#Diwali Wishes for Him

[folkloregirlfriend]

so that colony friend remember i met her just now we were just walking in front of our houses raat mein 12 baje i was in a t shirt and shorts and she sent him a snap of me because they're friends on snap GIRL we haven't been talking can you stop 💀

[chappellrroan]

it's super late but happy diwali to everyone who celebrates

[burst-of-iridescent]

South Asian and Hindu Influences in ATLA (Part 1)

disclaimer: i was raised culturally and religiously hindu, and though i've tried to do my research for this post and pair it with my own cultural knowledge, i'm not an expert on hinduism by any means. should i mess up, please let me know.

please also be aware that many of the concepts discussed in this post overlap heavily with religions such as buddhism and jainism, which might have different interpretations and representations. as i'm not from those religions or cultures, i don't want to speak on them, but if anyone with that knowledge wishes to add on, please feel free.

it's well-known that atla draws from indigenous, east and southeast asian influences, but something i rarely see discussed in the fandom is the influences the show takes from hinduism and south asia, and there are actually far more than i think people are aware of.

so here's a (non-exhaustive list) of the main inspirations atla drew from south asian culture and hinduism, starting with...

The Avatar

the title of the show itself is taken from the ancient language of sanskrit, often considered the sacred tongue of the hindu religion. in sanskrit, the word "avatar" means to "descend" or "alight".

the concept of the avatar is a very old one, referring to the physical incarnation of a powerful deity or spirit. the idea of the avatar is most often linked to the god Vishnu, one of three supreme hindu gods collectively called the trimurti, or trinity. the avatar is said to manifest upon earth primarily in times of great need, when balance must be maintained between the forces of good and evil.

atla borrows heavily from this idea in having aang be the incarnation of a divine spirit who returns to the world during a time of immense strife, and is tasked with defeating a great evil to bring balance back to the world. and though i don't know if it was an intentional reference, it's interesting to note that Krishna, the most famous incarnation of Vishnu was also reborn amidst a fierce storm and carried through a raging sea to a new home where he would be protected from the king who sought to kill him. sounds a little familiar, doesn't it?

Agni Kai and the Philosophy of Firebending

the word "agni" derives from the sanskrit name Agni, the god of fire, though it can also generally mean "fire".

the concepts of lightning bending and the sun being the source of firebending are likely also taken from the idea of Agni, since he's said to exist simultaneously in three different forms on three different dimensions: as fire on earth, as lightning in the atmosphere, and as the sun in the sky.

Agni is a significant aspect of many rituals, including marriage rites, death rites, and the festivals of holi and diwali. the concept of Agni is one of duality: life and death, rebirth and destruction. hindu rituals accept and celebrate both aspects, revolving around the idea that destruction is not separate from creation, but rather necessary to facilitate it. the cremation of the dead, for instance, is seen as purification, not destruction: burning away the physical form so the soul is unencumbered, set free to continue the reincarnation cycle.

this influence can be seen in the firebending masters episode, which discusses the idea of fire being vital to life. the sun warriors safeguarding the original fire and demanding that zuko and aang bring fire to the dragons as a sacrifice could also reference the ritual of Agnihotra - the ritual of keeping a fire at the home hearth and making offerings to it. the purpose of this ritual differs depending on which text you refer to, but it is generally believed to purify the person and atmosphere in which it is performed, similar to how zuko and aang must make offerings to ran and shaw and survive their fire before being deemed worthy and pure.

Agnihotra is said to serve as a symbolic reminder of the vitality and importance of fire as the driving force of life, a lesson that zuko and aang also internalize from their encounter with the dragons.

Bumi

bumi's name is taken from the sanskrit word "bhumi", which means "earth". it's also the name of the hindu goddess of the earth, bumi or bhudevi.

one of the things the original animation didn't do and which i really enjoyed about the live action was that they made bumi indian and added desi inspiration to omashu. it makes perfect sense for a king whose name is as hindu-inspired as they come.

NWT Royal Palace

chief arnook's palace in the northern water tribe takes inspiration from the gopurams of hindu temples, massive pyramidal structures that served as entrance towers to the temple.

gopurams were built tall enough to be seen for miles around, beacons to signal tired or weary travellers who wished for a place to rest that a temple was nearby. it's a nice touch that the chief's palace is located in front of the spirit oasis, a similarly symbolic entryway to a sanctuary housing otherworldly deities.

Betrothal Necklaces

to preface: i doubt this was an intentional reference, and this great post talks about other cultures that could have inspired the water tribe betrothal necklaces. given the desi influence in the nwt architecture however, i figured it was worth mentioning.

the idea of betrothal necklaces being given to women by their male partners is similar to the thaali, a necklace given to hindu wives by their husbands. during hindu weddings, grooms tie the thaali around their brides' necks to symbolize their marriage. once given, wives are expected to wear their thaali till the day they die, as doing so is believed to bring good luck, health and prosperity to their husbands.

Chi-Blocking

though chi-blocking takes primary inspiration from the art of Dim Mak, it is also influenced by the south indian martial arts forms of adimurai and kalaripayattu, both of which include techniques of striking vital points in the body to disable or kill an opponent.

kalaripayattu also shares parallels with firebending, being a very physically demanding, aggressive martial art that emphasises the importance of discipline and mental fortitude. control of the mind is essential to control of the body, a philosophy similar to that espoused by iroh across the show.

Wan Shi Tong's Library

the library draws inspiration partly from the taj mahal, the famous mausoleum constructed by shah jahan during the mughal empire as a monument to his beloved wife, mumtaz mahal.

i'll end this post here since it's getting too long as it is, and the following section will be even longer. for while atla treated the concepts in this post with respect, the same unfortunately cannot be said for its depiction of guru pathik and combustion man - both of which we'll be discussing next.

[toychest321]

Finding information on Jamila wasn't particularly easy, but from what I can gather...

(credit to @eepop-stuffs btw for getting her on my radar!)

Jamila was first released in 2006 by Simba Toys Middle East. According to an article published upon her debut at the 2006 Middle East Toy Fair in Dubai, her prototype initially intended to include fashions representing Turkey, Bangladesh, and Indonesia. However, these concepts never made it to final release, and we unfortunately have no photos of what they would have looked like.

Her initial lineup consisted of four dolls: herself, her male Arabic friend Jamil, her Indian friend Sunayana, and her Egyptian friend Kareema.

The name Jamila means "beautiful", and she seems to have only really been released with one outfit. She wore a black abaya with silver detailing with black shoes, and underneath wore a light blue tanktop with a white pencil skirt. Like her friends Sunayana and Kareema, Jamila has dark hair, brown eyes, and henna on her hands and feet.

(Credit to Bababolond on Flickr for the images)

For those unaware, Henna is a form of body decoration which originated from Africa and the Middle East, used with a natural dye from the Mehendi (lawsonia inermis). It is commonly tied to religious ceremonies such as engagements, weddings, Diwali, and Eid!

For Eid Al-Fitr, Henna would be applied towards the end of Ramadan as a symbol of the earthly delight of being alive. Jamila (and Sunayana if we're to believe they had identical Henna) seems to have eye imagery in hers, which represents protection from evil thoughts or wishes. It's also found on the top of her hands, also symbolizing protection, and on her feet, meant to soothe the nerves.

The name Jamil means "handsome". Jamil was initially released clean-shaven, but it seems later releases gave him facial hair. This might have been around the same time he was changed from Jamila's male friend to her husband, likely because (although opposite-sex friendships aren't explicitly forbidden) certain Muslims worry such friendships might result in inappropriate romantic thoughts. While this doesn't seem to be a unanimous belief across the board (many believing opposite-sex friendships are fine so long as you're careful), it might have caused enough controversy that Simba felt the need to marry the two so there weren't any implications. (Credit to Jan Unwichtig and Bababolond on Flickr for the images)

Ngl tho he is giving me major Kenergy...

