#book ad in times of india

[releasemyad1]

Maximising Your Advertising Budget with Discounts in Times of India. Times of India Ad Cost.

[newspaper-advertisement]

[trynafindbarbiee]

A POWERFUL MEDITATION TECHNIQUE TO ENTER

THE VOID STATE INSTANTLY

Radiant One, this experience may dawn between two breaths

After breath comes in – that is, down – and just before turning out – that is, going up – The Beneficence. Be aware between these two points, and the happening. When your breath comes in, observe. For a single moment, there is no breathing – before it turns up, before it turns outward. One breath comes in; then there is a certain point and breathing stops. Then the breathing goes out. When the breath goes out, then again for a single moment, breathing stops. Then breathing comes in.

Before the breath is turning in or turning out, there is a moment when you are not breathing. In that moment the happening is possible, because when you are not breathing you are not in the world. Understand this: when you are not breathing you are dead; you ARE still, but dead. But the moment is of such a short duration that you never observe it.

Each outgoing breath is a death and each new breath is a rebirth. Breath coming in is rebirth; breath going out is death. The outgoing breath is synonymous with death; the incoming breath is synonymous with life. So with each breath you are dying and being reborn. The gap between the two is of a very short duration, but keen, sincere observation and attention will make you feel the gap. If you can feel the gap, Then nothing else is needed. You are blessed, you have known; the thing has happened.

Try it. Suddenly you will get the point – and you can get it; it is already there. Nothing is to be added to you or to your structure, it is already there. Everything is already there except a certain awareness.

SO HOW TO DO THIS ?

First, become aware of the breath coming in. Watch it. Forget everything, just watch breath coming in – the very passage.

When the breath touches your nostrils, feel it there. Then let the breath move in. Move with the breath fully consciously. When you are going down, down, down with the breath, do not miss the breath. Do not go ahead and do not follow behind, just go with it. Remember this: do not go ahead, do not follow it like a shadow; be simultaneous with it.

Breath and consciousness should become one. The breath goes in – you go in. Only then will it be possible to get the point which is between two breaths.

Be aware. When the breath is going in move with it, and when the breath is going out move with it. Do simply this: going in, going out, with the breath.

You will suddenly become aware that there is no breath, and the moment will come when you will feel that the breath is neither going out nor coming in. The breath has stopped completely. In that stopping, The Beneficence.

This one technique is enough for millions. The whole of Asia tried and lived with this technique for centuries. Tibet, China, Japan, Burma, Thailand, Ceylon – the whole of Asia except India has tried this technique. Only one technique and thousands and thousands have attained enlightenment through it.

-- From The Book of Secrets

NOW , HOW YOU CAN USE THIS TO ENTER THE VOID :

Sit or Lay down in a comfortable position

Now start Focusing on your breath Be aware. When the breath is going in move with it, and when the breath is going out move with it. Do simply this: going in, going out, with the breath.

You will suddenly become aware that there is no breath, and the moment will come when you will feel that the breath is neither going out nor coming in. The breath has stopped completely.

Whilst doing this you will notice that ur body is now completely numb , there r NO intrusive thoughts etc..and this is the time when u gotta affirm for void AND I KID YOU NOT U R GONNA ENTER THE VOID INSTANTLY , mark my words , INSTANTLY !

That's it ! This is the most easiest and yet the most powerful technique u can use to enter the void I SWEAR !! ♡

[freeworldallahmbaclass]

Another monument for me this time in my hometown Harlem New York City for finding the cure for HIV/AIDS that is what the statue symbolizing me finding the cure for HIV / AIDS and funny stuff it is on 135th street across from the Percy Sutton school and I laugh at the 32nd precinct now I found the cure for HIV / AIDS and I sponsor it get Cabenuva it will help you go undetected for HIV eliminating the chance of it developing into Aids the miracle has finally reached the general public and I sponsor it so forget the noise and take your medicine as prescribed so you grow up healthy and strong success is the best revenge guaranteed you heard it from me Cabenuva is that cure and I sponsor it thank you I'm honored for the privilege to help , thanks .

