#ISHAN SOUND

[yellowmanula]

CLASH OF THE TITANS BY ISHAN SOUND FEAT. RAS ADDIS ----》 mam to na winylu 😁 Sound check after shopping at Bikini Waxx Records 🥰

[echthr0s]

data point 1: Emet-Selch heavily assisted the bioengineers who created Dayir, and Emet-Selch's sentimentality does tend to "infect" his creations (see: the shade of Hythlodaeus). The ghost of Osiris is an unseen guiding force all Dayir's life, but with no frame of reference for why she is drawn to certain things or why certain things seem to happen around/because of her, she cannot make this connection.

data point 2: Ishan, the other Azem-shard that is Dayir's companion, comes to be in possession of a strange black orb that is referred to as the "Heart"* of his rejoined world. This orb speaks to Dayir, not in words but speaks nevertheless. It Awakens her, she whose soul is already cracked open thanks to the profusion of Light within her at the time. She becomes aware that at the beginning of all things, she lived, and she was an endbringer.

data point 3: The Azem crystal did the rest of the work; here were Osiris's memories, their soul's unique resonance, and the remnants of the red string that bound Osiris and their loved ones together. Here the disjointed fragments of gnosis begin to resolve into a narrative -- one of a world trapped in stasis and the unique configuration of embodied cosmic forces that would be required to crack it open. Of how the keening of a dying world is the same as the squalling of a world newly born. Of Etheirys's first trickster, chaos agent, world-breaker. Of a strange Ancient who embraced eternity. Who knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that there are other worlds than even these.

Dayir (not so much Ishan, who deals with such things in a far more pragmatic and one might even say dismissive manner) will be grappling with the great and terrible gnosis of Osiris-called-Azem for the rest of her life. They live in her body like mutant cells, like the multitude of primal aether in her heart, her soul too full, too big for the shell it's in. It's partially why she's retired now.

-

*yes, there's a theme here; Heart of Khorl (the device that powers Dayir's body), Heart of Sabik, Heart of the Thirteenth. the theme is... themes. just roll with it.

7/24/24

Does your wol(oc) know anything about their Azem/Ancient?

[hum-suffer]

I'm Yours 5

Ishan curses the moment he has sober thoughts back in his head, that is, the next morning. He slept through his alarm and has less than half an hour to get ready and not be late to college so he stores any and all thoughts away as he carefully puts down the gajra from his wrist and onto the dining table before running around his house like a headless chicken.

His day proves to be even more trying, as news reaches the college that the university is going to host an organisation for cultural events and as the manager, Ishan is supposed to coordinate at least the engineering department. He couldn't have had a weirder week.

He almost snaps at a student when they ask him for important questions but at the last moment manages to hold his tongue and instead give them a later date for such a discussion. He has a lot on his plate already, and them asking for important questions almost a month before the exam is literally not helping him.

____________________________________________________

It happens when Ishan enters Virat's office, to borrow his copy of Rashmirathi. Virat bhaiya seems to be talking to someone on his phone, a video call.

He beams when he sees Ishan. "Arre, Ishan! I was just talking about you. You should take more holidays too, baba, you look so rested."

It's the effect of mind numbing alcohol after my stalker became a cock block, he wants to say. Instead, he snorts,"Wow, call me out on all my dark circles, why don't you?"

Virat bhaiya shakes his head fondly. He beckons Ishan on the other side of the table and almost shoves his phone in Ishan's hand. He's been talking to Shubhman.

Shubhman seems to be just as surprises to see him and freezes. Ishan freezes as well, but for something else entirely.

He has a fucking hickey on his chin.

His heart thuds uncomfortably in his chest as he smiles,"Hi, how are you?"

"I'm good," he absolutely doesn't sound good with the way his eyes are widening,"Just wanted to show Virat bhaiya the toys I bought for Vamika yesterday." Almost as if he's relieved, he turns the phone camera to some soft toys, piled up messily. Ishan smiles, spotting the Pikachu plushie that Vamika is sure to love.

"That's very sweet of you, Shubhman." He looks at Virat bhaiya and back at Shubhman. "I'm very sorry to cut this short but I need to borrow Virat bhaiya's copy of Rashmirathi instantly before my next class."

"Of course, totally understandable! It was nice talking to you!" He seems like he is hesitant in adding anything else.

Even as he knew it could probably be the worst choice of his life, Ishan smiles at him at graciously. "Fir milenge."

____________________________________________________

Shubhman is waiting on the steps of his porch when Ishan returns home. He looks like a kicked puppy.

He keeps stealing glances at Ishan, as he walks across the veranda. He stands up when Ishan reaches him and Ishan gestures at the door, unlocking his house and letting his guest enter first, as courtesy dictates.

"Ishan. Can we talk?"

Ishan nods, removing his jacket and throwing it over the arm of the sofa. "We can. But before that, I need tea to survive that conversation. Do you want some?"

"Please, thank you."

The pass the time in silence, unlike last time when they'd been yapping on and on about one thing or the other.

As the tea is boiling, Ishan sneaks a glance at Shubhman, who is staring at the bunch of gajras that Ishan has now started to group at the corner of the dining table. Before Ishan can take his eyes away from Shubhman, the man turns and Ishan wants to bury himself somewhere because Shubhman looks so fucking beautiful.

"I'm not sorry for meeting you, for falling for you or for wanting to date you," Shubhman says. His voice is shaking. "But I am sorry if I was a nuisance to you or if I scared you. I only ever wanted to, I don't know, just let you know how my world revolves around you."

Ishan doesn't know what to say, so he remains silent. Shubhman continues, softer, more vulnerable. "The day I saw you, I wanted to completely drown in you. Possess and be possessed. You seemed so full of life, love and enthusiasm. And I was never even remotely like that. I've never had a shred of peace or enthusiasm. You're so beautiful, so lively. I wanted you to myself."

"You could have asked me on date, Shubhman." He says, pouring the tea in teacups that he bought last year— only because they looked cute to him. White, covered all over by cute emojis. Shubhman gets the one with sparkle emojis.

Shubhman raises his eyebrows, still uncertain. "And you wouldn't have turned out to be homophobic? Or just token straight? Or even committed?" He blows lightly on his tea and the smell of mint calms Ishan somehow. "I realise I was wrong, but wanted to protect myself. I found out everything about you there is to find— I wanted to be cautious. I'm one of the youngest names in the industry, I'm unused to the attention and my success makes me a target for jealousy. I am nothing if not careful."

"And so humble, too." Ishan marks with a wry grin.

Shubhman looks down, almost shy. He continues after a moment,"I started searching you up and then when I was sure that you're all around a good person, I couldn't hide the urge to text you. After the first day, it became kind of addicting. Talking to you was the highlight of my day."

"You can break into my house to give me gajras and not ask me on a date?" Ishan raises an eyebrow. Shubhman shuffles adorably. Ishan is reminded how young and hence naive the man is, and something certainly unethical flares inside him.

Stop, he tells himself. For the sake of a peaceful death, stop.

Shubhman gives him a hesitant half grin. "I'm not even sorry."

And that was the truth. While Shubhman may feel sorry about spooking Ishan, but he won't feel sorry about pursuing him— in any way.

Ishan realises abruptly that his tea is empty when Shubhman lifts his cup up, taking his mug as well and putting them both in the sink. Ishan doesn't even have the coherence to stop his guest from doing chores because— what the fuck. What the fuck. His stalker is washing their cups of tea.

"No, wait!" Shubhman looks at him, surprised,"What are you doing, you're my guest! My mother will kill me if she finds out! Stop!"

Shubhman laughs and throws some water at Ishan almost unthinkingly before he freezes. Ishan swats him on the bicep.

There's something dangerous bubbling in his chest and it's not necessarily illicit but it is so so tempting and rattling.

Shubhman smiles at him and Ishan wants to keep the smile tattooed over his throat and feel him every time he takes a deep breath.

____________________________________________________

It's a miracle but ishan somehow manages to blink himself back to reality when Shubhman starts speaking. It's breath of fresh air to see the boy standing awkwardly in his kitchen, but Ishan has better manners than that. He leads Shubhman back to the living room. They cannot sit apart, won't, and Ishan feels so awkward that he might as well have met him at the club again.

"So," Ishan stretches out the syllable,"last night? What was...that?"

Shubhman blushes and looks down. For all purposes, he looks like he is here to give an interview or proposition a marriage.Ishan knows which one he prefers.

(No. Stop. Bad Ishan. BAD.)

"As you know, I've already hacked into your phone." Ishan raises an eyebrow and Shubhman shrugs with a wince. "I promise I didn't find you through that. I was in the club to drink myself in misery since the whole spooking you in the bathroom thing. It was out of line and I am very sorry about that. But yeah. I saw you with the guy and...I couldn't just watch. I wanted to be one whom you laugh with, whom you dance with. I knew all the dance hook steps you seemed to be enjoying and I wanted you to look at me like you're proud.

"I got the lights cut off for a while. I only planned to come near you and just bask in the fact that you're touching me. Things... escalated. And well. I can't claim to regret anything." His hand hovers over the hickey at his chin and his eyes look at the biege shirt Ishan is wearing, the one that conceals his own set of hickeys just barely. He'd had to wear a tie today to hide the one at his throat.

Ishan knows something is wrong with him because he definitely doesn't regret that either. He thinks that he'd love it anyway, if it was Shubhman or the stalker. The only reason that he didn't recognise the voice was because Shubhman appeared to have a mild cold, which deepened his voice.

Shubhman purses his lips and it's only when Ishan sees the look on his face that he realises that he's fingering the hickey at his throat. Shubhman's jaw tightens but he stays where he is.

Ishan gulps and looks away, at the gajras at the dining table.

"So," Shubhman copies Ishan. "Something like a girlfriend, huh?"

"You leave me flowers, worry about my well being and steal my shirts. I'm not even wrong," Ishan says with a grin. Shubhman grins back but Ishan knows that he wants a real answer and that makes him look away. "Since my childhood, I've had issues with, um, sharing. Thinking that someone solely wanted me, that someone is completely mine in a sense that is undecipherable, it may be wrong but I was flattered. I liked being the sole attention."

Shubhman looks at him hesitantly. "My attention is only ever going to be on you, Ishan, should you allow it. There's nothing I want more than I want you to be my partner, my companion."

"And you're not a murdering psychopath who stalks people, makes them fall for him and then kills them?" Ishan asks, just to be sure. He's late in the question and he's also aware that an actual psychopath wouldn't say the truth, because plausible deniability, who?

Shubhman grins at him. Ishan wants to curse how beautiful he is. No fucking wonder he's on so many magazine covers. He would have ended the world of modelling if he didn't choose academics.

"And you're asking me this question after I've broken into your house more than three times and you've invited me for tea twice?"

Ishan shrugs. Shubhman laughs.

"No." The intensity of the word comes as a bit of a shocker. "There's never going to be anyone but you. And you'll never get hurt by my hand intentionally, I swear it. You're everything, Ishan." Shubhman smiles, softer and quieter. He turns and his knee bumps with Ishan's thigh. "I don't become a stalker for just anyone, Ishan."

Ishan feels heat rush to his cheeks and ears. He unnecessarily clears his throat. "It's a good thing too. How would I take you to the best date ever if you're in jail?"

Shubhman blinks owlishly. Ishan panics. He definitely shouldn't have asked. Maybe Shubhman wanted to take it slow. Maybe he didn't want a relationship. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he found out he didn't like Ishan all that much—

"You still want me? After... everything?"

Ishan breathes a sigh of relief. One of his hand goes to Shubhman's knee unbidden and the other goes to cup his face.

"I've wanted you since the very moment I heard about you, baby. Of course, of course, I want you."

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @mayakimayahai @onthecloudseven @kyayaarkiraa @k-h-watari @ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si @khwxbeeda @fortunatelycrazyyouth @theseventhhoax @ms-potato @athena-swords (bless you and your comments, ily)

[ishuess]

Ishman X Byler (best friends to lovers)

Two of my favourite ships byler and ishman with uncanny resemblance.

Mike is tall and the classic bi icon and trying hard to be in a straight relationship with Eleven when he doesn't even love her. Him being in love with his shorty best friend Will. Sounds very Shubman. He's protective of his best friend too a point that he can sacrifice his own life.