Jamil comes with a white Thobe with silver buttons, a white Serwal ( undergarments traditionally worn beneath the Thobe), a white cotton undershirt, a white headscarf known as a Ghutra (tied with a black band called the Egal), black sandals, and a small dagger.

I'm actually not sure why his doll comes with a knife? The closest I could find was the Kirpan: a knife or sword which serves as a reminder to promote justice and protect the weak, mandatory for Amritdhari Sikhs to wear at all times. However, although non-Muslims sometimes confuse the two, Sikhism is a completely separate religion from Islam.

If anyone knows what this knife might be intended to represent, please let me know and I'll reblog an edit to this post!

After they were married, Jamila and Jamil had two children: Asad (meaning "Lion") and Almira (meaning "Princess"), both seen in the first illustration on this post. However, I can only seem to find one doll release for their daughter Almira, and none for Asad. Jamila comes in this playset in her base outfit, while her daughter (who cries when you press her stomach) wears pink pajamas. The playset includes a crib and several plastic accessories, including two hair brushes, a blow drier, and a baby bottle. Not only is this only release for Almira, but this also seems to be the only other release for Jamila aside from her initial core doll.

Sunayana means "woman with lovely eyes". She has long braided black hair, wearing a blue Lehenga Choli with a yellow Dupatta. Like Jamila, she also has henna on her hands and feet. She wears silver bangles, a silver necklace, and what I believe might be a Maang Tikka. Based on her images on the back of the doll boxes, I'm fairly certain she came wearing yellow sandal heels as well!

Honestly she might be one of my favorites of the line, since you sadly don't see many culturally-accurate Indian dolls compared to other ethnic groups. I especially love the use of color, and just how much jewelry she comes with!

Finally we have Jamila's Egyptian friend Kareema, whose name means "generous" or "kind". She has pale pink undergarments painted on beneath her clothes, which I assume Jamila has as well. Weirdly enough, however, she doesn't seem to have Henna like the other two.

Like Sunayana and Jamila she has long black hair, which is kept beneath a white hijab. She wears a long blue overcoat, matching jeans, blue shoes, and a multicolored striped shirt. As far as I can tell, her clothing doesn't seem to have Egyptian cultural roots like Sunayana's has Indian, however her modest style of dress and hijab are common for most Muslim women.

I've been meaning to make this post for at least a full week, and it's nice to finally get to share another beautiful yet obscure Muslim doll! It's a shame this doll didn't have more releases, since I'm honestly curious with the direction the might have taken with her and her friends based on the prior illustration! Regardless, I'm happy I got to share her and her friends with you all :)

Ramadan Kareem!

[natkhat-sa-shyam]

Last night, I received a heartfelt call from a friend who was sharing his warm wishes for the new year. I responded by saying, "We hope to celebrate your marriage by the next Diwali. I'll pray that you find the perfect partner by then." I could hear him blushing through the phone as he replied, "This is the sweetest wish I've ever received. It's exactly what I've been hoping for." ♡

[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Anniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard : Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 25 ( final)

DISCLAIMER: The story is set in the early 20th century. While I have made efforts to capture the essence of the era, there may be inaccuracies as this is a work of fantasy. I do not own the characters Arnav and Khushi, and this story is purely fictional with no relation to any real individuals, living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

WARNING: 18+, MATURE CONTENT.

Final Chapter

Three years later.

It was the eve of Diwali, the festival of lights. The Rajput haveli was a vision of grandeur and festivity this evening. The entire estate was adorned with intricate decorations. Strings of twinkling fairy lights draped over every window and doorway and vibrant rangoli patterns were meticulously crafted at the entrance. Rows of gleaming diyas, their soft flickering flames casting a warm, golden glow, lined the pathways and courtyards, creating a serene and enchanting ambience. The air was filled with the scent of freshly made sweets and the sounds of laughter and celebration, as the household came alive with the spirit of joy and togetherness.

Arnav and Khushi had been celebrating their Dewalis with the Rajput family instead of their own Haveli, which they had finally managed to build according to their own taste. It was especially Khushi's touch that could be seen in every corner of the new Raizada state. Though they had a beautiful house of their own, they very much enjoyed spending their Dewalis with the Rajputs. Because, all of their near and dear ones were here and with Mahindar and Manorama's advancing age, they wanted to celebrate the festivals surrounded by all of their children.

"Oh shit."

Arnav hurriedly entered the room and locked the door behind him. Khushi was in the midst of getting ready. was adjusting a delicate gold necklace around her neck. She had styled her dark hair elegantly in loose waves that had gone perfectly with the stunning deep red sari, she had worn. Her eyes sparkled with a hint of concern as she looked up from her reflection.

"What happened?"

"The string of my trousers just snapped. Did you bring a spare?" Arnav replied, noticing how gorgeous she looked.

"Let me see."

As Khushi proceeded to see Arnav's broken trouser string, a mischievous smile appeared on his lips.

"Aren't you a bit too eager to see my treasures, Mrs. Raizada?"

Rolling her eyes at his antics, she said, "Take it off."

"As you wish."

Arnav grabbed her waist, gently placing her on the desk in her room. The old desk was not that big, leaving her back pressed against the wall. He moved to stand between her legs, gently pushing them apart.

"What are you doing?" she whispered yelled as his hands slid up her thighs. He wrapped one of his hands around her waist, pulling her a little closer, while he put the other hand against the wall, above her head.

"Nothing, just testing how sturdy the desk is," he said leaning closer to her. A playful smirk curled on the corners of his lips.

"Arnav, everyone is waiting for us downstairs."

"A few more minutes won't hurt them," he said, capturing her lips in a teasing kiss while his hands gathered her saree around her waist. He touched her in between her legs, finding her already eager for him.

"Ap aise nahi kar sakte," she whispered, biting her lips.

"Kyun nahi kar sakta? Biwi ho tum meri, my legally wedded wife." A soft whimper escaped her lips, as he pushed his fingers in between her nether lips. "And look at you," he murmured, "....already so ready for me. The idea of us on this desk excites you, huh?"

Khushi swatted his shoulder lightly and smiled, her eyes full of mirth. "Shut up."

"Make me."

In the past few years, so much had changed. What hadn't was the undeniable pull between them. Despite the upheavals in many aspects of their lives, there they were, still wrapped up in their own little world.

He looked devastatingly handsome, as always-nothing special in that. But the navy blue kurta he wore today made his eyes stand out even more, and they were now focused on Khushi, brimming with mirth.

Khushi clutched his collars and pulled him close as she fused their lips together, successfully wiping off the teasing grin on his face. Meanwhile, Arnav got rid of his trousers and entered her in a swift motion. Both of them moaned softly, their pleasure barely contained. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him closer. Her back arched slightly while she adjusted to him. His lips travelled down her neck alternately sucking and kissing her soft supple skin. Her head fell back, eyes fluttered shut.

"Don't leave marks. It would be very awkward in front of the relatives." The desk beneath her creaked softly as he began to move.

"Shhh... I won't... at least not where everyone can see." He whispered, lightly sucking behind her ear.

Their rhythm grew frantic. They tried desperately to muffle their moans, as he pounded repeatedly into her. He then realized they were making lots of noises.

"Shit, your bangles.''

"Huh..?" When Arnav saw his wife completely blissed out and lost in the sensation. He just shrugged his shoulder and went back to his previous activities. Soon, their moans mingled in each other's necks as they finished together.

Both were breathing heavily. Khushi cradled her face against his shoulder, her fingers gently playing with his hair. While Arnav tried to catch his breath by resting his head on her neck. A sudden knock on the door startled them. Instead of pushing him away, Khushi clutched his neck even tighter, holding him close. Akash Bhai's voice came through the door.

"Khushi?"

Regaining her composure, Khushi answered in a shaky voice, "Haan, Bhai?" Her body froze in place.

"Where's Arnav? Hasn't he come yet? Bareilly wale Fufaji usko kabse dhoond rahe hain."

"Hume nahi pata, Bhai. Humne unko nahi dekha."

