#shaded saree

[greenaestheticsforever]

I've never seen something so beautiful

[rapurnas]

Multicolor Swarnachari Silk Saree of amazing shade .

Blouse piece : Yes

Length : 6.3 ,m

[pulimoottilsilks]

Clothes of Pastel Shades for Christmas Party

December has a lot to offer! The cosy winter to innumerable year-end celebrations is absolutely refreshing. The late-night parties of December are one which is hard to exclude. People prefer fusion fashions, modern clothing, and traditional attires which are now in a theme of pastel shades. Pink pastel saree, lilac outwear, beige dresses, muted pastel blue midi, and rainbow pastel shirts are some pastel shade dresses you can wear for a Christmas party. Follow this blog to learn how to combine these attires and create avant-garde styles for Christmas week. 

[littlest-w01f]

Light and Shadow

Azriel x blind!OC (Amita)

AZRIEL MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Azriel finally gets to have a conversation with the female always around Helion, the female that somehow makes his shadows go out of control in her light

Cw: Fluff, Azriel's shadows being a tripping hazard

part one - part two - part three

The sun shined brightly in the Day Court, Amita stood in front of the middle of her room, humming to herself as she combed her hair, her eyes glowing golden by her power, second nature to her as she used her light to detect where her dark hair was, everything important in her room was of darker shades, reflecting a little darker to her than other things.

Her friend, Akriti, the female who helped her drape her clothes came in, Amita knew by the scent that was her, polished wood on her, "Morning, Ak..."

"Morning," Akriti replied, standing in front of her, "I see you're still trying to do your hair," She smiled, moving her hand away.

"Come on, I'm sure I can do it one day." Amita groaned slightly, smiling a little as she was dragged to sit on the vanity table, Akriti beginning to do her hair.

"If someone can, my love, I'm sure it's you." Akriti began to braid her hair, looking into her friend's golden eyes, "But till you can, you have all our help."

Amita smiled, her head tilted to her ear in Akriti's direction, "What all is on plan for today? I heard something with the Night Court."

"Well, you get to spent all day with the sex that is our High Lord," Akriti sighed lightly but Amita caught it, "And lunch with the Night Inner Circle."

Amita cringed slightly, "Come on, don't talk like that about Helion, it's weird."

Akriti 'oohed', "I keep forgetting your lucky ass is on first name basses with him." She finished her braid, then watched her stand up, "It's so sad you can't see, if I was with him as much as you I would ogle his handsome face all day."

Amita rolled her eyes, used to her teasing, "Maybe that's why you aren't around him that much."

Akriti scoffed, trying to nudge her with her shoulder, Amita dodged her, "Come on, Am... You don't have to make me feel bad about it."

"Oh, but I did," Amita smirked, moving around, grabbing her saree from the edge of her bed, and offering Akriti the piece, "Now be a dear and put this on me, please."

"Well, since you said please, I guess." Akriti rolled her eyes playfully, helping Amita drape her saree, moving her around as if she were a mannequin and then pinning the fabric.

After Akriti finished up, she smiled, looking at Amita in the mirror, "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." Amita smiled a little, only seeing her figure in gold, different shades of it all around, her light reflecting things in gold back into her eyes.

"Oh!" Akriti exclaimed as she moved around her room, looking for a box, "Helion got these for you, you need to wear these." She stressed as she pulled out four pieces of jewellery.

"What are those?" Amita asked, raising her hand to feel them up, "Jewellery..." She noted.

"Yep, very sexy pieces of it." Akriti moved behind her, handing her an armlet and two anklets, putting on the necklace herself.

Amita slit on the armlet and sat down to chain up the anklets, setting them design up by years of practice, trying to feel them up to guess how they looked.

Amita walked in the halls, halls that looked similar but she knew the path from her room to Helion's study and his private chambers by heart, while she was walking, her head held high as she strained her ears to catch any sound.

There was a little breeze of wind around her, not wind, she focused her eyes on a blob of darkness that had flown past her and decided to follow it, the darkness joined a few stuck to a wall. She gasped slightly, hearing a heartbeat.

"Hello?" She asked, moving her hand around in the darkness, gasping when a hand caught her wrist.

A rough voice answered back, a voice she couldn't remember where she had heard before, "You can see me?" A male, she guessed, let her hand go.

"Well, not 'see' see," Amita waved at her face and eyes, "But you're a... darkness?"

Azriel smiled seeing the female he had seen around with Helion almost at all times, "I'm Azriel, Azriel Shadowsinger."

"Of the NIght Court?" She asked curiously, "Are the rest of you here already..." She gave him her best glare, which looked adorable in the Spymaster's eyes, "Or are you spying on us? If that's the case, I'm going to have to tell Helion about it."

"No, no, darling," Azriel chuckled at her outburst, trying to not make a comment on how her glare was adorable, even if it wasn't directly faced at him, "I'm not here to spy, it's just kind of how I move."

"In a blob of darkness?" She stated curiously making Azriel bite his lips to stop from laughing as his shadows hissed in his ears at being called a 'blob' of all things, his shadows that we're buzzing about a moment ago when she had cast her light on them.

"You're making my shadows feel offended, Little Light." Azriel joked, smiled looking at her, "Also, no, I have colour on me, My lady."

Amita frowned, turning to face a whisp of darkness on his shoulder and said, "Sorry...? I didn't mean to offend you." In a soft voice, then turning back to the head of the darkness, "Well, I can't really see colour... And you appear all dark and shadow-y" She offered.

"No need to explain yourself, love," Azriel smiled, "It's quite alright."

Amita smiled a slight heat on her cheeks from all his nicknames, "Well, my name is Amita, so no need to call me all these nicknames."

"Why, Amita, then of course." Azriel gave her, what she could make out, was a bow, but not entirely low enough to be called one. "What are you doing here, walking the halls alone?"

"I don't really need help to walk around, I know my way." Amita smiled in the general direction of the shadowsinger, slightly making out his curious shadows reaching out to touch her nose or eyes, giggling slightly when Azriel apologized for them, "It's alright, they don't bother me. It's cute, really."

"That's impressive," Azriel hummed, not stopping his shadows from examining the female in front of him, smiling at the little chuckles she let one when one of them brushed against a ticklish spot, he finally took his time to take her in, the female he had wanted to approach in that High Lord's meeting years ago, she had been sitting beside Helion, a male who glared at anyone who even looked as if they were about to question her presence in the meeting, and now she stood in front of him, not scared of him in the slightest, laughing at his shadows that ghosted over her face and neck, wearing one of her signature white clothes, representing Helion with the Court emblem on the gold on her.

"We should get going," She said suddenly, "If you are here, then that means that the rest of your Inner Circle would already be here."

He nodded, taking the lead before hearing her yelp, he turned around just to see her tripping over some of his shadows, shadows that disappeared the second she looked back to glare at now nothing.

