#im sorry my nephews gave me a horrible cold ;A;

[modmad]

ough okay yeah Im sorry folks but no TPoH update this week either, I'm way too sick. can barely sit up and my head is spinning and full of Goo orz

[foolgobi65]

Mahabharata (any characters or pairing) + college au + meet messy + “alexa, play wonderwall.” (at this point im just picking things at random lol)

play wonderwall : you’ll see lol  basically used this as an excuse to write a version of the scene u and i both acknowledge as our favorite. the single most iconic scene in the entire epic, bar none. for our sake, i really hope that you like it!! also the “meet messy” is basically random people in the crowd meeting this trainwreck of a family in all of its glory. also i think rhea’s modern au krishna goes by shyam yadav??? i tried to use a different first name at least but none of them sounded as nice so i gave up lol sorry rhea. 

--

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

It seems like the entire university is gathered on the front lawn to watch the swearing-in ceremony of new Union President Dharamraj Kuru after what many reported to be the nastiest student election season perhaps ever seen. Jarasandha Magadh, after years of refusing to graduate, had at the last minute been put in the hospital and, apparently, sustained injuries so extensive that it had effectively argued that his already completed coursework should be all that was counted when factoring in his final mark. 

“Especially given said student’s...extensive history...with this institution,” Shyam had apparently said when arguing Jarasandha’s case to University Administration, Jarasandha himself completely unaware and apparently furious when he was brought out of his medically induced coma. 

Jarasandha’s party’s hastily promoted candidate Sahadeva was wildly acknowledged to be weak, young, and meant to be nothing more than a rubber stamp on business as usual. Dharamraj, whose upstart campaign effectively communicated how poorly “business as usual” had treated the student body, was suddenly flooded with factions of students seeking an alliance so that their respective organizations might be allocated larger portions of the budget everyone assumed Dharamraj would soon control. 

Everyone was right. Dharamraj won in a landslide, and now here everybody is, watching him deliver his maiden speech as their new President. 

“Shisupal,” Dharamraj sighs, “what exactly is your problem?” 

“My problem,” Shisupal shrieks, walking up to the dais from where Dharamraj stands, surrounded by his friends, family, and his girlfriend Yagna. “You’re asking me what my problem is, Brother?” 

“Brother?” someone in the crowd asks, too low to be heard at the front. 

“I think they’re related on their mother’s side,” someone else responds. “Both their mothers are sisters, but Pritha was adopted out to a friend of her father so was never close to her biological siblings.” 

“Jesus,” another laughs, “are they all just cousins?” 

A wide assortment of Kurus stand on stage, jubilant after so many years of them trying and failing to win elections at the university their fathers had once ruled. Yagna, from a prominent family herself, at Dharamraj’s side. Shyam Yadav, whose sister Subhadra is in love with Dhananjaya and whose father was like a brother to Pritha when she was lonely in Kuntibhoj and Vasudev not imprisoned with his wife. 

Yes, they really are all just cousins. 

Vrikodara steps in front of Dharamraj, arms crossed and looming nearly half a metre taller than Shishupal. Yet, Shishupal is not cowed -- though many men more intelligent than he would have been. 

“I’m not afraid of you, asshole. Everyone knows you’re just the gun in Dharamraj’s hand, and your brother is a pacifist. You won’t touch me.” 

“You would be surprised,” Dharamraj says mildly, smiling slightly as the crowd laughs at the thought of violence from the slightly frail Dharma, always seen in the library or sitting under the tree outside it, smoking cigarettes as he argues with professors twice his age about obscure legalities and wins. 

“You wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Shishupal spits, “you’re too much of a coward to hit a person when they know it’s coming. That’s why you’re just stabbing us in the back, selling us out on the first day when we put our reputations on the line to back you for President.” 

“Shisupal!” Vrikodara roars, Dhananjaya striding to stand next to him, Suyodhana and Radheya on either flank despite what is rumored to be their own tensions with Pandu’s sons. The family is closing ranks at this attack from one their own, it seems, but then what is University politics if not a way for people to find some entertainment from other people’s drama. 

“What,” Shishupal retorts, “you expect us all to shut up while you commit to sinking half of the budget into that wastrel’s pathetic fund? You plan on just giving our money away to anyone who spins a sad life story and begs for cash?” 

Well, University politics is about this too -- the eternal question of which students should be helped, and how much. The fund in question is the brainchild of Shyam, a way for individuals to apply for rapid monetary relief in response to uncontrollable circumstances, and be granted what they need with almost no questions asked. 