The gay mess Will Byers who has always been in love with his best friend. In addition to that he has a mole right where Ishan has on his neck. Coincidences r unreal👀🤭

Will Byers going through heck load of problems in live including exclusion from his own group. That sounds like someone.

Will has an elder brother supportive of his feelings Jonathan. (cough cough Raj Bhaiya)

Mike has sister. You already know what I'm saying.

My low sleep mind made this up. Tell me what u think.

Will Byers 🤝🏻 Ishan Kishan

Mike Wheeler 🤝🏻 Shubman Gill

And most importantly the partyyy:

Compulsory Nazar Protection

thu thu thu thu🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿🧿

[45cementry-gates]

This starving heart

#6. Hazy Nights - II

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~

He's lying on a bed somewhere;

The sheets smell sour and rotten.

There's a weight pressed on top of him.

Cold hands are resting against his knees, trailing upwards and resting on his thighs.

He tries to swat them away, but they grab his arm and he feels the sharp sting of nails digging into his skin.

He jerks his arm back but it's useless.

The pain gets worse and worse as the nails break through his skin and he feels blood ooze out.

He tries to move away, but somehow the sharp clawed hands are everywhere.

They grab his ankles, his throat, his wrists and holding him down.

He feels the stinging sensations everywhere; he tries to scream and shout but his voice is gone.

He calls every name he can think of but there's no one.

Paralizing terror runs through his body as he feels blood run down his arms and legs.

The pressure on his throat increases and the nails press against his windpipe, trying to break through the flesh.

There's another hand on his cheek.

It feels rough and large but somehow much warmer than anything else he has felt.

He feels the sharp piercing sensations drift away.

The suffocating weight lifts off and the rotting smell goes away.

The warm hands trail over his body, stopping at the hem of his shirt, hiking it up and sneaking under it.

He feels the fabric of his shirt ride up and feathery touches of fingers on his chest.

And then it stops; the hands retreat and his shirt is pulled back down.

He whines at the loss of warmth, desperation clawing it's way up to his throat.

There is no face or figure he can see, but he knows.

Afterall, there's only one person he has ever wished to be held by like this.

" Ishan....wait- "

He gets nothing.

" Ishu... "

He feels the cool metal of a locket dangle and brush against his neck and then those hands are Gently caressing the side of his face.

Something soft presses against his  cheek and then his forehead.

The hands move upwards, fingers combing through his hair, brushing them away from his forehead.

But then the touches stop.

He feels the weight shift as the warm body pressed against him moves away, depriving him of the affection he was being showered with.

He whines again and the warmth comes back;

He feels one hand touch his cheek and he makes a grab for it, curling his own hand around it and holds it against his cheek.

It feels nice.

He finally feels his mind drift away into calm nothingness....and he lets it.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Ishan woke up in the dead of night to the sound of his own name.

He heard bed sheets rustle beside him and turned to his side, taking off the blanket over his head.

There was a restless pile of blankets and pillows right next to him, with Shubhman inside it.

Ishan sat up, pushed his own blanket aside and leaned over to Shubhman's side.

He could hear faint whimpers and sniffles coming from underneath the blanket.

'Is he crying?'

'Why is he crying at this hour?'

He reached out to remove the covers, and A moment of hesitation passed through him but his half asleep brain filtered that thought out completely.

He pushed the blanket down and-

'Oh.'

Shubhman's eyes were closed, but his face was contoured with an agonizing expression.

His hands were tightly clenched in a fist and his breathing was getting shallower by the second.

Ishan was at a complete loss.

'Is it a fever?'

He gently patted his face, but his body temperature felt normal.

'Is it a panic attack?'

'A nightmare?'

Shubhman let out a pained sigh.

'What the fuck do I do?'

Ishan felt panic bubble up inside him and quickly lifted Shubhman's shirt and placed a hand on his chest, trying to feel his heartbeat.

It was faster than normal, but not too alarming.

He relaxed a bit, but quickly started panicking again when he realized it had been enough time since he had woken up that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of their room.

'Gods he's so hot.

Why is he so hot?

He could clearly see Shubhman's waist, his hipbones, his abs, his nip- '

He quickly snatched his hand back and tugged the shirt back down.

'Not the time to get distracted.'

And then Shubhman whined and wispered his name while still somehow lost in dreamland.

Ishan tried to gauge if he was hallucinating when Shubhman called him a second time.

The soft and whiny tone with which he called him melted his heart.

'Maybe this is wrong, but just for a moment.... '

Ishan leaned over him and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.

He stares at his face, now relaxed and content, and leaned in again to kiss his forehead.

He gently combed through his hair and cupped his cheek.

'Adorable.'

And then Shubhman's hand moved.

Ishan felt his heart leap into his throat as he tried to move away but Shubhman grabbed his hand and pressed it under his cheek, nuzzling against it.

Ishan stayed still for a minute, waiting for Shubhman to wake up.

But he didn't.

In fact, he looked much more comfortable and at ease than he did 10 minutes ago.

Ishan tried to pull his hand back once, but it was stuck under the other's cheek and grip.

He didn't bother again.

Instead, he pulled his pillow closer to Shubhman's and just lied down there, dragging the blanket back onto him with his free hand.

Ishan looked at Shubhman's sleepy face pressed against his hand, with barely any distance between them.

He stared at his lashes, his cheeks, his lips, his neck, his brows and etched it all to the back of his mind.

Whenever Shubhman acted

awkward around him, stole sneaky glances whenever he thought no-one was noticing, Ishan wanted to hope.

He had crushed that hope with an Iron fist every time it resurfaced.

Afterall, He had gone through enough failed relationships to last him a lifetime. Another one was not needed.

And yet.....

He couldn't help himself when it came to Shubhman.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•

I'm sorry for the long delay, but my exams are finally over!

So regular updates will be on now.

Also here's a sneak peek of the next chapter -

.

.

.

It's not even nine in the morning  and yet Hardik is already tired.

When Rohit and Virat Bhai asked him to keep an eye on Ishan and Shubhman, he thought it was because they were up to something.

Something uselessly troublesome, of course.

But the more he observed them, the more it started feeling like he was witnessing a serial from star plus where the main leads are forced into an unhappy marriage by their families and have nothing in common besides a mutual sense of hatred towards one another but then later develop feelings and act all awkward with each other.

His mother used to love these type of plots.

He wishes he could just drop them both at her front door.

His stress levels would reduce immensely and his mom will have unlimited entertainment to keep her company.

Win-win situation for everyone.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•

Tagging :

(tell me if you want me to add or remove you from the taglist)

@hum-suffer @bimesskaira @ishuess @fortunatelycrazyyouth @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @athena-swords @imjellyjenny @kishmishorkissish @hanaahaa @happypopcornprincess @deeee60 @melancholicmonody @roseromeroredranger @miyuki7 @fangirlingintellectual @books-butterbeer @nothingmuch08 @cherryryryryryry

[roseromeroredranger]

Veiled Tears..

Shubman's world shattered with the ring of his phone, his parents' jubilant voices slicing through the silence of his room. "Shubman, beta, we've fixed your marriage with Sara Tendulkar. We're so happy!"

The words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating him with their weight. Sara Tendulkar?* The name reverberated in his mind, each syllable a painful reminder of the life he was expected to lead, a life devoid of the one he truly loved.

He managed a weak response, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Haan, Maa, Papa. I'm happy too."

But as the call ended, and the facade crumbled, the floodgates opened, and tears streamed down his face, each drop a silent testament to the agony tearing him apart from within.

Alone in the darkness of his room, Shubman collapsed onto his bed, his body wracked with sobs. The weight of his unspoken love for Ishan pressed down on him like a suffocating blanket, leaving him gasping for air.

"I can't do this," he whispered into the emptiness, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own heart breaking. "I love you, Ishan." But the words remained trapped within him, buried beneath layers of societal expectations and familial obligations.

He clutched his pillow to his chest, seeking solace in its familiar embrace, but finding only the echo of his own pain. Each heartbeat echoed with the ache of longing, each breath a reminder of the love he could never fully express.

In the darkness of his despair, Shubman wept, his tears a silent symphony of grief and longing. For in that moment, he was not just mourning the loss of a future with Ishan, but the loss of his own freedom to love unabashedly, condemned to a lifetime of veiled tears and unspoken desires.

Ishan stood at the doorway, his heart heavy with the weight of Shubman's unspoken pain. As he watched his best friend curled up on the bed, tears staining his cheeks, Ishan felt a surge of anguish wash over him.

Moving silently across the room, Ishan approached Shubman's bedside. Gently, he reached out and brushed a stray tear from Shubman's cheek, his touch feather-light against the warmth of his skin.

Shubman stirred slightly, his features softened by the peacefulness of sleep. Ishan couldn't help but marvel at the sight of his 29-year-old best friend, vulnerable and raw in the quiet of the night.

For a moment, Ishan allowed himself to forget the barriers that separated them, the expectations that shackled their love. In that fleeting moment, all that mattered was the bond they shared, unbreakable and unyielding in the face of adversity.

With a heavy heart, Ishan pressed a tender kiss to Shubman's forehead, a silent promise to stand by his side no matter what the future held. And as he watched over his slumbering best friend, Ishan prayed for a world where love could reign supreme, where two souls could find solace in each other's embrace without fear or shame.

As the first light of dawn crept into the room, Shubman stirred from his sleep and found himself face to face with Ishan, their bodies intertwined in an unexpected embrace.

Shubman: "Ish?"

Ishan:  "Shh, go back to sleep, Shub. You looked peaceful."

Shubman hesitated for a moment, then relaxed into Ishan's embrace, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him.

Shubman: "Thank you, Ish. For being here."

Ishan: "Always, Shub. You're not alone in this."

The morning sun illuminated the breakfast table as Shubman joined the rest of the cricket family. Ishan, too, took his seat, their eyes meeting briefly with a shared understanding that lingered from the quiet moments of the morning.

The clinking of utensils against plates resonated in the air as the team indulged in breakfast. Shubman, however, felt a weight in his chest, the announcement of his impending marriage to Sara Tendulkar weighing heavily on his mind.

Shubman took a deep breath, his gaze flickering between the faces of his teammates. A knot tightened in his stomach as he prepared to utter the words that would alter the course of his life.

Shubman:  "Hey, everyone. I have something to share."

The room fell into a hushed silence, the attention of the cricket family now fixed on Shubman.

Shreyas: "What's up, Shubman?"

Shubman: "I... I've decided to get married."

A wave of surprise washed over the room, and Shubman felt the weight of the unspoken truth pressing down on him.

Virat: "That's great news, Shubman! Congratulations!"

Shubman managed a smile, the words leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. The congratulations continued, but amidst the celebration, Shubman's eyes sought Ishan's, a silent plea for understanding.

Ishan maintained a cold expression, concealing the complexities of their shared truth. The unspoken tension hung in the air, leaving a subtle undercurrent beneath the veneer of joy.

As the breakfast continued, Shubman struggled to maintain composure, the weight of societal expectations settling on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. The cricket family, unaware of the emotional turmoil beneath the surface, offered their blessings and well-wishes.

Amidst the congratulations, Shubman stole a glance at Ishan, who met his gaze with a subtle nod—a silent acknowledgment of the sacrifices they were making for the sake of conformity.

The breakfast table, once filled with laughter and camaraderie, now bore witness to the quiet unraveling of a story that dared not speak its name. And as the cricket family toasted to Shubman's future, the unspoken bond between him and Ishan resonated like a poignant melody, echoing through the corridors of their shared silence.

Ishan entered their room, his footsteps heavy with the weight of Shubman's announcement. He closed the door behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet room, amplifying the turmoil within him.

Ishan:  "Shubi..."

The room remained silent, the emptiness suffocating Ishan as he stood there, grappling with the reality of Shubman's sudden marriage. With a heavy heart, he made his way to the bathroom, the sound of his own breath the only companion in the darkness.

Turning on the shower, Ishan let the warm water wash over him, a feeble attempt to drown out the cacophony of emotions raging inside him. But as the water mingled with his tears, he found himself unable to escape the pain that threatened to consume him.

Ishan: (Choking on his words) "Why, Shubman? Why her?"

The water provided no answers, only the relentless drumming of his own heartbeat, a constant reminder of the ache in his chest. Leaning against the tiled wall, Ishan let out a guttural sob, the sound reverberating in the confines of the bathroom.