Thank you so much . I love you according to Christianity you are forgiven and according to Joel Osteen I can't compromise with that , no thank you I forgive you .

Thank you I'm honored . Wherever their is people starving and dying from hunger and HIV AIDS use my page to help that country whether it's India , Brazil and not talked about regions and areas in poor neighborhoods in places like Africa and raise the salary for people in Dhaka give them water pumps and more on their paychecks so they can afford to take care of their families thank you it has been great helping the people goodbye and good luck to you and your family .

Eat good , be content with the little bit that you do have like good friends and put God first and everything else that you want and better yet need will be added to you , and read these books from my personal coach , trainer and mother Joyce Meyer and new Minister and teacher of New York City my mom and your mother Joyce Meyer . I'm just happy that all my friends are successful in life and prospering in their career and have blessed families even though the puppet masters had me on the computer trying to hate on them on facebook and this social media tumblr page for years typing on the computer trying to hate on them but they are good and doing great in life and now my conscious is clear and it is not as expensive pain for me no more as long as they good great music great wives and kids and longevity in their career I decided to go back to them as their friend and stay with my friends and keep that circle of friends that I grew up with and keep the hope for myself because I still believe in love for myself like that Vado and Mary J Blige song beautiful Mary J Blige , I got the fame I wanted and the mother play I wanted sponsored by the 2nd stage theater I got what I wanted basically now I'm at peace with myself now and is being educated by my ministers and pastors and my second call to do something I love , music and stay with God first place in my life .

The greatest donation I can give to anybody , I give you a dollar to get your life together and in some places it can pay your bail and God will take that hold off of your life and free your head from the birds I mean the vultures and stop Satan your enemy from stealing the word God's word from your heart and memory .

Congratulations to me for my gift 🎁 from the Brooklyn public library a book called the making of a king 👑 by Robert Hardman about me King Charles the third and the modern monarchy and them crowning Nicki Minaj and Cardi B real Queens of the world officially like official Queens of the world now that is hot thank you both sponsor me and my practical basic education and it is good since I'm a private person and shy away from the crowd both women is people that the public the hood like more than me and love so they could be friends with them they are like my protectors what I mean is like I give you somebody you could be friends with if you don't like me a lot of people don't a d aren't going to like you can't like the person helping that is how it is that is always how it is with leaders and since people see me as the geek type quiet reserved guy my female friends women friends are more cool and outgoing and love to meet people and chill with the common people and party with them while I stay to myself , thank you it has been an honor helping with this page I hope this help find you in good health good luck and goodbye , thanks .

I woke up here and I inherited it the same place where I'm at its bad but it is mines I inherited it , thank you .

Yes I do stay in a not so clean and dangerous place well a dirty place if you call it that but if you know anything about me I actually own the neighborhoods I live in I own the hospital my own hospital given to me by a Governor it's my incubator , I own the parks in my neighborhood New York City parks now all of them now and where I live in where the girls don't get to come to see me here but I venture out to see them sometimes we are cool they call it a liability but I inherited these neighborhoods and New York City and a rough and dangerous place to live but it is okay and hopefully my goodness , hospitable charm and love for them warms them and help them like I said thank you I'm working on getting out of here so I will see you outside thank you .

I'm King 👑 the decree from the British Monarchy thank you that is huge thanks and own the 2nd stage theater is mines and no I don't mess with street people no more I did everything for them got them Citibikes computers on Rikers Island and legalized weed for them and I moved on from them and Governor Kathy Hochul told me to dump them slim down lose the weight from the overload of carrying my enemies and their girlfriends off of me and get my life together and I'm doing just that no thank you that should make us friends .

I'm going to end it on this note here Vado from Harlem a rap musician and Mary J Blige got a song called I still believe in love that is somebody from my neighborhood that made it a way for me to be able to get a future for myself financially through a regular paying job and getting myself together and I said thank you to him and Mary thanks now Im stepping off from them and wish them the best of luck in their career and goodbye to me from my old neighborhoods and people from my past so that I can get my life together anybody got any ideas on how a super hero can get a good paying job , see you on there side of success personal success thanks and goodbye it has been an honor helping the people .

