Thinking of making a community group for Romance Club fanfiction specifically for Kali Flame of Samsara and Kali Call of Darkness. Will you guys and girls support it?
There are no monsters in the world, and no saints. Only infinite shades woven into the same tapestry, light and dark. One man's monster is another man's beloved. The wise know that.
amala and gabriel for @a-cloud-for-dreams happy (late) birthday beloved mira!
Okay. I went off the rails with ChatGPT lately. I want to see what the characters in the Romance Club universe would look like humans. I need to dump all of the images I generated from my phone. My poor storage.
author's note: a huge happy birthday to mirara!! @a-cloud-for-dreams i hope you're having an amazing day!! this is a little gabrielamala fic for you (but it's mostly amala having an identity crisis and a sprinkle of gabrielamala but i still hope you like it <333). Consider this a rewrite of the season finale but Gabriel doesn't die! also amrit likes amala but she doesn't reciprocate.
trigger warnings: gunshots, death
rating: t
divider credit: @uzmacchiato
What am I supposed to do?
Amala had no clue. She was well and truly lost in a way she had never been. Stuck with Priyanka, while Kiran and Lima lay at her feet, barely conscious.
Standing in the temple of Ma Kali, Amala watched on as a massacre took place.
The Indians - the families of the Dozen - swung their swords towards the British forces, fighting with their modern machine guns and metal bullets.
It felt very one - sided.
The British were making easy work of the Dozen, they had the advantage of reach. Before any Indian could even get close to get a slash of their sword in, the British had already put three holes in them.
Amala couldn’t see Rita - Shiva anywhere. It was as if he had vanished, but at the same time she knew that he was probably working behind the scenes. She had no clue if he would help her side or the enemy side.
To be honest, Amala had no clue whose side she was on, anyway.
A part of her wanted to go to her team - Lima, Killian, Gabriel - and fight alongside them. She was a decent shot with a gun, she was sure she could manage something. She looked around wildly. Killian was in the thick of the mess, shooting at the enemy and swinging the butt of his gun onto the unfortunate heads of people who managed to get too close for his comfort.
Gabriel was shouting orders: fire, fire, fire.
She looked on at him, desperate. She couldn’t leave him, it would be terrible of her to do that.
She looked on the other side, her other side. The Indians.
Wasn’t this the country her mother and grandmother lived in, breathed in, laughed and danced and cried in?
There was definitely a blooming connection between her and her Indian roots but there couldn’t have been worse circumstances for that connection.
Amala watched from the sidelines, Priyanka sneering pridefully next to her, as Amrit tapped into Ma Kali’s powers and called upon the dead.
And Vimal.
Vimal was at the centre of the crimson whirlpool, Rishi right next to him.
Amala looked on in horror as Vimal raised his knife - a simple knife, because the actual ritual knife was in Amala’s possession - ready to shed the blood of his own son in his quest for power.
But before anything could happen, a bullet shot resounded through the cavernous temple.
Vimal cried out in pain, his hand now without the knife, bleeding profusely. He fell to his knees, the tears of agony, evident in his eyes.
Rishi looked down at his father with an odd mix of concern, fear, and disgust.
Amala scanned the crowded temple again, searching for the one who pulled the trigger.
She met Gabriel’s eyes, across the temple, his gun aimed straight towards where Vimal’s hand had been. He met her eyes resolutely. There was a shine to his eyes, as if he was trying not to cry, a plea to Amala to come back, come back, come back.
Amala shifted her gaze away, she couldn’t get herself to look at him anymore. She had to make a choice, she knew that. But goddamn, if this wasn’t harder than anything she had to do.
Her eyes found Amrit. The one she was destined to marry. The one who had courted her throughout her time in India, and she noticed something strange.
Amrit was standing stock - still, staring at Gabriel with shock prominent in his eyes and a hint of…respect?
Amrit seemed to feel Amala’s gaze on her, and he snapped his head toward her. Then he looked at Gabriel again. Back to Amala. Gabriel. Amala again.
Something seemed to shift in his demeanour. He knew. Knew what the two meant to each other, or at least had a vague sense of it.
Amala’s blood thrummed in her ears. It was obvious that Amrit knew of what she was feeling, of course, their bond - Amala always spat that word out - made sure of it.
Amrit turned around to look at Rishi. His cousin. His brother. The one who almost lost his life. Rishi was on his knees, his hand on Vimal’s back.