Ishan: (Through choked sobs)"I can't do this, Shubman. I can't watch you marry someone else."

Each word felt like a dagger to his heart, tearing at the fragile threads of hope he had been desperately clinging to. But amidst the pain, there was a quiet resolve, a determination to face the truth no matter how agonizing it may be.

Ishan:  "I'll always love you, Shubman. No matter what."

And as the water washed away the tears, leaving behind a trail of raw vulnerability, Ishan vowed to carry the memory of Shubman's love with him, even as he watched him slip away into the arms of another.

...

InMohali, where wedding preparations were in full swing for Shubman'marriage, Virat and Rohit couldn't ignore the strained atmosphere surrounding their younger teammates. The cricket fraternity, known for its close-knit bonds, could sense the undercurrents of unspoken emotions.

Virat noticed Shubman's forced smiles and distant gaze, a stark contrast to his usual vibrant self. Rohit, too, observed Ishan's stoic demeanor, a mask that barely concealed the turmoil within.

Virat: *Pulling Shubman aside* "Shubman, everything okay, mate?"

Shubman: *Forcing a smile* "Yeah, Virat bhai. Just caught up with the wedding preparations, you know?"

Virat: *Concerned* "You sure? You can talk to us, you know."

Shubman hesitated, the weight of his secret pressing on him.

Shubman: "It's just... a lot going on."

Meanwhile, Rohit approached Ishan, who was lost in his own thoughts.

Rohit: "Ishan, what's on your mind? You seem distant."

Ishan: *Masking his emotions* "Just the usual, Rohit bhaiya . Preparing for the wedding and all."

Rohit: *Observant* "I've known you guys for a long time. Something feels off. Talk to me."

Ishan glanced at Shubman, his best friend, who was caught in the whirlwind of preparations.

Ishan: "It's just... it's complicated."

Rohit and Virat exchanged knowing glances, understanding that there was more to the story than met the eye.

Virat: *To Shubman* "Look, Shubman, if there's anything bothering you, we're here for you. Don't hesitate to share."

Rohit echoed the sentiment to Ishan, creating a space for the juniors to open up about the complexities of their emotions.

Later, in the quiet corners of Mohali, Shubman and Ishan found themselves separately with Virat and Rohit, grateful for the opportunity to confide in their seniors. The cricket fraternity, fueled by genuine camaraderie, became a sanctuary for the unspoken, a place where emotions could unfold without judgment.

..

As the bachelor night unfolded, Ishan stood clad in a slick black shirt, its three buttons teasingly undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest where a tattoo peeked out. Around his neck, a pearl necklace, a gift from Shubman, adorned him with a subtle elegance. His gaze swept across the room, pausing momentarily when he caught sight of Shubman.

Shubman, dressed in a maroon shirt left unbuttoned, the golden chain stolen from Ishan adorning his neck, exuded a magnetic charm that drew Ishan's attention like a moth to flame. Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between them, each acknowledging the allure of the other's presence.

Without a word, they exchanged a silent agreement, acknowledging the undeniable attraction that simmered beneath the surface. Despite the playful banter that flowed between them, neither dared to voice the depths of their desires, fearing the consequences of such admission.

As the night progressed, Shubman found himself entangled in a dance with Sara, their movements fluid yet lacking the same spark that ignited when he danced with Ishan. Ishan, watching from a distance, felt a pang of jealousy twist in his gut, unable to bear the sight of Shubman in another's arms.

Driven by a potent mix of emotions, Ishan turned to the bottle, seeking solace in the numbing embrace of alcohol. The world blurred around him as he drowned his sorrows, the memory of Shubman's laughter and the touch of his fingertips haunting him like a ghost.

But fate intervened, and as the night wore on, Ishan found himself drawn to Shubman once more, unable to resist the gravitational pull that bound them together. With a heart heavy with longing, he approached Shubman, his steps unsteady yet determined.

Without a word, Ishan reached out and pulled Shubman close, their bodies fitting together as if they were two halves of a whole. The music pulsed around them, the rhythm of their dance mirroring the tumultuous emotions that raged within.

As the familiar beats of "Nashe Se Chadh Gayi" filled the air, Ishan's hand found its way to Shubman's waist, the music serving as a backdrop to their shared intimacy.

"Nashe se chadh gayi oye..."

Their bodies moved in perfect sync, the rhythm of the music guiding their every step as they swayed together in the dimly lit room.

"Kudi nashe se chadh gayi..."

Ishan's touch sent a shiver down Shubman's spine, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume his every thought.

"Patang si lad gayi oye..."*

Their gazes locked, a silent understanding passing between them as they surrendered to the intoxicating spell of the music.

"Udd gayi re chidiya..."

With each twirl and dip, their connection deepened, the lyrics of the song echoing the unspoken desires that pulsed through their veins.

"Jhoom jhoom jhoom baba..."

Their movements grew more fervent, a silent exploration of emotions too complex to articulate in words.

"Jhoom jhoom jhoom baba..."

And as the song reached its climax, Shubman and Ishan found themselves lost in the moment, their hearts beating in time with the rhythm of the music.

But as the final notes of the song faded away, reality came crashing back, leaving them breathless and reeling from the intensity of their shared dance

In the haze of alcohol and tangled emotions, Shubman and Ishan found themselves locked in a tender embrace, their souls laid bare in the silent language of their intertwined bodies. Tears welled in their eyes, a testament to the raw vulnerability that pulsed beneath the surface.

"Ishan," Shubman's voice quivered, the weight of his confession heavy in the air, "I can't imagine a life without you. I love you."

Ishan's heart ached at Shubman's words, the truth echoing the silent whispers of his own heart. "Shubman, mere yaar, I... I love you too," he confessed, his voice choked with emotion.

In that moment, amidst the tumult of their shared emotions, they found solace in each other's arms. The world faded away as they clung to each other, seeking refuge from the harsh realities that awaited them beyond the confines of their embrace.

But even as they held each other close, the specter of society's disapproval loomed large, casting a shadow over their love. They knew that their love was forbidden, that the world would never understand the depths of their connection.

Their tears mingled, a bittersweet symphony of love and longing. In the silence of the night, they found sanctuary, a sacred space where their love could exist unfettered by the constraints of society.

As they wept, their tears became a testament to the depth of their bond, a bond forged in the fires of adversity and strengthened by the power of their shared love.

And as they held each other close, Shubman and Ishan made a silent vow to cherish every stolen moment, every fleeting glance, knowing that their love would forever be their most precious secret, a beacon of hope in a world that sought to keep them apart..

...

As Shubman sat alone, adorned in a Punjabi groom outfit, the weight of his future bearing down on him, Ishan entered the scene. His eyes couldn't help but fixate on Shubman, who looked every bit like a prince, though unfortunately, not his.

"Ishan," Shubman's name escaped his lips in a soft whisper, lost in contemplation of the path laid out before him.

Ishan approached, his gaze tender as he took in the sight of his Shubhie, a vision in the intricacies of tradition and anticipation. "Shubie," Ishan called, his voice cutting through Shubman's trance.

Shubman turned around, and their eyes met. Ishan, dressed in a regal black sherwani, looked nothing short of breathtaking, a stark reminder of the prince he could never claim as his own.

Ishan, unable to resist the magnetic pull of emotions, began the ritual of nazar utarna, warding off any evil that might cast its shadow on Shubman's happiness. His hand reached Shubman's forehead, a gentle touch that spoke volumes.

"Shubie," Ishan's voice carried a blend of love and sorrow, "May your path be free of obstacles, and your journey be filled with joy."

In a poignant moment, Ishan leaned in, placing a tender kiss on Shubman's forehead. The silence between them spoke of a love unspoken, of the pain of unfulfilled dreams.

As the silent tears fell, Shubman and Ishan found solace in this shared moment, where the collision of tradition, unspoken love, and unshed tears created a tapestry of emotions that only they could understand. And in that fleeting connection, as the wedding celebrations unfolded around them, Shubman and Ishan clung to the beauty and sorrow of what could never be.

As Shubman stood at the mandap, adorned in his wedding attire, his heart pounded with anticipation and nerves. He glanced around, searching for Sara, his soon-to-be wife, only to find her approaching with an unexpected determination in her eyes.

With a trembling hand, Sara reached out and took the garland intended for Shubman. Without a word, she turned towards Ishan, her steps faltering slightly as she made her way towards him.

Shubman's heart clenched in confusion and disbelief as he watched Sara give garland to Ishan . His mind reeled with the realization of what was unfolding before him.

"Sara, what... what are you doing?" Shubman's voice wavered with a mixture of shock and anguish, unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

Sara met Shubman's gaze with a mixture of sadness and resolve. "Shubman," she began, her voice trembling with emotion, "I can't do this. I can't marry you knowing that your heart belongs to someone else."

Shubman's breath caught in his throat, his mind struggling to process the magnitude of Sara's words. He turned to Ishan, his eyes pleading for understanding, for forgiveness, for the impossible truth to be denied.

But Ishan, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, met Shubman's gaze with a mixture of love and sorrow. "Shubman," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the murmurs of the gathered crowd, "I... I can't let you sacrifice your happiness for me. You deserve to be with someone who can love you fully, without reservation."

And in that moment, amidst the hushed whispers and stunned silence of the onlookers, Shubman realized the depth of the sacrifice that Sara and Ishan were making for his sake. His heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and heartbreak, knowing that their love was a gift he could never repay.

As the truth of the moment settled over him like a heavy cloak, Shubman's gaze shifted from Sara to Ishan, his eyes filled with an overwhelming sense of love and longing. And in that fleeting moment, amidst the chaos of the disrupted wedding ceremony, Shubman and Ishan shared a silent exchange of understanding, their hearts united in a bond that transcended the boundaries of society and expectation.

As Sara's unexpected gesture unfolded before them, shock and disbelief swept over Shubman's parents. Their mouths hung agape, their eyes wide with astonishment, unable to comprehend the gravity of the situation unfolding before them.

Shubman's mother reached out instinctively, her hand grasping her husband's arm for support as they watched Sara approach Ishan with the garland intended for their son. The air crackled with tension as they exchanged bewildered glances, struggling to process the unprecedented turn of events.

"What is happening?" Shubman's father murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his brow furrowed with confusion.

Shubman's mother shook her head in disbelief, her heart heavy with a mixture of concern and disbelief. "I... I don't know," she replied, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "Something must have happened. This... this isn't right."

Their minds raced with questions, their thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of confusion and apprehension. How could their carefully planned wedding ceremony unravel in such a shocking manner? What had transpired between Shubman, Sara, and Ishan to prompt such a drastic action?

As they watched the scene unfold before them, Shubman's parents felt a wave of emotions wash over them. Fear, uncertainty, and a profound sense of concern for their son's well-being mingled with the shock of witnessing their carefully constructed plans crumble before their eyes.

As the shock began to subside and the realization of what had transpired sunk in, Shubman took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts and summoning the courage to address his stunned parents.

"Maa papa" Shubman began, his voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within him, "I know this is unexpected, but there's something I need to tell you."

His parents turned to him, their eyes searching his face for answers, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Ishan and I... we share a bond that goes beyond friendship," Shubman continued, his words measured yet filled with conviction. "I love him, Mumma papa I've loved him for as long as I can remember."

His parents listened in stunned silence as Shubman poured out his heart, his words echoing in the cavernous space of the mandap.

"And Sara," Shubman's voice softened as he turned to address her, "Sara, thank you for your honesty and for your sacrifice. I will always cherish the kindness and understanding you've shown me."

Tears welled in Sara's eyes as she nodded, her own emotions raw and palpable in the charged atmosphere.

Shubman's parents exchanged a glance, their hearts heavy with the weight of their son's confession. But as they looked into Shubman's eyes, they saw the depth of his love and the sincerity of his words.

After a moment of silence, Shubman's father spoke, his voice filled with a mixture of resignation and acceptance. "Shubman, beta, we may not have expected this, but we love you. And if Ishan is the one who makes you happy, then we will stand by you, no matter what."

A sense of relief washed over Shubman as he embraced his parents, grateful for their understanding and support.

Feeling a surge of gratitude and respect for Sara's courageous act, Ishan approached her with a mixture of admiration and empathy. As he reached out, enveloping her in a tender embrace, the weight of their shared sacrifice hung heavy in the air.

