#Indian assignment help

[courseexperts]

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[coming-of-age-witch]

studying like my life depends on it, because my life depends on it

[assignmentpro]

The foremost strategies to follow while handling risk management for a company

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Monitoring risk-

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[haggishlyhagging]

The cis theory of gender also fails to take on the psychology of oppression. It erroneously assumes that any person who does not want to transition is perfectly happy with their assigned gender at birth. Those humans who fail to stage a very specific kind of public performance - the act of transitioning - are assumed to affirmatively embrace the gender assigned to them at birth.

Yet gender's imprint on the identities of female humans cannot be measured by their apparent assimilation to being "girls" and "women." Women's internalization of gender identity and gender roles has been analyzed endlessly by feminist and political theorists of all kinds. Over a century and a half ago John Stuart Mill (in collaboration with his wife Harriet Taylor Mill, whose intellectual contributions were subsumed under her husband's name precisely because of gender roles) put it plainly in "The Subjection of Women":

All causes, social and natural, combine to make it unlikely that women should be collectively rebellious to the power of men. . . . All men, except the most brutish, desire to have, in the woman most nearly connected with them, not a forced slave but a willing one, not a slave merely, but a favorite. They have therefore put everything in practice to enslave their minds.

This passage highlights the importance of psychological control as a tool of domination. It is undeniable that some women are willing to participate in the structures of our own oppres-sion. Radical feminist Andrea Dworkin's Right-Wing Women is all about this." Liberal feminist Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique describes the quiet desperation of women suffering under the crushing weight their own conformity to women's sex-specific social positions as wives and mothers. These very different but very classic feminist texts, along with many oth-mers, have helped women understand how identification with gender is externally constructed; how we relate to the sex-based social roles expected of us; and why we might come to embrace practices or behaviors that ultimately serve to harm us.

Adopting the values of the oppressor is a well-documented coping skill of people who are debased and essentialized. Feminists know that women are not unique in internalizing their own subjugation:

Coerced assimilation is in fact one of the policies available to an oppressing group in its effort to reduce and/or annihilate another group. This tactic is used by the U.S. government, for instance, on the American Indians.

Similarly, women have been subtly and not-so-subtly groomed to take joy or pride in the superficial social rewards of gender conformity. The target characteristics of the female gender role—to be passive, people pleasing, and self-blaming—increase the likelihood of eventual assimilation. Women who did not internally identify with femininity but who were willing to do whatever it took to fit in, to suffer in silence, to pretend forever; of women who grudgingly resigned themselves to their social role under threat of violence or social ostracization; these women are not part of the cis/trans theory of gender identification.

-Elizabeth Hungerford, “Female Erasure, Reverse Sexism, and the Cisgender Theory of Privilege” in Female Erasure

[thedevilrisen]

Prompt Celly Request by @toasttt11

I accidentally deleted my work twice and then it wouldn’t let me write on the ask so I’m doing it this way.

Exhaustion is undisputedly one of the most sickening feelings. The occasional yawn and off handed comment of I didn’t get enough sleep last night was easy enough to deal with. A handful of contributors that could be downplayed such as, I had an extra assignment or I had to tag on an unpredicted shift. Most people around you bought your reasoning, leveling you with a half sympathetic and gentle scolding look telling you to ‘take a break’ or have a ‘calm night.’

The only person in your life who understood the reality of how school, work and just trying to function as a young person, three states away from your family was Luke. He never told you to take a break or lay off the work because he knew these things were important to you. Luke was always one to put on his problem solving hat, there was always some version of a hug accompanied by a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, temple or even lips.

He brought you food, whether it be Chinese or Indian takeout, self made meals like soups or stir fries. Luke held you hand and head gently to his chest as you struggled to convey how overwhelmed and nearing burnout you were feeling. You hated crying, despised it which lead to a build up of emotions that just kept piling higher and higher. Luke was always remarkably patient with you, he never lost his cool and just worked you through it. He really was your rock, he tried to weather the storm so you didn’t have to.

Only when you began to deteriorate and detach so far from who you really are, crawling into a shell of a person barely surviving let alone thriving he knew he had to step in. It got progressively worse over a week, it went from the occasional slurred word to full blown sentences of near incomprehensible gibberish. Instead of standing straight or walking normally you leant on walls and door frames, slugging your way around the apartment. Luke had found you countless times, slumped over textbooks and your head lolled back in the chair with your glasses slipping off your nose, completely out cold.

His final straw followed a Tuesday night full of the same behaviours, except when he entered your bedroom to find you hunched over your desk, fingers rubbing your temples as your pinprick-sized pupils flashed around the dimly lit textbook page. He could see that your eyes were basically held open by metaphorical matchsticks and the bowl of butter chicken, your favourite was left picked at but barely touched next to you. Luke was also profoundly concerned by your dwindled appetite.

“That’s it.” He spoke, practically marching up to your desk, his steely gaze meeting yours as you glanced, surprised in his direction. “Tonight. You are having a break and that’s final.”

“Luke-“ You tired to begin but any argument you had was shot down in an instant.

“Don’t you play the I have stuff to finish card. Take off your glasses and get into bed.”

There was no use defying him further, you chucked your glasses down on the table, languidly dragged your body from its cramping feeble position and lumping yourself in a heap on the bed facing up to Luke.

That thirty seconds was all you needed before tears brimmed your eyes. You were absolutely dead on your feet.

Seeing this Luke placed one knee on the bed, sheets creasing as he weighed it down. “What can I do to help?”

“Hold me.. please.” You whispered to him, watching as he slid in beside you, pulling you into his warm, safe embrace. He caressed the side of your face and gently kissed your head, treating you like porcelain he was afraid to break.

“Rest now darling. I have you.”

[translatemunson]

what if all i need is you? • love-struck

chapter eight of love-struck — fic navigation

After months of working in the BAU, you knew cases would arrive at any second. And the inbetween cases were filled with more paperwork and consulting cases.

If a new unsub didn’t decide to show their face during the weekend, Mondays were known to be paperwork days at the BAU. When a case would wrap up on a friday — or even during the weekend —, most reports were left over the tables for when they come back. And when all the paperwork was done, or at least mostly written down and reviewed by Hotch, Tuesdays would be the days where everyone would assist or consult a case — if no unsub decided to act on a Monday. 

Most of it would consist in tracing the profiles and helping the local police department with insightful information about motivations or what the unsub could seek or where to strike next. Nothing the BAU team wouldn’t do with their hands behind their backs and eyes closed.

When you walked into the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia that morning, you had a to do list in mind. Your quick steps almost made you fumble over your undone shoelaces, but your balance was always ready to quick in.

Everything was going on through your mind, at a million times a hour. First, you needed to find the perfect gift for your Secret Santa. Second, a Christmas gift for Spence. Both could be solved in a few hours. But you also needed to finish your paperwork — just a report Hotch asked you to fill regarding the last crime scene — and get your thoughts about some FBI case to the corresponding division before 3 PM so you could leave the office early.

But once you’ve found a very dense case on your email, you knew only one thing would get done that day.

You were finishing up some notes from a case the Online Crimes division sent to get a second opinion. You received and reviewed the case as soon as you walked into the sixth floor, and right now you were planning on using Penelope Garcia’s expertise and brain to fill a few gaps your notes left you with.

“I got you some coffee,” Spencer announced as he left your mug beside your free hand. He leaned in closer to you. “What are you working on?”