She scented night chilled mist mixed with cedar, something she stored in her memory as Azriel, her face lightly pressed against his chest. Azriel held her in his arms to keep her from falling, glaring at the unruly shadows that slid up his leg as if they had done nothing, he helped Amita back on her feet properly, after taking in the scent of her, warm sunlight, from the powers she used so much.

"I'm sorry..." Amita blushed in embarrassment, stabilising herself, "That usually doesn't happen, I don't trip."

"It's alright, darling." He smiled, still side-eyeing his scheming shadows, he offered her his arm, "May I?"

Amita smiled instantly, "Sure," She looped her arm around his and let her guide her, still looking down at her feet, blinking her powers to see something trippable in the clean hallways. While Azriel was sure he had never heard his shadows actually laugh in mischief before.

{General Taglist: @nox-ceur}

{Azriel Taglist - @fxckmiup}

[zealouscanonindeer]

Radha Basu inspired outfits (Part 2)

I absolutely love her deep purple shade 🩵 and her style is gorgeous...

Her two tone outfits are inspired by the first image (it's one of my favorites)

The simple saree is also so pretty and dainty. Also her neckpiece in the first one is so similar to her actual look.

[ramayantika]

Parvati (mystery academia)

Black. black. Stillness and dissolution. Nothingness is draped in shades of black which now surrounds you. This darkness however is not heavy. It surrounds you like a gentle mist, and there is a shower of large hibiscus flowers donning the darkest shade of red, like blood.

The chiming sound of anklets wake you up at night. A slow whisper rings in your ears. 'Wake up.' You lie wide awake. Your heart thuds in your chest, but the wake up call never recedes. Wake up from which sleep? There is no answer replying you.

Your mother sends you to light the incense sticks. By routine, you circle the sticks twice around the images of the gods. A jasmine flower falls on your hand, and for the first time, the eyes of the goddess bore into yours.

You sleep soundly. The wake up call of a feminine voice repeats once again. Your subconscious steals you into a dream. A room of mirrors welcome you and there is a sound of distant laughter outside the mirror. It is sweet and lively.

You stand in front of the mirrors. Seven mirrors and seven pieces, each a fragmented image until you peer closely. A woman stands behind you, tall and graceful with her hand raised in a blessing. The pearl stud on her nose shines like a mirror and you remember only the large gold nose ring.

'Wake up.' A warm hand caresses your head. Golden glow surrounds her hand. Your eyes are dazzled and you squint hard. Slumber takes you again in a comfortable embrace, but your soul has never been this aware, as if arising from a long slumber.

'Mother,' you call out. A soft hand caresses your head and some velvety fabric touches your cheek. It reminds you of a distant but loved maternal touch, and you feel like a child again. You are safed and loved.

A large serpent coils around your body. Its hood sits on the top of your head like a crown. Atop its hood lies a lotus. The serpent must terrify you, but there is a sweet smell of sandalwood, a shower of kadamba blossoms, and red gulal sprinkled in the air.

A woman dances in abandon. There is grace, there is desire, there is passion and there is liberation in the air around her, and in her being. It is electrifying. The beautiful queen-like woman transforms into a beacon of darkness, and red fades in your vision. A loud howl alerts your ears and loud thudding sounds of a drum beckon you closer. Black. You faint.

Nine women surround you. Each woman wears a different coloured saree. Some look motherly, some look youthful, and some look terrifying -- every shade of life taking its existence in their bodies.

A flash of lightening and your body jerks open. The serpent from your dreams coils around you tighter. A trident manifests beside you. Your hands touch the weapon and electricity fizzles through your body.

It is dark again. In pitch darkness, a lady in red and white, decked in gold and long flowing hair manifests herself in front of you. 'You have woken up then.' The serpent from your dreams has followed your path and hisses in agreement. It understands human language, some strange way of nature to show her power, the power of the divine feminine, Her. The serpent looks at you. There is humanity in its eyes. What a curious play of Prakriti!

The youthful woman who giggles as sweet as sugar, beware, she is wild and untamed. You may desire to claim her for yourself, but she shall not. She is the Mother of the Universe, manifesting in different forms. The little girls with pigtails who sweetly handed over her ladoo too is her, and so is the frail old lady in your neighbourhood. She is everywhere.

Nobody knows how did those vile men die, but justice was served. The wise old woman whispers about the devi serving justice, a feat these strong and burly policemen who claim to be the protectors of the common public, and the 'fair' judiciary had failed to achieve. 'I saw the devi drink their blood. Their severed heads served as her garlands. It is true.' The rest of the crowd roll their eyes at the rambling woman.

The final night. Loud sounds of the drums make your heart beat thud in excitement. Women march ahead, their foreheads adorned with red vermilion. Little children dance their way to the river as vehicles carry the idols of the goddess to the river. There is a huge crowd, each person chanting the name of the goddess. Amidst the humungous crowd, there is a call that makes you turn your head towards the sky. A golden glow forms against the dark clouds of the night, and there she is.

The cosmos manifests in her. Adorned with the stars and galaxies, she stands tall and large in the skies, her large doe-like eyes looking at her children with love and affection. She is jagat janani after all. Her trident manifests in her arms and she solemnly swears to protect her children from every harm. Jai devi! Jai maa durga!

'It isn't a dream. You have reached out to me, just like I. A mother want her children around her. Remember, you and me, we all are one.'

taglist: @jukti-torko-golpo @krishna-priyatama @krsnaradhika @krishakamal @ma-douce-souffrance @prettykittytanjiro @krishna-sangini @thegleamingmoon @kaal-naagin @chaliyaaa @desigurlie @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @ramcharantitties @houseofbreadpakoda @swayamev @rhysaka @aesthetic-aryavartik @ahamasmiyodhah @vishnavishivaa

[mudlarkspur]

@thedawningofthehour

Hey I've been rotating that one line in my head at the speed of light. Got me thinking about the biggest lie CY!Draxum ever told Junior. Desc under readmore.

Image 1:

Side profile of Donnie looking up at the quote "my father doesn't lie to me". She's wearing her headgear and saree with a choli and mask shaded in a slightly darker color. They are wearing earrings and two necklaces. They're saying "...hm"

Image 2:

Draxum, a buff goat man wearing a kurta with the sleeves rolled up. He's wearing his horns without the face plate or helmet. He's saying "of course I've lied to you." In slightly smaller text he's saying "you don't need vegetables, I just wanted you to eat good food."

Donnie's face is by his left elbow and they look deeply offended

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 07

Behind Closed Doors

You tell me your secrets

You keep your life between your lips.