"Sara," Ishan's voice trembled with emotion as he held her close, "thank you. Thank you for your bravery, for your selflessness. You've shown more love and understanding than most could ever imagine."

Sara's shoulders shook with silent sobs as she returned Ishan's embrace, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision. In Ishan's arms, she found solace and understanding, a moment of connection amidst the chaos and confusion of the disrupted wedding ceremony.

As they stood together, their embrace a silent tribute to the complexities of love and sacrifice, Ishan whispered words of gratitude and appreciation, his voice a soothing balm to Sara's wounded soul.

And in that moment of shared understanding, amidst the tangled emotions and unspoken truths, Ishan and Sara found a semblance of peace, knowing that their actions, though painful, were borne out of a deep and abiding love for Shubman.

In a lovely setting with twinkling lights, Ishan and Shubman exchanged garlands, surrounded by their families and cricketing friends. Both families, including Shubman's accepting parents, witnessed the heartfelt ceremony.

Their vows were filled with promises of forever, bringing tears of joy to their loved ones. Sara, standing by their side, offered her blessings with a smile, happy that Shubman had found true love.

As the ceremony ended, Ishan and Shubman sealed their commitment with a sweet kiss. Surrounded by the love and warmth of their dear ones, they stepped into their future hand in hand, knowing that their love would be their guiding light through life's journey, always together.

@ishuess @cherryryryryryry pls review this

[the-slythering-raven]

Tere bina

Fandom: Cricket RPF

Characters: Shubman Gill, Ishan Kishan, Shahneel Gill, Mentions of other Gill family members, Cameo by Rohit Sharma

Genre/Tags: Sickfic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Indian Cricket Team

Warnings: Descriptions of illness and vomiting

Summary: A delirious Shubman with very high fever calls Ishan when the team is in Delhi for their match against Afghanistan and babbles in punjabi thinking it to be his didi on the line

Notes: Many many thanks to @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou for encouraging my randomest ideas and also for beta reading, and to @textrovert-01 for helping me with the Punjabi parts, this fic would not have been possible without both of your love 🥰

Enjoy, and please let me know how y’all like it :)

Shubman curled up morosely in the covers. The team had left for Delhi, and Ishan had gone with them, leaving an aching void inside him. Logically he knew that they'll meet again, but at that point he felt like crying.

Reaching his hand out to the adjacent bed, Shubman grabbed the blanket from Ishan’s bed and held it close to his nose, hoping to breathe in the scent of Ishan's perfume, gagging as the scent of the hotel laundry detergent hit his already over sensitive nose. He grabbed onto the bucket kept at the side and dry heaved over it several times, unable to bring up much but strings of saliva, his abdominal muscles crying at the intensity of the heaves. God how he wished Ishan was there. Ishan would have rubbed his aching back in soothing circles and whispered soft reassurances to him just like his Ma used to do when he got sick as a child. His eyes burned with tears as he remembered the warmth. He missed her so much.

After several more minutes of dry heaving, he straightened up as the nausea passed, and fell back onto the bed feeling absolutely drained. He grabbed his phone, seeking to mindlessly scroll through social media for a while, hoping to distract himself.

The edits of Ishan and himself on Instagram only made him miss Ishan more, tears trickling down his eyes as he remembered those moments. He had been so happy during those, blissfully unaware of their pictures being clicked. He cried silently, feeling all alone and lonely in the cold hotel room. He missed everyone so much, his dada, dadi, mumma, papa, didi, Ishan, everyone on the team, but didn't want to worry them any more.

As if on autopilot, he opened his call log and hit the first contact, his Di. The one who had tolerated him crying and whining all afternoon after the one time one of his petty squabbles with Ishan had got too personal and they had both angrily decided “never to talk to each other again”. Of course they had both cried to each other and made up the same evening, but the fact remains that he did so only because Di had told him to, because that's how well she knew him.

*

The sound of his phone ringing woke Ishan from his sleep, and he squinted against the glare of the screen to look carefully at the caller. He winced when he saw it was Shubman who had been calling him, because he knew he had to be feeling really horrible to give up and call him, after being determined to toughen it out by himself.

Heart beating faster than a rabbit, Ishan swiped across the screen to pick the call. He hoped it wasn't anything too bad.

“Hey Didi” Shubh whispered exhaustedly, his Punjabi accent completely unmasked.

Ishan winced. Shubh really had no clue that he had called the wrong person, and seemed way too out of it to even realize.

“Tussi ki kar rahe ho?” (What’re you doing?) Shubh asked in Punjabi. Ishan’s heart broke at the vulnerability in his voice, and he debated whether to let him know that he had called the wrong person. Rohit bhaiya raised a concerned eyebrow from the opposite end of the room they were sharing, and Ishan mouthed the matter to him, looking at him desperately for an answer.

“Didi, ki tussi mere toh naraz ho ke mei tuhanu kal phone ni kitta? Sorry behn mei so gya si.” (Didi? Are you mad at me that I didn’t call you yesterday? I’m so sorry, I’d fallen asleep)

Ishan’s heart shattered at how heartbroken Shubh sounded. He had seen it several times firsthand how emotional Shubh got when he was sick, and how prone he was to overthinking the littlest things. But should he break the news that he had called the wrong person? A head shake from Rohit bhaiya told him “No”, and Ishan agreed. No need to make him panic more than he already is, Ishan reckoned.

"Bilkul ni pagal , mere tere son krke tere to naraz kyo howangi jadke mei hi tenu zyada son layi keha si ?"(Of course not, you idiot, I wouldn't get mad at you for sleeping when I was the one who asked you to sleep more? ) Ishan replied back in Punjabi, trying to replicate Shahneel Di’s way of speaking.

That seemed to satisfy Shuh, who hummed and sniffled on the other side.

“Ki hoyea Subhi? Das menu”(What happened, Shubhi? Tell me.)

“Kuch ni, bs sabdi bohot yaad ari si, khaas karke ma di, ohnanu keho ke meri zyada chinta na karan thik he?” (Nothing… I just miss everyone so much.. Especially Ma.. Tell her not to worry too much about me though, alright?”)

Ishan sighed. He was sure Aunty was worried like anything, and she definitely had reason to worry as well, given how Shubh was so delirious he could not even recognise the fact that he was not actually talking to his Didi..but he did have a point though, Aunty did tend to worry a lot behind her always smiling persona, and she also had problems with her blood pressure, and she'd probably worry herself sick if she knew exactly how terrible her son's condition is.

“Thik he, par tu ohnanu phone zrur kar lai, oho kaafi chinta krde ne.”(Alright. But you make sure to call her, okay? She's been really worried.)

“Oho bohot hi zyada chinta krdi hein, vese oh kr ki rahi hei?”(She worries too much…what's she doing anyway?)

Ishan cursed under his breath. Fuck, what Does aunty do at this time anyway? He had played along all this time, he just hoped this would not give him away.

Remembering something Shubh had told him ages ago about Aunty loving historical documentaries, Ishan answered as casually as he could.

“Oh koi etihasik documentary ja dekh rahi hei…” (Oh you know, watching some kind of historical documentary…) Ishan prayed desperately that Shubh wouldn't ask him to hand it over to Aunty, because then he'd be Screwed with a capital S.

Shubh hummed over the phone, apparently satisfied with the answer. Ishan breathed a sigh of relief, glad his cover had not been blown yet. However he was not sure how much longer he could keep this act up.

Shubman on the other hand, had fallen dangerously silent over the phone, and that worried Ishan. His worry grew tenfold when he heard what seemed like Shubh being sick over the line. Why weren't the nausea medications working, Ishan wondered for the nth time that week.

After a while, Ishan heard Shubh exhale shakily over the phone.

“Haye rabba jo kuj vi ho reha menu kuj acha ni lag reha..” (Oh God I hate this…) Shubh choked out, his voice cracking towards the end.

Ishan sat helplessly with the phone pressed to his ear. It broke his heart to hear his friend cry over the phone, and be unable to help him anyhow. How he wished he could be there by his side, comforting him when he needed it..

Shubman also seemed to reciprocate the same idea, because after a while Ishan heard him brokenly say “Menu Ishaan di vi bohot yaad aari he, kaash oh mere naal hunda” (I wish Ishan was there with me, y'know?..)

A pause. Ishan was starting to reconsider his decision of playing along when Shubh started speaking again.

“Mei onhu bohot yaad kar reha ha, Didi” (I miss him so much, Didi)

“Fer tu onhu phone kyu ni krda? Menu pura yakeen he oh bohot khush howega” (Why don't you call him, then? I'm sure he'd love to hear from you..” Ishan suggested, completely immersed in his character.

“Nahi, Di...bohot der ho gyi he is velle mei osnu pareshan ni krna chahunda. Kal oda match he, Onhu aram di bohot lor he. Jado da mei bimar hoye ha vichara thik naal soye hi nahi, adi raat nu jado mera bukhar vaad janda ta oh thandi pattiya karda, meri pith ragarda, jad mere lai bohot hunda ta oh mera sahara banda. Tohanu pta he di, ohda moda bohot hi sukoon dayak he..”(No, Di…it's late, I can't disturb him.. He has a match tomorrow, he needs to rest.. Poor dude has not slept properly since I got sick, y'know? Kept waking up to put cold cloths over my forehead when my fever got too high in the middle of the night, rubbing my back when I got sick, letting me cry over his shoulder when everything got too much… He has such a nice and comforting shoulder, y'know Di?)

Ishan smiled through the burning of his eyes. Shubh was so adorable when he rambled in Punjabi, completely oblivious of whether the other person was understanding or not. It melted his heart that Shubh had noticed everything, but also made him sad that he was being so hard on himself for that.

“Mei tohanu bohot yaad karda ha, didi. Papa te mummy nu keho menu ohna di bohot yaad aundi he. Par oh zyada pareshan na hon, ohna di tabiyat kharab ho jawegi.” (I miss you so much, Di..Tell papa and ma I miss them too, okay? And ask Ma not to worry so much, she'll get sick)

“Ha thik he. Tu vi hun son di koshish kr. Mei tenu jaldi milan awangi, thik he?” ( I will. Now you try to sleep, okay? I'll meet you soon, alright?” Ishan continued in his best Shahneel Di impression.

“Thik he, bohot sara pyaar tohanu didi..” (Okay.. love you, Didi..)

“Tenu vi bohot sara pyaar Shubhi, hun son di koshish kar thik he?”(Love you too, Shubhi. Now try to get some sleep, alright?)

“Han ji didi” (I will, Didi) Shubh replied, stifling a yawn. He felt absolutely drained, but atleast Di was there, and she didn't seem to mind listening to him.

“Papa te mummy nu vi mere vallo bohot saara pyaar dena, thik he?” (Tell Mumma and Papa I love them too, okay?)

“Han han zrur, chal theek he good night.” (Yeah, yeah, sure. Now goodnight.)

“Goodnight, Di”

Ishan cut the call, feeling a weird mix of drained and comforted. It felt wrong to provide false comfort, but false comfort was also comfort, right?

Rohit bhaiya dragged him to sleep, putting a stop to his spiraling thoughts. “So jao aur sone do,” (Sleep and let me sleep) he muttered sleepily, before turning over and going right back to sleep. Ishan smiled at the childishness that came out of a tired Rohit bhaiya before going back to sleep himself.

*

Meanwhile in a hotel in Chennai, Shubman slept like a log, his heart warm as he recalled memories of the good times with Ishan.

*

[ishkrisq]

Rude

Shubman knew he had fucked up the moment the words left his mouth .

"Teri himmat kaise hui mujhse itni rudely baat karne ki," Ishan said , his tone dripping with sarcasm. The air grew thick with tension as his words hung in the air, the others exchanging glances and trying to hide their amusement. 

"Haan, tune Chotu se aise baat kyu ki?" Virat chimed in from the background, unable to contain his laughter at the situation. 

"Beta abh toh tu gaya" KL added, smirking at Shubman. 

Rolling his eyes at all the drama unfolding, Shubman couldn't help but retaliate . "Toh tu bhi toh karta hai na," . 

He then turned to Virat, "Aur Virat bhai, aap uski side kyu le rahe ho?" 

Virat simply snickered in response, thoroughly enjoying the banter between the lovebirds .

