushi, a smile started to form in her lips) common open it.

Arnav: it is your gift from me (surprising khushi, a smile started to form in her lips) common open it.

(khushi opening a Jewellary box revealing a pair of dainty gold bangle inside it.simple yet so elegant.she took them in her hand and looked at Arnav)

Arnav: iske andhar khuch likha hain,see.

Arnav: there's something written inside,see.

(khushi being perplexed looking inside the band of the bangles. there written the line 'you are my everything' in simple artistic way..khushi got very emotional.the number of time she heard 'you meant nothing to me' from him.now in her bedroom,at the day of her sagun day with that very person,holding a bangle that would be her favourite that she would never take off and seeing the writings inside it, acted like a balm to a sore she didn't realize she had.On the other hand Arnav couldn't stand the emotional air any longer,he knew it would be very cheesy, but he wanted to give her someting memorable and without any further thinking went with the flow, but at this moment thinking he should have think more.he started to talk)

Arnav: itna bhi bura nehi hain jo tum isko dekhke ro do. (he took the bangles and proceed to slid them slowly in her wrist.then he took both of her hand around his waist and bring her closer making her to look up at his eyes)

Arnav: it's not that bad that you'll start crying.(he took them from her hand and proceed to slid them slowly in hers.then he took both of her hand around his waist and bring her closer making her to look up at his eyes)

Khushi: (reining her emotion and smiling through her tears) bohot accha hain.

khushi : (reining her emotion and smiling through her tears) it's very beautiful.

Arnav: ese hi ek bangle tum pehle bhi pehenti thi na? bohot din se tumari hat main nehi dekha. kya hua uska?

Arnav: a bangle like that you used to wear everyday before, you haven't wore it for long time.what happened to it?

khushi: (being surprised) upko kese pata?

khushi: (being surprised) how do you know?

Arnav: mujhe tumari har baat ki khabar rehti hain,khushi kumari gupta.

Arnav: i keep tab on everything about you, khushi kumari gupta

khushi: woh apko yaad hain ekbar humne apke office main lavanya ji ke nam pe bohot saree paude laye the?woh sab humne woh churiya bech ke kiya tha,woh meri amma ki thi.

khushi: did you remember one time I brought lots of plant in your office on behalf of lavanya ji? I brought them by selling the bangles.

Arnav:(frowning and feeling an anger forming out of irritation at the selflessness of this girl) Apni churiya bech ke?(pause) pagal ho kya tum?

Arnav: (frowning and feeling an anger forming out of irritation at the selflessness of this girl) by selling your bangles? (pause) are you mad?

Khushi : (smiling and proceed to fix his tie,pouting her lips slightly) apko toh sab pata hain na hamari bare main,par ap kya e jante hain ke apke liye hum kuch bhi kar sakte hain? hume lagta tha ke lavanya ji aur ap ek dushre se pyaar (a slight catch in her voice) karte thein aur hamare bajayse apka rista thut geya,isliye humne....(she trails off)

Khushi : (smiling and proceed to fix his tie,pouting her lips slightly) you know everything about me, huh? but do you know that I can do anything for you? I thought that you and lavanya ji loved each other (a slight catch in her voice) and because of me you two broke up. That's why I..... (she trails off)

(but Arnav was having a heart numbing realization with flashbacks of a morning in a terrace with him in a white shirt and her in a blue salwar kamiz, when she was minute away from jumping from the edge of the roof.he never gave any serious thought to this incidence,always brush aside as her childish ploys to compell him to reveal the truth of their marriage. but for the first time since that happened he was seeing the whole picture)

Arnav: (whispering) tum usdin chad pe? tum sach main kud ne wali thi? how dare you khushi?tum abhi iss (pause) bakht mujhe promise karo ke (pause) tum (pause) phir se esa karne ke baremain (pause) kabhi sochogi bhi nahi.(getting agitated by the minutes but he was whispering all of these) promise me dammit.tum esa soch bhi kese sakte ho?(still whispering)

Arnav: That day on terrace? you were serious about jumping? how dare you khushi? you right now (pause) promise me that (pause) you will never ever (pause) think about doing such thing again (getting agitated by the minutes but he was whispering all of this) promise me damn it. how can you even think about doing it? (still whispering)

khushi:( fully understand his turmoil at this moment which she wouldn't have before as she didn't know the past, place her hands on both side of his face, barely concealing her own tear, nodding her head feverantly)shhhh, hum wada karta hain.

khushi:(now fully understand his turmoil, place her hands on both side of his face, barely concealing her own tear, nodding her head feverantly)shhhh, i promise.