- ( The song of the chapter is "Eyes Don't Lie" by Isabel LaRosa)

The door to her walk-in closet creaks open, revealing the warm, smiling face of Buaji. She hands her the matching glass bangles she loves, along with a jewellery set to go with the saree she’s wearing. Buaji is the most constant presence in her otherwise volatile life. Her presence as familiar as the air in the room.

She lets her eyes run through the room she has known all her life. Her room on the second floor is more than just space, it is a fortress, one that holds her in both comfort and captivity. A large bedroom, a private bath, and a walk-in closet, everything is hers, as it always has been.

Growing up, nothing was denied to her. A mere mention, and whatever she desired would arrive at her doorstep, from the latest gadgets to racks of designer dresses. Clothes would line up like soldiers awaiting her approval. For a while, she equated it to love, believing her father’s way of caring was through giving. Thought his love was measured in possessions, wrapped in indulgence.

But she uncovered the truth early.

Slowly, Painfully.

She isn’t placed in this luxurious space to be cherished. No, she is stationed here, high above, to be observed, like a rare bird in a golden cage. Her every wish is fulfilled not out of affection but as a tether to keep her grounded in his world, so she’d never feel the need to fly beyond it.

The gifts, so beautifully wrapped, are chains in disguise.

She stops wishing for more.

She begins to carve out her own choices as much as the invisible chains around her wrists allow. Quietly, carefully.

Each decision is a whisper of defiance in a world built to silence her.

As she stands before the mirror, draped in the saree Mr. Jha gifted her, a sinking realization washes over her.

Choice is a luxury.

She never truly possesses.

No matter how much she yearns for it.

The fabric clings to her.

Beautiful yet suffocating.

Delicate yet unyielding.

Either this or termination of her life.

She always thinks ending her life can never be any answer to anything.

She still strongly believes that.

There's hope as long as she is alive.

She breathes deeply.

She needs to come out of her melodramatic bullshit.

It's time to wear her well-crafted mask.

The soft hum of conversation swirls around her, punctuated by the clinking of cutlery against porcelain, while the city below looks both close enough to touch and miles away.

Saffron, perched atop a tall skyscraper, stands as one of the most exclusive and luxurious restaurants in the heart of Delhi. It offers a breathtaking view of the city, its glittering lights stretching endlessly beneath the night sky.

The walls are dressed in rich shades of deep navy and gold, accented by deep velvet couches in midnight blues and soft greys and rich mahogany tables with golden accents. Low-hanging chandeliers give off a gentle, amber glow, casting soft intimate shadows that make you feel both at ease and on edge, like you are a part of something important just by being there.

This is where power quietly dines.

This is where every glance feels like it carries more weight than the words exchanged.

This is where whispered secrets linger in the air like smoke, while the hum of the city below is nothing more than a distant murmur.

She casts a glance at Mr.Jha, who is sitting across from her, animatedly discussing politics with his colleagues. His passion is palpable, shining in his eyes.

She sighed.

She hates being here.

She hates the small talk.

She hates the looks the men are giving

She hates the way the city pulses with energy while she feels frozen.

She pushes her food around on the plate without really eating, offering a fake smile at the woman sitting beside her. She is well-versed in the art of mindless conversation. She can entertain anyone from world leaders to a discarded piece of tissue paper.

Her skin is humming,

It's burning,

And tingling.

She lets her eyes glance over the restaurant, taking in the well-dressed waiters and the animated crowd, to find out a possible reason.

Maybe it's the air, or the clothes, or the food.

And then.

She sits up straight.

Ice needles prick her flesh.

Akash Singh Rathore sits a few tables down with two women, one is boredly typing on her phone, while the other is giggling, hanging on his every word.

She looks away quickly, her brow knitting together. What are the probabilities of having dinner at Saffron the same night as an Eagle? But then again, it wouldn't be unusual. It's a renowned restaurant and Delhi is their turf, after all.

Her blood quickens, the image of caramel-brown eyes flooding her mind.

He can't be here.

She discreetly glances at the Eagle's table, a wave of relief washing over her when she notices that no brown-eyed man is present nearby.

Not for miles.

He is not here.

The tension in her body begins to dissipate slowly. Quietly, she excuses herself from the table, giving a nod to her companions as she rises to go to the ladies' room.

The quiet hum of the restaurant is muffled behind the closed door of the ladies' room, leaving her alone with her thoughts and her reflection. She washes her hands with the cold water running from the faucet. It helps, if only slightly.

"Get it together," she whispers to herself.

On her way back, she bumps into an old friend from college. “Friend” feels like the wrong term. They never spoke a word to each other back then. Yet here, the girl is chatting animatedly as if they’re long-lost buddies. Perhaps it’s the effect of graduating, everyone feeling nostalgic.

Her skin is humming,

It's burning

And tingling.

Not again.

And then.

The air catches its breath.

Thunder growls in the distance, shaking the quiet night, as bolts of lightning tear through the dark clouds. The glass of the building vibrates faintly with each rumble.

He is here.

The murmur grows as everyone marvels at the spectacle unfolding in the night sky.

While she is trapped in a pair of caramel-brown orbs.

They are trained directly on her, as he emerges from the opposite direction, clad in a charcoal black suit, walking toward the table junior Rathor occupies. A small part of her can’t help but admire his lethal, powerful stride. Yet the larger part instinctively raises her defences, on high alert.

The tension in the air coils like a drawn bow.

He slides next to junior Rathore and leans back, draping his arm over the back, as if he owns this place, as if he commands every breath in this room. He probably does.

And

His eyes.

His eyes are never not on her.

She doesn't look away.

She can't look away.

She is drawn like a magnet.

Her heart pounds so loudly she is sure everyone can hear it.

And yet.

She refuses to give in.

She will not give in.

She can stare too. As hard as he can, maybe even more.

She will stare forever.

She won't even blink if it means to win this war.

Without breaking eye contact, she bids the girl she has been talking to, goodbye and starts walking back toward her table, aware of the way his eyes hold her and hers hold his with each step, with every sway of her saree.

She is aflame from head to toe.

Her blood sings in her ears, drowning the sounds of laughter and clinking of wine glasses to nothing but a distant static. She is floating underwater.

His stare is raindrops, sliding down her body.

She feels his hands around her wrists in his stare. She feels his hand sliding up her neck in his stare. She feels his body pressed tightly against her in his stare.

A silent threat wrapped in a promise.

She sits down. It is foolish of her to think she can stare forever. She answers a meaningless question asked by one of the wives, the entire time feeling the weight of caramel-brown eyes. She is not going to look back.

And yet, and yet, and yet.

Her eyes find his.

A bead of sweat trickles down the curve of her spine. Her hair ends stand on high alert, sending a shiver through her skin, something he notices from across the room.

His eyes flare up.

Her mind screams,

'stop touching me with your eyes.'