“Shisupal,” Dhananjaya steps forward, sensitive as always when his best (and only) friend’s name is brought up. “We’ve let you get away with more than we should because you happen to be our mother’s nephew. If you continue to embarrass us in public it won’t end well.” Shishupal laughs. “For you or for me? As far as I can see, you’ve all been duped by that street-trash pretending to be Vasudev Yadav’s son.” 

Dhananjaya glares. “Uncle Vasudev is more our mother’s brother than your mother is her sister. Slander his name at your own risk.” Again, Shishupal refuses to cower despite what the crowd acknowledges as fierce odds -- Dhananjaya doesn’t actually attend the University, only visits frequently from the Indian Air Force Academy to spend time with Shyam, and his brothers sometimes as well. The man is licensed to shoot a gun, for god’s sake, but Shishupal continues to stand firm. 

“Even now, you’re all standing in front of him,” Shishupal taunts, “Dancing to his tune and protecting his reputation when you know as well as I where he came from. He didn’t even speak English until he left that shithole after killing his own uncle, and you idiots are planning to sink my money into his scheme? Not on my watch.” 

“No,” a voice comes from the back of the group on the dais, “there’s no need to make that face. I can fight my own battles, Dhananjaya. Especially against an absolute clown, like Shishupal.”  

“A clown,” Shishupal shouts, “you’re calling me a clown?” 

Shyam rolls his eyes, having pushed his way to the front. Behind him Vrikodara is grinding his teeth, Dhananjaya’s fingers hovering at his own waist as if wishing for a gun. 

“Well I could have called you a motherfucker,” Shyam shrugs, “but I’m quite fond of your mother. In fact, she was the one who’s begged me to forgive you every time you’ve done something like this.” 

Shishupal snarls. “My mother doesn’t beg, street-trash, and she certainly wouldn’t lower herself to beg from you. People like you are only demanded from.” 

Shyam shrugs again. “Suit yourself. But consider this your last warning -- say another word, and I won’t let you go like I did before.” 

“Before? Before?” For some reason, Shyam’s threat has only made Shishupal angrier, face turning purple where it was red. “Before, as in that time last year, when you stole my wife from the wedding hall at gunpoint. Is that what you mean by before?” 

The crowd goes still at the reminder of the biggest controversy to rock their collective social circle. 

Shyam raises an eyebrow. “The whole point of that was that she wasn’t your wife when we left.” His lip curls in a sneer of his own, eyes suddenly cold. “You were treating her so poorly that she asked what to her was a complete stranger to kidnap her on her wedding day. I wouldn’t talk so loudly about before.” 

Nearly a year ago, Shishupal was to be married to Rukmini Bhoja after years of forcing her to stand attendance at his side during all campus events, despite her not actually being enrolled as a student. Both of their families were rich, well connected, and sought increased prestige through connection with the other. It was, people remarked, on paper the perfect match. 

Of course, Rukmini was intelligent, witty, kind, and one of the most beautiful women most people had ever seen. Shishupal passed classes off of sheer intimidation, threw rocks at the college cats, and supplemented these qualities with his insistence on growing a patchy, horrible, beard and kept his oily, stringy hair long. Worse, there were rumors that Shishupal was even meaner drunk than he was sober, and that once Rukmini had been seen walking away from him clutching her arm and had returned with a scarf wrapped around her shoulders to cover where otherwise might have been a visible pattern of bruises. 

The wedding, everyone had agreed, was to be a tragedy, and would only serve to make Shishupal even more insufferable. When the nightly news had aired the extraordinary report of a young woman staging her own kidnapping, apparently begging one of the groom’s family connections to attend her wedding and hold a gun to her head as they walked out, it was widely agreed to be answer to their prayers, and above all a job very well done by the erstwhile bride to be. When it was revealed that the “kidnapper” was Shyam, well, that just made the whole thing even funnier. 

When classes restarted, Shishupal prowled with a whole new look -- clean-shaven, and short hair. Rukmini Bhoja was noticeably absent from campus events, but a few months in Shyam had been seen getting off the bus at the station near campus and kissing someone who looked just like Rukmini goodbye. 

It seems the rumors about that last bit had found Shishupal too. “Stranger,” he scoffs. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?” 

Shyam’s entire body, always loose, always slightly in motion, goes completely stiff. More than Dhananjaya, more than Vrikodara, it is Shyam who now suddenly looks like an apex predator. The crowd, not even the one facing Shyam directly, finds itself taking a step back. 