"Mai toh kar sakta hu, par tune kyu ki?" Ishan crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at Shubman in challenge. 

"Haan chotu kar sakta hai," Virat repeated again.

Shubman let out a sigh of defeat , "Achha baba agli baar se nahi Karunga." 

Ishan smirked triumphantly, satisfied with Shubman's concession. "Whipped," Virat mumbled under his breath.

Looking back at Virat, Ishan playfully protested, "Aur bhai aap mujhe chotu chotu mat bulao." 

"Par tu toh apna chotu hai na," Virat retorted with a mischievous grin. 

"But Shubman is younger than me," Ishan shot back.

"I'm taller than you, you dwarf," Shubman teased (who clearly still hadn't learned his lesson)

"Meine na tereko do lagane hai " If looks could kill , Shubman would have been 6 feet underground .

"Shub tu kyu pitne wale kaam karta hai" Virat shook his head in disbelief.

Feeling outnumbered by the rest of the group taking lshan’s side, Shubman let out a sigh. 'Yeh sab ke sab mere against hai,' he thought to himself. 

He looked towards KL, hoping for some support, but KL simply shrugged and said, "Sorry Shubman but you know how it is. I'm on Ishan's side."

Just when he thought all hope was lost, Shreyas , who wasn't even listening to the conversation , finally spoke up , "It's okay Shubi, I'm on your side," 

Before Shubman could even thank him , Ishan had already given Shreyas his puppy eyes "But bhaiya shubi ne mujhse itni rudely baat kari " 

"Yeah sorry I'm not on your side anymore Shubman " 

"Collect kar liye tune apne saare Pokemon ? Tu ruk ja tujhe toh mein baad mein bata ta hu" Shubman remarked looking at Ishan who had a smirk on his face . 

—---------

The only sound audible in the room were Ishan's soft moans, his voice breathy and filled with pleasure

"What were you saying earlier baby?" Shubman asked as he trailed kisses along Ishan's jawline . Ishan's eyes were half-lidded with desire, his cheeks flushed and his lips swollen from their kisses. His body was arched towards Shubman, fingers tangled in the sheets as he squirmed with longing.

"I hate you right now," he managed to whisper between gasps of pleasure

Shubman laughed softly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh is that it ? Should I stop then?," he teased, his fingers gently tracing the curve of Ishan's hips.

Ishan shook his head, his eyes fluttering shut. "No, don't stop please," he pleaded, his voice tinged with desire. Shubman's eyes sparked with mischief as he continued his touch, slowly moving lower. 

Shubman loved watching Ishan squirm under his touch. He loved having this power over him, the power to make him lose control and forget about everything else. 

Every inch of Ishan's body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending tingling with desire as Shubman's lips traced down his chest.

"Shubi," he whimpered , his voice filled with need when Shubman's teeth grazed against his nipple. His fingers tangled in Shubman's hair as he pulled him closer, wanting more.

"Am I being rude to you, Ishu ?" 

"Shut up," Ishan muttered, his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "Just shut up and do something already."

Shubman chuckled and leaned in to capture Ishan's lips in a heated kiss. His hands roamed over Ishan's body, making him moan and arch into his touch. He loved the way Ishan responded to him, so eagerly and passionately.

"What's the matter, baby?" Shubman whispered , lips brushing against Ishan's ear. " You were acting so bossy earlier and now fucking look at you ". His eyes scanned Ishan's body ,  lingering on Ishan's flushed cheeks and parted lips. " Like putty in my hands, begging me to touch you."

Ishan groaned , his breathing heavy  " Don't do that ," he murmured.

" Do what ? " Shubman asked innocently, but they both knew what he was talking about.

" Tease me," Ishan replied with a pout.

"But you love it," Shubman said with a smirk before he dove in for another kiss, proving his point without uttering a single word. 

Ishan couldn't deny it . He did love it . He loved everything about Shubman - his touch, his scent, his voice . Being with him made him feel alive and complete.

[witch-from-hogwards]

when 77 met 32

Shubman’s POV:

I came to my dream place. Cricket: the love of my life. That should sum up my entire life together. I have been playing cricket for as long as I can remember. My father was my first couch. He taught me everything he knew. First, I played cricket because it made my father happy. But then I started to understand just why it made him so damn happy. Now I breathed cricket and there was nothing else I could be addicted to more than cricket. There was nothing else that could make me happier. (well not until now. But there will be something or rather someone who would be my addiction and my anchor more than cricket is. But that would be future shubman’s problem not mine.)

I entered dharmashala with just one thought in mind. Do or die. Yeah, yeah, sounds cliché I know. But yeah that was exactly what I was feeling. I am here to prove myself, to prove my worth. I was chosen amongst hundreds of other players. And I want to be worthy of being here rather than being a waste of space. I want to climb up the stairs of success before falling down then collecting myself and climb up again. Andddd I fell. Yeah, sounds just like my life. Fuck it. I fell in the middle of the damn ground and now everybody thinks that I am an idiot who can’t even walk properly. Wow I always somehow manage to make a fool out of myself. How amazing.

I was drowning in self misery and hatred when a hand was held towards me. I looked up and there stood a man not much older then myself with a pretty smile on his face, his demeanour friendly enough to befriend a fucking dragon. I took the hand because how could I not. He was standing there all smiley and I was awkwardly lying in the middle of the ground. So, I took his hand and stood on my two feet. He then started to gather my stuff while I was staring at him like he was the one who pushed me. “hi, I am Ishan kishan.” He held his hand out for a handshake but I needed a headshake because why the fuck can I not move of say anything at all. Hell, even an awkward hi would be enough at a moment like this but my dumb brain decided to hang just this moment. And his smile started to turn all awkward because god I just ignored him completely. “shubmann” it was Rishab pant. We met once before and he was a bit too friendly so we clicked on instantly and have been in touch ever since. “oh, hi Ishan, met him already?” it was a question directed towards Ishan. “yeah…..well. kind off yes” oh god was it awkward, this Ishan person looked like nothing can do anything to him and I made even a person like that feel awkward wow, how amazing. Just perfect. “did something happen?” it was rishab. Well yes if you have eyes something did happen. I think I might be getting a heart attack right now because yes, I admit that I am an introvert that talks less but never in my entire existence have I felt this helpless and tongue tied before. And now they were both looking at me and I felt a very overwhelming urge to run away. Amazingly I felt like running far away from here from cricket from the entire world and never show my face to anyone at all. Live a quiet life away from limelight and cricket, even farming sounded like an amazing idea right now. I think my forehead is sweating a bit too much and my heart is going to come out of my chest if I stand here for 5 more minutes and yeah, I will most definitely cry. I think Ishan noticed this, “its okay gill, breath.” And he was thumping my back I think I really was holding my breath because I breathed out and now, I feel much better. And then he started to slowly caress my back as if you would to a nauseous person. That really did help. “tha-thank you” I managed. “Are you okay?” it was rishab this time, he actually looked quite worried. “yeah, I think I am.” And then I turned to Ishan who was now smiling at me with one of the sweetest smiles I have ever witnessed. “Sorry, hi, I am Shubman gill.” “I know, I was waiting for you. See you around.” With that he walked away. And I turned to rishab with a confused look on my face. “Why do you look like that now, idiot literally every senior knows you. You are quite famous you know.” He said with a teasing smile. And I have no idea why in the world would they know me. Well some of my doubts got cleared out in the next few days when I learned that Ishan kishan who was going to play the under 19 world cup this year new everybody on the campus. It did not matter if you are a senior a junior of even a janitor, he knew everybody. No wonder he knew me also. But in the next few days I learned something else too, rishab was right indeed quite a lot of seniors knew me. I still don’t know why though. The under 19 players of this year were decided but we were here to practice. And so, there were team A team B team C and so on. These teams had nothing to do with the under 19 world cup these were all domestic. Juniors were here to practice for the selection of the under 19 world cup, for the next year and the seniors who were not already selected were here for yet another chance. The selected players though were playing to practice for the world cup. I was selected to play for team B. I don’t know what this is called but the captain of my team was one and only Ishan kishan. Iconic isn’t it?

“Hey, you look much better today.” It was Ishan who had walked to me right after the selection of the teams. “hey, yeah I don’t know what happened that day.” “It’s okay, I think it was a minor panic attack. I am not sure why you would panic enough to get a panic attack though. Does it happen often?” “nope it was the first time, I didn’t even know what it was called.” “hello lucky guy Ishan.” It was rishab again. “that’s not fair at all Ishan, you stole shubman I knew him before you,” “well not my fault that shubman is destined to be in my team. Be ready to lose fucker.” I don’t know why but my heart picked up speed at that. “fuck you” rishab cursed and it did not sound genuine at all. Rishab was the captain of Team A. “shubman come join my team instead. This goon is gonna work you stupid.” “well its really not in my hand to change teams, is it?” I said. Well it really was. I mean we could exchange some players if we wanted to but I wanted to stay and it might have shown on my face because both rishab and Ishan shared a looked and a smile bloomed on both of their faces together. A teasing smile on rishab’s face and a grateful smile on ishan’s. I had no idea what either of the smiles meant.

[12pt-times-new-roman]

c3e45

this episode was pre-recorded and these guys are probably under contractual obligation to plug DDB. please do not subscribe to D&D Beyond. in fact, if you're already subscribed, cancel your subscription.

"I done made 'em curse!"

Apparently any kind of conflict can set off FCG's kill switch. So the question now is whether this thing is an intended feature of a Care and Culling automaton, or if it's a short circuit that happened some time in the past millennium. And if it really is just a short circuit that could be fixed by someone skilled enough to work on Aeormatons, that really does put a different spin on the Bells Hells going to the Feywild instead of to the Seminary.

Ashton recognized somebody in the airport casino -- Violet is someone who does a lot of things, they're very good at convincing people to do things and at finding people who don't want to be found. They went to make sure the Hells weren't being followed by Violet's people, but they got compelled to spill a bunch of secrets about the group, so Ashton agreed to go do a job with Violet in exchange for them not turning the group in. "There were cops, there were mobsters, I may have kidnapped a mobster, a lot went down." So it sounds like the Bells Hells now have a reason to get out of Yios fast.

Violet was in town to get information out of one of the local mobs -- the Baneful Brood -- and Ashton agreed to be some hired muscle while they tried to prove that the mob was dealing with stolen and/or smuggled artifacts. "Turns out he doesn't keep a ledger, he has a kenku, so we kidnapped the kenku, tied up the kenku, rolled them up in a very expensive rug... there are a lot of rooms, and next thing we know, we're unconscious, tied up in the kitchen."

That was the most Rube Goldberg story and I love it so much for them. This would be such good material for a one-shot.

According to Violet, there were some "weird Dwendalian people" calling themselves the Ruby Vanguard coming through town a few weeks ago, and they pissed off every criminal in town.

FCG, Fearne, Imogen, and Laudna head into the Seminary to meet with Professor Ishal, who they were told might know something about Aeormatons.

He's a young firbolg, tall, thin, with soft maroon fur and red hair.

"Sorry, we're not supposed to let people--- oh." His accent is similar to Ormid Haas, I think?

He knows Joe, who he calls "one of the best minds in automaton mobility in Marquet." They write to each other sometimes.

"You are an Aeormaton, and specifically, a harmonious Aeormaton. A very particular design of the old Arcanum city, they were designed as peacekeepers and diplomatic associates, often used as guides and communicators in the city... I've heard rumors of Aeormatons emerging, but none have come to Yios before." He's heard of the Care and Culling and has apparently read "many books" about it.

In FCG's power core, where Joe stopped before, they are "fitted with quite the unique arcane power accumulator. It's far larger than what is needed for an Aeormaton of your size, which may confirm that you were created for the Care and Culling event... destructive [spells], that makes sense, but healing, that's a bit confusing."

Ishan pulls the power core out of FCG's chest. It's a large sphere of deep blue, almost purple color. It looks very much like the other arcane cores they've seen, but it looks stranger, more intricately connected, larger. "I think this might be the source of your [arcane] powers, but I caution, it could be unstable due to age or damage... if it were to overcharge with arcane power, it would take out most of this building." There's no power leaking, and it's very safe as long as no one goes fiddling with it, connecting exterior arcane terminals to it, etc.