[harrysmimi]

Fangirl

Synopsis: One where Harry's got yet another concert crush and she's got a sign for him

Ps. . This is sort of a shoutout to my fellow long hair girlies xx

More of my work

Wembley night one.

Harry was excited, nervous, jittery, happy and hyper at th same time. Playing three nights there was surreal enough.

All three of his shows are sold out. They sold put within seconds!

Night one, he got the sound check done, He worked out, took a shower, had some soup and got ready to rock the stage all whilst his opener, Wetleg band went first.

The show was amazing!

The next day he woke up, and did all of it all over again. He enjoyed it every single time. But somehow he was more nervous today. He didn't know why, he had this weird feeling in his gut there.

But it was his turn and the butterflies in his tummy never went away. He stalled for five whole minutes before he had to really go up and get on with the show.

After Late Night Talking, they stopped for a quick instrument change. And during that time it was Harry's sole job to keep the crowd entertained. He had maximum five to six minutes.

"If you've got any signs now is the right time to get them up." He announced as the music came to a halt. As he was going down the catwalk he noticed someone fiddling with a sign frantically in the sea of signs which was now the pit. It was a sketch book to be specific. "You alright there?" He asked catching the girls attention in all white and her hair tied up in a sleek bun. Her head shot up to look at him when the girl next to elbowed her. She had red heart glasses on. "You've got a sign for me?"

"Yes!" She said as loudly as she could.

Harry walked to the edge as he waited for her to show him her sign. He chuckled walking away but he walked back to her. "Can I read it out loud?" With her agreement he proceeded to read, "your sign says, 'if your answer was only "Yes" to question, I want to ask you one. Ps. I came all the way from India and worked my arse off for this night'." He giggled again, turning red from nervousness.

"Okay, first of all, What is your name, love?" He asked, his mic rested on his chin as he spoke.

"YN!"

"YN?" He got it wrong.

"YN!" She corrected him.

"Oh, YN." He got it right this time. "Well, I really appreciate you traveling all the way too for the show and working your arse for it, YN. Really appreciate it." He blew her a little kiss making her gasp, "and to your sign again. Can my answer only be yes?"

"Yeah!" She nodded.

"Okay..." He hesitated, bht what can really go wrong from here? "What is your question, YN? But keep in mind this is a family show." He smiled a cheeky dimply smile, "or is it?" And the crowd went feral.

"No, no, it is actually a family show. My mum and sister are here today." He added, "yeah, your sign YN."

Harry waited as she flipped her sign to the next page. He turned red like a tomato as he walked away again, making the crowd scream and laugh. "It says, 'Will you go on a Coffee date with me, please?' and in parentheses it says, 'You choose Romantic or Platonic'."

He couldn't help but blush, "it says please. Please!" He was impressed. "I guess I'm gonna have to say Yes." He shrugged still laughing, "at least I have a choice. Can it be not a coffee date?"

"It can be a Chai date?"

"It can be a Chai date?" He asked just to be sure, "yeah! Yeah, why not!" He agreed.

"It's a date!" She yelled.

"It's a date!" He announced dramatically.

"Pinky promise?" She yelled again (so he can hear her) holding up her pinky finger.

"Pinky promise!" He went along with it.

"Yeah, I'm here in my wedding dress if the date goes well." She said, making Harry blush and laugh hardee.

"Yeah, if it goes well." He giggled, "YN, you stay right there we're gonna get back to you after the show. We have disco medley to dance on!"

And the crowd roared at that as he started singing Cinema. And through the middle interlude he made up new lyrics.

"Everybody put your hands in the air, everybody put your hands in the air, put your hands in the air. Everybody put your in the air, everybody I've got a date after here, put your hands in the air." He joked as he continued on with his show there.

Sometime in the show, Harry walked back to the catwalk towards the girl with the sign. She seemed to be having a great time. But he stopped and handed her a rose he picked up from the front stage thrown at him during Grapejuice.