A dangerously arrogant voice whispers,

'Make me'

The caramel-brown ones look unexpectedly amused as if he hears the conversation she is having in her head. A slight lift of his lips forms a crooked smirk, marring his finely chiselled face.

His evil calculated smirk.

Oh, how she hates this man.

She hates him so freaking much.

For making her feel so powerless.

For making her sweat.

In this thoroughly air-conditioned room

Only with his eyes

Sitting across the room.

'Fuck you.' her hate whispers.

'You wish,' his voice in her head whispers back like he did a few days back.

He gives her an air toast as he lifts his glass to his lips.

The glass touches his lips.

His throat bobbed.

And, she is an avid watcher.

She averts her gaze, forcing down the knot forming rapidly in her acutely dry mouth.

Mr. Hazard is bad for her health.

And her body.

And her brain.

And her heart.

And, she hates him.

"Khushi?"

She blinks, pulled out of her thoughts as Mr.Jha calls out her name. He stands with the rest of his colleagues. She nods a distant farewell to the faces she knows she won’t remember tomorrow. But it’s that gaze,

Intense and unrelenting.

That keeps her rooted in place.

"I'm heading toward the bar. It's going to rain soon. You should go home," Mr. Jha states in a low voice. "My bodyguard will take you home."

With that, he leads them toward the bar, his bodyguards trailing after him, except for one who lingers, waiting to follow her.

That gaze is still on her.

Piercing and unwavering.

The air between them has thinned out.

She exhales slowly.

Hazel eyes meet caramel-brown ones.

Eyes cut through the dim light.

Eyes pin her in place.

Unsettling and sharp.

Without another glance, she picks up her purse and turns, heading toward the elevator, eager to escape, eager to breathe in the cool night air.

The thunder strikes again.

The elevator doors ding as they open, revealing a middle-aged man with a very homely appearance. He smiles politely at her. She smiles back as he steps aside to let her in.

The doors are about to close.

A hand shoots out.

The doors ding open.

A man in a charcoal-black suit stands before the doors.

The guard beside her springs into action and steps out, “You’ll need to wait for the next one, Sir.” he says firmly and then panics pointing a gun at him. She bets the guard never expects him to be in the vicinity of them.

He arches an eyebrow at the guard, not even glancing at the gun pointed at him. With an almost casual demeanour, he grips the guard’s wrist suddenly and in a move that nearly drops her jaw, he twists the wrist, applying pressure and bending it backwards until the guard falls to his knees with a sharp cry. The gun in the guard's grip, is now pointed back reversely, yeah... at the guard.

The tables have turned.

His eyes never sway from hers.

She clutches the fabric of her saree, while willing for her heartbeat to slow down. Her nail digs into her palm, hard enough to draw blood.

The doors ding open, stopped by his hand.

She waits raptly to see what he will do next. The soft light of the corridor casts a dark shadow over half of his face, while the light from the elevator illuminates the other half of it, making him look lethally dangerous, predatory.

He takes the gun from the guard and pulls it apart, piece by piece. With a flick of his wrist, he delivers a sharp backhand to the guard's face, sending him crumpling to the floor.

Unconscious.

The doors ding open, caught on the guard's feet this time.

Show-off, she mutters in her mind.

Then it dawns on her, how easy it must have been for him to kill her at any moment.

She gulps.

This is a knowledge she doesn't relish having, especially when she is completely and utterly armless and defenceless.

Kicking the guard's foot, that is stuck in the elevator door, he steps inside. Pulling out his phone from his slack pocket, he unfolds it to make it a tablet and swiftly types something on the screen.

The doors ding closed.

The elevator starts moving.

He leans on the wall, crossing his ankles, as if he will be in this elevator for a long time, except for a few seconds.

"Mr. Roy, is it?" his voice rough, as he asks the man beside her. He snaps his phone shut, making the poor man jump.

"...ummm..yyeess, sir."

He slides his phone back into his pocket, alongside his hands. "Your floor has arrived." The doors open two floors below. The corridor is empty.

".... but sir, I need to go to the basement."

He stares down at the poor soul. Silently.

The man gulps, "....yes, sir, my floor has arrived, " and he steps out of the elevator.

The doors ding closed.

He crosses his arms over his chest.

Eyes back on her.

Him and Her.

Trapped in a box.

She mimics him, crossing her arms, while refusing to break the silence or the eye contact.

Every interaction with him feels like a risky download.

Thrilling yet potentially hazardous.

She has no idea what he wants. Following her as he has, knocking out the bodyguard as he has, it sure as fuck wasn't just to stare at her.

The door of the elevator is not opening,  not even in the basement. The elevator started to ascend.

Fuck.

"What all one has to go through just to meet you, Miss Gupta," he states quietly.

All of a sudden, fury blooms in her chest at the sound of his voice. The anger magnifies at his words but she forces herself to calm down.

"So gracious of Mr.Raizada. Why the formality, especially given the kind of liberties you take?" Her tone is cool, chilling.

"I haven’t taken any liberties," he replies, arching an eyebrow, "yet."

"I should have known you would corner me in an elevator. So many walls for you to execute your special hobby," she says casually.

His lips curve up further.

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeat.

Three heartbeat.

"Have you decided yet?"

"What?'

"About my offer."

"Really?" exasperated, she rolls her eyes, while he stares, silent, waiting.

"It's not possible."

"You haven't heard the full details yet."

"I am not interested."

"Ahh..I see..so what are you interested in? Raising snake babies, perhaps?"

Condescending, Egoistic, Asshole.

She clicks her teeth together to stop herself from lashing out at him.

"Are you sure, I can't offer you a deal you can't resist?" He shrugs, tucking his hands back in his pocket.

"Huh...Really? how?" Her tone's suspicious, doubtful, challenging.

"Ever heard of Paragon Tech company? I bought it recently. You can work there as an IT expert. You will have access to whatever you need.......And your father won't know. The company isn't registered in my name." He studies her, the eyes searching for something. "You work for me. I'll provide you evidence equivalent to what you lost, maybe even more."

Her eyes shower fires at him for making such a dangerous yet irresistible offer. He has her all figured out, doesn't he? For an unknown reason that angers her even more. She isn't that easy to figure out. Damn it.

She wants to lash out and tell him he is absolutely wrong. His offer doesn't impress her at all. Instead, she bites her lower lip to keep mum.

The caramel-brown orbs glint with something, she doesn't dare to name, "I suggest you to reflect on the offer."

Is that a threat?

"Or what?" She snaps in response. His fire's burning her as well. Her eyes spark like moulted fire, barely contained. The elevator touches the basement again and starts its ascend. "Why is the elevator not stopping?"

"You always ask the wrong question. The elevator won't open until we are done here."

"I can’t help but wonder,” she says, faking a smile, her body simmering with anger. “Was all of this supposed to scare me?”