Khushi noticed her husband's shoulders shaking lightly. She cast a glare at his shoulders as if willing them to stop.

"Theek hain, main dekhta hoon. Tum jaldi tayaar hoke niche aao."

As Akash Bhai's footsteps faded, Arnav couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. He looked back at his wife, his amusement contagious. Khushi tried to give him a stern look but ended up laughing along with him, playfully swatting his chest. Arnav gazed at her affectionately before capturing her lips with his.

As much as he loved to kiss her whimpering lips, he loved kissing her smiling ones even more.

After freshening up, Arnav headed downstairs. As soon as he reached the bottom, two little bodies collided with him, and he effortlessly scooped them up into his arms. Three-year-old Akansha, a spitting image of Anjali as a child, brought back memories of his sister's younger days, while five-year-old Ajit, a perfect blend of Akash and Payal. They grinned up at him. Arnav settled into a nearby lounge chair, both children comfortably perched on his lap.

Little Akansha said in her baby voice, "Mamaji, thank you for the gift. Ma said me to thank you." She placed a tiny kiss on his cheek.

Not to be outdone, little Ajit mimicked her. "Ha, Mamaji, thank you."

Akansha quickly turned to him, frowning. "Arre, buddhu, wo sirf mere Mamaji hain. Tumhare nehi."

"He isn't your Mamaji either," Khushi chided little Akansha lovingly. "Remember what I told you? When you go to our house, you'll call him Mamaji. But when we come here, you have to call him Fufaji."

Arnav scrunched his nose in response, "Don't confuse the children, Khushi." Then, turning back to them, he added, "Why don't both of you just call me Uncle, okay?"

Both of them nodded and sprinted off to play in the courtyard.

Meanwhile, two pairs of brown eyes eagerly awaited their turn on his lap. As soon as it was vacant, they climbed onto each of his thighs. A sweet, confused voice asked, "Daddy, do we need to call you that too?"

"Oh, no, I've worked too hard for you to ever call me that."

"Well, your daddy was very close to being called 'Uncle' by my children once upon a time," Khushi said, lightly touching the little girl's nose.

Arnav cast her a mock glare and mouthed soundlessly, "How dare you?" In response, Khushi just laughed.

While little Ayushi snuggled against her father's neck, little Kush played with his toy, absorbed in his own world. Roma Chachi had remarked aptly that Khushi had indeed given birth to their own reflections, as the three-year-old twins were perfect mirrors of their parents.

While little Ayushi was a bit clingy and voiced her need for attention, little Kush was more reserved. Arnav saw himself in Kush more and more as the days went by. Though Kush didn't seek attention outwardly, inside he was just as eager for snuggles and cuddles as his sister. Even if he pretended otherwise, he desired the same affection. So, Arnav made sure to give both children equal attention. And in some cases, he made an extra effort to give affection to Kush while he was still open to it. Because, As Kush grew up, Arnav knew his little boy might not appreciate his father hugging him as much as his daughter might. It's just a man-code.

Arnav pulled little Ayushi closer, planting a kiss on her head, while he affectionately rubbed his son's back. Khushi watched them with a soft smile, her heart swelling with warmth and tenderness. It had been three years since their birth, and Khushi had been pestering Arnav for another child, but he kept refusing. Their birth had traumatized him enough. Arnav till date clearly remembered and almost felt the panic that he had gone through that night.

He had arranged for the best midwife in the area and had called a trained nurse from the missionary hospital for the delivery. The doctor had come as well and assured him that everything was alright and that the birth would proceed naturally. And there he was, pacing in front of the room where Khushi had been for two hours-two hours of listening to her whimpering and screaming in pain. Arnav was just minutes away from asking Hariprakash to fetch the doctor again when a deafening cry of a newborn pierced the air.

A joyous shout of Roma Chachi came from inside, "It's a boy!"

A few moments later, Roma Chachi emerged from the room with a little crying bundle and approached Arnav. But at the same time, another scream from Khushi nearly stopped his heartbeat. Roma Chachi tried to pass the baby to Arnav, but he grabbed her upper arms and asked urgently, "What's happening inside? How's Khushi?"

A hushed whisper circulated among the women in the room who had come to assist with the birth, noting Mr. Raizada's reluctance to take the baby in his arms. Roma Chachi looked around, guessing how the situation must appear, and spoke to Arnav in a hushed voice.

"Take your son, Arnav. Khushi will be alright."

Chastised by his mother-in-law, Arnav looked at the baby, who had stopped crying and was now gazing at him with wide eyes. He took the baby in his arms and sat on a sofa in the corridor. The baby's little body squirmed in the palm of his hand. Father and son stared at each other for quite some time. An overwhelming sense of protectiveness washed over him, though he couldn't exactly name the other emotions coursing through him. He just kissed the baby boy's forehead lightly and spoke softly as if the baby would clearly understand his words, "I'm not mad at you. I'm just scared."

A little while later, Anjali took the baby from Arnav while Khushi's screams continued to echo from the room, driving him to the brink of madness. He asked Hariprakash to fetch the doctor and also asked Anjali to go inside and see what was happening. Suddenly, the screaming stopped, and Arnav's heart pounded at the sudden silence. Roma Chachi emerged with another bundle, her face radiant with a brilliant smile. "There was another baby-a girl. It's a little Khushi."

Arnav placed his hand on the baby's head and asked, "How's she?"

"She will be okay, Arnav," Roma Chachi reassured him and transferred the baby to Arnav. He felt her snuggle into him as he placed a soft kiss on her crown. Since then, Little Ayushi never missed a chance to snuggle into her father's arm.

When everybody went home and the babies were settled with Anjali and Payal in the next room. Roma Chachi decided to sleep in the room, attached to where Khushi was. She was sleeping soundly after giving birth. The doctor said she had lost a lot of blood. Although the bleeding had stopped, she had become very weak. She looked pale, alarmingly pale actually and her breathing was shallow. Fear gripped Arnav's heart despite everybody's reassurance.

He spent the night holding her hand and sitting on the floor near her head, counting her breaths. He didn't know when he fell asleep, his head resting near their joined hands. But he woke up to Khushi's gentle fingers lightly gliding through his hair. When he opened his eyes, she urged him to lie down beside her on the bed. He obliged, and she didn't waste any time snuggling into his chest, her arm draped across his belly.

"Will you be angry with me for the rest of your life if I leave this world before you?"

Arnav's heart dropped at her question. "Don't ask me questions like that."

"Answer me, please."

He pressed his lips to her forehead. "I can never be angry at you."

"Good, I don't want you to be angry at me at all."

"Then don't even think of leaving."

Khushi tilted her head to look at him and smiled tiredly. Arnav placed a soft kiss on her dry lips. "I felt like I would never see you again, or our babies..... I was so scared."

Arnav gulped down the lump in his throat and didn't say anything in response, only pulled her closer to his body.

She had been quiet for a while, and Arnav thought she had fallen asleep when she spoke again."We have two babies now," she said almost disbelievingly.

"Yes, we do. We didn't even know how to raise one."

"Shhh, we'll manage," she said dreamily. "One baby is for you, one baby is for me. Did you hold them?"

"Yes, I did."

"I haven't yet. I guess I had fainted at the end," she said sadly.

"Why don't you get some sleep and gather some energy, Mommy?" he said lovingly. "If they're to be like you, we'll have a lot on our hands."

"What are you saying? I was a very quiet kid."

"Sure, you were," he whispered against her forehead.

"You were no better, mister. I know all the stories from your childhood, so you can't deny it. At least I didn't get stuck in a patila."

Laughing, Arnav gathered her in his arms even tighter, and both of them fell asleep like that.

"Bhaiya, Bhabi, come quickly! Roma Aunty is calling you," Amelia's voice called out across the courtyard to the little bubble of the family of four, who were just chatting.

Over the years, Amelia blossomed into the remarkable young lady she was destined to be. As the cloud of melancholy gradually lifted, it revealed her true essence—a kind, compassionate, and fun-loving individual, fiercely protective of those she loved.