And sometime ahead in the show when he got back to the same catwalk, he saw she had tucked the rose on her ear as she danced.

Harry had a blast!

And he was smitten like a little kitten whole night!

......................................................................

It was the next day after the show.

Harry still have four days left until his next show. So he was going to stay back in London and spend time with his mum and sister, and even go visit his dad later sometime.

His sister hasn't stopped pulling his leg over the girl with the sign on night two.

But today he got a call from his dear friend Pauli, who was also his band member. Pauli never calls him, but he haven't checked his Instagram DMs yet.

"Mate!" Pauli exclaimed, "check your DMs on Instagram."

"Oh gosh, you scared me." He sighed, "I will check them in a minute, yeah?"

"Yep, yep, yep. Have a great day mate." Pauli said before they hung up the call.

Harry sat down on his bed. He had to anyway to put his shoes on, so he opened up Pauli's DM. It was a reel video he shared. It was a video of a girl's silhouette dancing to an Indian song, it was beautiful least to say. He went back see what his friend had to say. They asked him to check the profile out.

It was the girl from the girl with the sign, her bio said she's a dance teacher and of course a choreographer. Her account was verified with well over seven hundred fifty thousand followers. He picked the first post to check. It was a series of ten photos.

First one was a video of her being dramatic, with her dress scarf over her head. It also gave the full picture of her outfit, it was a pretty traditional outfit. It was very short and cut of after her and her friend started laughing. The second one was a cute picture of her and her friend. Then a short video of their interaction, when he gave her the rose. Then another of her Sarah giving her a one of the drum stick. And then a few from the dance studio session, he believed they were.

The last video was of her being woken up by her friend, jt was hilarious. "YN wake up, you just told Harry Styles you're getting married if the first date goes well." The voice behind the camera said. He believed it was the friend.

The girl woke up in surprise. "What the fuck?" She exclaimed still half asleep.

"You even showed him the wedding dress."

"No, I didn't?"

"Yes you did. You have a date with him."

"Shut up. Why does my head hurt."

"Because you drank straight up vodka last night."

"What? No!" She whined and the video cut off there.

Harry laughed watching that. He saw a bit of the comment she replied to hust underneath her caption which he did not understand. The comment said, "No, I don't drink and I drank about 100-150 ml of straight vodka my friend snuck into the venue in a Fiji fucking water bottle." Harry had a great laugh with that, and he saw another one of her replied. "My sober self would have NEVER let my intricate thoughts win. But yes, I asked him out. I had to have my shot (pun intended)." He laughed even more.

There were a few more replies. He saw a comment which explained why she was replying to comments was because she couldn't get out of her bed. A bad hangover it was.

There was a little translate button which he pressed to see what her caption was about because he saw a few more comments with laughing faces regarding captions. It said, "My husband's house." To which he laughed even more. His fans are crazy and they crazier stuff than this. He rather found this wholesome and adorable.

Harry almost had a heartattack when his phone slipped out of his hand. Not because he thought it broke, because he might accidentally like the post. He doesn't want to look creepy. He didn't liked it so he let out a sigh of relief and closed the app and locked his phone.

He remembered he was hungry and in need of a breakfast. So he headed out.

His chef was on off, because well he's on tour. And he can't cook to even save his life there. Though he might argue he can bake, just because he worked in a bakery.

He went to his favourite breakfast place. It was small and quiet and no one bothered him there. He also wore his cap, and his hoodie with a pair of sweats this time, a little bit of change in outfit so he have a quiet day by himself.

"Can I please have a get a large iced Matcha Latte and one of the Chocolate croissants to go?" The guy in front of him ordered as he checked of the menu on the side wall mean while. It was his turn to order.

Just as he turned around he saw a familiar face with glasses on, sat at a corner table.

Wait, is he hallucinating or something here?

She wore a beige cardigan paired with a white tshirt, and what looked like to be a pair of baggy jeans, black heeled boots with red bottoms. Her hair was left loose behind her back, and Subway sandwich as she sketched in her sketch pad.

"One Mocha Latte for YN!"