“What exactly is it that we’re calling,” Shyam asks softly -- sound only heard because it’s being picked up by the microphone on the podium awaiting the rest of Dharamraj’s long-forgotten speech. 

Shishupal rolls his eyes, sneering. “I’m glad that bitch made such a spectacle of herself when calling off the wedding. I wouldn’t have wanted to marry a whore, you know. Why take seven rounds to get something she sells, no?” He smirks, as the entire group on the dais -- the whole horrible writhing mass of Kurus and their assorted friends and family -- advance as one. “Or, I guess she was the one who was buying,” Shishupal laughs, looking at Shyam who appears to be frozen in place, his face a perfect picture of overwhelming rage. “She paid you to take her, didn’t she? Poor bitch didn’t even think you’d fuck her for fr--” 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” 

Shishupal’s eyes immediately roll up into his skull, as a result of Shyam Yadav’s fist colliding with Shishupal’s jaw. No one bothers to catch the body. 

Silence reigns for entire minutes as everyone watches Shishupal, crumpled on the ground. Watches Shyam Yadav, standing over him wild-eyed, with his right hand still in a fist.

“Oh Alexa,” a gentle female voice calls out from the crowd. Everyone turns to stare, open-mouthed, at Rukmini Bhoja standing in the front row, absolutely grinning at this turn of events. She gazes back at them, turning towards Shyam again and laughs. “Alexa this is so sad. Play ‘Mmm Whatcha Say.” 

[groovycatcollector]

The Wonderfully Right, And The Horribly Wrong (Daryl Dixon Love story)

Summery: After losing her brother and his wife, one young woman is left on her own, caring for a new born and trying to survive. After being taken in to a community after years of mistrust, how will she adapt, and what effect will a certain archer have on her. Starts the last episode of season 5

Warnings: slow-burn, angst, eventual fluff, violence, strong language. ptsd, age gap

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x OFC

Chapter 11

I wake again with the usual start, but this time immediately regretting sitting up straight, the banging in my head making my lie back down. The second thing I felt was my foul dryness in my mouth, then I heard a soft whimper of the baby. I reached an arm out to rub his stomach, feeling it fall down, I peeped an eye open to see I was on the couch not my bed. Hhm, odd.

I slowly sat up, wondering where Cain was and seeing a light on in the kitchen I crept over trying to keep my feet soft so I wouldn’t make any noise.

Still slightly hungover I squinted at the light, and saw a peculiar sight, a sweet sight really. Daryl was rocking my nephew, feeding him a bottle. He looked comfortable holding a baby.

I leaned agents the archway, feeling something bubble in my chest. “What are you doing with my baby Dixon?” I asked, rubbing one eye that still refused to let go of sleep my body so rudely awaken me from. I smiled lazily looking at Daryl shushing Cain to be quiet. He looked up, still looking a bit tipsy with rosy cheeks and a half smile. We kept drinking long after we strolled back.

People had brought over small gifts, some pickled food, and some small jars of wine which were now empty. I was shocked to see people be exited for a baptism, I knew I small talked with most people. I had helped stich up a few people and momentarily watched a few kids here and there but I didn’t think people even knew I was here.

Daryl’s lips curled into a crooked smile “Ahh, Natasha” He wrinkled his nose, slurring the last syllable of my name. I barley grumbled a ‘Piss off’ before grabbing a glass and gulping down three of water. The water felt sweep and stopped my tongue sticking to my pallet. I filled it again and held it up for Daryl, which made up do an awkward ‘swap you a baby for a glass of water’ dance.

I bounced Cain, wanting him to keep the heavy sleepiness so he could pass out soon enough, pretending not to watch him drinking down the water. Obviously he noticed and smiling he asked “What?” I smiled back “You got a bit of ugly on your face” Daryl raised an eyebrow before walking past me towards the couch. I followed.

I watched as he took a seat, stretching out his arms over the top of the sofa. I sat next to him, being careful to not wake Cain “I have a question” He announced, like he was proud of himself. “If you’re real names Natasha, why did you say your name was Nina?” He looked like he just found my deepest secret, that he had deeply outsmarted me.

I rolled my eyes, I used to get this all the time when I was younger. “My baba called me Natasha out of this old book, but my older sister Mary-Grace couldn’t say it because she was only two or three, so she called me Nina and it stuck” I had rehearsed that line so many time before, when it was still important. He nodded, implying that it was satisfactory. I suddenly felt a chill over my arms, and pulled Cain closer to me.