"The enchantment technology that was utilized in the creation of Aeormatons was specific to Aeor, and were lost with the city. No one can make new beings like you. You are from a time when this secret was known and utilized, but that time is passed. You are both a relic of history, and a very unique, special person... A lot of Aeormatons worked very hard during that time to establish themselves as equal to their creators. As much as Aeor gets a lot of negative information written about it, and rightfully so, there is a beauty in some of what they made. You are not defined by what you are told your purpose was -- you carve your own path. You are not defined by a binary answer. Being alive, being conscious, free will -- it's frightening. But it's worth everything."

FCG is being fitted with an EZ-Bake Oven inside their chest. This is the most fitting end to this encounter I could possibly have thought of.

Meanwhile, Imogen and Fearne head off to find Kadisha Sumal's office. There are, like, 7 different locks, and she only opened the door because Fearne mentioned Ruidus-born.

She's an older orc with long braided hair and grey-green skin, with heavy bags over her eyes and casual clothes. Her office has a window with a curtain drawn, shelves filled with books and papers, little baubles.

Sumal appears to recognize Imogen's mind powers. Liliana was one of the first people who came to the Omen Archive, and she was instrumental in many of the earliest breakthroughs they had.

The exaltants had the most powerful abilities, and Liliana was the first one who came to the Archive. There isn't a large history of exaltants, there are very few historically, but that number has been growing exponentially. There were 12 at last count that the Archive knew of.

As the Archive was trying to test the extent of the exaltants' abilities, it became more and more uncomfortable as outside forces were peering at them. Members of the Verity began to disappear, so they scattered and buried their research.

Exaltants were the first to speak of the "railora," beings they think come from beyond Exandrian cosmology -- some of the exaltants began having shared dreams where they met a collection of entities, crimson beings that referred to themselves as the railora. The further the Verity pushed into their research, the more alarming it became, so they pulled back.

They theorize that the flares are a way for the railora to connect and tether themselves to Exandrians, "reaching out to someone and holding that tether." Their intelligence was hard to understand and the Verity had no concept of their morality, so their studies became more about finding proof beyond the dreams.

Liliana was trying to develop her abilities regarding entering other peoples' dreams. The Verity guided her through it using induced dream states, and her progress was "incredble," but it became so worrying that the Verity stopped helping her and told her to stop trying.

"There's only so far you can reach into the unknown until the unknown starts pushing back."

Some railora were solid flesh, others were made of energy. They were intelligent, alien, always in a crimson hue similar to the landscape of the dreams. Some enticed with promise, others demanded, others brought empathy and comfort. They speak wordlessly, with imagery and emotions.

THEY ARE INTERRUPTED BY LUDINUS DA'LETH.

Fearne is going to get herself killed.

......okay, he tried to charm her first.

(to Sumal) "You have ignored Assembly requests for an audience for weeks now, and we are on a short timetable." Ludinus is the nightmare she's been waiting for for a very long time. (to Imogen/Fearne) "Sit. You might learn something."

"The archive we recovered is extremely important to our research, but there are excerpts missing." He charms Sumal. "I do hate robbing them of their will... but some things are more important."

He turns to Imogen. "She was right... you do look just like your mother. It is, genuinely, a pleasure to meet you. I've heard of your prowess."

Then to Fearne. "And you... not quite an exaltant, but definitely of the red moon. How fortuitous."

god, Ludinus is so cool. This intimidating, calm demeanor, so confident in his abilities, so full of wizard hubris and selling it. Lawful evil at its fucking best. And that makes it all the more impressive that he was genuinely off-put and shaken by Jester.

Liliana has been working personally with Ludinus for a long time, and her contributions have been integral to the Vanguard's research. This is from Ludinus himself, though, so take it with a grain of salt.

"Do you feel the pull? Northward? [Do I? Yes.] Then follow the instinct. Both of you, if it's there."

"I know you've had dalliances with the masses who try to meddle in our work. I know you've confronted my associate, Thull, and I'm not blind enough to believe you're seeking entry to our merry band. But I also know you only speak from a place of ignorance, misunderstanding. I'm not the one doing this. There are many of us working together to make this happen. This is important work, it's my life's work. [Liam's alarm bells go off here.] So. Do you want to know how to help? Stop resisting."

[Are you Ruidus-born?] "I have my connections to the red moon." [Insight check: 17, contested.]

"I think your mother would like to see you. She talks about you. She's sad that her destiny took her on a different path, and she hoped it wouldn't lead you to the dangerous threads of fate that tug her ever away. But it seems you share a similar destiny."

"Do you know what we're doing?" [We're learning bits and pieces. The power's pretty enticing, though. I gotta say.] "The power is just a tool. All power is just a tool. Fools throughout history use it for personal gain, for forgotten means." [If you succeed, will it go away?] "Parts of it will, for those who have cheated through boons unearned beyond just faith. This society is borne on those who have gained power through transactions, unearned except for granting their succor and obsession to these gods. We don't need them. They've always needed us." [It's happening soon, right?] "Sooner than I'd like. But we'll be as ready as we can be." [Well, maybe we'll find you to the north.] "I think you will." [What are you doing with those papers?] "Don't want to spoil the surprise."

"I watched the world burn at their behest. I saw the ruin their gains left of our people, the destruction they brought down to stunt the potential of mortal minds and hearts. They act only to preserve themselves. So, if there is even an ounce of you that finds faith in them, there is no place for you amongst us." [How old are you?] "Old enough... you're not of faith either, are you? Why?" [They don't mean anything to me.] "Good."

"We are the seeds they plant, and till, and water. We struggle in the maze they shaped. Then, when we expire, they return to their private gardens to harvest, because they told us there was no alternative. They tell us this is how it is, and we thank them for it. We may be their creations, but all children outgrow their parents. The Age of Arcanum, the Matron... they feared our developments, the growing power of the mortal mind. The Divergence, it wasn't to protect us. It was to protect them from us."

I'm pretty sure Ludinus cast feeblemind on Sumal.

Orym sees Ludinus walking down the steps of the seminary as they're waiting outside. He walks into the crowd, is joined by the two Vanguard operatives who escaped, and teleports away.

The Bells Hells regroup in Sumal's office.

"Was he looking for you? This is her office, it's always here, why did he come now?" FCG's getting at it.

Sending to Ryn: "We're in Sumal's office. We need a fast exit. She's been hurt." "Well, shit. I was really hoping that she was elsewhere. On my way."

Man, I'm learning so many new words today.

Ryn arrives. "Oh, my dear... this is a bit far from my purview." Sumal needs a greater restoration -- Ryn can't do it, but she knows people who can.

"As far as I know, the remaining pieces of the Archive that were part of those papers included the names of all known living exaltants in Exandria, the rotations of Ruidus, and the pattern of its orientation during each flare through recorded history."

....great.

To the Feywild!

Morri lives in a place called Ligament Manor. Fearne neglected to tell anybody this.

"You find yourself in a creepy magical marshland of gnarled trees that form a web-like ceiling of corkscrew branches and trunks. You don't even see any leaves, it's just a latticework of trees, with the faintest gaps of pinkish-purple skylight that peeks through." Welcome to Fearne's home!

"Does anyone else feel like they've taken too much?" Ashton (/Talisein), I love you.

oooooo Matt definitely took inspiration from Subnautica for this

"When you look at Fearne, she's Fearne, but there's something different about her. Her features are sharper, her eyes are deeper and bluer. The ears are longer, her limbs seem to be slightly exaggerated. There's an otherworldly air about her that's just... unique. It's upsetting at first glance, but everyone else looks normal."

this is super interesting. b/c to me it seems like the Bells Hells are only okay here at level 9 because of Fearne -- like she's some kind of fey lord or royalty who's tethered to the land like Morri is.

Friendly reminder that Fearne can indeed speak Sylvan

"Roll persuasion with disadvantage." "26."

I think I've said this before, but Matt has gotten so creative with his encounter design. It's super fucking cool, of course, but it also fits very well with the campaign -- the Hells are a control party, they want to twist and manipulate encounters instead of using brute force or subterfuge, so encounters with multiple solutions are their jam, but it's enhanced all the more by the absolute trust that the players have in Matt and that Matt has in his players.

if anyone wants an approximation of this, here is what a jazz pan flute might sound like.

Through the forest, Fearne picks up a familiar scent -- the oils Morri uses, the lanterns she burns.

The find a domed, circular clearing, ringed with thorny walls and thicket. In the middle, a massive tree covered in hundreds of hanging vines, like a frozen waterfall of deep green and teal streamers, completely obfuscating the center of the tree. It rises over a hundred feet, just scraping the top of this dome; the shape implies a dozen or more branches with the vines draped over them like a weeping willow. Within, there are hundreds of small nests, empty wooden cages, lanterns, and many, many unique wreaths tied throughout, subtly decorating it. The air hangs heavy with a presence that leaves breath thick and chilled.

Fearne feels that chill in the air as a warmth in her chest.

As Fearne gets within 5 feet of the tree, the vines furl apart like drapes, letting through the faintest flicker of firelight.

The tree is comparable to the Sun Tree in its thickness. 30 feet up, it splits into two trunks that corkscrew around each other; the branches off the trunks each hold a hut, a room.

"Enter. We knew you were coming." (Note that whoever is speaking had to invite Fearne into the home -- she didn't just enter.)

"It's hard to grasp a solid presence. At times, it's beautiful, and at times, it's borderline nightmarish."

There are knit dolls, animal skeletons posed in dancing positions, alien-looking potted plants that seem to guard their side of the room with ferocity.

"Oh, Fearne. How we have missed you." Fearne leaps into the arms of a... shape. The shoulders sit at 7 or 8 feet; the torso is like a barrel; swathed in a large, blue-green, patchwork dress, there are no feet visible, and the Hells can hear them like a sack of flour with each step. The shoulders are thin, pointed, skeletal. Around the top of the dress is a mantle of chiffon, from which emerges a head on a stretching neck, craning like a giraffe, framed in long white hair. A wrinkled old woman's face, a terrifying wide smile of jagged teeth, eyeless sockets with sunken golden glow, nostril slits with no nose. "Fearne, with your friends, like a cocktail... welcome, welcome. We have guests."

She pulls open the front of the dress, and in the chest is a massive pair of sunken eyes, a mouth that curls into a smile across the torso. "We haven't had guests in a while... come. Let me show you to my tiki bar."

[neshionals]

What are your favourite baby names?

"That's an interesting...and very specific question. I mean...I've never really thought about that before, but I guess I like...Veda? It's Hindu, uhm...and for boys...don't know, I've always liked Noah? But my Mum wouldn't really like non-Hindu names, so I'd probably settle for...Ishan. It's..it's nice-sounding, innit."

[hum-suffer]

I'm Yours 2

Ishan has always been a light sleeper. His mother was proud of him and his dad, a man who craved snacks at midnight, bemoaned his habits.

So when he wakes up on Sunday morning with a fresh gajra tied on his wrist, for a moment, he wonders if this is a hallucination or a dream. He blinks and pinches his thigh, the sharp sting reminding him that it's reality. He frowns, and touches the gajra. It's real.

Ishan takes a deep breath.

"Let's bathe first and then deal with this," he says to himself. Another beat passes as he reconsiders his promise to himself. "Maybe have some tea first."

____________________________________________________

He's so fucking glad that he had the tea first.

The moment he was more awake, he was panicking.

Someone fucking broke into his house? His house? His ancestral, beloved house that had marble flooring which made clancking sounds everytime he walked? Ishan cracks his neck and takes another fortifying breath, staring at the discarded gajra on the dining table. It feels very audacious. And flattering.

The thought is horrifying and for a moment, Ishan imagines his grandfather shaking his head at the bloody idiocy Ishan possesses. Wryly, he says outloud,"I'm a very good source of entertainment, aren't I, Dadaji?"

The house obviously remains silent. In a surprising turn, the loneliness he often feels seeps right back in.

He glances at the gajra again. "Hey, at least, someone alive gets entertainment from me."

He knows he should report this. But for now, he doesn't want to care. It's a bloody Sunday and he will be damned if something ruins his Sunday, even if it's a stalker/admirer.

A message pops on his phone just as he's about to wash his cup. 'Did you like the gajra, love?'

'don't have the hair for it, dude.'

He probably shouldn't antagonise a probable sociopath.

But hey, what is life, if not had decisions taken in the spirit of loneliness?