Vimal was still wheezing in pain, trying and failing to hold the knife with his non - dominant hand.
Amala kept watching as Amrit ran towards her. She furrowed her brow, wondering what he was up to.
A few seconds and Amrit was there, right in front of her.
But he didn’t have his trademark smirk anymore. He looked scared. Scared. She never thought she would see the Amrit Doobay fearful of something.
He was huffing, clearly from the strain of running as hard and fast as he had. ‘’Knife…hah…ritual knife.’’
Priyanka looked on in confusion, ‘’Mr. Doobay…what-’’
‘’Shut up’’ Amrit shouted at her and Mrs. Chauhan stepped back in shock and hurt.
Amala didn’t know what to make of the scene but Amrit repeated his words, enunciating every syllable, ‘’Ritual. Knife. Now.’’
‘’But, what will you do with it?’’ Amala finally found her voice.
Amrit raised his hand expectantly, ‘’Just give it here.’’
Amala sighed. This is what always happened with Amrit. He never told her the full story, always half - lies.
‘’Fine.’’ She gritted the word through her teeth and made a show of essentially slamming the knife in Amrit’s hand, so much pressure used that Amrit’s hand dipped down, almost dropping the weapon.
He glared at her, ‘’You’re lucky we don’t have time right now, or else, such display against a Doobay-’’
Amala scoffed, ‘’As if you scare me? I am a Basu, and you’re nothing compared to me.’’
That shut Amrit up pretty quickly, but his anger was visible in his wide eyes and flared nostrils. ‘’I’ll deal with you later, Basu.’’
And then he was off.
Amala watched on as Amrit ran the way back to…Vimal. What was he going to do?
No!
Amala felt like an absolute buffoon. She should have listened to Killian and Lima, she should never have fallen into the webbed trap of the Dozen. He betrayed her. Amrit betrayed her, but what else was she expecting? Of course, he did. He had no ties to her, save for their superficial connection with the bond. He didn’t care for her the way she needed him to. He only cared for their stupid destiny. And of course, he would side with Vimal, his uncle, for god’s sake.
Amala found strength surging through her. She looked down at Kiran, shifting around but still unconscious. At Lima, who was groaning, clearly in the throes of waking up.
And then, Amala made a decision. She couldn’t let anything hurt Kiran, she couldn’t hurt her team. She couldn’t hurt…Gabriel.
She waited until Lima was on her knees before springing into action. By this time, Amrit was shaking Rishi by the shoulders, rapidly explaining something to him. Amala quirked an eyebrow with curiosity but she didn’t care to satiate it.
She knelt down to Lima and quickly explained her plan. Lima could only manage a nod but Amala trusted her to come through.
The next second, Amala punched Priyanka straight in the nose, the woman not having a chance to react except for a muffled ‘’Unf!’’. She fell down like a sack of potatoes.
Amala grabbed onto one arm of Kiran, and Lima grabbed the other, and the ladies were on their way. They skirted at the edges of the battle trying to keep themselves out of the immediate line of attacks. None of them were in a state to fight, Lima with a throbbing headache, Kiran half - conscious and Amala…physically she was mostly fine, but there was still a part of her that didn’t want to hurt the Indians. She couldn’t. So many of these people watched her mother grow up from a little girl to the woman she became.
Amala shook off those thoughts and resolutely increased her pace. She couldn’t think about it anymore, she had already made her decision.
Finding a safe alcove, Amala propped Kiran up against the wall. The boy was finally coming around to the world of the living again.
‘’W-What happen- happened?’’ Kiran muttered out, barely able to sound out the syllables.
Amala carded her hand through his hair. It had grown long and her little brother would need a haircut soon.
A memory flashed in her mind.
Amala forced Kiran to sit in front of the full length mirror in her room, and snipped away at his unruly hair because it had grown long again. She could hear her mother - downstairs in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Her grandmother could be heard in the other room through the open doorway, humming a Bengali song.
Life was simpler back then.
‘’It’s going to be okay. I am here.’’ she heard herself say. And it would be okay. She would make sure of it. For Kiran.
Her throat felt dry. Her eyes were watery. It was almost like she was coming down with some sickness but she was probably just tired. Tired of the blood, and the fighting, tired of constantly looking behind her shoulders.
Amala wanted to go home.
But which home?
The nagging voice in her head won't leave her alone.
But she knew there was one person she could never let go of.