"Let's go Mrs.Raizada."

He extended his hand toward his wife.

Khushi looked up at his extended hand, recalling a time when he had reached out in much the same way to guide a little girl out of the darkness.

Khushi scooped up Kush in her arms as Arnav held Ayushi. Hand in hand with their children nestled in their arms, they joined the rest of the family. The warmth of the burning diyas cast a golden glow over them.

In the end, as they embraced the spirit of the festival, they realized they found their perfect piece of forever in each other's arms, in each other's eyes, knowing that this was where they were always meant to be.

----------THE END----------

<previous>

@featheredclover @arshifiesta @phuljari @msbhagirathi @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte

[royalsunshinehotel]

Little Star (Monkey Man, 2024)

Author’s Note: I watched Monkey Man twice this past weekend! Here’s a scene between the woman in the Green Dress, and the dog. This fic is dark and sad, but has a hopeful twist. Tara is pronounced Taara here, and it’s the hindi word for Star. Stay tuned for information about my patreon (soon)!

Blood. Blood everywhere, and it was a beautiful thing, and the thought made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. How far had she fallen from the girl she was, to look at all this destruction in what was left of the kitchen, and see only beauty? 

Sita instinctively picked up the hem of her silky green dress, so it wouldn’t drag on the red tile of the kitchen, as if it mattered now, as if Queenie’s blood hadn’t spattered all over her face when she’d caved her skull in. 

She shuffled forward, slowly, steadily, so as not to slip on her stupid shoes. She’d never minded high heels, she liked the idea of being tall enough to look someone in the eyes, but not now. Not anymore. 

He’d really done it, hadn’t he? A month ago, when he’d taken his first shot at Rana Singh, she knew by the look in his eyes it was only a matter of time. And it was. 

Bobby. 

Another shaky step brought her further to the fucking exit of this cursed place, and she laughed to herself thinking of how she would never come back here. 

She giggled thinking about how hard Queenie had hid the ground, and the dull crunch that her hand made when he’d stolen her thumb. 

It wasn’t funny. Nothing about it would ever be funny, but it sent her forward. There was no other way to go. 

There was a split second, stepping over all of the blood and death, where Sita almost slipped. A moment, where her breath caught and she thought a moment ahead, to when she would have hit the ground. Knowing herself the way she did, she likely would have stayed there. 

But she didn’t. She didn’t. She caught herself, as she always did, and almost winced at the loud clack of her heels on the fatigued pavement. 

The night air was cool, descending like a blanket. When was the last time she’d been outside? She wondered. 

Diwali was in full swing, she could hear it from blocks away. There was a chance she could run into the night and never be seen again. It wasn’t as if her jailers were able to come find her from the afterlife. It wasn’t as if she had any money that could be stolen from her. Anyone who had cared for her was in the wind, or dead, including the man on the top floor with a finger in his pocket. 

Last time she stood in this alley, Sita told him not to keep feeding the dog. That she’d only keep coming back, with hope. Hope breeds misery, and she wouldn’t wish that on such a sweet creature. 

He’d known her tattoo was a koyal, and he’d seen right through the rest of her too. She couldn’t do the same, and she’d hated him for it. 

How could someone wear their softness so openly, and be completely opaque at the same time. She had to hate him, and he’d let her, with complete understanding. But she couldn’t now, could she. . . Why not?

Who was left to tell her she wasn’t ladylike enough, or enough for that matter? In the many evenings from that one night, she’d heard him whistle. Sita copied the tone.

She had been kind once, maybe with everyone dead or gone, she could be again. 

Several heartbeats passed, and she found herself wondering if the dog was alright. She thought the worst, as that’s what the truth probably was. 

The little dog had been trampled to death, maybe some drunk men had decided to torture and kill the poor thing, maybe the sweet creature was in heaven now…Her large eyes began to well, and she tried whatever she could to shove it down. 

Perhaps after all this time, Sita was still a fool. 

And then, tap tap tap tap of little paws on the pavement. 

In the alley, Sita turned slowly, met by a pair of bright, brown eyes, and a warmth spread in her chest, like a paintbrush in water. The dog looked alright, more robust than the last time she’d seen her, and sat perfectly still, waiting. 

She couldn’t help but coo at the good girl. 

“Come here, my little star,” The puppy inched closer, body wiggling in the way babies do, “we can’t stop to eat now, but we will.” 

The dog - Tara, she decided - tapped her cold, wet nose against Sita’s hand, and the woman reached down to pick her up. She was mostly bone, with more muscle and fat than other dogs she’d seen - Bobby would take the credit for that, in her mind. 

By the size of the dog's feet, Tara would be large, and with Sita at her side, she would, in fact, grow up. 

“What have you got?” She asked the puppy,  meeting her big brown eyes, Sita took the burlap scrap, to reveal a gun. A very, very old, heavy gun - loaded. With a note, in bold, curved, letters: 

TIME TO REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE

[lilavatilikeslemons]

Naama Ramayana Series

1.

----

Unedited.

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शुद्धब्रह्मपरात्पर राम |

śuddhabrahmaparātpara rāma |

Your name is the one to which the lord of Kailasa meditates.

Your complexion is the one which represents all that is encompassed in the universe, in you.

Your eyes are the ones who have overseen justice you have given.

Your hands are the ones who wield the mighty Kodanda.

Your feet are the ones who grant refuge to many.

Your smile is the one that captivates us all.

Your gait is the one that charms whoever you walk past.

Your mercy is the one that cannot even be described- for it is unfathomably deep.

Your valour is the one which protects those who seek you.

Your love is the one which is continuously showered upon all those who come to you.

Your shadow is the one which so many try to follow.

Your stories are the ones which have been spread far and wide, weaved into the daily lives of many.

You are the one who I surrender myself to.

I bow to you, Sri Rama.

--------

जय सीतारामलक्ष्मण की!

WISHING EVERYONE A VERY, VERY SHUBH DIWALI!

Ok so this naama Ramayana Series has been bugging my brain for a very, very long time, so I decided to inaugurate it on Diwali hehehe

I tried my best to do this- there's so many things I could just yap about him but I limited it to this for now

Who knows I might edit in more idk

As always, I'm open to feedback and constructive criticism!

Once again, wishing everyone a Shubh Diwali!

Stay safe, healthy and hydrated <3

Have a good one, folks!

[fictioninmyblood]

King Consort pt. 2

Summary: ‘Queen of the Damned’ esq, Terry’s disciplined restraint awakens a queen of the damned. Maha, daughter of Akasha, is awoken on a half moon night when the sun kisses the moon in the light of day. After surviving the bloodshed and corruption of Shelby Springs without shedding the blood he wanted, Terry finds himself under the gaze of a goddess whose thirst for balance in all things can suddenly only be quenched by his company. How did he get here? Does he ever really wanna leave?

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, the snowball is starting to go downhill and outta my control, smut, this man is haunting my dreams.

A/N: Sorry yawl, this was supposed to be a short thing but the story is taking me on a journey now. Part 3 otw.

A/N: Happy belated Diwali and Dia de Los Muertos to those who celebrate.

“Yes, me,” Maha replied.

“So I wasn’t dreaming?” Terry asked, confused as to how his fantasy was becoming a reality.

“Yes and no.”

“How is this possible?”

“I have been alive long enough to master a few privileges of immortality.”

“So, you are a vampire.”

“I am. Though not your average,” Maha said as she pushed away from the door and walked up to stand toe to toe with Terry. “You may ask me all the questions you wish later, I have been starved for entirely too long. Don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know, that’s a question I haven’t been able to ask.”

Terry folded his arms and raised one of those beautifully thick eyebrows at Maha’s boldness. If his dreams were as reliable as he thought and it was the beast in him she had been starved for, then that’s exactly what she’d get. He let her lift a hand to palm his face and trace his lips with her thumb.