“Potential murder, certified stalker unsub from the Online Crimes. They asked for some help.” You grabbed the mug and took a few sips. “Thanks, Spence.”

“You’re welcome.” He read a few pages of the file on your tablet screen and the notes scattered on your desk. “Tough case?”

“Very dense. But I’m gonna ask Garcia for some help, I think she might be able to access some places the FBI won’t sneak around, if you know what I mean.” You gathered all the papers together and your tablet. You turned your chair around and threw your head back, making eye contact with Spencer. “Do you need me for something?”

“No, not at all. Just thought you needed some coffee and maybe some help, but you already got things under control.”

Spencer took a step back, creating space for you to get up. You took one last sip of your coffee before doing it, standing so close to him you could smell his perfume.

“Hey, girl genius,” Emily crossed the glass doors of the BAU, “Garcia said she’s ready for you.”

“Great!” You checked if you had everything about the case in your folder. Before you could go to Garcia’s office, Spencer held you by your waist. You got on your tiptoes to reach his face and give him a small kiss on the cheek — screw the PDA warnings. “How about some Indian later? It’s on me,” your phone started ringing and you knew who was texting you. “See ya, love you.”

You were so focused on your assignment that you didn’t stop for the lunch break or notice what was happening around you. As expected, Penelope knew all the ways to fill the blanks you found in the case file, and as an amazing profiler, your job was done just in time to come back to your desk and call the Online Crimes agent. But unfortunately you wouldn’t be able to leave the office to go find the gifts today.

You returned to the BAU bullpen and felt some pair of eyes on your back. Spencer was missing, but that didn’t alarm you since sometimes he would be somewhere else, or just at Derek’s office, discussing a case or just annoying his coworker. As soon as your body hit the chair, Emily glared at you from her table, the classic Cheshire Cat smile taking over her face.

“What’s up, Prentiss?”

“Nothing.” You raised an eyebrow, not convinced. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“Not at all. But you’ll tell me what’s on your mind later. Right now I need to call Agent Williams.” You dismissed the conversation quickly, grabbing your cell phone and typing the Agent’s number.

You explained to Agent Williams your professional opinion and the gaps Penelope helped you with, answering all their questions and making small adjustments on profile. They promised to let you know once they got the creep behind bars, you encouraged them to call if more details emerged.

Emily was gone, but Spencer was back. You grabbed your water bottle and walked to his desk, leaning on it to get his attention. However he was too absorbed in his files to notice you. 

“Spence?” You gently touched his arm. You got his attention, but behind his eye you could tell his mind was elsewhere. “You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, just,” he pointed to the files. “Time to go?”

“Not yet. JJ just asked me to help her with the party decor, so I’ll be over there,” you pointed to the round table room.

“Ok.” 

“Promise I won’t take too long,” you messed with his hair before walking up the stairs to the room.

JJ was full of good ideas, and she used your brain to coordinate the places, colors and everything concerning the decor of her house. In the end, she decided on a more cozy looking dinner than anything fancy — you could already hear Rossi talking that you should host it next time at his place because he would take care of everything.

And you were back to the bullpen, Spence nowhere to be seen and the clock ticking and telling you to go home. Your steps led you to Morgan’s office just to find him leaving it.

“Hey, did you see Spence?” you asked and followed him closely.

“Not after he left my office, why?”

“Oh, nothing. He’s probably talking to Penny or Rossi.”

Morgan held the door open for you, and grabbed your arm before you could go to their offices.

“You have no clue, have you?”

“About what?” You bit your lip, waiting for Morgan to spill. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Morgan. I really don't. Did I screw up one of my reports?”

“Pumpkin, do you remember what you said to Reid today?”

“I promised him some Indian after work.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “We spoke so little today, I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Derek.”

“You probably slashed his IQ forever when you said you love him in front of the whole office.”

Your eyes grew wide, and your mouth popped open. You said it and didn’t even notice. It slipped out of your lips as the most natural thing… because it was, you loved Spencer and wanted to tell him every chance you got. But you were holding back so your actions wouldn’t rush him to do the same.

“Looks like her IQ was also slashed,” Emily joined the conversation. You looked at her, offended. “What? Everyone thought he would be used to your ‘i love you’s by now, but the way he blushed when you left… opposite, you know?”

“Do you know how much I hate working with profilers?”

“We know. How could you not notice him being antsy all day? And everyone noticed when you left, Spencer looked like he was about to blow up!” Emily added.

“You’re making me feel terrible. Do any of you know where he is? I’m not joking, I need to avoid the boy genius meltdown.”

“I think he’s playing some chess with Rossi,” JJ interrupts the conversation, and you all face her. “What? When the three of you are together, I know who you’re talking about.”

“Thanks, JJ!”

You ran up the stairs, knocked Rossi’s door and waited for the “Come in!” You found Reid very absorbed in the chess game, and Rossi was telling him about some old case Gideon, Spencer’s old mentor, had solved when the BAU was still a baby.

“I’d hate to interrupt your game, but I made a promise to this guy,” you pointed towards Spencer. “I’m gonna pack my stuff and meet you at the elevators in five.”

And you did as you said. You couldn’t avoid staring at Rossi’s door to see if Spencer was finally victorious in his game. People were leaving the office, and you tried to stay still next to the elevators. Emily gave you two thumbs up, Derek smiled, JJ whispered “Everything’s gonna be fine”. How could you work with the most amazing and annoying people in the world?

“Sorry, I ended up needing two extra moves to check,” Spencer fixed his satchel bag before pressing the button. “So, Indian?”

“Spence.” The doors opened and you entered the metallic box. You pressed the lobby button. You stayed side by side.

“I never thought Rossi would be a challenger at chess. It’s like he absorbed all the strategies from years playing with Gideon, stored them in a box just to find it decades later.”

“Spencer.”

“Actually, you should play with him sometime. It’s better than playing with a machine, and you can practice dealing with outside distractions.”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

You pulled him from his avoidant talk with a bang. You felt guilty, but you needed to get this thing out of your chest before you exploded.

“We need to talk.”

Spencer got closer to you, shielding you from whoever may come through those doors. He could see you thinking too much about everything — and the first biggest miscommunication, he’d take things careful. Yes, he tried to avoid it for as long as he could, but he also knew you 

 “I know what I said earlier, and I wanted to say it for so long, and I’m sorry I just said it.” You started to play with the hen of your cardigan, with the buttons of your coat. Now you were the one avoiding him, fearing that you fucked everything up. “I don’t expect you to say it like that, so please don’t hate me or feel pressured to do the same. And I definitely do not regret it because I love you. But it’s ok if you-” 

Spencer held your face carefully and threw his lips against yours, faster than your brain could process. It didn’t last long, with the elevator indicating that you were on the parking floor.

“You’re pretty when you start to ramble. And I could never hate you, because I love you”, he held your hand. You stepped outside of the metallic shell and, as you headed towards your car, Spence said “Now can we go grab the Indian and head home? I wanna teach you this new chess strategy!”