For the rest of the battle, Amala sat by Kiran.
And from her vantage point, she watched as Rishi killed his own father. A father who had failed his son. A father who never deserved to be one.
A shudder ran through her spine. The Mother’s Call will drive her insane. She will go down the path her grandma did. A part of her was scared. Very scared. But another part of her knew that as long as she had Kiran, and her friends she would be okay.
As long as she would have…he was standing in front of her. Amala blinked herself out of her reverie. And met his eyes. Gabriel’s eyes. The same shade as hers. Slightly darker but his eyes.
Without a word, they found themselves entwined in each other’s arms, Gabriel holding on so tight, as if he would never let her go again. Amala found herself sobbing into his shoulder, so loud, uncaring for anyone who saw her.
__
They were leaving soon. Amala, Gabriel and Kiran. Back home to London.
Amala barely remembered the battle - no - the bloodbath at the temple. She wanted to erase that blotch from her memory but she feared that day would give her sleepless nights for years to come.
She stepped out of the doorway of the Doobay estate, Amrit and Rishi Doobay at her back, with Lalit a few steps behind.
After everything that had happened, the thing that turned the tide was Gabriel’s shot at Vimal. It seemed to have switched a button in Amrit.
Rishi seemed subdued but pasted a smile on his face for Amala’s sake, ‘’Will you come visit us?’’ His question was hopeful. He spoke in Bengali
Amala looked at him, and smiled, replying in Bengali as well. ‘’Yes…I think we will.’’ She looked back at her brother and Gabriel. ‘’With all the free time Kiran has when school is off, I think I will be positively driven up the wall way before my time.’’ She chuckled at her own joke, but stopped when she noticed the Doobays grimacing. She raised her hands in defeat, ‘’Fine. Bad joke. I am sorry. But, please don’t blame yourselves. You did what you felt was right. I made my own choice.’’
Rishi looked down, while his sister looked up, neither sibling wanting to meet Amala’s eyes. Amrit, on the other hand, stared at Amala and said in the quietest voice she had ever heard from him, ‘’Still, won’t it be hard?’’
Amala blinked. ‘’I’ll be visiting every year, so maybe that will keep the Call at bay?’’
Amrit raised his eyebrows, his forehead creasing, ‘’Whatever floats your boat, Basu.’’
Amala smirked, ‘’I hate to say this, but maybe I will miss our banter, Doobay.’’
Amrit grinned, a spark igniting in his eyes, ‘’Really?’’ The bastard probably thought he still had a chance with her. As if.
‘’In your dreams, Doobay.’’ Amala couldn’t help her laughter and Lalit burst into giggles. Even Rishi cracked a smile but quickly hid it when he became the target of Amrit’s evergreen glare.
After saying her final goodbyes to all the members of the Dozen - many of them apologetic about what happened - Amala finally made her way to the car that would take them to the airport.
Sitting in the cab, Kiran had dozed off on Gabriel’s shoulder. The poor kid hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since their ordeal.
Amala looked at them. She always felt a sense of wonder at how Kiran had gotten so used to Gabriel so quickly. She was glad for it though. She counted her blessings for meeting him.
He looked at her then, and smiled warmly, ‘’Mala…how are you feeling?’’
She responded, ‘’Fine…Anyway, I will be fine at some point.’’
Gabriel put his arm around her shoulders firmly, protectively, ‘’What we went through was unimaginable. All three of us know that. But we will get through it. Together.’’
Amala silently put her head on his shoulder in reply and closed her eyes, pretending to sleep.
After a few minutes of amicable silence Gabriel’s smooth voice filled the cab again, ‘’Between you and Kiran, I worry I will develop chronic pain in my shoulders.’’
Amala giggled, ‘’Shut up, you.’’ She slapped her hand against his chest, but there was no strength behind it.
Kiran chose this moment to wake up and ask, ‘’What was that?’’
Gabriel sighed and pushed Kiran’s head back on his shoulder, ‘’Go to sleep, kid, the airport is still a ways away.’’
Amala sighed happily. She didn’t know what the future held. She didn’t even know if what she and Gabriel shared would last. But if she had learned anything from the past month, it was only that she couldn’t control the future. She could only focus on the present, and come what may, she knew she would be surrounded by loved ones. With that thought, and her fingers laced through Gabriel’s, Amala really fell asleep and didn’t wake up until they had reached the airport.