He straightens and steps up toward her. She glues herself to the opposite wall as he stands in front of her. Even in her heels, she barely reaches his chin. Her head tilts back to keep their eyes locked.

Brown eyes are holding her hazels captive, "You'd be quite naive if it didn't. "

"I don't think the eagles will hurt her." her father's voice floats in his mind.

She smirks, “I’m a lot of things, Mr. Raizada, but naive isn’t one of them. That’s precisely why I know you won't hurt me.”

The caramel-brown eyes ignite, the embers and oranges in his brown catching flame. His eyes are blazing lava, simmering beneath the surface of calm. He tilts his head to the side while he rests one of his hand on the wall beside her head.

And she steps closer, unsure where her boldness to provoke him is coming from. She doesn't care. She just needs to.

Craning her neck, she leans in until her chin nearly brushes his chest. She says softly, “Did you really believe, that whole 'I despise you' act Or this elevator fiasco would scare me? Not at all. It didn’t scare me one bit. It just pissed me off.”

He doesn't say a word or move a muscle. He merely gazes at her with those eyes and her heart races.

Yet, she continues, "There are four walls right there. Why don’t you just get it over with?" her gaze unwavering. "Pin me down. Invade my territory. Or if you despise me that much like you say you do, hurt me. Go ahead. What's stopping you?"

Her whole body shakes.

Her hazel burns into his brown.

Bodies nearly touching.

Her heart threatens to jump out of her rib cage. She controls her breathing to keep her chest from heaving.

Slowly, after what feels like an eternity, he lifts his other hand to slide over the back of her neck. His massive hand swallows her. His thumb glides along her jaw, the roughness of his skin contrasting with her softness.

Rough & uneven like a cracked leather.

Like he has callouses on his palm.

Like there are scars underneath.

He holds her head in place as their eyes remain locked. A shiver courses through her, involuntary and unwelcomed, his lips barely curving in a sardonic smirk.

The stubble on his jaw appears more pronounced at this distance, guarding his lips. And his eyes. They are abysses, ready to swallow her whole.

He presses his thumb against her frantic pulse. It has gone out of control. Her breath hitches.

“Your pulse is running too quick," His voice a low, dangerous whisper, brushing against her skin. The faint scent of his cologne, mingling with his own scent and something raw, invades the air around them.

Every detail imbeds in her mind.

The striking orange and green flecks in his eyes, the way his long lashes frame his piercing stare.

Everything.

His mouth's mere inches from hers, "I warned you. Don't fool yourself into thinking that you know, what I will do or won't do." he whispers.

Softly, lethally.

His thumb sinks a little deeper.

“And I warned you,” she whispers back, her voice low, yet feral, “not to underestimate me.”

A cold chuckle escapes him.

"When the time comes, Miss Gupta," His Eyes are alive, a dangerous glint sparking within. ".. mark my words....I will ruin you."

A chilling promise.

Under his thumb, her pulse runs wild with the heavens that grumble outside.

And inside.

His eyes are thunders

And she is the lightning.

Author's note: Hey, lovely readers! I hope this chapter made your day a little brighter. Until next time.

<previous> | <Next>

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @titaliya @shiyaravi @herelivesahobbit @msbhagirathi @arshisrabbaves @arshiradio

[boobo13cambridge]

Sheila Ki Jawani | Kylian Mbappé

"I know you want it, but you're never gonna get it.

Tere haath kabhi na aani

(I will never come into your hands)

Maane na maane koi duniya yeh saari,

(Whether anyone believes it or not,)

Mere ishq ki hai deewani.

(This whole world is crazy behind me.)"

The music was blasting from the Bluetooth speaker that Kylian had got you for Valentine's Day after you had complained to him that your iPhone wasn't enough to jam to your favorite songs while getting ready.

Kylian, ever the attentive one, couldn't possibly not buy his bébé anything she asked for. Carefully applying the shade Limitless on your eyelids from your Huda Beauty palette, you were jamming to one of your favorite songs of all time while getting ready for your friend's birthday party. You were so happy that Kiara decided to make it Bollywood-themed because you wanted to wear the gold saree that your mother had gotten for you from her trip to India last month.

"Ab dil karta hai haule haule se,

(Now slowly my heart wants,)

Main toh khud ko gale lagaun.

(Me to embrace myself.)"

You continued shaking your hips in a sensual motion while you curled your lashes and applied a coat of mascara. To be honest, you were running a bit late and hoped Kylian wouldn't come home too soon so you could blame any tardiness on him. As a girl, you felt that being on time was overrated; no matter how much you prepared in advance, it didn't matter. What can you say? Beauty can't be hurried.

"Kisi aur ki mujhko zaroorat kya,

(I don't need anyone else,)

Main toh khud se pyar jataun.

(I'll express my love to myself.)"

This was your favorite part of the song. While waiting for the eyelash glue to dry, you struck a pose at every line.

"What's my name?

What's my name?

What's my name?

My name is Sheila, Sheila ki jawani.

(My name is Sheila, young Sheila.)

I'm too sexy for you,

Main tere haath na aani.

(I will never come into your hands.)

No no no no Shei-"

"Having fun, mon amour?" your husband's voice cut through the music as you stood there, your index finger shaking in front of the mirror with your expression stuck in a deer caught in the headlights motion.

Smirking, your husband stood there leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

"Kyky! What a surprise! I didn't know you were going to be home so early!" you blushed, trying to quickly put your lashes on, while wholly ignoring the fact that you were obviously late.

"Early, bébé? Really? T'es sérieuse?" he said, raising his eyebrows and walking behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "It's 8:00 pm, and we are supposed to leave by 8:15 pm."

"Honestly, Ky. When you really think about it, does it really matter? I mean, it's an Indian birthday party; no one's on time," you rambled on while applying your primer. "Besides, time is just a con-"

"Bébé,"

"-cept. According to Allen Bluedor, time is a result -"

"Bébé,"

"of humans interacting with each other -"

"BÉBÉ!"

"-and socialization processes," you trailed off as he spun you around in his arms and gave you a stern look that made you immediately shut up. Kylian looked positively over your antics, as his dark eyes peered into your soul. The stern press of his mouth made it clear that he was less than impressed with your incorrigible habit of not getting ready on time.

"Qu'est-ce que je t'avais dit la semaine passée quand on a failli être en retard pour la fête à ma mère?" he asked, his thumb tracing circles on your exposed hip bone. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes that had your pulse suddenly racing. A slight shiver went down your spine as you had a hard time looking into his eyes.

"Euh, que j'étais vraiment belle et que de toute façon on avait juste failli être en retard?" you said while fluttering your eyes at him. You knew you were in trouble when you felt his hands tighten around your hips, as he frowned and pursed his lips, almost surprised by your audacity.