“Sure, Spence.”

a/n: first of all: NEW WALLPAPER FOR GIRLGENIUS! sorry for taking too long! i had a few health issues the past few weeks and it delayed the chapter! but i did my best and made it very special! hope you guys like it! shout out to my partner in crime @munsonsreputation love you kay baby!

tag list (lmk if you wanna be tagged on future updates!): @live-love-be-unique @kenseverything

next chapter: let me keep you company

[punkeropercyjackson]

The original trio + Their gender presentation

Percy:Pastel punk and femme trans woman.She was always punk but finds the pastel edition most fitting and comforting after depreving herself of being allowed to enjoy womanhood for so long out of trauma.Blue is still is her main color ofc but she also mixes in different shades and different colored pastels and learns to reclaim her sea heritage so she also adds on mermaid themed things like seashell hairclips.Uses she/her but no they/them and also a BIG hoard of neopronouns due to her autism-Those being blue/dude/cookie/meow/paw/lego/doll(Last one is reserved soley for loved ones because of how weird people can get about them)and makes catgirl jokes sometimes by comparing herself to Rosie from Animal Crossing,Mae Borowski,etc.Afrolatina so she wears her hair in black styles,usually just letting it be down in it's natural super poofy state

Annabeth:Stud(A term for butch lesbian but black exclusive).Your classic pick me tomboy turned transmasc lesbian deal and has an undercut and was on t and got both surgeries,complete with owl wing shaped top surgery scars.Mostly uses he but ocassionally likes they and almost entierly uses masc terms(Such as 'king' over 'queen',Percy calls her 'Wise Guy' instead of 'Wise Girl' and so forth).Dresses like a tomboy everyday and wears suits and cologne for special occasions and helped Percy with her transition by giving her the 'girly' things she'd been gifted but didn't want,such as the Claire's kids makeup kit her stepmom bought her inbetween TLT and Som.Still has her silver owl earrings because imo they give her black butch swag and allows her to match with Percy and Grover,which i'll get to in a sec

Grover:Transneutral but presents as a mix of masc and fem and also gay(Juniper is a she/her transmasc).Since i hc him as blasian because of his actors,he mixes in his indian heritage with his specific type of gncness such as doing both men and women's traditions!!Sadly he felt bad about his identity at first because of stereotypes against asian men not unlike his two best friends and now found sisters too with their own queerness but thankfully,a big part of his character development is learning to do things for himself without caring what others think!As per canon he wears rasta hats but in 'groovy' fun colors and outfits that match them and tbh i don't wanna give him an assigned birth gender not just cause it's weird but also because i think it's more fun if you can make whichever interpretation you like :].He couldn't care less about pronouns as long as you're using them respectfully but uses xe/leaf in addition to the standard ones.And for the earrings,Percy has a pair of pastel blue strawberries with light pink petals and Grover has a mismatched set that's a music note and a leaf♡

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[hobiebrownismygod]

Miguel x Desi!Reader - Wedding Edition

Request from @shadofireshinobi!!

This was really fun to write, I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! There's lots of good representation in there and if you've never been to a Desi wedding, you'll probably enjoy learning about it <3

Synopsis: Miguel gets invited to an Indian wedding by Pav and asks you, his neighbor and someone who doesn't really like him, to teach him how it works. The two of you end up going together and have a great time.

TW: None, just a lot of fluff <3

____________________________________________________________

"No."

"Aww, come on, don't be such a party-pooper. You'll have fun!"

Miguel squinted at his AI, an annoyed look plastered across his face. "I said no. I'm not going to a wedding, Lyla."

"You can't turn down an invitation from Pavitr! Come on, do you need me to ask him to give you the 'look' again?" Lyla asked teasingly, teleporting in front of Miguel and shoving her phone into his face, Pav's puppy-dog expression visible on the FaceTime call she had him on. "How can you say no to that face?"

"Ugh."

Miguel waved her out of his way with a grunt. "Come on uncle, I promise you'll never go to a grander wedding! These people are close friends of my auntie's and I'm telling you, they put so much effort into their parties" Pav explained, his voice emanating from the phone Lyla had refused to put down. "Its not a normal wedding. Its an Indian wedding. What would I even do there? No."

Miguel was trying to focus on the screen in front of him, tracing out the dimensional map for some new anomaly chase he'd been planning on assigning out. "Come on, I'll explain it all to you! Or even better...you could have Y/N do it" Pavitr said with a grin, tilting his head to the side as he looked at Miguel through the screen.

Miguel froze at the mention of your name, his expression softening slightly. "You invited my neighbor?" he asked Pav, an dumbstruck look on his face. "Yes. She's very nice and she told me she hasn't been to a function in a long time. Besides, Maya Auntie told me to invite all my friends." Pav responded with a sly shrug.

"Since when are the two of you friends?"

"Since I helped fix her rooftop that your battle with that anomaly ruined."

"So its settled then. Miguel, you're going, final say." Pav gave Lyla a high five through the screen.

"No-" Miguel began to argue back, but the two of them were completely convinced. He knew there would be no point in trying to turn it down at this point, as Pavitr and Lyla would most definitely succeed in forcing him to this wedding, no matter how much he objected.

You were a very out-spoken civilian who lived fairly close to the bounds of the Spider Society. Because of this, you were often affected by the fights that would happen in and out of the society, some of these leading to actual property damage. Even then, your spirts were high and you ended up getting to know a lot of the Spider-people that passed by, even becoming friends with some of them, including Pav.

As for Miguel, the two of you had a complicated relationship. Miguel tried to be nice to you but you barely tolerated him. After all, he'd built his society next to the home your family had lived in for decades. He'd actually asked you to move and even offered to relocate you but you and your family had refused. And thats when you decided that he was a jerk and that you'd try to steer away from him and his problems.

But apparently, he needed your help now.

_______________

"You want me to take you to the wedding?"

"I want you to teach me how the wedding works."

You scoffed, arms folded over your chest as you stared at the tall man standing before the frame of your front door. "And why would I do that?"

He gave you a sheepish look, rubbing the back of his head. "Because I asked nicely?" You snorted. "That's a first." He sighed, "Look Y/N, I know I haven't always been the nicest to you, but I don't have a choice in this matter and I'd rather not be embarrassed at the wedding because I don't know what to do there."

You looked at him for a moment before groaning and muttered under you breath, "Fine." You opened the door all the way to let him inside, head hung in annoyance. He looked fairly uncomfortable too, shuffling in with his fingers fidgeting.

You gestured for him to sit down at the kitchen table and you sat down in front of him, leaning back and folding your arms over your chest. "You want something to drink or...?" He shook his head, still looking a bit awkward.

"Alright. Well, before I start, what do you already know?"

"Uh...nothing."

"Nothing?" He shook his head no.

"Okay. From the beginning then."

You spent a good thirty minutes explaining the intricate details of how Hindu weddings work to him, starting with the fact that they last anywhere from 3-5 days ("I'M GOING TO BE THERE FOR FIVE DAYS?" "No, only for a couple hours each day.") and the significance of each event. Then, you moved onto the attire, and even showed him pictures of all the things the guests would wear. Women would wear colorful saris while men would wear suits or kurtas.

"Please tell me you at least have a kurta."

"What's a kurta?"

You groaned. "I'll have Pavi drop one off for you." he nodded with a slight smile, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm as he continued to listen to you speak. You told him about the food, and how it would be vegetarian on puja days but would probably have non-vegetarian options later on. ("You can't drink blood there by the way." "I don't drink blood!")

"Now, because you're not a close friend of the bride or groom, I'm guessing you'll only be attending on the third day. That's when the main ceremony is."

"What happens in the main ceremony?"