It was her!

He waited by the side where she'd go over and pick her drink.

Harry was in awe. He wasn't sure if her hair were real or she wore extentions, but he was smitten all over again. She stood almost as tall as him which sort of intimidated him there. She checked her cup as she picked it up and almost bumped into him there with a hot drink in her hand.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" She gasped. "Oh my god!" And this was a different gasp of emotion.

"Hello there." He smiled sheepishly.

"This is going to be awkward." She chuckled, seemingly more embarrassed than he was. She looked down at her clothes to make sure nothing was split. Her shirt was his merch. "See! I'm so sorry."

"No, it's alright." He shrugged and watched as his order was ready.

"Just... I am sorry about what I said at the concert." Her cheeks have turned red, "that was so stupid of me."

"Yeah?" Harry gathered up all his courage to say, "why don't you tell me this with coffee then?"

Her eyes went wide as behind her glasses, "sur--sure!" And she agreed. They walked upto the table she was sat at. There was a paper bag from Selfridges and her bag which had a scarf spilling out of it by the side, as if it was shoved in theere in hurry. She closed her sketch pad (which thought he saw a glimpse of a pretty sketch of a dancer she was drawing) and kept it aside and her phone.

"I never drink, and I accidentally drank like I don't know how many shots of vodka." She started explaining it anxiously. "Before you ask how I didn't know it was vodka. I am a dancer and you know after you've been working out for so long and you drink some water and tour throat burn a little? Wait, that sounded so wrong but you know what I mean! I literally did not meant to say what I said apart from the sign!"

"Calm down, love calm down." He smirked trying to hold back his his laugh. "It's alright, I promise it's alright."

He's just having a happy and giggly day!

"Thank you." She sighed and sunk into her seat.

"Hope you at least enjoyed the show?"

"Oh yes, I did." She nodded sitting up straight again and reached for her sandwich. "I remember everything, except for after I accidentally got shit faced, as you all say it here."

"Understandable." He commented.

"How's your day going so far?" She asked.

Oh boy how YN hated small talks. But she doesn't want this to be an awkward encounter with the celebrity love of her life!

"It's been amazing." He admitted, "what about you? Are you here on a vacation?"

Okay, he's bringing something along to chat. Okay, YN calm down!

"Oh, no I'm not here on a vacation." She shared, "as I said I'm a dancer so I'm here for the semi finals and finals for this compitition I entered in."

"Oh, that's interesting." He was amused, "did you win? Oh wait, you had your finals yet?"

"Yeah. I got the second place." She smiled proudly. "It was just yesterday."

"That's amazing, congratulations!" He gasped. He's genuinely happy for her.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" She now beamed at him with excitement. Or you can say quiet excitement, as she took a sip from her coffee.

He liked the way she talked and how she carried herself. Especially now she's all sober and not drunk dancing like she was at his concert. Both those situations show her personality. But he liked how she talked. Something about her felt so delicate. Her posture was way too perfect, it made him feel insecure about his as he sat up straight.

"You're in town for longer?" He asked hesitantly.

"No," she let out a sad sigh, "I am going back home this evening actually."

Now he didn't know what to say further and it looked she had nothing to say either. And neither of them had touched their breakfast. Which was going to be awkward to leave. YN took a bite of her sandwich.

"You know what, I am so bad at small talk." She admitted making him giggle.

"So am I." He admitted too, "what's that?" He pointed at her sketch pad. It made her go red again.

"I draw a little." She admitted and picked up her book. She flipped rhe cover to show him a pretty little sketch of a bunch of roses. And she carefully skipped five pages to the one he saw a glimpse of earlier. It was half done sketch of a ballerina, it looked like she was drawing it with her own imagination.

"That's very pretty." He commented, "why'd you skip those five pages?"

Okay, Stage Harry making an appearance with the confidence there!

"Those are not done yet!" She got defensive. And he just squinted his eyes at her, "I'm already so embarrassed Harry, honestly." She held back a sheepish smile.

It was indeed a smiley and giggly and happy day today!

"Are you gonna show me?"