(Arnav drew her close to him hugging her tightly to himself, thinking how close he was to lose his everything, almost walking in the road of his late mother)

[newtonsheffield]

This Hard Time au has gotten me, Molly! My heart just melted when lil Neddy recognized his daddy right there in front of him-gutted. But, what got me even more was that despite Kate being left alone, devastated, heartbroken and pregnant by Anthony this doesn’t stop her from sharing the good parts of him w their son. So much so that he recognizes him at first glance?! AND calls him out like he just knows from what he’s heard that his dad will love him. Anthony has to be grateful for the grace shes shown him in that gift. He has to see that there’s still love there, no?

I think, truly, this comes from Kate knowing that Neddy's curious about his Dad. Of course he would be. And she just desperately wants her son to know that even though his father's not there: Neddy is so loved.

She loves him desperately, and no matter what happened that complicated things, no matter how hurt she is, or the fact that she hasn't been to a train station since that day because she can't, honestly: Neddy was made with so much love. She did love Anthony then, she might still be in love with him if she let herself think about it. She's definitely never felt like that since. She loved Anthony, and she felt loved. He didn't choose her but she thought he loved her then. He liked her enough that he'd asked her to marry him, and they'd been stupid teens but she thought it meant something.

"Did you love him?" Neddy asked when he sat on her lap and looked through the box of pictures she had of them together. "You were pretty Amma."

Kate chuckled, "Thank you, baby boy. Am I not anymore?"

"You're the prettiest of all the girls." Neddy grinned up at her and he looked so much like Anthony that she almost cried.

"You're sweet." Kate brushed his hair back from his eyes as he looked up at her, "I did love Anthony. Very much."

"Did he love you?"

Kate sighed, not quite sure how to answer that question but she nodded, "He loved me the best he could. He told me he loved me everyday, and when he hugged me it felt like there wasn't anyone else in the whole world."

"That's what your cuddles feel like." Neddy kissed her cheek. "I love your cuddles. He must have felt special."

"Thank you, baby, I hope so."

[stealeroflemons]

edits I desperately want to see #1

making this a series maybe because I'm still grieving and need something new to fixate on while I process

~"History Of Man" by Maisie Peters combined with House of The Dragon~

"Tale as old as honey, a moment everybody knows" - Rhaenys being passed up by Viserys when the new ruler of the seven kingdoms is named

"Yeah I'm sure there was heartbreak inside the walls of Jericho" - Amma's funeral scene and specifically when Rhaenyra looks at Viserys waiting for him to be the one to dracarys

"I couldn't believe it" - Rhaenyra and Alicent praying when Rhaenyra was crying over her mother

"How you could just stop wanting me" - Rhaenyra and Alicent sitting at the dinner table before Vsierys is sat when they were still at odds

"You burnt down Easter Island, as if it wasn't sacred, as if it wasn't sacred to me" - when Rharnyra sees that the Targaryen heritage was wiped clean and replaced with symbols of The Seven instead

"I've seen it, in the poems and the sands" - when Rhaenyra sees the white stag

"I've pleaded, with the powers and their plans" - when Rhaenyra is pleading with Viserys to defend her when her son's parentage is being called to question/ when Alicent is telling the council that Viserys did not wish for the murder of Rhaenyra

"I tried to rewrite it but I can't" - when Alicent tries telling Rhaenyra that "none of it need be this way in truth" when Rhaenyra is cold towards her because of her relationship with her father (Viserys)

"It's the history, the history of man" - select scenes between Otto and Viserys

"She stays up, he's sleeping like a lamb" - Alicent after having to coppulate with Viserys, staring up at the dark ceiling/camera

"She begs him, he says he doesn't understand" - Rhaenyra arguing with Viserys about how if she were a man she could father a dozen bastards and no one would bat an eye

"She loves him, more than anyone ever has" Rhaenyra and Daemon when Rhaenyra is gifted the necklace

"In the history, the history of man" - Alicent standing sullenly when Viserys announces he is to marry her

"It's the history of man (yep)" - blackout between next part of the edit/end of it if it's short

"You didn't even falter, didn't look back once did you?" - when Rhaenyra has to present Joffrey to Alicent/ when she has to walk past Criston

"So Samson blamed Delilah"- when Criston confesses to being intimate with Rhaenyra to Alicent

"But given half the chance I, I could have made him weaker too" - Alicent feeling betrayed by Rhaenyra (same scene as the one with Criston)

"Sirens sounded, trumpets blaring" - the tournament for Amma's son before she died