"The actual wedding. The other days are mainly just prayer days and for mingling between the families. But remember, its not like a western ceremony where we'll all sit down while the bride gets married. It'll be very Bollywood style."

"Bollywood?" He asked, cocking his head to the side slightly.

"Oh my god, I have to show you before we go!" To his surprise, you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the couch, sitting him down before you began to search for the remote. He grabbed it off the coffee table and handed it to you with a smile, a bit taken aback by your excitement. "We?" he asked, sounding a little hopeful. "Were you planning on going with someone else?"

"No, no, it's just-"

"Besides, if I bring a date I won't have to worry about all those aunties trying to get their sons married to me." You said, shaking your head slightly as you turned on the TV. He stayed silent for a moment, trying to suppress the smile from forming on his face. "So I'm your date?"

"ah, here we go" you said, putting on K3G, one of your favorite Hindi movies. As the movie played, you pointed out the actors to him going "That's Shah Rukh Khan! That's Hritik Roshan!" despite him obviously not knowing who any of those people were. He just nodded along, watching you more than he watched the movie.

____________

The day of the wedding, you were in a rush getting ready, pulling on your sari hurriedly and fixing your makeup. You were wearing a dark green sari, with heavy jewelry that took ages to put on. Your earrings were also a dark green, matching with your outfit and making your skin and hair stand out beautifully. After you finished, all you had to do was wait for Miguel to show up.

The day you'd spent with him had been really nice. In fact, you found yourself liking him a lot more than you expected, considering how much you despised him at first. You were honestly really glad that he'd asked for your help, because otherwise you'd have never got to have so much fun rewatching your favorite Bollywood movie with him.

The doorbell rang and you rushed to open it, being greeted by Miguel standing in the doorway, wearing a sleek black kurta, courtesy of Pav. He stood there awkwardly, a slight smile on his face as he looked you over. "You look nice." he said quietly, as if he was embarrassed to admit it. "You do too." you felt yourself growing silent as you stared at him. He looked better than you'd expected. This man was full of surprises.

You cleared your throat and beckoned for him to come in. After filling him in on the details, and even giving him some bangles of your own to wear, the two of you were off to Pav's dimension. The moment you entered, it was like a blow to the face. The sounds, the sights, the smells, they were all almost overpowering.

The two of you head to the wedding venue, both fairly silent. "So...you ready?" You asked him, looking up to see his slightly nervous expression. He tugged at the collar of his kurta. "Yeah. I just feel a little...out of place."

"Don't. There's going to be plenty of other non-Indians there. Hobie and Gwen are coming too." You said, flashing him a reassuring smile. "Besides, you have me."

After entering the venue, the two of you greeted Pav who was there with Gayatri, being all smiles as usual. He pointed the two of you in the direction of the rest of the crowd where you introduced yourself to some of the aunties while Miguel followed like a lost puppy. He was noticeably taller than most of the people there, so it was a lot easier for you to find him than for him to find you.

As you greeted more and more people you found yourself slipping behind the scene, helping out with moving things and passing out food and party favors. Then, because Miguel was glued to you, he joined in as well.

You couldn't help but laugh to yourself as you watched all the aunties swooning over him. He seemed like the perfect gentleman in his traditional attire and with his helping hands on. It was sweet. "It's Miguel, right? Who are you here with? Your wife?" One of the aunties asked him, inspecting his kurta. "Uh, no, I'm here with a...friend." He said quickly, seeming a bit nervous. He noticed you looking at him and flashed you a quick smile before continuing to put things away with a little horde of women following him.

After at least an hour of helping out, you felt your feet starting to cramp, and decided to do a shoe change. After changing out of your heels into more comfortable sandals, you realized your jhanjharas didn't match anymore. So of course, you gave them to Miguel. "Can you hold these for me?"

He looked at you for a moment before taking them out of your hand. "What are they?" He asked, inspecting them carefully. "They're like anklets" you replied, already hearing someone calling your name to come help out again. "hmm." he responded, continuing to turn them around in his hands, dark gaze focused on the little gems and jewels decorating the thin material.

When he came to join you, you realized he wasn't holding them anymore. You opened your mouth to ask where he'd put them but then you saw, he'd put them around his wrists. You felt a blush forming on your face at the view. They looked so small around his wrists. You shook it out of your mind and continued what you were doing.

Eventually, as the event progressed, the actual wedding started. To entertain the guests, the bride and groom began their performative dance, a classic form of entertainment that most Desi weddings have. Miguel was standing next to you, arms awkwardly folded across his chest as he watched them perform, his eyes on you the entire time. "What?" you asked, returning his eye contact with a slight smile. "Nothing. I just...wasn't expecting a dance."

You laughed softly at this and continued to enjoy the performance as more of the guests joined in, the previously choreographed number turning into a mess of random people joining in and swaying to the music. Although a bit crowded, it was a lot of fun. You could see Pav and Gayatri dancing together and even caught a glimpse of Hobie messing around with some random Desi girl. Miguel seemed to notice this too and kept glancing at you until he finally mustered up the courage to ask, "So...would you like to join in?"

You looked at him, slightly surprised. "You want to dance?" You asked, giving him a sly grin. He shrugged quickly, looking away. "Well, everyone else is doing it. Besides, you look like you wanted to join anyways." he said quietly, trying to hide the small smile forming on his face.

With a teasing eye roll, you stretched out your hand towards him which he promptly took, and the two of you melted into the crowd. He was shuffling along at first, his height making it difficult for him to blend in with the rest as well as you did, but eventually he grew more comfortable and took your hands, swaying with you to the music.

You were focusing more on the bride and groom than on him, and you barely noticed when your bangles caught on the edge of his kurta's cuffs. He laughed quietly at your embarrassed expression as you tried to pull it away. "Here, let me" He said, gently taking your hand in his and removing the bangle. While you watched, he removed the fabric from the bracelet before sliding it back onto your wrist, eyes looking directly into yours.

Even after he'd placed it on, the two of you kept your eyes on each other, unwavering until he chuckled softly and looked away. "I wasn't expecting us to get to know each other so well" He said, looking at you slyly. "Me neither" you caught your breath, clearing your throat before stepping back slightly, but he held onto your wrist. "Hey, we're not done dancing yet, are we?" he asked as he pulled you closer again, fingers intertwining with yours.

"Its a good thing you were willing to come with me. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't be having this much fun" he said quietly as he timidly placed his hands onto your waist, your arms going around his neck. While the rest of the crowd danced wildly to the fast-paced music, the two of you took it slow, eye contact seeming more intense than usual. "I'm glad I took you as my date." You said with a smile.

"Anytime." he gave you a lopsided grin, shyness slowly melting away as he held you.

"Anytime?" You asked teasingly, tilting your head up at him slightly.

"Anytime."

Taglist

@therealloopylupin2099 @daydreaming-en-pointe @vileviale @s6onder @puff-hugs

[imasradiantasthesun]

District 12 Family Trees

Here are some family trees I made for my thg fic holding bright! I include a good amount of worldbuilding and fleshing out of some side characters (aka Bristel, Thom, Leevy, and Delly) in it, so I thought hey might as well draw some trees to help clarify my thinking. First, some notes on the structure:

The numbers in brackets are the characters' ages at the time of the Reaping for the 74th Hunger Games. I didn't feel like assigning specific birthdays for everyone, hence just the ages lol. Some characters' ages differ from canon in my fic: Katniss, Peeta, Delly, and Madge are all 18, Prim is 13, and Rory is 12

My use of "clan" here is super arbitrary, it doesn't actually mean anything lol

Names in quotation marks are nicknames/what they go by

Plenty of people in the older generations are dead, again I just didn't feel like specifying it unless it's relevant

Some notes on my decision-making in general:

I accidentally made Katniss and Peeta's maternal grandmothers have the same maiden names please ignore that lmao they are NOT related closely At All, it's a normal amount of distance lol

Ashwin is supposed to be older than Jubilee, not younger!! and Carson is supposed to be younger than River and Rylee (who are twins)!!!