She sighed and turned the page for him. It was a sketch of rhe grumpy bear from his Gucci collection and the next one was his sketch. The one he posted after his San Jose, Live On Tour show. And the next was his Madison Square Garden pose sketch. And next was from the Coachella show with extremely detailed drawing of his tattoos, and a cowboy hat.

"Oh I love this one!" He is really mesmerises by it.

"Thank you." Her cheeks hurt from smiling and blushing so much in that moment. "You can keep it."

"It's alright." He felt bad now. He doesn't want to take what looks to be hours and hours of work. "Looks like it took many hours to draw."

His accent was sending her to heaven, but she managed to keep her cool. "It's alright." She proceeded to tear off the page carefully.

"Thank you." He's going to get it framed and hung up at his home. Yup, that's the first thing he's going to do!

Harry carefully placed the thick paper in the book he was reading. And it got super silent between both of them, as he sipped his coffee and she ate her sandwich. The chatter became just a background noise. It was comfortable and not awkward. Until her phone dinged with five messages back to back.

"Excuse me." She picked up her phone to check the message. She typed a quick message, with a looks of upset and disappointment on her face.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah." She nodded, "it was my friend asking when I have to leave." Her friend was going to drop her off to the airport today. She's got to go back and pack up and all. She placed the last bite of her sandwich down on the wrapper not knowing how to tell him she has to go now. It felt wrong. "I should go now? Have to pack and stuff."

"Mhmm." He nodded.

"I'm really sorry about this." She felt bad, because they didn't get to talk much.

"It's alright, love, you got a flight to catch I understand." He nodded as he watched in awe and she placed her scarf around over her neck and gather her stuff.

"Please take care of that for me, it took me fourteen hours to make." She said as she got up and hung her bag on her shoulder.

"I promise." He smiled a dimply grin as he glanced at the little sketch. "Hey, YN?"

"Hmm?" She looked at him as she picked up the trash to throw it in the bin on her way out.

"I, uhhh, can I have your number?" He asked. It had YN's heart almost burst open in her chest cavity.

Harry Freaking Styles is asking for her number?!

"You want my number?" YN couldn't believe what she heard.

She was only joking when she took that sign with her. She sat back down on her seat giving him her fully undivided attention.

"Mhmm." Harry nodded, with curiosity behind his bight green eyes and lips pursed in a thin line. He pulled out his phone to unlocked it to open the dial pad and placed it on the table facing her.

He noticed how she didn't even pick up the device as she typed her number with shaky number. She typed in her name with her pointer finger as she saved it and slide his phone back towards him. Her cheeks had turned a visible shade of rosy tint. He immediately sent her a dot so she could have his number and not think he's a creep when he decides to text her.

That's when he also noticed she's got an Android. He'll definitely have to download WhatsApp now!

"Okay, Harry I really have to run now." She shared, "I broke my shoes and I can't walk fast in heels."

"Yeah." He nodded a beaming smile, "talk to you soon."

"Hmm." She nodded and sped walked out. As she walked past the glass window she waved at him before she jogging out of his sight.

He spent next hour and half with his earphones in, stalking her page. The reels side. Videos of her dancing with a crowd of people. Effortlessly beautiful. Different studios and different locations.

There was a video of her dancing for who looked to be her grandma and mother. The older lady looked very impressed as she sat there in her chair. And the next video was of her dancing with her mum and the next was her recreating old and black and white pictures of her grandma.

It looked like she comes from family of dancers.

He's obsessing over her now. He stopped and noticed he's run out of coffee and that way too much screen time for him. So he went home grinning like a little boy.

......................................................................

It had been a good few months. Harry felt way too awkward to message her. Nothing about their interaction at the cafe was shared by her or anyone really.

It was nearing December. He's framed the piece of art she gave him and hung it where it is in plain sight. He was also hosting a quiet little surprised birthday party for his elder sister.

He's been in deep conflict and he hasn't shared it with anyone else. His interaction with her at the cafe.