I pointed behind at the woollen blanket next to Daryl “Could you grab that? Im freezing” For a second he looked bewildered, before reaching behind and lied it on my legs. I pulled Cain up so his head was by my shoulder and adjusted the blanket. I mumbled a thank you before closing my eye, but Daryl had other ideas.

I felt half the blanked come away with a tug, leaving my left side completely uncovered. “I’m fucking cold too kid, don’t be an asshole” He was still slurring his words a bit, but now I couldn’t tell if it was the drink or his accent. We sleepily wrestled about the partition of the blanket, before decided to just sit closer together. Apparently using the argument of “I have a young baby that will freeze to death and then eat you” worked on a drunk archer.

 I barley remember falling back asleep but this time I woke up slowly, my eyes unopened, and listened to Carols muffled footsteps upstairs. I slept well, slept well for the first time in a while. My eyes still closed I shifted, on hand still on Cain’s back, and I snuggled myself into the warmth.

Warmth…

Oh shit.

Fuck now I felt it, the side of my face smushed into a chest and the arm curled around my waist. I must have leaned into him in my sleep. Shit what do I do? If I move I’ll wake him up, not that I want to, I’m pretty comfy -Oh sweet jesus I can’t be thinking like this he’s my friend. This will probably be very awkward when he wakes up, should I move ? Can I move ?

I reluctantly peeked an eye open and glanced around the room. It was already light out, light enough to be at the infirmary, defiantly missed helping Maggie then. I allowed myself to shift my head up a little, to see Daryl sound asleep. He looked a lot younger actually, and his hair all ruffled up like that was sweet- Nina whats wrong with you leave him alone.

He smelt good, like oak and something distinctly man Fuck sakes Nina not the time. Oh god I’m proper snuggled up to him, he was warm. I felt my cheeks flare up, and his steady heartbeat was drowned out by the blood pumping in my ears. Stop thinking about how warm he is and how sweet he looks and how he smells just so good and think danmmit !

Okay, actually how about he deals with the awkwardness of waking the other one first. I’ll just close my eyes, pretend I’m asleep, and let him deal with it.

Yeah … Good idea.

 I drifted off again, leaning into the comfort of a loose hug. This time I woke up alone, to Cain whimpering on my chest, then feeling his weight lift from me I sat up completely alert. Carol stood over me looking a bit shocked before relaxing with a smile, easing a bottle into Cain’s mouth.  

I thanked her, before grabbing some breakfast, well lunch now. Carol still held onto Cain after I’d splashed my face in an attempt to wake myself up .“Daryl’s on a run with Rick” She chimed in from behind me. Oh god, She must have seen us on the couch, Or after we came back from my little walk. Oh fuck she must think I’m a right perv… or maybe she didn’t? Maybe that’s what friends do in an apocalypse?

I rolled my sleeves up before taking Cain back. “Thanks again for last night, it was nice to let off some steam” I smiled, hoping and praying that she hadn’t seen. Her eyes narrowed for a spilt second before her face softened into a smile “It wasn’t any trouble, gives us an excuse for a few drinks”

I looked down at my boots, trying to distract myself from the embarrassment that had washed over the back of my neck “Yeah, ehh sorry about going a bit crazy”. She laughed at that  

 **

 “How’s the head Ms Natasha?” Denis sang with a half-smile, looking far too amused with herself. I put Cain down in the corner “Jesus how does everyone know that’s my first name?” I huffed. Denis laughs before clearing her throat and putting on a god awful Russian accent.

“You’re not cutting me off, Natasha Ilyinichna Irena Lebedev Price can handle her drink, she is true Russian”

I stared at her in shock, thank god I wasn’t holding the baby because I would have dropped him right there. “I did not” I barely got out a whisper. She handed me a cup of coffee, giving me a look of no sympathy. “You did”

I slowly sat down on the bed, it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve done drunk. One time I flashed my tits to a police officer, who didn’t press charges thank god.

I sipped the coffee, wincing a little at its bitterness but drinking it knowing I’ll need the energy today.

The day was actually pretty normal considering how unusual it started. Did the routine, gossiped a little about the people last night, about Carol and Tobin, when rick and Michonne would get together, how red Glenn’s face got when he drank ect.

I was boiling the equipment to sterilize them when Denis gave me a look, a look that I give to Carl whenever I figure he’s been screwing around with Enid. She fumbled with her hands for a second, leaning agents the counter next to me. “What?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She hummed, looking around the room. “Remember how I said that I thought you and Daryl had a thing?” Oh shit. I nodded slowly “Yeah, what about it?” I was careful with my words, not wanting to give away how intrested I actually was on the matter.