"You walked out oh, without sweating" - Viserys deciding to save the baby at the cost of Amma's life

"I've seen it in the poems and the sands" - when Rhaenyra sees the message hidden in the blade of Aegon's dream

"I've pleaded, with the powers and their plans" - when Alicent is crying to Otto about Rhaenyra's virtue/innocence being tarnished

"She stays up, he's sleeping like a lamb" - when Rhaenyra is being stitched by from her cut done by Alicent and her husband finally comes back from his time grieving his sister

"She begs him, he says he doesn't understand" - Alicent being shut down by Viserys for wanting her sons eye to be avenged (before she cuts Rhaenyra/attacks her)

"She loves him more than anyone ever has in the history, the history of man" - Alicent with Aemond or Aegon, trying to be motherly but not quite being as gentle as Rhaenyra is with her sons

"He stole our youth and promised heaven" - Viserys lying with Alicent in bed/Otto arranging the marriage

"The men start wars" - flash cuts between Otto, Criston, Daemon, and Viserys

"Yet Troy hates Helen" - the puppet show put on slandering Rhaenyra + Alicent being disregarded even after giving Viserys sons

"Women's hearts are lethal weapons" - Alicent trying to bond with Helaena while she explains what she thinks about that one bug she was holding

"Did you hold mine and feel threatened?" - mini spliced montage of Criston looking at Rhaenyra liked he loved her after her ngiht out with Daemon and during her wedding and when he started the fight/killing of Joffrey

"Hear my lyrics, taste my venom" - Rhaenyra landing in dragonstone telling Daemon "I'm right here, uncle" when getting the egg back

"You are still my great obsession" - Rhaenys telling Rhaenyra that the men of the realm will still want another man on the throne before they will ever want a woman to rule them

"I've seen it, in the poems and the sands" - back to when Rhaenys was passed up by Viserys

"I've pleaded, with the powers and their plans" - Amma begging Viserys not to sacrifice her when shes giving birth

"I tried to rewrite it but I can't" - when Alicent is trying to do damage control over Viserys' death with the council

"It's the history, the history of man" - splice montage of the men who started the whole fucking problem

"I stay up, you're sleeping like a lamb, I beg you and you don't understand, I hold on, I try to hold your hand, I save you a seat, and then you say you wanna stand- so you'll lose me, the best you'll ever have, it's the history, the history of man" - splice reel of Amma, Rhaenys, Alicent, and Rhaenyra all trying to appease the men around them and being disregarded and not given any grace for the effort they've put in, ending with the opening scene of the scroll holding Viserys's name on it being carried to the throne to be announced for who would rule the seven kingdoms

[saint-viscera]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱: 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐚

CWs - attempted murder, violence, cannibalism **

This is a horror story reader discretion advised.

July 4th, 1991

The path they were walking on looked like a torn-up wound, straight from the earth, dragging Amma down so deep, she couldn’t make sense of anything. Her ears gave up, her eyes might as well have been closed, and her hands? Useless. It was just her and the wild, nothing solid to cling to. Dew, clear as glass, clung to wilted daisies, and the air carried a raw, freshly skinned smell.

“Motherfucker, I should’ve stayed at the cabin. I’m getting torn up by these mosquitoes, you prick,” Amma complained, as Rufus hummed, leading the way. “You hear me? I wanna go back.” She stopped as a copperhead slithered out, its eyes burning like hot coals. It coiled tight, like it was waiting for her to say something. Amma almost laughed, thinking how stupid it’d be if it spoke first.

She followed Rufus ahead, her feet dragging like they were headed to some altar, but there wasn’t any joy in it. Hell, what a shame to feel like a bride. In another life, they’d be married into a two-bedroom trailer, have black-haired babies, and she’d serve pancakes to pervs at a ‘60s diner. Neither of them fit into that fantasy, and a bitter rebellion sparked inside her at the thought of her parents disapproval.

She imagined her dad crashing the ceremony, fuming at her in a white dress, while her gun-toting husband spat fruit pits in his face. She giggled. Rufus glanced back, satisfied, misreading the humor.

The moment soured. He was mumbling to himself like he did when he had a secret idea he wasn’t ready to share. They walked through pure wildness. Sticks scratched the sides of her arms.

“This is as far as I’m going. Let’s turn back; it’s too far.”“Did you hear me?” Amma’s voice sounded uncertain and unheard just as he stopped. A vein in his neck seemed to tighten.

“It’s just around the corner, Ams. Be patient.” He buzzed with excitement, his grin widening. The gaps between his teeth stretched as he continued mumbling. She felt more alone as they neared a willow tree next to a dilapidated shack held together by bark and crumbling shingles.