But he saw on her WhatsApp stories that she's back in London for work again. He was in London so he texted her to check on if she's up for a little meet up. But his message unfortunately went unseen for a day and half. But he recieved a call from her instead.

He'd just woken up from his impromptu afternoon nap after his intense workout session, which was supposed to be just half an hour long but it's almost seven in the evening. He hadn't even changed yet.

"Hello?" Her voice rang through the speaker phone which was enough to break his sleep there.

"Hello!" He woke up abruptly, "Hi!"

"Were you off to bed already? I'm so sorry to wake you up." Her voice was full of sympathy thinking she woke him up.

"No, I was, I was taking a nap. What's up?"

"I just called to apologise, I saw your message on my notifications but I literally forgot to reply. I've just been so busy. I don't know how to say this over message..." Her voice trailed off with a hint of sheepishness.

"It's alright, I understand." And he really does understand. "I texted you to see if you're up for a meal, and uhhhh, to catch up...?" And he's nervous now.

"I am sorry, I am really busy tomorrow. I have rehearsals for the tour— fuck!" She cut off herself, "I am not supposed to speak about it. I, I am busy tomorrow as well."

He chuckled, "we can meet up now or whenever you're free today."

"Wouldn't it be too late?" Now she sounds nervous.

"I slept for five hours now, don't think I'll be able to sleep again." He shrugged as if she can see him through a voice call, feeling his cheeks grow warmer and tired with a realisation that he's been grinning like a totally idiot.

"Okay. Uhhh, yeah, okay. I'll just have to go back to my hotel, take a shower, and get ready, and, and, I don't know..." She panicked and talked to herself, "okay, we can meet at around ten...ish... If you're fine with that?"

"Send me your location I'll pick you up at ten-thirty." He chuckled again, her little ramble was so adorable to him.

"Okay!" She squeaked.

Harry heard someone calling her name, that was the queue for him to get off the call and get ready. And so he did. He bid her bye and ran to shower. Get out of his dirty and sweaty clothes. He spent three hours getting ready, as if he's going on an actual date.

At exactly ten he recieved her location. He was dressed in a pair of jeans, his white 'Enjoy your health. Eat your honey' shirt and a black coat to keep himself warm. With a pair of black sneakers he reached first. He didn't had much time so picked the first black pair he saw and ran with it.

With traffic it's take him forty minutes to get to her location. He dropped her a text once he reached to the hotel she was staying that.

It was a luxurious and fancy to say the least.

He saw her getting out of the entrance as she bid her friends bye and walked towards the direction he had told her to. It took a few moments to see him. But he saw her.

She wore exactly same outfit as him, but with a black tshirt and her beige coat and white comfy sneaker. Her heels were missing. Her hair left loose this time. Her staple pair lf priscription glasses were placed on the bridge of her nose. A silver necklace shined over the black fabric of her shirt.

"Harry!" She gasped once she noticed him and sped walked towards him. "I am still going to fangirl, please excuse me!"

He chuckled as he approached for a hug, "no worries." He snaked his arms around her middle pulling her in a tight and warm hug, just to get one right back.

He'd hugged her just a couple lf times but she gives the best hugs.

Yup!

"I have something for you!" She got all giddy and giggly as she pulled away from their hug.

"What is it?" Obviously he's curious.

"Not now," she wiggled her brows cheekily. "Where are we going?"

"Well, if you haven't had your dinner yet, I hope to take you somewhere for dinner." He already opened the car door for her.

"Oh yes please!" She sighed, "I am starving." And got into his car.

"As you say." He closed the door and jogged to the drivers side. "What do you want to eat?"

"Hmm, let me think." She put in a thought into it as she put on her seat belt and he'd already pulled out of the car park, "I want to try fish and chips... Is that too touristy to say?"

"Not at all!" He defended, "we can have fish and chips." He drove to a location just fifteen minutes away. And she followed him in there, it was not very crowded given it was around the closing time. Clearly, it was a pub she saw as she headed upstairs.

"You know I don't drink, right?" She whispered, following him closely behind.

"I know, but this place has the best fish and chips." He led her to an empty table, "you want me to take your coat?"