Some of the names chosen for some Seam characters are Indian names, because I headcanon that people from the Seam can be a mix of a ton of different stuff, including South Asian

The idea that Mrs Everdeen's first name is Alyssum (Alys for short) comes from Mejhiren's fic When the Moon Fell in Love with the Sun

I continued the bread theme for Mellark names lol. Mr Mellark's first name is Nick, from pumpernickel. I also once read a fic where Peeta is of Jewish descent, which I really liked, so some of the breads are of Jewish origin: Hal is from challah (which can also be written as hallah), and Bab is from babka

In Holding Bright (which is an au, hence the variety of small changes I have made to canon lol) the Reaping takes place on June 1st (instead of the canonical July 4th), and it's also canon that the Games start exactly one week after the Reaping, so therefore in HB they always start on June 8th. Therefore, the teenaged deaths set after June 1st -- Glory Salsbury, Maysilee Donner, and Ridge Littlefield -- were all in the Games.

As explained in chapter 9 of Holding Bright, Ezra and Petunia Rainwater started a tradition of giving their kids long ass floral names lol. Their first child was relatively spared, with the name Foxglove, though he still went by Fox; their second child, Devil-in-a-Bush (or just Dev) fell in love with a woman who also just so happened to have a super long floral name, Queen Anne's Lace (though she went by Lace). All of Fox's descendants were spared from this naming tradition, to the point where his daughter, Hazelle, gave all of her children only four-letter names. Meanwhile, Dev's descendants got the longest names ever lmao: Chrysanthemum had five children: Morning Glory, Lily-of-the-Valley (aka Leevy), Stairway to Heaven, May Night Salvia, and Forget-Me-Not.

I have a headcanon that in Town they tend to give their children middle names, while in the Seam they don't (why? I don't know <3). In Town middle names came into use because they wanted to honor loved ones who have passed away, but because of the Games and all that it's considered bad luck to give your child the same first name as a deceased loved one

However, because I'm lazy I only wrote out the middle names for the youngest generation because I didn't want to come up with middle names for every single Merchant character lol

Katniss and Prim have middle names because their mother is from Town. Madge's middle name comes from Maysilee, just like Katniss's

I'm going with the popular headcanon that Katniss is indirectly related to Lucy Gray through Maude Ivory. Katniss's father's name follows the same conventions as those of the Covey (name from a ballad + a color). I had originally planned for people to only really know Mr Everdeen as Jet, hence why the family tree says Gordon Jet "Jet" Everdeen, but I have decided against that!! he went by Gordon Jet!!!

The first part of Mr Everdeen's name comes from the Scottish ballad Lord Saltoun and Auchanachie, in which the protagonist, Jeannie, is in love with a poor man named Auchanachie Gordon. However, despite Jeannie's resistance, she is married off by her parents to the wealthy Lord Salton/Saltoun; Jeannie then dies of a broken heart before Auchanachie Gordon returns and also dies. I thought Gordon is a fitting name, considering that Mrs Everdeen left her life in Town, where the wealthier Mr Mellark was in love with her, to marry the poorer Mr Everdeen

The second part of Mr Everdeen's name, Jet, comes from the color jet black; jet is also a type of coal

Some allusions to another canon character + my minor OCs:

Rooba is the name of the butcher in canon, so here she is Delly's aunt

Madge's maternal grandmother, Magnolia, has the maiden name Blackwell. She is distantly related to Maggie Blackwell, the carpenter's daughter who went missing about a decade ago

Thom’s maternal grandmother, Nomi Goodwin, was originally from Town

Bristel's mother, Juniper, passed away from complications at childbirth

Gale's maternal grandmother, Anika, has the maiden name Reeves. Gale is second cousins with Sparrow Reeves, the female tribute from 12 in the 68th Games who made a lasting impact on her district due to the brutality of her death

River & Rylee Ludlow are the 17-year-old twins who tend to pick on Madge a bit. No wonder they're related to Mrs Mellark...

Mrs Mellark's brother, Noah, died in the Games. Her other brother, Elijah, took over the apothecary shop from the Stewards after Alys ran away to be with Gordon Jet

Ivy Fairweather is the Undersees' housekeeper, usually referred to in HB as Mrs Fairweather. She and her husband probably have a ton of kids, but I just didn't feel like writing them all out lol. Ivy's maiden name is Claymore, which is also the last name of another OC, Hetty Claymore, who mysteriously died; Ivy is Hetty's like second cousin whatever-times-removed or something (aka practically a distant aunt)

[songoftrillium]

Meet The (Updated) Writing Team

Hello Kinfolks! These last two months have been quiet for y'all in terms of updates, but BUSY in terms of the work being done by the sept of contributors to this project!

At the start of October I put out the call for help, saying that this project cannot succeed without the help and support of the Werewolf fandom. I'm happy to report that you as a fandom have responded phenomenally, and production on this series is now underway! These last few months have been dedicated to recruiting team members, and researching our book framework. We've about filled in the main core of the team, and have already gotten started writing Book 1: Cliath!

October through November has been dedicated entirely to research, both putting together a collection of citations we'll be using in this first book, and passing out initial writing assignments. This list is sure to grow in time, but for now we have plenty of work to do!

With that all said, I'd like to introduce you to the team that are showcasing the Gaians.

Amy Waller (she/her)

Bluesky

Ms. Waller is a freelance writer and massage therapist based in not-quite Northern Virginia, and is a contributor to D.W.A.R.V.S. . Werewolf the Apocalypse was her first RPG, and she loves the themes of shapechanging as self-actualization and of trying to balance instinct and wisdom.

Amy has joined the team to depict the journals of Cryptobiologist Esme "Leaping Ghost".

Bek Andrew Evans (He/They)

Linktree

Mx. Evans is a freelance writer and illustrator from Jackson, Mississippi. He explores themes of mental illness, disability, abuse, poverty, queer themes and the intersection of these statuses. He uses body and psychological horror, meticulous attention to medical details, and deep character dives as some of his favorite methods to achieve those goals.

Bek has been indispensible in book research, and will be taking his experience with M20 Sorcerer and writing for the Hearthbound, and fictitious news article citations.

Evie Emerson Smith (She/It)

Tumblr

Evie is a programmer and designer of video games living with her pack in Pittsburgh, PA. She uses primarily anthropomorphic characters to tell stories about identity, queerness, and the power of community.

She has joined the team as a technical writer, and contributor to the opening comic: Cracking The Bone

Excelgarou (She/Her)

Carrd

She's been described as a Werewolf: The Apocalypse academic, and wears this title proudly. She labors at all hours on resources for Werewolf fans - particularly as regards aggregating otherwise obscure information - such as the Build-a-Veteran tool or (especially) the Werewolf Index Project.