Her father used to preach about a spirit, pounding his fist against his suede suit. “I feel the spirit here,” he’d say, almost angry. “It’s in my bones. God gave me this strength to lend to you today.”

Dread filled Amma’s stomach in the same way those sermons did, the same way her dreams of swallowing blood and skin made her choke. She stood paralyzed for a moment.

“This is special to me. Promise not to ruin it, okay?” Rufus held out his pinkie finger. She hesitated but linked hers with his. His grip tightened before pulling away. “I made it for you.”

The spirit was in her now too, pulsing through her veins, intoxicating her.

“Open it,” she rasped. The shed seemed to vibrate as his hand hovered over the lock. The air between them was thick with something unspoken, something dangerous.

Rufus unlocked the door, stepping back to let her enter first.

“After you, your highness.”

The sight of the stones with symbols carved into them didn’t alarm her at first.

It was the smell of game, faint splatters of blood from his kills that hit her. Tiny white worms wriggled through cracks in the wooden floor. It reminded her of hunting trips with her dad and brothers after Sunday sermons.

She wrinkled her nose at the mess of her “gift”.

“This where you keep those squirrels you’ve been shooting at?” Amma pointed to a box of coolers lined against the shed wall. The wet, twisting sounds made her wonder if he’d caught fish.

He stayed silent behind her.“Go on, open them for me,” he finally said, his voice flat. “Your gift’s waiting.”

Amma cocked her head.

“Rufus, you got me fish as a gift? Wow, I’m so impressed,” she teased, irritated that he was standing behind her.

The shed door shut with a click, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Get from behind me,” Amma said, her voice trembling.

“Open the cooler, Amma. Please.”

The “please” soothed her a little, made him sound like the Rufus she knew. Begging to be subdued. She bent down, her shorts chafing her thighs as she lifted the cover of the cooler. A foul odor hit her.

She opened it and gagged.

“That one’s full, so I’ll have to toss one to add yours,” Rufus said casually, stepping closer to peer inside, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Amma screamed.

It wasn’t fish. It was hearts. Bloated and floating in a murky soup.

Rufus placed his hands on her shoulders, gently squeezing.

“You trusted me. Now I’m sharing mine with you, babe.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, her own pulse roaring in her ears. “You want to hurt me.”

The shed melted into a sludge of shadows. She should fear God, should have from the start. Lord, she was a fool. A rumble built in her, telling her to take, take, take before he took everything from her.

Rufus sounded almost sad. “Ams, it won’t hurt if you love me. Don’t struggle.”

“You want to hurt me,” she repeated, her hands trembling as they gripped her head. “YOU WANT TO HURT ME!”

Before she could move, Rufus lunged at her with a knife. She slapped at his chest, but he overpowered her.

“I love you. Don’t you get it?” he growled.

She saw his face, his cowboy hat, his scars, the gaps in his teeth. He was going to kill her. Her shoulder knocked into the wall, sending stones crashing to the floor. He roared.

“You’re ruining it!” His voice was pure fury now, the kind she recognized. Her face was wet, but she wasn’t crying. Fear God. Fear God, but it wasn’t working as he yanked her wrist, pulling her down.

Amma screeched, “You’re not going to kill me!” She imagined the leash around his neck, yanking it tight until it snapped, but her hands shook as she tried to push him away. He held her leg down, to keep her from shaking as he tried to get at her heart. But the knife in his hand knicked the length of her calf, as she screamed again.

He struggled to pin her down. Rufus was a blur of skin and rage, his knife aimed at her heart.

She closed her eyes, snot mixing with her flavored chapstick. Chapstick felt childish now. She was a child, after all, she hadn’t even graduated. And she was going to die, killed by the boy who claimed to love her.

The thought made her open her eyes one last time.

She saw the blue in his eyes, the gold flecks dancing like a wild dog. The back of his neck, the spot where she had bit him once taunted her.

Another stone crashed to the floor.

Fear God. No, fear me.

Amma let out a guttural scream, sinking her teeth into his neck, biting down with all her strength. Rufus howled in pain, blood spurting from the wound.

His knife clattered to the ground, and she grabbed it with trembling hands.

Fear God, fear me.

Rufus collapsed on top of her, but she shoved him aside.

Fear me.

She plunged the knife into his heart.

He shuddered violently, his body spasming as blood poured from his neck. The spirit enveloped her now, thick and suffocating.

She turned his blubbering body over, leaned down, and pressed her lips to his neck.