____________________________________________________

When he's more settled, in the evening, Ishan goes out for a walk. His body aches in protest and the ink marks on his fingers dictate his profession to anyone who cares to see.

End of semester season is horrible, but more so when he already has to plan so much. Tomorrow's the seminar for something techy— Ishan doesn't know, he's the Hindi teacher, and he'd rather prefer not to know. Those things just rot his brain and he hates the seminars more than students, probably, but he'd do just about anything to take some load off of Virat bhaiya. Jaddu almost always lightens the mood at seminars, and he's back from his holiday to Jamnagar, and Ishan is counting on him to be the better part.

Apart from Shubhman, that is.

Ishan cannot get over his silly little crush, no matter how hard he tries and he hates it. That's a celebrity. A good looking, smart philanthropist who also owns a registered firm.

Ishan doesn't know the name of the firm, he realises with a groan. He gets his phone out, shoots a quick text to Shreyas to prepare the introduction speech for Shubhman.

The admirer, has sent him another message.

'Do you have any favourite colour?'

'yes, it's the shade stfu of the colour mind your business.'

'Lol. Really, tho. Don't make me dissect your wardrobe and make a guess, love'

Ishan's eyes narrow. He's not going to be ordered around by this bullshiter.

'Be my guest, love'

'i'm gonna overlook the rudeness for that endearment'

'Im gonna kill u'. Ishan doesn't even realise he's smiling until he casts a random glance at the windows of parked car. He controls his smile instantly.

'your looks already have'

Ishan scoffs at the blatantly cheesy line. Ew. 'Stay dead.'

____________________________________________________

'You have an awful amt of blue clothes'

The message greets Ishan early in the morning, and so does the smell of jasmines. He looks down and there it is— a gajra tied on his wrist.

The pounding headache that he already has becomes more pronounced as he passes through the motions of his schedule, the message a background chatter in his head until he has the cup of tea in his hands.

So.

That happened.

Yesterday's gajra and today's gajra, side by side, stare at Ishan. Ishan gulps. He should not have done that— any of that.

"Kya kar Raha hai tu," he mutters to himself as his thumb hovers over the block button. Why is he hesitating?

(Maybe because he doesn't care of he's dead or alive. Maybe because he wants the attention. Maybe because the idea of being so desired makes him warm. Maybe because someone only focusing on him makes him feel cherished.

Ishan doesn't dissect these ideas.)

He blocks the number and reports it for good measure.

He's already almost late— the quest to find his beloved oversized blue silk shirt had taken too much time. He's probably left it back home, maybe. He doesn't remember taking it there but he's always been clumsy so who knows? He'll continue the quest later.

The smell of jasmines cling to his nose even after he's deliberately choosen a woodsy perfume.

____________________________________________________

Shubhman is at perfect time.

Avesh, the admin staff manager, came almost running to Ishan when Shubhman, bless him, called in advance to say that he'll be at the college withing fifteen minutes.

If Shubhman keeps this up, Ishan will do something embarassing— like quoting Hannibal or something. The sheer appreciation Ishan feels for the man is beyond words.

As always, Rohit bhaiya had forgotten the matchsticks somewhere but Jas had come through and Ishan is now running around only making sure the height of the mic and the placement of flowers.

Siraj drags him forcefully to the gate of the faculty, to greet Shubhman. A volunteer student clicks photos as Virat Bhai hugs Shubhman, who always appears star struck at the attention from their resident King. Rohit bhaiya squeezes Shubhman in a tight hug and the smile Shubhman has on his face is blinding.

(Ishan wishes someone was as happy to see him. His colleagues are always fun, but they have lives— Ishan doesn't.)

When Shubhman turns to him, Ishan can't help but stare. He's wearing a navy blazer over a white shirt and dark blue jeans. His eyes, they're dark and intense. Ishan feels frozen.

"Ishan." His voice sounds so fucking good. He steps forward and before Ishan can hold his hand out for a handshake, Shubhman steps in his personal space and gives him a side hug.

Ishan breathes in, to calm his heart, and catches a distantly familiar scent from Shubhman. It's probably a kind of perfume Ishan knows, he's obsessed with scents.

"Shubhman. It's a pleasure to meet you again."

What the FUCK is he saying. Ishan wants to dig a hole in some lonely ground and bury himself. A pleasure to meet him? Could he be anymore obvious?

"Trust me, the pleasure is all mine."

____________________________________________________

The seminar goes on for two hours, perfectly adhering to the scheduled time and Shubhman has prepared enough to be also able to do a QnA. Ishan will marry him.

The students rush out of the seminar hall without a second thought, all of them sleepy and wanting to enjoy the rest of their day after the cancellation of their classes.

Ishan hums to himself as he wraps up the extra papers and wires, the bag for Shubhman ready to take. "Tulsi, reusable pen, certificate." He counts everything outloud and puts the bag aside. Someone lifts it up instantly. Ishan whips around, seeing Shubhman standing there grinning at him.

"Hello, there."

"Hi, Shubhman. How long have you been standing here?"

"Just long enough to hear that aap Mumbai aa sakte hai."

Ishan feels his face heat up instantly and shakes his head. Shubhman laughs. "Come on, I feel like we should close this hall before someone closes us inside it."

Would it really be so bad?

Oh god, when did he turn into a desperate teenager?

Ishan follows Shubhman out, talking about measley things like movies and songs, to see him off and help him settle with the gifts but they're met with Virat bhaiya and Rohit bhaiya standing at the gate of the faculty and a thundering rain.

Fuck.

They both despise the rain. Ishan does too, to be honest. Almost everyone at the college hates it. Mostly, because after rain, their usually pristine college roads turn into water holding corners at some areas and the greenery in their college always allows for mosquitoes after a good rain.

Virat bhaiya shakes his head,"Unnatural rains, at the time of diwali no less! Kya zindagi hai yaar."

"Why are you being dramatic?" Ishan asks with a groan,"I have to go back on my bike! I'm already applying for sick leave for tomorrow, Rohit bhaiya."

Before Rohit bhaiya can say anything, though, Shubhman frowns at him. "But why do you want to get soaked? I have my car, I'll drop you off at your place."

"Absolutely not, I'm not going to impose on you like that. And what about my bike?"

"I'll send Rutu or someone with it tomorrow to pick you up, bhai." Rohit bhaiya says. "Don't get sick uselessly! Shubhman is right, you don't need to get soaked for nothing."

Shubhman nods along,"And it's not imposing if I offered. Come on, let me do my good deed for the week."

Ishan looks helplessly at Virat bhaiya. He lifts his chin and gives him a reassuring look.

"Okay."

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @mayakimayahai @kyayaarkiraa @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @onthecloudseven @khwxbeeda @ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si @fortunatelycrazyyouth @ishkrisq

[ishuess]

I will be here, forever for you

(This will be slightly angsty and my perspective on what might have happened behind the closed doors of the hotel room in South Africa.)

Shubman (sees Ishan crying):Ishan? Ishh what happened..why are you crying?

Ishan(snifles): I don't know...I don't know Shubman...What is wrong with me? I have everything right here....You and this family, this team....but yet everything feels incomplete.

Shubman: *Hugs Ishan*

Ishan: I am tired Shubman...so so tired of just sitting in the dugout while everyone is proving themself there on the field... I feel useless

Shubman: *Holds Ishan's face*

Shubman: You are not useless, never were..never will be. You keep the team alive everyday. You keep ME alive everyday.

I understand what you're..

Ishan(interrupts): NO YOU DONT! YOU CAN NEVER. You get to play and show ur potential there on field...while I keep running around with water bottles making jokes...I FEEL LIKE A JOKER!!

Shubman: I..I didn't know you thought that.

Ishan: I didn't mean it to sound like that, it's just that...

Shubman: No I get that.. It's just that I didn't know you were going through these thoughts. I never tried to know maybe. I am sorry.

Ishan: don't be..

Shubman: when?..

Ishan: When what?

Shubman: When did you start having these thoughts?

Ishan: Since world cup ended

Shubman:And you didn't tell me..

Ishan: I didn't know what was happening..I still don't...I feel lost..Its like everything is slipping away.

Shubman (holds Ishan's hand): Look I'm here. Do you feel that I'm right here for you.

Ishan: i miss my family...

Shubman: are we not family to you?

Ishan: No I just miss my mom, dad, bhaiya-bhabhi..my little Viru..He has started walking yk

Shubman: Really? and you are sad that you are missed that..

Ishan: Hmm...I want to go home.

Shubman: Then go Ishan..you need it and you deserve it.

Ishan: I will lose whatever place in the team I have.

Shubman: I am here..Main teri seat pe rumaal daal doonga...No one will take it or will see my wrath.

Ishan(laughs): Paagal waagal hai kya

Shubman: Haan tere pyaar mein babyy..Now let me pack your bags. Tu jaa rest kar.

Ishan: Shubman(with puppy dog eyes)..Can I take your blue shirt with me?

Shubman: Baby with those eyes you could've asked for my soul and I would have let you take it with you..Tu tension na le.. Soja

Ishan: Thank you Shubi

Shubman: Love you too

And Shubman ends up packing the bag with tears in eyes. He finally decides to hide few shirts for himself.

Shubman: I will always carry a piece of you with me..I love you Ishan

[45cementry-gates]

This Starving Heart

#4. Accidents - II

Ishan had enjoyed teasing shubhman thoroughly that day.

He made jokes on lessons for proper usage of towels and dangers accidental flashing the entire day.

Considering the ungodly amount of shorty jokes Ishan had been on the receiving end of, it was well deserved in his opinion.

At some point when they were in the dressing room after practice and shubhman had just come out of the shower, he had grabbed the waistband of his trousers, tugged and snapped them.

The reaction was priceless.

He had shrieked, jumped and dropped the bundle of clothes in his hands while trying to grab his trousers.

Ishan's own laughter was joined by everyone around them.

But then his teammates joined in on the teasing and that's when everything went to shit.

Suddenly...... It didn't feel that good anymore.

Especially when he took a good look at shubhman's face, who was trying his best to plaster a fake smile on and go along with his teammates jokes.

To ishan, He looked like he was one second away from bursting into tears.

Guilt churned in his gut.

Maybe he went too far?

The way shubhman was clutching his bag to his chest and looking down at the floor, not meeting anyone's eyes and desperately plastering a fake smile on his face gave him the answer.

During dinner he barely ate a few spoons of pasta before bolting for their room.

So ishan shoved down his own food quickly and ran after him.

He entered their room and saw him curled up inside a blanket on his side of the bed.

"Hey.

Are you sleeping?"

Dumb question.

He poked the bundle of blankets in front of him.

"Heeeey... Wake up now, c'mon."

He kept poking until the bundle finally stirred.

There was some shuffling and finally his roommate's head popped out from under the blanket.

His face was clear, but his eyes were bloodshot and glassy.

Ishan instantly felt his guilt increase ten fold.

"What do you want?"

He sounded tired.

"I'm Sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry....for the morning and...you know..."

"It's okay."

He cut him off and pulled the blanket back over his head.

Ishan had a feeling that he was absolutely not okay.

So he continued.

"I didn't think they would join in like that. I mean it.... I'm sorry....so don't cry now plea- "

Shubhman threw the blanket away and sat up.

"Who's CRYING!?

I'M NOT CRYING! Do I look like a sniveling child to you?"

Oops. He hit a nerve.

"You are a child in a giraffe's body but that's besides the point.

Will you stop crying now or do you want a pacifier?"

Ishan mentally slapped himself.

Sometimes, his brain and mouth forget to coordinate.

"Paci- 

Just PISS OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE FOR FUCK'S SAKE."

Shubhman got up, grabbed his phone and pillow, and started walking out of the room.

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere else to get some fucking sleep."

He didn't even look back.

A sudden flare of anger bubbled up inside him at the thought of his roommate going to someone else's room and sleeping beside them.

He grabbed shubhman by the collar of his T-shirt and yanked him away From the door.

"what the f-  "

Ishan ignored his non-stop stream of curses and dragged him back to their bed.

"Just sleep. There's no need to disturb others. I won't bother you anymore so.... You don't need to leave."

With that, he made a run for the bathroom to avoid confronting the odd mixture of emotions churning in his heart and messing with his brain, leaving his bewildered roommate alone.