Maha’s eyes hadn’t left the twin pillows that called to her from his face as she asked, “May I?”

Terry watched this ancient creature, a goddess in her own right, fight to restrain herself and it pleased him to know that not only had the powers that be sent him someone who could handle his beast; but apparently, he was a lot more powerful than he thought if he had called an otherworldly creature into his life.

His answer was a smirk as he lowered his hands to her hips and pulled her impossibly close all of a sudden. Terry watched Maha’s breath catch in her throat and the rise and fall of her chest quicken the longer he watched her. By the time he let their lips meet, her eyes had fluttered closed in surrender from the anticipation feeling his breath caress her own lips had built. Maha rested her hands against Terry’s chest as he palmed her lower back and backside, the two lost in the dance of their first kiss. What had started as a leisurely exploration morphed into a zealous endeavor that could not be fulfilled no matter how much they tried to meld together. When Terry had felt he had tasted her enough to sustain him through what he needed next, he pulled back, palming her face and watching those beautiful lips turn into a pout when he hadn’t come back in for another kiss. 

By the time Maha had opened her eyes again, Terry’s beast shone boldly from behind his eyes. Her king had arrived and she was ready and willing to submit however he deemed fit. She might make him work for it a little, but she knew the moment his eyes had lit up her sleeping mind that he was the man who could make her submit with just a look. He was man enough to earn the title of king, her king. Daughter of the night, mother of the day, Ma’at reincarnated she had been called from birth. A description she hadn’t realized was so accurate until she had been turned and came out on the other side able to sustain herself without taking human blood, unlike her parents. She was the first vampire to gain the power to choose how much she wanted to indulge the beast within as if she were still human.

Staring into the eyes of this man, on the cusp of releasing his own beast, she had never been so grateful for the isolation her rebirth had expounded. No being on the planet had matched the balance she struck from the moment she was born nor reborn, but now, hope bloomed in her chest that creation had been taking its time to curate her perfect match. She’d gladly walk alone through the ages again if it meant she eventually got to end up in the arms of her beast, her man, her king, Terry Richmond. It was no surprise to her that their coupling would come on this night of light, Diwali, that would meet the day of the dead, numerically and cosmically a sign of a new age being born. Just as he was created especially for her, so it seemed was the time in which they would come together.

Terry had been gently caressing her face with the thumb of the hand that palmed her face and the hand that palmed her beautiful butt while watching whatever thoughts that flit through her synapses from the screen of her enrapturing face. He had no clue all that went through her mind while she looked at him, but she had gone through so many emotions in such quick succession that it made him want to spend eternity learning how she displayed every emotion so that when she did it in the future he could identify each one. Terry could pinpoint the wonder, the gratitude, and the lust, but there was something else there that poked at his beast like a hot sticker.

Terry kissed the center of her forehead, where she was starting to scrunch up her face from thinking so hard. “Why don’t we take this inside?”

Maha was pulled from the memories of her lonely long life and back to the gift that was wrapped in the present. “Yes, let's. You must be exhausted,” Maha said as she turned to walk into the house holding onto one of Terry’s hands and gently pulling him behind her, stopping just inside the front door to bend down and remove each of his sneakers as he let his backpack rest beside her. “I’ve prepared a hot bath for you to relax in.” Though she hadn’t beforehand, with that declaration and a blink of her eyes it was done, full of rose petals, lavender oil, and some bath salts to help ease any tension he may be holding.

Terry smiled down at this beautiful goddess, he couldn’t bring himself to call her a mere woman at this point, grateful that she didn’t just want to take from him. He wanted to test her just to make sure and said, “Are you sure you don’t want to get right to sating our hunger?”

Maha continued her leisurely stroll through the house with Terry in tow, up the stairs and down the hall into the bathroom as she responded, “The only way we’ll both end up satisfied is if we start right. I’ve had plenty of time to prepare for you, but you have been traveling nonstop since long before our paths intertwined.” 

“I have.”

She stopped in the center of her extravagant bedroom in front of her king-sized four-poster bed that was draped in a sheer deep purple canopy, candles lining the edges of the room and illuminating their shadows. “You deserve to be fully recharged before we start and it can only help increase your stamina so that we can last as long as possible, yes my king?”

When she turned to strip him of his clothes, handling him with such gentleness he’d have thought he was imagining her touch had they not been looking at one another all he could do was breathe. Every moment just wound his desire to overindulge higher into overdrive, but she was right. It had been a long journey for him and not once had he relaxed. Despite mentally being ready to show her exactly how starved he was, his physical body did need something to soothe the aches and pains if he had any hope of accomplishing what he wished to tonight.

“Yes goddess,” he responded as she slowly removed his pants, bending to help him step out of each leg. The way she looked up at him from the floor, so close to his crotch, with his foot in hand just about made Terry say fuck it and throw her on the bed. Something about the way she seemed to gaze into his soul at that moment made him hold onto his restraint a little tighter though. She was silently begging him to let her serve him this way before he serviced her body and he couldn’t take that away, not when it only added fuel to the fire that would keep them warm throughout the rest of the night. 

As Maha moved to remove his boxers in the same way she had his pants she noticed that the only indications of his internal struggle was the fire that steadily grew behind his eyes and the slight clench and release of his fists. She understood his dilemma the second his manhood finally popped out of the fabric she had been moving down his legs. It made her mouth dry and her pussy drenched instantly. It had been one thing to get a quick meal in the middle of the forest as he slept, but now that he was fully naked in all his glory she had nothing to compare to the feelings he evoked. He made her want to worship him, a concept she was unfamiliar with having never felt a desire to worship anything in her human life or afterlife.

She had to silently remind herself to stay on task to get herself to stand back to her feet and move them into the bathroom. When Terry had sunk all the way into her freestanding tub, she grabbed her hot black chamomille oil and her stool to sit behind him and massage anything she could get to. He hadn’t been expecting it, but completely welcomed her hands that had started kneading out the knots in his neck, shoulders, and upper back. As she worked out a particularly tough knot he gifted her ears with the most beautiful moan in return, causing her pussy to clench desperately at nothing in anticipation. She looked forward to all the ways she would be able to get him to repeat that sound again and as she continued, promised herself to find out just how many noises he could make in the throws of pleasure.

Terry touched one of her hands just as she was getting swept up in the endless possibilities and the feel of his skin and muscles beneath her hands. “Come get in lil mama. I need to feel you.”

“But my king,” she started but stopped when she heard a growl work its way up from his chest and vibrate right at the tip of her clit.

By the time her heartbeat was in her kitty cat, he had grasped her hand and gently pulled her to stand where he could look at her.

“You have been teasing my senses with this fabric,” Terry said as he played with the hem of her golden gown, “but now I want you completely unwrapped for me. Can you do that, my goddess? Can you let me see all of you with nothing in my way?”

Maha gulped and nodded, suddenly unable to form words from all the focus she was putting into not becoming a puddle on the floor though she was pretty sure she’d already formed one. His steady eye contact made her want to look away but she daredn’t for fear of fracturing whatever was starting to boil over.

“Go on ahead and slowly slide that off for me,” he rasped out, the growl from earlier still stuck in his throat.

“Yes, my king,” she said as she used her free hand to push the gown off her shoulder. Terry let go of her hand so she could repeat the action and let the fabric slide over her curves and to the floor.

He grasped her ass and pulled her closer to the edge, leaning out the tub so that he could stick his nose in the bush of hair at the apex of her thighs, hiding his prize. “Mm mm mm mamas. You smell,” Terry said before he took another deep inhale and continued, “decadent.” Using his other hand to open her legs and lift her leg onto the tub so he could use his pointer and thumb to open up her lower lips and ease his tongue through her folds from the front, he groaned at the tangy sweetness that graced his tastebuds. “And you taste absolutely divine.”

If he hadn’t been holding her gaze hostage and supporting her weight with the hand that was on her ass, Maha’s eyes would’ve fluttered closed and her legs would’ve given out at that moment. 