————————————————————————

Amma came out her trance, inebriated.

When it was over Amma was struggling not to chuck whatever she had scarfed down , she laid against the shed floor, gasping out of breath. Rufus was gone, and she scrambled off the floor to search for at glimpse of him with his knife ready to pierce her.

Her knees had been scratched raw by the nails in the floorboards of the shed. It was sunset and he was gone, but why?

“You’ve done something terrible.” Her parents said one night, snuck back in the house from running to her boyfriend who was good then. They gave up on any notion she was innocent. But Amma was a child then and she was child now.

She did something you weren’t supposed to speak of.

Her face was drenched but not in tears, she felt thickly submerged in something slow moving. Amma tried to get off her hands and knees to walk but they crumpled like the newborn foals she saw in pastures out this far from the city.

When she fell back to the floor, and slipped. Amma stalled in accepting what , no who it was.

Rufus Van Hauser.

She ate him. And it had satisfied her. The need to own what wanted to attack her was gone. But Amma as dazed,

The silence in the shed, nearly made her think she had lost her hearing. Her eyes flicked around in every direction. Something to latch onto and never let go of as she had done to Rufus’s body for hours, she needed an anchor.

His cowboy hat laid untouched inches away from her hand.

Splayed out, Amma grabbed for it hungry with need.

She laid against the cold floor, full and waited for morning to come. Amma was utterly alone since the beginning

————————————————————————

Six weeks later, August 15th, 1991

She left the shed and the cabin weeks ago and had burned her clothes and dragged Rufus into a nearby lake they used to swim in.

Amma sat on a bench, mute and determined to not speak to at stranger that pretended to be kind. She snapped at everyone, as she stared emptily and forced the edge of her ticket down into her skin. Anything to feel real and remember what had been done at the cabin.

She bought a ticket to a town, she’d heard before. Amma peered at it, ignoring the leer of an elderly man straining to the destination on it.

Serotha, Oklahoma. Adair County is its official seat. Shauna and her had known a guy there as teenagers. He could be in jail for all she knew but it was worth a shot. It was a dumb idea but Amma didn’t believe there was anything she wasn’t capable of surviving though.

The bus winded down the road in front of her. MegaBus, she chose specifically. Not a greyhound this time.

Amma stood up from the cold metal of the seat, gathering her new cowboy hat and leftover clothes in her ratty backpack she’d started out with. Nothing was left behind. Even Rufus , who now sat in her stomach, she thought strangely both bothered and content with this new reality.

The bus passengers were beginning to board one by one, and cut in the middle of the line, despite being cursed at.

“Hey watch where you’re going”. An older woman moved to grab her arm but Amma turned around and hissed.

“Try it and you’re walking away with four fingers”. She felt sick with herself using this new part of her as a threat. Had Rufus felt this menacing when he walked her to shed . A predator coming out of in plain sight.

“Friggin, animal”. Amma heard the woman retort before she relented.

She had no idea how right she was.

Still waiting in line, Amma decided to forget him for a moment and focus on Serotha. She pictured it as quaint hillside that looked like a hallmark card with wild thoroughbreds prancing around .

As the thought settled in, a slow ache began to bloom in her insides. It grew and grew till she pushed the man in front of her aside to throw up on the front of the bus. Protests erupted from the driver as she hugged herself from the onslaught of sickness from eating the boy who loved her.

When Amma boarded with her backpack , after cleaning up with pocket tissues, she placed her new hat on top of her eyes to sleep.

A baby cried from two aisles ahead of her. Hearing its cries, made her think of black hair and blue eyes. Not his, but another softer pair.

The bus surged onto Serotha, the baby cried louder from the motion and rang in her ears loudly.

It hit her then and Amma felt her heart drop.

There was one more thing she hadn’t run away from…

[emo0lly]

alright so for every fandom I’m in I have like 300 different ideas per set of characters, so I’m gonna draw the wildcard here and post one for mbs/tmbs

So, we know that Kate is the oldest of the society, and Constance is the youngest, right? What about Reynie and Sticky?

I think it would be kinda hilarious if everyone just subconsciously assumed that Sticky was older, then it turns out Reynie is by (at most) a few months, and they only find out when his birthday actually rolls around.

Miss Perumal: “Happy Birthday, Reynie”

“Thank you Amma”

(the only people who knew it’s his birthday would be the adults minus Milligan, and Constance, since she figured out via telepathy)

Upon learning this knowledge, Kate and Sticky both attempt to throw together some birthday gifts last-minute; they’re not the best, but sweet.