Excelgarou is our lead researcher, ensuring our book citations and narrative voices remain consistent through all editions. She has also been conscripted to write the introductory passage on the World of Darkness, and to redraft the Children of Gaia.

James E. Deeley (He/Him)

Linktree

Jim has been playing, running, and writing for tabletop roleplaying games since he was first introduced to them over twenty years ago. Jim has presented on the subject of writing for games since 2010, and has been contracted to write mechanics and to do character design by the likes of High Level Games, Lostlorn Games, and Renegade Game Studios, but is equally skilled at writing lore and narrative, skills honed over two decades of running roleplaying games and medieval studies, lending a deep historical context to his writings.

Jim will write the Western Concordat, showcasing the Silver Fangs, Fianna, Get of Fenris, and Glass Walkers.

J.F. Sambrano (They/He)

Patreon

J. F. Sambrano is an author of horror and (urban/dark/depressing?) fantasy and an advocate for indigenous rights. He lives in Washington (the state) and is originally from Los Angeles (the city); the differences are staggering but the ocean and the I-5 are the same. He is Chiricahua Apache (Ndeh) and Cora Indian (Náayarite). He may or may not be a believer/practitioner of real world magic. If he were, he would not be interested in your hippy-dippy, crystal swinging, dream-catcher slinging garbage.But magic is real, let’s not fuck around.

Beloved Indigenous World of Darkness author J.F. Sambrano is joining our team to depict the Bastet in the Dawn Tribes! A friend and frequent topic of discussion on this blog, we are honored to have him on the team to bring the Werewolf: the Apocalypse he's long-felt the world deserves to life!

LeeKat (She/Her)

Linktree

Lee is a freelance artist, writer, and English teacher based in Brazil. The bulk of her content is furry, homoerotic, and TTRPG-centric works. Her writing focuses on exploring the depths of emotion with tales of self-discovery, queerness, and finding hope in a desolate world.

A huge lover of Werewolf, themes of generational trauma and rediscovering oneself in a world of turmoil resonated deeply, as well as themes of spirituality and ancestry. Writing for this project, she hopes to bring others the same catharsis she felt through exploring the books and their many themes.

Mórag (it/its)

Tumblr

Mòrag is a writer and botanist from Te Wai Pounamu. It writes both botanical articles and horror stories, the former to raise awareness of ecological issues and the latter to explore what it means to be human, represent trans and autistic experiences, and addiction. It's horror writing is best recognized for its use of visceral first-person perspectives, body horror, and the grotesque. It is influenced heavily by works such as the Hellraiser films and the philosophies of Georges Bataille.

It has joined our team to write the story portions of the Song of Trillium, showcasing the legend of Tawatuy.

[beardedmrbean]

Vice president Kamala Harris Sunday reminisced about her Indian roots and said when she used to visit her grandparents, her grandfather used to take her on morning walks and then discuss the importance of fighting for equality and fighting corruption. In her post made on the occasion of the National Grandparents Day, Kamala Harris included an old family photo and claimed that her grandfather had been a part of the movement to win India's independence.

"As a young girl visiting my grandparents in India, my grandfather took me on his morning walks, where he would discuss the importance of fighting for equality and fighting corruption. He was a retired civil servant who had been part of the movement to win India’s independence.

"My grandmother traveled across India—bullhorn in hand—to speak with women about accessing birth control.

"Their commitment to public service and fight for a better future live on in me today.

"Happy National Grandparents Day to all the grandparents who help shape and inspire the next generation," the post read.

Social media users from India objected to the claim and pointed out that her grandfather was in the British Imperial Secretariat Service which became the Central Secretariat Service after Independence. "How could a serving bureaucrat be part of the independence movement opposing the same government and violating service rules?" one user wrote. "Everything you say is a lie," another said.

This is not the first time that Kamala Harris mentioned that her grandfather PV Gopalan was one of the "original independence fighters in India". But according to records, Gopalan was born in 1911 and was a diligent civil servant. Gopalan's son, Kamala Harris' uncle G Balachandran said that had his father openly advocated ending British rule, he could have been fired.

Gopalan was born in Painganadu near the Madras presidency in 1911. He joined the Indian civil services and also served in Zambia, where he was assigned to manage an influx of refugees.

While Kamala Harris' Indian roots are much discussed, reports surfaced Sunday that Kamala Harris would be meeting Congress leader from India DK Shivakumar, the deputy chief minister of Karnataka. But Shivakumar dismissed the rumors of his meeting with Harris and Barack Obama and said he is travelling to the US on a personal visit. _________________

I bet he's the one that taught her to say fweedom too.

[roller6262]

Harvey Joins the Sikh Student Coalition

Reposting a story I wrote on cyoc.net here in multiple parts. I’ll credit other authors who contributed as their segments appear. Also, my asks are open if you want to see more changes to Harvey, or you want to transform yourself.

Next Part >

Professor Martinez strut into his classroom on the first day of the new semester, greeted by the disinterested faces of his new students. He taught the university's intro to cultural studies course, known around campus as an easy A. He was well aware that for the past few years student chose his class not because they wanted to learn, but because they wanted to boost their GPA without trying. This year, Dr. Martinez was determined to change that.

"Good morning, everyone" Dr. Martinez addressed. "I am Dr. Martinez, and welcome to Intro to Cultural Studies" he gave a satisfactory nod once a few student left the room, realizing they where in the wrong class. "Now I know a few of you have heard that this class is an easy A, but you will all be pleased to hear that is not the case" a handful of students chuckled with him while others grimaced "In this class you will learn how culture influences an individual's experiences and everyday life. However, before you learn about a culture that is not your own, you should experience it for yourself first hand". Dr. Martinez marched up and down the aisles of desks passing out papers to each student, "You are all receiving your syllabus and first project of the semester. Each of you have been assigned to a cultural organization whose culture is not your own. To complete this project, you must join the organization and complete all of the tasks I have listed on your project form. This will include attending their meetings and participating in their events. I hope you will find this project transformative, and open your mind to accept the rest of the semester's material. You may even make friends and want to become a permanent member. However, I should warn you that this project is worth a large portion of your final grade, so do take it seriously". Dr. Martinez beamed at the betrayed faces of his student who now knew they actually had to earn their grade this semester.

"You may now look at your project form to see what cultural organization you will be joining and the full list of tasks you must complete".

Harvey took a look at his project form. He was assigned to become a member of the university's Sikh Student Coalition. Harvey didn't really know what a Sikh was, a quick search on his phone showed a bunch of Indian guys in turbans. He figured he had no choice but to learn more about them. The organization's meeting was that same day and Harvey headed to the meeting once was class was finished. 

Harvey considered himself a typical white young man. He had an average build, clean shaven face, fair skin and sandy blonde hair that he styled into a tall pompadour.

The Sikh Student Coalition's meeting was one of the few times he felt like the odd one in the crowd. The room was full of young Punjabi adults. All of the men, and some but not all of the women, were wearing turbans in various fashions and various vibrant colors. Though else than that they wore typical western clothing. One Sikh came to greet Harvey at the door. He was a large bear of a man who nearly towered over everyone in the room. An orange domalla style turban framed his round face. His kind smile was hidden beneath a twirled up mustache and a curly beard that sprawled down to his chest. He wore flannel, jeans, and boots.