“Keep those eyes on me. I wanna see every last reaction, you hear?”

“Yes, my king.”

Terry smirked, he ain’t even touched her for real yet and she was already in deep. Now all he had to do was prove that her trust in his abilities to deliver wasn’t in vain and he be damned if he failed tonight.

He leaned up from his sitting position so that he could bring her leg from the ledge onto his shoulder and dove in earnestly, holding her in place with one hand on an asscheek and the other pressed into the small of her back. Maha held onto his shoulders for dear life and fought to keep her eyes on him like she was told, but from that first lick she knew she finally met her match. It seemed that it was her that would have to work for it. 

Terry took his time eating her out, savoring every last drop her gorgeous ass pussy released just for him. He had spotted how drenched her thighs were when he lifted her leg and it took everything in him not to try and lick it all up. While keeping her lips parted, he switched between lazily lapping at her entire pussy from hole to clit like a cat, rolling his tongue in a wave motion on her clit, spelling his name all over her pussy, and scooping out any nectar with the tip of tongue to swallow down. Each time he felt her body tighten up for release he switched what he was doing, torturously building her orgasm.

By the time she had palmed his head and started rolling her hips against his face, Maha had given up on her task. Her head had fallen back and her eyes were screwed tightly shut trying to lessen the intensity of the sensations she was feeling to no avail. This man couldn’t be all human with how he feasted on her, could he?

Terry had momentarily gotten lost in savoring her sweet pussy so he hadn’t noticed she stopped looking at him, but when he did he corrected it immediately. 

“Eyes on me goddess,” he growled into her pussy.

When he didn’t get a response, Terry lifted the hand that was on her ass and let it fall heavily back down to pop her good as he repeated himself. The second Maha’s eyes reconnected with his and the sensation of the smack registered she was cumming on his face hard with a sound that was halfway between a moan and a groan and completely unrecognizable to herself. Terry just kept licking her up, slurping any juices that escaped and letting her ride out the high against his face. By the time she was coming back to Earth, he was leaving wet open-mouthed kisses against her clit.

“Please,” she whined out, unsure what she was begging for.

Terry smirked that familiar lift of his lips and stopped to ogle his handiwork. She truly looked like the name he’d given her, a goddess glowing with the sexual power she held. He gently removed her leg from his shoulder, grasped her hands in his as he sat back in the tub pulling her along, and said, “come get in mamas.”

[hum-suffer]

I wish to share this on my own blog but I know I will get a ton of hate from people I call 'friends'. You can ignore this rant and all, I am just leaving this in your inbox because one of your post was so crucial in my disillusion process. It was that one post about how many people lost their lives for chanting "Jai Siya Ram" The whole RJB thing, I was always on the fence about it. Leaning slightly towards the "Why cant we build schools and hospitals there instead!" team. While even with my biased views I still accepted that the Hindu side had a right to grieve over the temple that was razed all those years back- despite acknowledging that it was an injustice, I still felt they shouldnt raze down mosques and that the whole RJB grandeur should have been muted etc. My own parents constantly fed me one sided views. That it was all a Brahmin supremacist movement. That it was a movement to oppress the minorities. That it was never even a real issue but instead artificially manufactured for political reasons. Like any other kid I felt my parents can never be wrong. Unfortunately, in that perception I was the one in wrong. Sorry this is turning lengthy but it is weighing heavy on me. The whole excitement that was built around 22nd Jan- it appeared to be an overhyped media gimmick to me. However as the date neared, I saw the saffron flags adorning every street, almost every flat in my society and every shop in my area. The strangest part of all this, I live in a non Hindi state. We were always told this whole RJB movement was a movement of 'illiterate Northies'- that was the language I had grown up hearing. However what I saw was the opposite. Every street temple was adorned. I had never seen this level of festivities even in peak festivals like Diwali. Forget that, even the street hawkers had decorated their cart thingies. Poorest of the poor slums had saffron flags. How could it be if the whole thing was artificially created? Our house maid asked for a day off for that day so that she can watch pran pratishtha event. These arent 'illiterate northies' The highest residential towers here had diwali lightings. Fanciest of the malls in my city, Brand shops, cars- everything your eye could see had some symbolism of RJB festivities. Almost like everyone was under Ram's spell. On tumblr, while scrolling I then came across that post of your which I mentioned earlier. And I couldnt scroll past it. I decided to read on it. Why were people killed for chanting that one name? Was it really that deep? Are Hindus still carrying scars of that event that many have said didnt even happen? Is Ram really that relevant? Is he even real? So many temples for him and yet why are they fighting for that one? Cant they just pray in the other temples? And when I digged, the amount of skeletons that jumped out were the worst reality check I have had so far in life. I was a mess, I still am. It is atrociously horrific. The more I read the truth of all the events, of our past, of our present struggles- it is so unbearable.

Its been two months since the event and I could only bring myself to send this to you today. I am beyond horrified with the reality. I went to the temple near my society on the 22nd. The crowd there was spellbound. When Ram Lalla's face was shown on the projector, I expected everyone to raise Jai Shree Ram slogans but everyone was so quiet. Crying. Sobbing. It was bizarre to witness it in real time. I teared up watching all of the people sob around me. I didnt even care for him then, in fact Shri Ram's character as I had known of him until then was one of "that misogynist king who wronged his wife". I was fairly negative to him and yet I too couldn't help but sob on that day while looking at him. He appeared so real, so adorable-so alive! I had always seen the gods as just stone but on that day his eyes- I swear they looked alive. I tried hard to see the stone but i couldnt overlook the god. The smile, the eyes, the cheeks- so sober, so lovable.

That was the day I witnessed in real time who he really is. He is the king that united everyone across the country behind one cause. Poorest of the poor and Richest of the rich- they all stood side by side that day. Everyone celebrated, everyone cried. Thats who Ram is to the people of this country. Ayodhya is hundreds of miles away from where I live and yet on that day it felt like we were all standing right there in this court. I couldnt even decide what i felt about it for many days after that but on the 22nd I found myself healing from some wound that I didnt even know I needed to heal from. Hearing about that one scrap-collector lady that donated a measly 20 rupees for the Ram temple; about that one gold merchant who spent a fortune on the golden gates of the temple- it was extremely eye opening. People of this country are so mad in love with him. Rightly so. He accepts them all. As the story goes, he doesnt differentiate between a little squirrel or the mighty vaanars. Two months later, I am now desperately seeking his refuge too. I dont know if I would ever be able to live the euphoria of that again however the very fact that I could feel his presence despite all of my reservations against him for all of my life means that he doesnt hold a grudge against me. He included me in the celebrations and now I wish someday I can feel attached to him the way all those people who laid their lives for his cause did. Jai Siya Ram

First of all, my dear, never be sorry to contact me in any way. I encourage it, i promise, and you will never find judgement with me for any reason, provided that you are respectable, which, you are. And as someone who has also been through some serious disillusionment, I would never ignore this.

I absolutely understand the apprehension in sharing your new views in your blog due to the response from others and i would not pressure you at all to do that. You can take your time and until then, my ask box and dms are always open for you.

As far as Ram Janmbhoomi goes, I was unaware of it as well, for almost all my life. I was raised to turn my head the other way, should I notice things that might be controversial. My father was the first one in my family to break out of the mold and search up the atrocities that have happened in our country, especially against Hindus, as those are the ones that the general media seems eager to push under the rug. From him, i started learning more and later it became my own idea to never be unaware of what has been and is being inflicted on Hindus.

Personally, when I was younger, I felt similar about Shri Ram. Why did he abandon his wife? If he abandoned her on the word of a washerman, what does it mean for us, mere humans?

It is only when I got older that i understood that this part was not in the original Ramayan, at all. This is from Tulsidas Ji's Ramcharitmanas. And it has been popularised extremely to the stretch that it lost the meaning. Tulsidas Ji's narration of Shri Ram abandoning his wife is, in a way, to show that Shri Ram was the epitome of control and law and abided by the law as well as the wishes of his citizens even when it was not beneficial to him. Agnipariksha, in the Ramayan, was to exchange a illusion of Mata Sita with the real Mata Sita. This, in my idea, is because Mata Sita is Lakshmi herself. She would not stay in a place where women are not respected.