"Et maintenant, tu mens, eh?" his growly voice sent a spark of heat into your lower belly as he slowly backed you into the counter. Feeling the edge digging into your back, you placed your hands on the planes of his chest, the soft fabric of his black kurta providing comfort despite the tension in the air.

His right hand, which was on your hip, slid up your body slowly, wrapping around your throat and giving it a light squeeze. Your breath hitched as you felt your panties dampening.

"I asked you a question, and I expect an honest answer, bébé."

"Okay, fine. You told me that if I were late one more time, you would bend me over your knees…"

"Don't get shy on me now, princesse. You've literally had my cock in your mouth."

"Oh my god, Ky. You're such a perv sometime."

"Answer me."

"You would bend me over your knees and spank my ass raw," you mumbled quickly.

"Unfortunately, mon amour, I don't have time to bend you over my knees but I'm sure this counter will do," he said while his left hand slid down your ass, giving it a possessive squeeze.

"Turn around, and bend over."

At this point, you were so turned on that you wanted him to do it, all previous traces of nervousness vanishing from your body as if it was never there in the first place. Gulping, you bit your lip, as you slowly turned around and bent over the cold countertop. you weren't wearing a bra underneath your silk robe, so your nipples were hard as they touched the cool surface.

You heard Kylian inhale sharply as he slowly lifted your flimsy robe, gradually exposing your derrière. You heard him curse as he caressed your soft flesh. A sharp smack on your ass had you whimpering as the sting left behind a film of ecstasy in your soul.

"You're going to count for me now, bébé," he said, his commanding voice slowly seducing you into submission.

"One…" The word barely left your lips when Kylian let out a snort, shaking his head not in amused disbelief at your antics. "T'es drôle. Celui-là ne compte pas."

Despite the dark lust clouding his deep brown eyes, a glint of mischief and a touch of affection shone through. You drove him absolutely mental but he loved every second of it.

"T'es méchant, tu sais," you retorted, a pout forming on your lips, challenging his authority with your audacity.

Smack.

"Deux," you said, your voice laced with defiance, determined to test his limits as the sting of his slap reverberated through you. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, the person staring back seemed almost like a stranger. A flush of red painted your cheekbones, a vivid testament to the intensity of the moment, while your teeth sank into your plump bottom lip.

"You're such a brat. I shouldn't let you cum for a week," he admonished, his tone firm as he caressed the bruised flesh.

"No! How could you even think of doing that?" You protested breathlessly, alarmed that he would even dare deny you your pleasure.

Just as he was about to retort, the sudden ring of your phone sliced through the charged atmosphere of the room, the beginning notes of Standing Next to You breaking the intimate bubble that you were both confined in.

"Who is it, Ky?" Your voice was curious, a slight edge of impatience cutting through as you tried to peek over his shoulder at the glowing phone screen.

"Oh putain, it's Kiara."

"Oh shit, she's going to kill us. We're so late." The words tumbled out of your mouth, a laugh hiding just beneath the surface, acknowledging that your best friend was about to tear you a new one.

"I wonder whose fault that is, mon amour," Kylian smirked, his gaze teasing and accusatory all at once.

"Ugh, get over it, Ky."

Smack.

"Cheeky brat." His words were a playful growl, the affectionate smack a punctuation to your ongoing banter. "C'mon, let me help you with your saree."

"Je t'aime, bébé." you said blowing a kiss in his direction, giving him a quick peck.

He just rolled his eyes at your antics, the gesture full of love and a resigned acceptance of your playful nature.

╚══════╝ A/N╚══════╝

Hi lovelies! I had this in the drafts and finally decided to post it! Yay 😁

I think I’m leaning towards writing short prompts because i have a hard time doing longer ones.

Anyways, I hope you guys like it 😊😊

[greenaestheticsforever]

This is stunning!

[g0j0s]

a woman admiring herself in the mirror

wait, oh beloved, don’t be so hasty. let me put kohl in my eyes so it evades evil eye. don’t step on my saree, look, you’ve made it loose, now i have to redo it. where are the jasmine flowers you bought this morning? i simply cannot find them? yes, there, i put them in the basket. oh? what time is it? we must depart or the guest will leave. but where is my lipstick? no, not that shade, i need something lighter to go with my saree. the attar bottle seems to be hidden somewhere, i cannot step out without it. found it! i put it in by the bathroom sink. oh stop it, do not grin just yet. i haven’t gotten fully ready. which bindi should i put on? this or that? oh no, beloved, look carefully they aren’t the same. this one is rounder and that one is sharper. pay attention, please. these earrings look better with this tone but the necklace is unacceptable and ruins the theme. perhaps, i should put on a thinner chain. yes, that will do it. please pick out the shoes for me, i cannot make up my mind. oh, what a pity, i thought these would look good with the saree but they look so ghastly. yes, yes, im coming. oh, you praise me in vain, i will not accept it. oh, what are you doing, someone will see! have shame, the neighbours will call you many things. if you say so, i will believe it, yes, yes, i promise. see, don’t i look happy?

[venusbby]

LOVE!! I SAW YOUR JHUMKA RIN DRABBLE AND OMG IM IN LOVE!! WE NEED MORE SOUTH ASAIN REP, PLEASE YOU’RE SO GOOD AT IT.

How about the blue lock boys seeing you in a saree or lengha for the first time?? Like all dolled up and shit ❤️‍🔥

➝ characters ♡ // itoshi sae, itoshi rin, mikage reo x desi!fem!reader (seperate ofc)

➝ warnings: kinda suggestive for sae's part (makeout session). rin makes reader sit on his lap, reo is a whole tease who's probably watched a bollywood movie and written some things down right before this happens.

note: THANKYOU SM for this 😕 this is actually kinda bad i think but idk ahdhsjndjd have it (cries) also im sorry if there's any typos im too tired to proofread it </3

ITOSHI SAE ｡⁠.ﾟ+ ?¿

he can't even comprehend it at first

lowkey going insane

extra touchy because wtf why are u so hot ? why do u look so good in every single traditional thing u wear ?

good lord. this man is whipped for you im sorry but he's going feral

standing in the living room while you're walking over to him in that red saree, the sound of your heels against the floor and the way your bangles shimmer around your wrists as you adjust your pleats, he feels his entire body almost lose its balance.

with the way your body moves with so much confidence in your traditional clothes, he doesn't understand why you're frowning with an anxious edge to your voice as you speak, his eyes fixed on your subtle pout. "is this too much? be honest."

too much? be honest?

sae was dying to be honest— to tell you just how much you're driving him crazy and it hasn't even been a minute since you came out of the bedroom, but it would lead to something that would make you miss your dinner with your friends and make your efforts to put on that beautiful saree go to waste because he was already dreaming of having himself completely stained with that same red on your lips.