When ishan finally came out after getting over a random bout of existential crisis, while dealing with his mind 's odd fixation on his roommate (that even he couldn't understand), he genuinely hadn't expected Shubhman to stay.

But there he was.

Instead of sleeping on his side of the bed, he was lying in an odd sort of position with his head on Ishan's pillow and the rest of his body lying diagonally on the bed's center.

Ishan walked closer to their bed, stood at the edge and allowed his eyes to wander.

The peaceful expression, the way his left cheek was pressed against the pillow, the shadows formed on his cheek bones by his lashes, the way his eyebrows were just a little bit scrunched and the small pout on his lips... His eyes took in every detail.

He really didn't have the heart to wake him up and tell him to move, so he gently lifted his legs and moved them forward so Shubhman was lying on Ishan's side completely.

He took one last look, softy ran his fingers through his hair once, and then turned off the lights.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Shubhman's brand of weirdness continued throughout the week.

Because now ishan consciously observed him, he could clearly notice the sudden changes in his behavior. For example,

Shubhman never changed clothes in their room again after that little incident.

He always got dressed in the bathroom before coming out.

He was sleep deprived.

During breaks between their practice and bus rides, he was either dozing off on someone's shoulder or sleeping on someone's lap.

He stared.

A lot.

Ishan didn't realize it at first.

He caught him looking a few times but dismissed it.

Until one day when he caught him staring, again, and decided to hold his gaze.

Shubhman looked away instantly.

Since then, he caught him staring multiple times.

Ishan never called him out on it, and didn't try to start a staring contest with him either.

That sensation of being watched should bother him. It certainly does when others do it.

Strangely enough, When it was that pair of eyes; eyes which reminded him of warm dusky evenings, he didn't mind.

By the end of the week, an uncomfortable awkwardness had settled between him and shubhman.

They both felt it, but neither of them wanted to address it.

The odd silence, the lack of fights, the avoidance, the staring.....

It left Ishan frustrated and confused.

At some point somewhere, something had fundamentally changed between them.

They both were aware of it, but didn't breech the topic.

At that time, they both were so lost in trying to sort their own tangled emotions that they forgot how observant their teammates actually were.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Bit of a boring chapter but I have some action planned for the next ones so

ฅ'ω'ฅ

Do tell me if you want me to add/remove you from the tags.

Tagging :

@hum-suffer @bimesskaira @ishuess @fortunatelycrazyyouth @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @athena-swords @happypopcornprincess @deeee60 @melancholicmonody @roseromeroredranger

@miyuki7 @hanaahaa

@fangirlingintellectual

@books-butterbeer

@nothingmuch08

[roseromeroredranger]

Humari adhuri kahani

Shubman and Ishan had been inseparable since their early days in cricket. Their friendship was deep and unwavering, and over time, it had blossomed into a love neither had yet found the courage to confess. They often spent their evenings walking and talking about their dreams and hopes for the future, a future they believed they would always share.

One such evening, as they walked along a quiet street, Ishan's laughter filled the air. He was carefree, as usual, striding playfully into the middle of the road to make Shubman laugh. Shubman, smiling, called out, "Ishu, come back here! It’s not safe."

But before Ishan could respond, the screeching sound of tires filled the night. Shubman’s heart leapt into his throat as he saw a car, swerving wildly, hurtling towards Ishan. The driver was clearly drunk, and everything happened too fast.

"Ishu, watch out!" Shubman screamed, but it was too late. The car hit Ishan with a sickening thud, sending him sprawling onto the asphalt.

Shubman ran to him, his heart pounding in his ears. He knelt beside Ishan, who lay motionless, blood pooling around him. "Ishan! Ishan, stay with me!" Shubman’s voice broke as he desperately called for help.

Somehow, through sheer adrenaline and the urgency of the moment, Shubman managed to flag down a passing car and get Ishan to the nearest hospital. Inside the emergency room, the air was thick with the smell of antiseptic and the hum of machinery. Doctors and nurses rushed around, but for Shubman, the world had narrowed to the sight of Ishan on the stretcher.

As they wheeled Ishan into the treatment area, Shubman clung to his hand, whispering, "I’m here, Ishan. I’m right here." Ishan’s eyes fluttered open, and he managed a weak smile.

"I love you, meri jaan," Ishan whispered, his voice barely audible over the beeping machines. Shubman squeezed his hand, tears streaming down his face.

"I love you too, Ishan. Just hold on, please."

But then, he felt Ishan’s grip loosen. The hand he was holding fell limp. Shubman’s heart stopped. "No, no, no, stay with me, Ishan," he begged, but there was no response.

The stretcher came to a halt, and the doctor gently closed Ishan’s eyes. "I’m sorry, we did everything we could," the doctor said softly.

Shubman felt as though his own soul had been ripped from his body. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He was frozen in shock, staring at Ishan’s lifeless form. The world around him was a blur, meaningless and cold.

Minutes felt like hours before Hardik arrived, breathless and worried. He took in the scene and rushed to Shubman’s side. "Shubman, talk to me," he said, his voice urgent and filled with concern.

But Shubman didn’t respond. He just sat there, motionless, eyes fixed on Ishan. Hardik tried again, shaking his shoulder gently, "Shubman, please!"

When there was still no response, Hardik’s worry turned to desperation. He slapped Shubman, hoping to snap him out of his shock. "Shubman, snap out of it!"

The slap broke through the numbness. Shubman’s eyes focused, and with a guttural scream, he let out all the pain, the grief, and the helplessness he had been holding inside. He collapsed into Hardik’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

Hardik held him tightly, his own tears streaming down his face. "I’m here, Shubman. I’m here. Let it out, we’ll get through this together."

Shubman’s cries echoed through the sterile halls of the hospital, a haunting sound of a heart breaking. The love he and Ishan shared, never fully confessed, now hung heavy and unresolved in the air. The emptiness of that loss was overwhelming, but in Hardik’s arms, Shubman found the faintest support, knowing he wasn’t alone in his grief.

...

Days turned into weeks, and the pain of losing Ishan didn’t lessen for Shubman. He felt like a part of him had been torn away, leaving a gaping wound that refused to heal. He often found himself sitting by the lake where Ishan’s body had been cremated, the place that now held the essence of his beloved.

On one such evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a melancholic glow over the water, Shubman sat by the lake, tears silently streaming down his face. The melody of "Humari Adhuri Kahani" played softly from his phone, each word piercing his heart like a dagger.

He whispered to the wind, "Ishan, why did you leave me? We had so much more to share, so much love to give." His voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands, sobbing.

As the song reached its crescendo, Shubman felt a strange presence around him, an inexplicable warmth. He slowly lifted his head, wiping away his tears, and turned around.

There, standing a few feet away, was Ishan. He was dressed in a simple white kurta, his hair as messy as it always was. His face held the same playful smile that Shubman had fallen in love with. For a moment, Shubman thought he was hallucinating, but the presence felt so real, so tangible.

"Ishan?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

Ishan’s figure stepped closer, the smile never leaving his face. "Yes, Shubman. It’s me."

Shubman’s heart raced, a mix of disbelief and longing. He stood up, reaching out a hand towards Ishan, who remained just out of reach. "Ishan, is it really you? Are you really here?"

Ishan nodded gently, his eyes filled with the same love they had always shared. "I am here, Shubman. I never truly left you."

Shubman fell to his knees, overcome with emotion. "I miss you so much. Every moment without you feels like an eternity. I can’t accept that you’re gone."

Ishan knelt beside him, though Shubman couldn’t feel his touch. "I know, meri jaan. I miss you too. But I am always with you, in your heart, in your memories. Our love is beyond this world."

Shubman’s tears flowed freely as he listened to Ishan’s soothing voice. "I never got to tell you how much I love you. I should have said it when you were here."

Ishan smiled softly. "You told me in every way that mattered. I felt your love every single day. And I love you too, Shubman. Always."

The song "Humari Adhuri Kahani" continued to play, the lyrics resonating deeply with their incomplete story. Shubman felt a sense of peace wash over him, knowing that Ishan’s love would forever be a part of him.

"Ishan, I will never forget you. I will carry you with me in everything I do."

Ishan’s figure began to fade, but his smile remained. "And I will be watching over you, cheering you on, loving you always. Remember, our story is not truly incomplete as long as we hold it in our hearts."

As Ishan’s image grew fainter, he whispered one last time, "If not in this life, then in the next, we will find each other again."

Shubman, tears streaming down his face, nodded. "Yes, Ishan. If not in this life, then in the next. Until then, I'll live for both of us."

As Ishan’s figure vanished into the evening mist, Shubman felt a bittersweet calm. He sat by the lake, looking out at the water that now held a sacred meaning, and whispered into the wind, "Humari adhuri kahani… will always be the most beautiful part of my life."

He knew he had to find a way to live on, to honor Ishan’s memory by living the life they had both dreamed of. With a heavy heart but a renewed sense of purpose, Shubman stood up, ready to face the world with Ishan’s love guiding him every step of the way.

[drishanshevate]

Recognizing Singns & Symptoms of Ankylosing Spondylitis: Dr. Ishan Shevate - Orthopedic Doctor

Ankylosing Spondylitis (AS) is a chronic inflammatory condition that primarily affects the spine, but it can also impact other joints such as the hips, shoulders, and even internal organs. Early detection is crucial to managing this condition effectively and improving quality of life. Here’s a guide to help you understand and recognize the warning signs and symptoms of ankylosing spondylitis.

What is Ankylosing Spondylitis?

Ankylosing Spondylitis (AS) is a type of arthritis that causes inflammation in the joints and ligaments of the spine. Over time, it can lead to stiffness, chronic pain, and even fusion of spinal vertebrae, which reduces mobility. Though it commonly begins in young adults, it can affect anyone.

Warning Signs to Watch Out For

1. Persistent Back Pain

Pain during early mornings or at night is one of the first indicators.

Unlike regular back pain, it tends to persist for weeks and does not improve with rest.

2. Stiffness in Hips and Shoulders

Pain and stiffness can spread to other joints, especially in the hips, shoulders, and neck.

These symptoms are often more pronounced after periods of inactivity, such as sleeping or sitting for extended durations.

Other Symptoms to Recognize

1. Early Morning Stiffness

Waking up with stiffness that eases after movement is a hallmark sign of AS.

2. Poor Posture or Dropping Shoulders

As inflammation progresses, you might notice poor posture, rounded shoulders, or difficulty standing upright.

3. Unexplained Weight Loss

A sudden or unexplained drop in weight without dietary or lifestyle changes could be linked to inflammation.

4. Fatigue and Anemia

Inflammatory conditions like AS often cause general fatigue and low energy levels.

Chronic inflammation can also lead to anemia, which results in weakness and shortness of breath.

Why You Shouldn’t Ignore These Symptoms

Ankylosing Spondylitis is a progressive condition. Early diagnosis and treatment can:

Help slow disease progression.

Manage pain and inflammation.

Improve spinal flexibility and overall quality of life.

Neglecting these early warning signs could lead to severe complications, including irreversible spinal fusion and reduced mobility.

When to Seek Help

If you experience persistent back pain, stiffness, or any of the above symptoms, consult a specialist immediately. Delaying treatment may worsen the condition over time.

Dr. Ishan Rajendra Shevate, a Consultant Orthopaedic Surgeon specializing in shoulder, knee, and sports injuries, emphasizes the importance of seeking professional help for early diagnosis and management of Ankylosing Spondylitis.

Contact Details for Expert Guidance

Dr. Ishan Rajendra Shevate MBBS, DNB, MS (Ortho) Consultant Orthopaedic, Shoulder, Knee, and Sports Injuries Surgeon

📍 Address: office no, 203, 2nd floor, Synergy Clinic, Krishna Avenue, opp. D- mart, above Dominos, Veerbhadra Nagar, Baner, Pune, Maharashtra 411045

📞 Phone: 9405783493

Website: https://drishanshevateortho.com

Takeaway

Ankylosing Spondylitis may sound daunting, but recognizing the signs early can make all the difference. Pay attention to persistent back pain, stiffness, poor posture, and unexplained symptoms. If you notice any of these, seek medical advice immediately. Early intervention is key to maintaining a healthy, active lifestyle.

Feel free to share this information with loved ones who may benefit from early awareness and proactive care. Don’t ignore back pain—address it today!