What I mean is, our texts are large and elaborated with metaphors. Sometimes, interpolation as well as local folk tales also become a part of our interpretation of such texts. I am not giving you excuses, but reasons for your misinterpretation of Shri Ram.

I'm so very proud of you for taking initiative for yourself and trying to see the situation happening around yourself without bias. It is extremely amazing that you took up a search of your own in answers and decided to find the truth, despite any previous reservations you had.

Shri Ram protects and nurtures us, my dear. He will not hold a grudge against you, ever. Trust your instincts and give into him, connect with him in any way that you feel is best. For example, visit a temple some day. Read up about him sometimes. Talk with him, like you would with an elder brother. Understanding Ram, in a way, means understanding yourself.

I'm honoured that a post of mine could help you question the bias views you previously held. Thank you so much for coming to me, my dear. And my ask box as well as my DMs are always open, you ever want to talk.

Jai Siya Ram.

[mysticalrosemary]

i am really lost regarding manifesting my ex back i broke up with him on 1st august and then we came up with a deal that we'd analyse stuff over us and in a month we'd decide if the break up is permanent or not on 15th of september and for sm reason we didn't get together and since the day we broke up i have been crying, every single day affirming, visualising and doing everything even sats my self concept is pretty good tbh but it' almost been 3 months actually 2.5 or 2.6 months or smtg but yeah i wish to celebrate diwali with him, get back together before 27th of october and end the year with him and do whatever we dreamt of but with each passing day, i feel more and more hopeless, i can't do anything and it's not just him, it's other things too, my dad's promotion and stuff, even that isn't happening even though i have been affirming idk what i am doing, i dont need to tudy, i can get marks wo studying (manifesting) i dread to wake up every single day i wish to talk to him and text him and hug him, but it feels hopeless, it's been so so long, how much longer do i need to suffer?? it's as if, whenever i put uppp a specific dae too, i amm putting muself up for failure now and same goes for meditations where they go ,,he's calling you/ texting you" it's not working lately like, you do all of these things to experience in the 3d right? then why not?? why isn't it happening? ii did give it time i wish to be with him now, right this instant how much longer do i need to wait for everything to shift for my favour? i know everything works for my favour, i do know and it has but when does it change? i do not like this life when? it hurts i want to talk to him, to hug him, now i want us together now before 27th please help please

i dont wish to wake up anymore, sleeping is better than this

and i keep venting about it, which makes me feel better but that's me repeatedly saying the version i dotn like

I would advise you to stop venting about the negative version, as this reinforces the unwanted reality. Instead, I suggest consciously redirecting your focus toward the desired version of your SP. Each time you catch yourself complaining or dwelling on what you don't like, flip it into affirmations that align with what you do want—speak as if the ideal version is already happening. The key is persistence: by consistently affirming the desired outcome, you’ll shift your thoughts and, eventually, your reality to match.

hope this helps love <33

[matan4il]

I already posted last year about why wishing people “Happy Holidays” (if you don’t know for sure they’re celebrating Christmas) is better and more inclusive, but given the posts I’ve seen this year on Tumblr, let me specify why it’s in poor taste to wish a Jew “Merry Christmas” even if there was no ill will intended:

Religiously - Jews who are observant are FORBIDDEN from following any foreign customs or celebrate any foreign holidays. It is not just insensitive to wish them a Merry Christmas, it’s disrespectful to their faith. Even Jews who aren’t observant may want to observe this prohibition as a sign of respect for their Jewish legacy.

Culturally - Along with its pagan roots, Christmas as it’s celebrated today is a part of Christian culture. It is inappropriate (and flies in the face of multi-cultural tolerance) to expect non-Christians to participate in or celebrate a culture that is not their own, as if it were a universal one, while also ignoring the fact that Jews have their own culture to celebrate. It would be weird if Hindus went around, expecting Christians to celebrate Diwali because Hindus do, and for them to take offense if they were politely reminded that Christians celebrate Christmas, not Diwali. The best metaphor I can think of is a man who goes around wishing people a happy birthday, but on his birthday, not theirs. It implies the only bday out there is his, and that if they don’t celebrate his, then they don’t get to celebrate a bday at all. And then sometimes getting angry if they correct him, insisting that they have to accept his bday wishes, because he had good intentions, he just wanted everyone to be full of joy as people should be on a bday. I hope it’s clear why even when the intentions might be good, this kind of behavior is completely insensitive to the other party.

Historically - Sadly, the history of Jews is full of persecution at the hands of other, stronger majority groups. This isn’t limited to Christians, but it does include the way in many places in Europe, Jews were often attacked on Christmas. To quote the beginning of this article: “For centuries, Christmas, along with Easter, was a time of terror and danger for many European Jews. Christians would sometimes turn on the Jews in their midst, blaming them for supposedly killing Jesus, and often attacking and even killing Jews with impunity. Throughout Jewish history, December 25 has seen some low points in Jewish life.” In order to minimize attacks on them, many Jewish communities shut down on Christmas, so while everyone else was rejoicing around the town, Jews were locked up in their houses. Please understand, December 24 and 25 are two of the worst days on the Gregorian calendar in terms of what was done to the Jews repeatedly.

“Happy Hanukkah” if you know someone is Jewish is great, or “Happy holidays” if you don’t know what someone’s celebrating, alongside “Merry Christmas” when you do know someone’s celebrating this holiday, and you show your fellow Jews (and non-Christians in general) that you care, that your intentions are truly motivated by kindness and good will towards ALL people, including non-Christian ones.

[partlystiles]

Hey uhh. Can you make a part 2 of Barty and reader talking about their dads but this time they meet in the future and hoe reader died? I sort of need some angst

PT 1

barty crouch jr x fem!reader

summary: a run-in with a relative of someone from his past makes Barty's head turn.

Warnings: swearing, use of alcohol, mentions of death.

sorry it's been a while!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My dearest Barty,

Enclosed in this letter is an Occamy feather for you! You better like it because I nearly died getting it for you, I had to resort to the mating dance and screeching loudly so it wouldn't attack. They are very aggressive and protective over their eggs, just like I knew but I can't believe I managed to tame one.

Of course I didn't manage to get an egg, but I have a drawing of it in my case that I will bring back to you and tell you all about.

India is so much fun! I've learned Bollywood dancing, visited a lot of the temples, trekked in the Himalayans to get to the Occamy of course. I even came during Diwali and everything is so beautiful!

I wish you were here with me. You'd love the dancing, even if you think you wouldn't, I know it. I'll be home soon, happily back with you. Little Elijah or Eleanor, whichever one it is, has been kicking for their daddy. Misses you almost as much as I do.

I know you had your doubts about me going to India whilst five months pregnant but I've run into no trouble whatsoever, just a little kick here and there but you were there for the first one. It should be about 4 more days until I'm back and I'm so excited!

I'm hoping that everything is okay back home. I know there's been more recent disappearances, even Regulus Black. Poor boy. He was so nice to me, I can't imagine how his brother is feeling. As long as you're safe then I'm happy, very happy.

Four months until our baby comes into the world!

Boat is boarding soon, so I'll go post this letter now. I love you so much! See you soon.

Y/N x

Bartemius Crouch read the letter over and over again. And then again. Until he felt numb inside, numb all over until somebody had to physically force him out of his chair, let alone out of his house. His heart was shattered, crawling back together to try and attach itself again, but it didn't work. Everything just crumpled again, crumpled like the letter in Barty's hand that was stained with blood, tears and sweat.

Multiple times it had been fished out of the garbage, multiple times he had tried to smooth all of the wrinkles back out of the paper so he could read it one more time. Multiple times he had been on the verge of incinerating every inky last word...but he never did. Because he could never ever get rid of her, the thought of her, the knowledge of her. Her and his baby who was never ever birthed.