"you look just fine."

really? just fine? you looked more than just fine. he wasn't fine.

your eyes still twinkle with that uncertainty and he slowly takes a step further until his slightly shaky hands can finally hold your hips. his eyes keep on darting from your eyes to your lips and it's making your cheeks flush with heat. "i just don't know, it's been so long since i wore a saree and—"

"stop. kiss me."

"what?"

he takes a deep breath. "kiss me, right now."

your lips curve into a shy smile then as you stare at him with that look. that look. your cherry red lips. he can't handle it anymore. his arm desperately reaches around you until he's pressed against your front with that same red all over his mouth as you share the heated kiss he'd wanted ever since he saw you minutes ago. he feels hot everywhere. this isn't good.

but it's so good.

he knows you're running late for your dinner— but he doesn't care. he doesn't want to care. his fingers trace circles over the soft skin of your waist, and he's not sure how to pick you up when you're in a saree so he settles on just gently pushing you against the closest wall as you stumble just a bit in your heels and let him kiss you with all that he has. the sound of your bangles rings right next to his ears as you tug at his hair and gasp at the way his fingers caress your bare sides.

"you look absolutely stunning," he whispers against your lips breathlessly when he stops kissing you. his forehead presses against yours, your thumb slowly reaching lower to rub the red shade away from his mouth as you breathe heavily and giggle— but it's of no use because he's going to kiss you again anyway. "and i want you all to myself right now. so call your friends and tell them to wait, yeah?"

ITOSHI RIN ｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+ ?!

his brain short circuits tbh

he won't stop staring and drooling (internally)

please fix this boy with a kiss or two or maybe just tease him further who cares he's at your mercy now

"you never told me you had a saree."

"ah, i forgot about it too! do you remember my cousin who visited from home a few months ago?" you speak softly as you grab another safety pin from your little box and hold it casually between your teeth, adjusting the pallu over your shoulder so it's just right as you stare in the mirror. "she gifted me this."

you feel his eyes burn into your back as you attentively pin the layers of material over your shoulder so that your pallu stays in place throughout the night. you frown a bit, glancing back at where he's sitting on the edge of the bed. "are you okay?"

he blinks twice and notices he's been biting his lip the whole time. "yes."

you nod, humming as you continue to do some touch ups. it had been a while since you wore a saree, so its not too surprising that you're not used to handling it too well. it's why you've pinned the material at most places so you don't have to take care of it too much, thanks to the tips you remember from back home.

and just once you're finished, you finally turn around with a satisfied sigh, grinning as you give him a pose, your right hand resting on your waist as you let your pallu drape over your left arm. "i'm finally done. god, it's been such a long time since i wore a saree. does it look okay?"

he blinks again, mouth opening and closing as he tries to find the right word. his gaze doesn't shift away from you. the material of your light colored saree is quite transparent, he notices. he wishes instantly that he didn't notice because it makes him feel even more attracted to you— and it suddenly gets really difficult to keep his hands to himself. he clutches the sheets under him as you walk over.

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, the word echoes in his mind.

but he can't say it for some reason. his face feels hotter when you come and stand in front of him, and it's so hard to tear his eyes away from your visible stomach but he still does it anyway, turquoise eyes staring up at you as you raise an eyebrow at him expectantly. it's not like it's a new thing to him to see your stomach— crop tops existed. but seeing you in something that plays a role in your culture, and seeing you look absolutely breathtaking in it almost makes your boyfriend melt.

"you look beautiful." he manages to speak, still too afraid to touch you as if this saree just made you so much more valuable. so much more delicate. so much more powerful too, because he doubts he can handle any more of your beauty if he keeps staring.

you chuckle at his state, before leaning down to kiss his forehead. it's when he takes the chance and pulls you down to sit sideways on his lap, face still a little flushed, but a glint of adoration in his eyes as he pecks your cheek in return softly, his hand snaking around from behind you completely, slipping under your pallu as his warm palm gently rests on your stomach, making butterflies erupt throughout you as you lean closer to him.

"baby, you know i have to go." you grin as you talk just above a whisper, index finger tracing his lips slowly. rin knew just the right way to tempt you.

"i know." he says, but his tone is enough to tell you he clearly doesn't care.

"rin." you say in a slightly stern tone. however, the smile on your face doesn't leave.

but after you say his name like that, he's kissing your lips already, tasting the sweet and expensive lipstick on you as he holds you flush against him. his other hand carefully pushes your loose strands of hair behind your ear as he slowly holds your chin right after, mumbling quietly in the middle of his gentle kiss, "five more minutes, pretty. you look too good like this for me to let you go so soon."

MIKAGE REO ｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+

he's gonna wife you up right there

gets you an expensive lehnga from india for your friend's desi wedding

how did he get a connection there? who fucking knows. all that matters is that his woman gets to look gorgeous in her traditional clothes

purposely making you cringe is his new favourite thing

"i knew that color would look good on you." he says as he opens the car door for you, a low whistle following as you step out carefully with your hand tight in his.

"i still can't believe this, reo." you shake your head as you start walking to the entrance of the restaurant, his hand now on your lower back as he quickly nods back at the driver and guides you forward— your lips twitching in a pathetic attempt to hold back a smile when you feel several eyes on you already.

"anything for you, i've told you this a hundred times, baby."

"yeah, but a lehnga? and this expensive?" you chuckle, looking at him as if he'd grown three heads as you both continue to walk. "where did that thought even come from?"

"your cousin once sent me a picture of you wearing one from a few years ago. i'm gonna be honest, you looked really sexy." he shrugs, earning a light slap to his shoulder as he starts to laugh. "and i thought, why not?"

you can't help but feel warmth rising up your cheeks, and you're so glad your cheeks aren't red. you look down as you walk, to make sure you aren't stepping on your long skirt as you hold it up just a little.

he notices that and the smirk on his face makes you feel too much at once.

"want me to carry you? like they do in—"

"baby, please don't." you shake your head as you laugh, walking faster once you see your friends standing right at the entrance of the big venue, leaving him behind in an attempt to hide your embarrassment and your flustered face.

but you don't make it that far and soon you feel his hand around your wrist. your eyes widen as you gasp and get pulled behind in one swift movement, your heavy outfit making you sway without balance and you instantly rest your other hand on his chest to make sure you don't crash into him when he pulls you in. he wraps his arm around your waist to keep you close, smiling innocently as you glare.

"i think this is where they start playing the lovey-dovey background music now. should we kiss?"

you can't stop yourself and you rest your forehead on his shoulder as you laugh loudly. "you're insane."