"Hello, I'm Gurpreet Singh. Could you please sign in?" Gurpreet handed Harvey a clipboard with a sign in sheet. "I'm the new student coordinator, my job is to make all of our new members feel welcome. So if you need anything, please ask".

"Yeah, maybe you can help me" Harvey handed back the sign in sheet with his information "I'm here because of my cultural studies project. Someone's suppose to take my attendance or something".

Gurpreet called out to the crowd, " Hey, Mandeep, can you come here for a second?"

A man in a blue suite walked up to them. It looked like it was tailored to fit his slim build. His beard was rather short and had a natural point to it which accented his sharp facial features. He wore aviators and a black tie which matched his black keski style turban. "What's up Man, I'm Mandeep Singh. I'm the president of the organization, it's a pleasure to meet you" Mandeep reached his hand out for a handshake which Harvey accepted. "Say, don't I know you from somewhere?"

Harvey raised a questioning eyebrow before returning a knowing smile, "yeah, weren't we in the same marketing class?" Usually Harvey wouldn't remember anyone from his classes, but it would be hard to forget the only one wearing a turban, especially when he had such great style.

Gurpreet beamed, "This is great Harvey, you already have a friend here!" He turned to Mandeep, "Harvey is here from Dr. Martinez's class".

"Makes sense" Mandeep chuckled. The fact that Harvey was the only white guy in the room was not lost on him, "As president, Dr. Martinez has trusted me to verify that you complete all of the tasks in your project. As long as you follow my instruction I'll make sure you pass. I've got you marked down for attendance, Gurpreet do you have the patka?" Gurpreet pulled out a black cloth.

"Patka?" Harvey asked, "What's that for?"

"Didn't you read the project form? You're required to wear clothing that represents our culture when you're at our meetings. I asked Dr. Martinez if you could just wear one of our club shirts, but he insisted you wear a turban"

"Can't you just say I wore it?" Harvey looked at Mandeep pleadingly, who returned a sympathetic expression.

"I wish I could, but if I'm caught lying to faculty, our organization could get in trouble. I won't force you to wear it, but I don't think you'll pass if you don't".

"Fine" Harvey Sighed, "I'll wear it" Gurpreet Helped Harvey tie his hair into a bun at the top of his head and then tied the cloth around it into a patka.

A group of girls in the room giggled to themselves when they saw Harvey. He felt humiliated! When the meeting started Gurpreet sat next to Harvey, and Mandeep stood at the front of the room to facilitate the meeting. Gurpreet would occasionally clarify words and phrases for Harvey that non-sikhs typically wouldn't know, though Harvey was only half paying attention. Once Mandeep declared that the Meeting was over, Harvey left and bolted to his dorm. He couldn't wait to escape that embarrassment.

That night when Harvey went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, he saw he was still wearing the turban in the mirror. "Oh god" he mumbled to himself. He forgot to take it off when he left the club meeting. So many people must have seen him wearing it when he was running back to his dorm! His face flushed red and he hoped that no one recognized him. Harvey quickly untied the cloth and his hair, but in the mirror he also saw a shadow of facial hair. Strange as he thought he had shaved just that morning. He shrugged and decided he'd just have to shave again tomorrow morning. Tired, he stored the patka in his wardrobe for next week's meeting and went to sleep.

[indian-kahani]

Desi LGBT+ Fest 2023

@desi-lgbt-fest

Day 2: Legacy

All her life, Durga had been told that she was a good daughter.

All through school, she had been called a ‘pleasure to teach’. Students regarded her with wary awe: she was the good girl, who did her homework and listened to the teacher and never, ever stepped a foot out of line.

All my life, her father had told her, “Beti, you have to be a good girl. Strike that – you have to be the best. There are many eyes watching us.”

He was right, of course. He was a major army lieutenant – Arjit Sindh, a household name for his medals and bravery. Ever since Durga was a child, she had watched him salute the tricolour every morning, watched his juniors (and god, there were lots of them) salute to him.

While others dreamed of being artists and musicians, she dreamed of her first day holding a rifle.

While others looked up to Abdul Kalam or Lata Mangeshkar, her walls were covered in photos of Gunjan Saxena, Vikram Batra, everyone who had ever won the Param Vir chakra.

She had a legacy to inherit, a place to fill.  

Her dreams may have been out of place, but they were in vivid technicolour none the less. She faced up to her dream with a steady heart.

Her father approved, and watched from a distance as the Indian Army became entrenched deep inside her heart.

She had always followed in his footsteps. The golden girl she might have been, but she was a golden girl you shouldn’t mess with. She had always been raised to be a loyal servant of the army, the loyal servant of her country.

As her father's daughter, she was proud to uphold his legacy.

Karate, Jiu Jitsu, yoga, junior boot camp. Durga was signed up for all of it, and every summer she trained without fail.

On her eighteenth birthday, she joined the army. What else could she do? I mean, it had been her dream for as long as she could remember. She hit it out of the park. She had been training to assemble a gun since she was sixteen. The other recruits were no match for her.

They were playing for glory (or so she thought).

She was playing for honour.

Or was she?

Durga saw her first at her graduation ceremony.

Her name was before Durga’s.

“Sharma, Saranika!”

Saranika. Such a beautiful name.

All of a sudden, she was reminded of her childhood when her mother sang beautiful Hindustani music. That was what Saranika Sharma's name reminded Durga of.

“Sindh, Durga!”

She snapped out of she reverie, and walked onto the stage, determined to forget the girl with the beautiful name.

-

Months passed. Promotion after promotion came her way. Talent, or nepotism? Who knew? Slowly but surely, she was becoming jaded. Life seemed grey and joyless, and even at the young age of twenty-one, the lines under her eyes were becoming more and more pronounced.

The day was an ordinary one – so mundane that Durga didn’t even read over the details, instead preferring to wing the training exercise. She was assigned two officers to help out. Major Raj Kuldeep and Major Saranika Sharma.

…wait, what?

She re-read the document again, eyes alight. Major Saranika Sharma.

Almost unbidden, her mind flashed back to that day, when she had heard her name but didn’t see her face. Durga’s heart stumbled at just the thought, secretive smile stretching her lips open. It hurt – maybe the first time she had smiled in days, weeks even.

She arrived at the training exercise fifteen minutes early, pretending to be absorbed in the details of the exercise.

An officer arrived, and saluted in front of her. “Ma’am!”

From the evidently male voice, her hopes were dashed already. She looked up. “Major Kuldeep.” She inclined her head in recognition, and the man smiled at her tightly. It was a regulation army smile – deferent and not too intimate.

“I believe Officer Sharma will be arriving in a few minutes, ma’am.” He informed, and she nodded, returning to her papers to hide the thumping of her heart.

Why was I feeling this way? The thought hit her all of a sudden, but she didn’t have time to process it.

She had arrived.

“Ma’am, it’s good to finally meet you.” she deferred from the standard greeting, and she looked up.

She was beautiful. My God, she was beautiful. Her cinnamon skin looked so soft, and Durga fought to tear her eyes off of her prominent collarbones-

Durga’s eyes widened as she hastily raised her eyes to meet her face.

She instantly regretted it. Wide, honest eyes, full lips, and a gorgeously sharp jawline.

Before she could say something she would regret, she greeted her. “Major Sharma, may I ask why?” Hints of curiosity pricked at her. She wanted to unravel every secret of this Saranika’s, big and small.