Little Elijah or Eleanor never met their daddy and their daddy never got to look into the eyes of his child and softly rock them from side to side whilst singing them to sleep. It was a loss greater than anything, but nothing will ever be greater than the loss of his wife. His sun, his moon, his eclipse. Without her, his nights were darkened, his days were lost and Bartemius Crouch Junior withered away in his grand house, wishing his love was still in his arms.

However, a knock at the door interrupted his nightmare of a daydream. A grunt escaped his lips at the sound of it, his hand's grip on his glass of alcohol tightening at the rim as his other hand wiped at his spiked stubble around his chin in an uninterested gleam.

"Go away." Barty raised his voice a little, stumbling up from his dishevelled armchair and letting the rest of the letter from his wife's travel that sat on his lap fall to the wooden floor below him. "No one's home."

As he tried to stumble away again, tipping the last of the alcohol down his throat, he heard his door open anyway. Despite the obvious want of not having someone with him at that current time, he could hear footsteps behind him, entering the grand room with an air of purpose and especially an air of arrogance.

"I said GO AWAY." Barty swivelled around, chucking his glass at the doorway that the person was stood in. They didn't flinch at all, but the glass smashed above the archway and the shattered pieces fell down to the floor. "Fucking...fuckin bitch. Fuckin leave."

"Mr. Crouch, please." The man in the doorway removed his hat from his head, holding it in front of him as he watched the broken man trip around his drawing room, walking to his fireplace. "I'm here to talk about my daughter. I believe you knew her. Her name was Y/N."

At once, Barty paused in his place beside the fireplace, his hand grappled on the mantelpiece as his eyes narrowed into fierce slits at the mention of the name. The man grunted drunkenly again, shaking his head as his hands slapped against the mantelpiece multiple times before he decided to hit his head instead.

"Don't..." He drawled, his voice like gravel scraping against his vocal chords before he looked at the man in the doorway. The man had a shadow cast over his face but the firelight highlighting his nose told Barty that he was a spitting image of his dear Y/N. "Don't act like you fuckin' cared about...about her. I know what you did."

"I-I didn't do anything. My girl ran away when she was 17...I've been trying to find her for years. They led me here."

"Well, you're about a year too late, old man." Barty chuckled darkly, pushing himself away from the fireplace to swipe his bottle of alcohol off of his coffee table, pouring a hefty bit into a new glass. "She's dead."

"I was afraid of that." The man sighed, shaking his head and Barty downed about half of his drink before squinting and facing the man again. This time with more suspicion as he began to wring his hat in his hands. "She always was reckless. Running off, wanting to explore the world when I had a perfectly good job lined up for her at the ministry."

"Maybe she didn't want to be a fucking brainless clone." Barty spat, placing his glass down on the table before running his hands through his growing hair and over his face disappointedly. "And why the hell did it take you five fucking years to go looking for her? Ask anyone, it would've led you to me. You wanna fucking know why?"

"I don't-"

"I was the one who convinced her to run away." He whispered comically, pointing to himself with a crazed laugh as his lover's father straightened up a little at the amusement Barty was taking. "Right after I put a ring on her finger, we ran all the way to fucking Glasglow and got married in a stable. How's that for your precious little girl?"

"You drove my daughter away from me!" The man walked towards Barty, who picked up his glass and downed the rest of the alcohol before turning until he was chest to chest with the man. "She could've had a great life. A great job with a great salary and a great husband with a son and a daughter. You took that from her?"

"You drove her away from you yourself!" Barty stumbled more, but poked a finger onto the man's chest anyway, eyeing his own wand on the table just metres away. "It was her dream to travel the world and that's exactly what I...what I let her do, what I encouraged her to do. She was fucking happy, fuckin' joyful. With me. With my child inside of her. But of course you and your fucking ministry can't leave a man alone for two seconds-"

"You see, she was coming home from India, 5 months pregnant with my baby- and she- and she, she was on the same boat as another Death Eater. I didn't even know the guy that well. You ministry Aurors showed up, and she was caught in the crossfire. She died. My baby died. My whole life was ripped away from me because of YOU. YOU AND YOUR FUCKING- YOU'RE FUCKING..."

"Spit it out, son." The ministry worker said, stepping back from the boy as Barty reached into his pocket and yanked out her goodbye letter, crumpling it again in his hand before he looked back at the man, quivering with rage.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE. GO." He shoved his hands out, hitting the man away from him, but the elder one didn't even budge as Barty's weak drunken form pushed and pushed at the body. "GET OUT. SHE WOULDN'T WANT YOU HERE. LEAVE. Fuckin-"

Bartemius reached his hand out, bending down in his pause from slapping his late wife's father to walk over to the coffee table where his wand sat. He picked up his wand, pointing it at the man in front of him who now did stumble backwards at the sight of the crazed man threatening him with his wand. Although it seemed as though Barty couldn't get a clear shot.

"Avada Kedavra." A blinding flash of light and a thud reverberated around the room as Barty was left alone, stumbling again though he didn't bother to pour himself another drink, he just grabbed the bottle and let it slide down his throat. "Fuckin' bitch, freakin' fucker...

... I want my baby."

[acadmicvictimsblog]

This Diwali!!!!

I sit in quiet light, No calls to make, no words to write.

I don’t want him back, nor hold him near, Yet I wish him the best.

I don’t know if I still love him, or not but the love is turned gentle & freed of thought.

A silent wish for his peace and harmony!!!

[hobiebrownismygod]

HAPPY DIWALI!!! 🪔 🪔

Pavitr Prabhakar appreciation post because I wish I could celebrate in Mumbattan with him 💜

NOT MINE!! Made by @neukgol on Tumblr!! Fanart linked to the image

NOT MINE!! Made by @MariaDraws410 on DEVIANTART. Fanart linked to the image

NOT MINE!!! Made by @Isya666 on DeviantArt. Fanart is linked to the image.

NOT MINE!!! Made by @Kars41 on Danbooru. Fanart is linked to image.

NOT MINE!! Made by @u/Abhinitio on Reddit. Fanart is linked to the image.

[txtmetonight]

Diwali Imagine SKZ–

Dunno what this really is but really short. Also trying to fulfill my inner south indian wishes. Also, I have one for enhypen and txt...just click on the links to find them...some of them repeat so lol!

happy diwali everyone!!!!

No, but imagine celebrating diwali with stray kids, like I just know it's going to be the most chaotic thing ever yet so fun. Chan is gonna be one of the uncles, you know talking about cricket or having a few drinks while at it. Also in charge of bringing the fireworks and it's either a hit or miss every year. Minho is going to be inside cooking all the food and sweets with the aunties. He's gonna be whipping out carrot halwa, gulab jamun, chana curry, pullihora, literally everything. Doesn't say much, but always tunes into the gossip. Changbin is the one that's putting out all the decorations. Lights? Check. Lamps? Check. Weird flashing holographic beams? Check. He's doing all the heavy work. Hyunjin is outside with the grandmas doing the rangoli with powder or chalk. And oh my god, it looks like an absolute masterpiece! Also, gets his cheeks pulled by the elders. Jisung is the one fighting everyone to light up the best fireworks. The biggest and boldest ones with the most fiercest names ever! Literally will tackle anyone in his way. 2/3 of the ones getting their cheeks twisted. Felix is the one entertaining the kids, but soon gets tired and falls over. He helps the little ones with the sparklers and with lighting the fireworks. Seungmin literally tries to burn down the house it's not even funny. He also will come up to anyone close and try to set their clothes on fire. You have to be careful around him. And finally, Jeongin is the baby, so you best believe he's going to have everything shoved into his mouth. Also first pick for fireworks, to the dismay of jisung. 3/3 of getting their cheeks absolutely torn.

And then finally there's you , looking stunning in whatever you wear, an angelic glow surrounding you–unaware of a pair of eyes staring at you oh so lovingly...