"insane for you." he winks, puckering his lips lightly as you continue to laugh from cringing so much. he was obviously playing around to tease you, and it was working.

however, you finally give in after a few moments as you press your lips on his in a sweet, chaste kiss— your face warm when reo's hand squeezes your side and his fingers trace over your curves ever so lightly, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

once you pull away, you notice he's more sincere now as he whispers softly, eyes not leaving yours. "you look amazing, y/n. from head to toe, everything about you tonight is even more breathtaking."

now that he's less playful, it means much more to you than it did before. "thank you." you whisper back, the gentle smile on your face changing into a smirk as you suddenly pull him closer by the collar of his suit so that he's resting his forehead against yours. his breath hitches just a bit when you look at him like that. your shimmering lehnga is mesmerizing enough— but your eyes have his knees going weak as he lets out a soft breath and his lips capture yours again.

your hands go up to his shoulders to squeeze as he now uses both of his arms to strongly hold you close to him and he tugs at your bottom lip gently. a few seconds pass and you hear your friends laugh from a distance, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you still continue the kiss but then it starts; the lovey-dovey background music from the inside of the open venue, which makes reo let out an amused huff of air as he picks you up and spins you around, keeping the kiss going until you're both breathless and dizzy.

[blackknight-100]

Thank you so much for writing about Vrishasena and Arjuna. Could you please also write something about them but in an AU where Kunti tells them the truth (before the dyut sabha)? Something fluffy, please!

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for four months. I'm so sorry anon, fluff is really not my thing, but I tried. I hope you like this little thing. Previous angst version is here.

1.

It is a bitter winter morning when Arjuna finds his mother in the royal hall, prepared to sweep his world from under his feet. He huddles together with his brothers, glancing warily as the Kaurava retinue moan and complain among themselves about being summoned. Pitamaha is here as well, as are the King and the Queen, and Uncle Vidura.

“Has something happened?” the later inquires.

“We are awaiting the arrival of Angaraj,” Mother Kunti says, white knuckles wringing at her saree.

Duryodhana perks up like a hunting dog. “Why do you need him?” he demands, possessive as ever.

“I am sure Her Majesty has her reasons,” Uncle Vidura tries, but Duryodhana is on a roll.

“You keep trying to speak to him, cornering him at court and courtyard, trying to turn my friend against me! Why else would the Pandava’s mother be so interested in the man that trounced her sons? I think-”

No one manages to hear his what he thinks, because Kunti interrupts this tirade by screaming, “He is my son!”

 

2.

In hindsight, it is only meet that Karna – who is apparently his brother – gatecrashes the party halfway through Kunti’s sobbing explanation. Arjuna is reasonably sure the man has never given up the chance to barge into situations with the discretion of a charging bull. Perhaps that is why they call him Vrisha.

Much to his chagrin, Karna and his sons are immediately swept up into the Kaurava ranks even as their mother speaks of floating the baby in the river.

Duryodhana speaks right over her, like the churlish prince he is, and asks, “What took you so long?”

“The storms felled quite a few trees.” Arjuna’s newfound brother shrugs and turns to Mother Kunti with a look of abject concern. “Who is this baby in the river? Should we send out search parties? Surely, it is not right to just leave him be.”

Half the gathering stares at him. Uncle Vidura lets out a long-suffering sigh. Pitamaha smacks his forehead into a pillar. All in all, the Kuru family never fails in being predictable.

 

3.

For his own part, Karna takes the news surprisingly well, right up until Pitamaha reveals that he would now be officially part of the family and one of the contenders for the throne. This sparks a terrible debate – for all his meddling in Duryodhana’s plans, the King of Anga appears to have little interest in being king of anyplace else. Brother Yudhisthira, with all his half-divine morality, protests being a part of any contention that involves his older brother as a competitor. Uncle Vidura, who is the Pandavas biggest advocate in the Kuru court, takes this about as well as expected, which is to say: not well at all.

Arjuna has migrated to a corner to escape the shouting, rubbing his forehead to put off an oncoming headache. A figure sidles up to him and offers a small canister.

“This might help, Uncle.”

For a moment Arjuna nearly mistakes him for Karna – which should not be possible, given that his new brother is still yelling about something, and would never call him ‘uncle’ besides – but then he notices the differences. Anga’s Crown Prince is as fair as his father, but his cheeks are still adorably round, and his hair is several shades darker. He is also smiling, which is not a reaction Arjuna has ever garnered from his father, although he has seen Karna laugh often enough in his cousin’s company.

“Vrishasena, is it? Well met. What is this?”

Vrishasena bows. “Yes indeed, uncle. My greetings. This is for your headache.”

Arjuna takes the canister with raised eyebrows. Inside, there is a familiar slimy green paste. “You carry balms around?” he asks, smirking.

Vrishasena shrugs easily. “People are annoying,” he says, then winks cheekily at him and adds, “not you though. You have pretty hair.”

Arjuna’s startled laughter lasts a very long time.

 

+1.

“Father is wonderful,” Vrishasena says, nocking an arrow on his bow, “but he and mother kind of fought and now he’s upset.”

“I think he is mad at you for taking lessons from me,” Arjuna says, pressing gently down on his shoulders. “Stop being so tense, or you will miss.”

Vrishasena shrugs his shoulders and tosses his head obligingly, then stands much looser. “Nah,” he says, then releases the arrow. It pierces the swaying mango halfway through and carries it into the bushes. “He has stolen Abhimanyu, so he thinks it’s a fair deal. Besides, he likes having brothers.”

Arjuna would like to contest that, but it is true. For all his follies, Karna is astonishingly adept at micromanaging a hundred and five siblings, plus the two extras, without resorting to moralizing or murder. He’s still not ready to give up their reputation as rivals though, so all he says is, “Good shot.”

Vrishasena smirks at him. His nephew has grown quite a few inches in the months they have been away, so they are mostly eye-to-eye now.

“Just good?” Karna’s son definitely has Karna’s cockiness. “Not ‘excellent’ or ‘magnificent’ or ‘sublime’?”

“No,” Arjuna slaps him behind his head, laughing, “you do not need a bigger ego.”

“It’s not that big, uncle,” Vrishasena protests.

Arjuna laughs again. “If you stop pestering me for compliments, I will help you sneak into the kitchen. The cook is making special sweets today.”

Vrishasena pouts, thinking. “I also get to braid your hair.”

Arjuna will never understand the boy’s obsession with his hair, but who is he to deny his nephew anything, especially when he is getting a braid out of it? So, he shrugs and says, “Sure,” and off they go.

[zealouscanonindeer]

Radha Basu inspired outfits (Part 1)

Part 2 is here.

I'm back with the wardrobe series. I love Radha's look and the particular shade of violet is just 😍

(I'm doing saraswati next and the Basu twins are killing it with their outfit game. I'm kinda jealous of how good they look compared to Devi.)

I'm focusing on these 3 in this part and her sarees on the next one.

The first one, is a very similar saree to her navy blue lehenga.

Her second one shows intricately crafted work and all her accessories are such statement pieces.

And a little different take on the last one..