Saranika met her gaze with the barest hint of a challenge in the way she raised her chin. “Who wouldn’t want to meet the prodigy of the army?” she smiled with a small shrug. Major Kuldeep was watching, slack-jawed, at the casual way Major Sharma was addressing Durga, but the women had only eyes for each other.

“I hardly believe I’m a prodigy.” The words slipped out before Durga could change them, and she disguised the raw honesty in them with a short laugh. “Hard work gets you far, Major Sharma.”

Suddenly, she wanted to get as far away from this enchanting woman as possible. She could feel her back prickle with sweat and she could swear her face was heating up.

“I don’t doubt it, ma’am.” Saranika – no, she was Major Sharma, when had Durga started addressing her so casually? – replied promptly. “Talent can only get you so for before you need more to take you further.”

Durga ended the conversation with a clipped nod, checking the watch on her wrist. “We had best be going.” She turned to Kuldeep, who snapped to attention. “At ease.”

She finished the training in a daze, dismissing the recruits five minutes early with an uneasy frown on her face. Rumours were flying around that the infamous Durga Sindh had something on her mind. She heeded none of it as she headed to the mess hall to eat lunch.

Almost out of instinct, she scanned the hall for Saranika, finally noticing her tucked away in the back of the hall.

She sent her a note to come and eat with her in her office. Saranika arrived five minutes later.

Durga gestured for her to sit down. “I was impressed with your performance in the training exercise today, Major Sharma.” Bullshit. She hadn’t paid attention to even a single second of that training exercise.

Saranika ducked her head shyly, a strand of hair falling forward, and Durga resisted the urge to lean forward and tuck it behind her ear. “Thankyou, ma’am. I appreciate it.”

“Call me Durga. No need for formalities in my office.” She blurted out, cursing herself immediately as the words slipped out. That seemed to happen a lot around her.

Saranika looked up suddenly, startled. “I couldn’t possibly be so… informal, ma’am.” She hesitated.

“I insist.” Durga said.

“Very well, then… Durga-ji.”

-

From then on, it only got better. Lunch turned into days off, days off turned into weekends until finally, Durga worked up the courage.

“I- I wanted- what I meant to say was- the thing is- will you be my girlfriend?”

The sight of her then, with her hair loose and framing her face, was enough for Durga to plant a chaste kiss on the cheek of her girlfriend.

Only one thing was left.

Durga had to tell her father, a strict adherent to tradition and principles, that she was a lesbian.

-

“Papa… I met someone.”

She had phrased it carefully enough, hesitating over each and every word. Her father, aged but no less sharp, looked at her (or through her, it seemed sometimes).

“That’s lovely, beti.” His old face creased in a smile. “Bring him home this weekend, hm?”

There it was. Durga opened her mouth and closed it again, pressing her lips together in shame of her own cowardice. Her father was watching.

“He’s a Hindu, right? Not a Muslim? It’s okay if he is, as long as he’s respectful to you.” Her father tried to reassure her seeing her distress, and tears fell down Durga’s cheeks.

“She’s not a boy!” she burst out all of a sudden, hiding her face in her hands as she heard her father’s small intake of breath. Water dripped from her eyes, wetting her hands and falling in droplets onto the cold marble times.

“Accha, I see.” Her father leaned forward in his chair, wiping Durga’s tears away. “Bring her home this weekend, hm? I hope she’s pretty.”

Durga couldn’t do anything much more than stare. “You’re- you’re okay with this? But people will-”

He let out a deep chuckle. “The world has changed since I was young, Durga.” He smiled down on her fondly. “You young people are teaching us that it is okay to love whoever you love. There are people out there like you and your girlfriend, right?”

Durga nodded, open-mouthed. “But- papa- you- I’m a lesbian.”

He waved her away, a mock frown on his face. “Of course I know that now. I’m not stupid. Bring that girl home on Saturday, and I will see what food we can get for her. Leave it to me.”

Yes, her father followed tradition. Yes, he had his legacy to uphold, and his honour. But he was a man of good sense, and the world was changing after all. Why not see what good it could bring?

---------

Okay so I know nothing about the military, literally nothing so the ranks/greetings/whatever might be off, please suspend disbelief while reading :D and tell me what you think in reblogs/comments!

[skykashi]

Interest check because I'm trying to figure out a way for me and my cat to not starve to death.

Rant under the cut

Basically I work as an international advisor in a British company which only handles British customers, they specifically hire people from my country because it's a 3rd world country and would be cheap labor and because they know that we won't find any other or better job because of our county's current economic crisis. My entire part-time salary is from $100 to $135 a month which is like, nothing compared to what the British employees who work in the same company doing much less work than me get. My department which only ppl from my country are assigned to, handles 89 queries while all the other departments that only British and Indian employees are assigned to handle from 10 to 20 queries, when we get any system outages which happens quite often, British and Indian employees don't take calls because they can't work without a system, while they force us to take calls just to tell the customers "sorry, we currently have a system outage" and we would be just like punching bags for the frustrated customers that would be upset when we tell them sorry I can't do anything to help you because I have no system at the moment and then to top it off, they don't remove any negative impact such calls during system outages leaves on our performance so we wouldn't get our target bonus and they would end up paying us even less. Not to mention the sneaky ways they force us to work unpaid overtime without really saying it, as we are required to submit a note after every call stating everything happened on the calls without leaving any small details while not having enough time between the calls to type them as sometimes we would just have 2 minutes between every call and sometimes the calls would be back to back without a single second, and we're not allowed to take any time without calls outside of our scheduled breaks either which forces us to type these notes during our breaks and after our shifts. And all of this is just the short version of things, there are so many more messed up things that I left off to avoid having even a longer post.

Anyway, I used to work a full-time shift in that company but I couldn't take 9 hours a day of such stress especially that our department handles (accounts management + complaints + billing) hence why we handle such a huge amount of queries in comparison to other departments so most of the calls I get would be angry customers just yelling which resulted in a huge decline in my mental health, especially that I already suffer from depression, anxiety and a bunch of other stuff so I decided to switch to part time before I completely lose my mind especially after I used to spend the entire day just crying, having panic attacks in the morning the closer my shift start time approaches sometimes and having nightmares so many nights + the rate of my PTSD flashbacks of some traumatic events of things happened to me in the past increased dramatically so I ended up switching to part time and things were kinda manageable, my part-time salary was barley enough for basic living expenses but it was better than having to live that nightmare 9 hours a day plus the extra time I would have to spend after shifts typing notes. But today, I went to work and I was surprised that they switched me back to a full time shift starting tomorrow, they have been threatening me with it for quite sometime now, basically saying that as a graduate it's unreasonable for me to have a part time shift and that only students are allowed to take part time shifts because they need it for studying and I would always reply by telling them that having a part-time shift is the only thing that keeps me going and that I won't be able to continue working if they switched me back to full time. So allegedly!!.. because last month I didn't achieve the target which was basically due to the company having 3 major system outages that only our department (aka Egyptians) had to take calls during it, I don't deserve to have the exception of having a part time now, even tho almost everyone in our department didn't achieve the target for the same reason so yeah, it's now either I go back to working a full time shift of that nightmare which I'm absolutely sure that I won't be able to survive or I resign because they aren't even giving me any time to think or try to find something eles.

So I'm just trying to figure out how to survive basically if I resigned and this is why I'm posting this interest check, so please only choose "yes" if you think you might be interested in commissioning me if I made a post with more details and prices.