Okay, maybe I have a tiny crush.

Denise simply cocked her head at me, like I was supposed to know where this conversation was going. I looked back, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

The doctor cleared her throat before straightening up “You guys were just pretty friendly that’s all”

My eyes followed her “I don’t kno-“my undoubtedly-would-have-been witty response was cut short by something moving in my peripheral vision, instinctively making my hand go to the knife in my pocket.

“Why ar-“I put my hand up to silence her, keeping my eye on the back room.

Could be someone just looking for help, but could be a rotter. Denisse eyes follow mine as I crept into the back room only to see Cain.

I let out a sigh of relief before glancing back, he was in a different spot to where I put him.

Thankfully Denise was there to fill in the blanks “Holy shit he’s crawling”

I froze, my eyes fixated on the clumsy movements while he moved closer toward us before stumbling a little and flopping onto his stomach.

I let out a hearty laugh before stooping down to pick him look from his armpits. Holy shit, my baby’s crawling. “Hey look what you did” I cooed, looking into his his (literal) baby blues.

**

 I burst through the door into the house dizzy with excitement and placed Cain onto the wooden floor.  I wanted to see it again.

“What are you doing?” I quickly shushed Carol, who stamped passed me to close the door into the night. Carol let out a little squeak seeing Cain flop forward again and begin to drag himself toward Daryl, who sat on a stool near the kitchen.

I gasped, still shocked at his new skill. “Aren’t you just the cleverest little thing !” Carol exclaimed, picking him up once he fell again, nearly mirroring my reaction. I chuckled bringing my figure up to rub under his chin.  “He’s gonna be the next Usain Bolt I betcha”

 **

It was just me and Daryl playing a game of poker on the couch that evening. I had put Cain down after his feed about twenty minutes ago and Carol had gone to see Tobin when she thought none of us would notice.

Honestly we were both a bit awkward once it was only us, so Daryl offered a game. It helped, we were back to our usual snarky remarks and sideways glances after the first round. Neither one of us had mentioned this morning, which was fine.

Totally fine.

…

Maybe I wanted to talk about it, maybe I wanted to know how he felt about it.

…

Maybe Denis was right and I had a major crush.

His laugh brought me out of over thinking. His eyes lit up as placed a full house down in front of my eyes. “Awh fuck you Dixon” I snarled, trying to force down a laugh at his exited face. Daryl’s green eyes scrunched up with joy “You’re just Jealous Dolly that you’re crap at this game” My chest fluttered with the new nickname.

He was right. I was crap.

“Dolly?” I grumbled, giving him an eye while I reshuffled the cards. “Like Dolly Parton?” He smiled again, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile so much. I liked it.

Daryl didn’t even get an answer out before I joked “Just because of the blonde hair and big tits?” My turn to smile. Daryl’s ears turned a bright red before shaking his head. “Nah” His eyes were not fixated on his cards, his long fingers fumbling trying to put them in order. “You’re just always singing her that’s all”

I hummed, accepting that excuse. But it was definitely because of my blonde hair and tits.

We were quiet for a time, focusing on the game, and once it became clear that I was once again going to lose I tried to distract him “How was the run today?” I asked, looking up from my cards to see his brow furrowed in concentration.

He took a moment to respond. “Shit, found a big truck full of supplies that ended up in a lake”

That took me back and I let my cards go limp. Daryl’s shoulders slumped a little, obviously not something he wanted to talk about.

We played for another round before my nattering was interrupted with a  sudden question.

“Do you want to stay?” Daryl didn’t look at me, kept his eyes fixated on his cards I scanned his face, wondering why he was asking. I dropped my cards, suddenly feeling the room become serious. “Well I want Cain to grow up safe, and Denise needs me in the infirmary and-“ He cut me off “I know a roamer when I see one Nina” His chest rose and fell

“You’re saying you have to stay, but do you want to?” He looked at me, his eyes filled with something, something close to desperation.

The same desperation that was reflected mine the past few days. I let out a shaky breath, feeling myself my heart thumping in my chest “I’m starting to” his eyes darted down to my lips for a fraction, and I bit my own. We just sat there looking at each other for what felt like a lifetime, my mind racing and stopping at the same time.

I don’t know who leaned in first or whose hands reached out first but in an instant our lips met, and his hand was on my cheek. It was slow, like neither one of us was sure it was a good idea, but perusing anyways. 

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