"No, it's okay I'm cold." She shrugged. They ordered their food and sat in a cosy little corner.

"So you're going on a tour?" He squinted his eyes at her.

"Stop, I wasn't supposed to talk about that. I'll get in serious trouble!" She gasped making him laugh.

"I promise, your secret is safe with me." He pushed for the last time, if she denies he wouldn't talk about jt ever again. But she looked around to see the people already engaged in their own time there as she leaned forward.

"I am going to be a part of The Eras Tour now!" She whispered before she was kicking her feet like a baby in excitement.

"What!? That's amazing!" He was surprised to hear that to say the least.

"Yes!" She grinned, "we start off in Tokyo. You're going to any of the shows?"

"I am definitely going now." He nodded feeling bold, "on one condition."

"What is that?" She looked at him confused.

"Maybe we can call this a date?" He shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible and watched her face go pale.

"You are serious?" She countered instead of answering his query first.

He leaned in closer over the table too, "I think I've made it pretty clear, I like you." A sheepish chuckle left his mouth, "like a lot!"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on. I wasn't expecting this!" She announced with a gasp. "You're pranking me?"

Harry squinted his eyes, " why would I joke about this?"

"You're joking!" Now this was a surprised accusation on him which sent him laughing.

"I am not." He cleared his throat after he was done laughing.

"I, uhhhh," she stuttered, "I need time to think..."

"No worries." He said but before he could say anything further, their food was served.

Harry switched to another topic to make the situation less awkward. She definitely felt awkward and he's rather have her be comfortable than be adamant in getting his way.

"You're not drinking right?" She asked.

"No, I gotta drive." He answered, "why so?"

"No, 'cause I paid like two hundred pound fee for driving without a licence and going over the speed limit here last night." She shared sheepishly, "in my defence all of my friends were drunk their ass off and I had no idea how the uber thing works here. They definitely would have arrested me but they let me go, I don't want to risk that. I still don't know how the uber thing works. That's like my entire month salary gone..."

She's got a job which pays ber better now so she was fine with paying the fine. Or she wouldn't have mind spending a night behind bars. Yeah, she'd do that.

He giggled, "don't worry that won't happen." He understands, it's a new place for her and it can be difficult to figure out addresses and stuff. Especially when it comes to have some stranger drive you around when you don't know the area so well. "You want Icecream?"

"Always down for Icecream!" She announced.

Harry took her to his favourite ice cream place before he drove her back to her hotel. Now, he didn't wanted the night to come to come an end with her. He could spend hours and hours talking and listening her talk. He got put of his car just so he can make the moments linger more. He hugged her but held onto her hand as he wished her a good night.

"Thank you for, uhhhh, taking me out." YN stuttered as she spoke with a sheepish smile, "and about, ummm, your question... I, uhhhh, I don't want things to get you know sour between me and uhhh..." She was trying to find words in language he understands but he already had idea where she was going with this. "With uhhh, me and Taylor. Please don't get me wrong. She's my employer and now she's become a good friend of mine during the rehearsals and stuff. Given you two were together, even though it was a decade ago. I still want to talk to her."

"Mhmm." Harry nodded, because that meant hope was still hanging in there. His heart is still intact in his chest with these new growing feelings.

"But if you're still going to any of the show let me know, okay?" He squeezed his hand slightly.

"I will."

"Promise?"

"I promise!" He squeezed her hand back.

It just means he get to be fancy and take her out on a proper date!

......................................................................

That was last year.

Harry was in Tokyo for the first show which YN was part of. He was there with his friends and even his sister joined along with her boyfriend.

YN had sent a bouquet of flowers and a card at his place his birthday, which undoubtedly made his entire year. It was a nice gesture given she said she's so bad at gift giving, especially for birthdays. He kept the card safe.

He has also been waiting for her answer eagerly. Even though it should be pretty evident it's a yes, they talk a lot more now given she's so freaking busy, they're both always texting or sending each other snaps of highlights of their days.

Harry bought a bouquet of flowers for her before he was off to see her. They were meeting up at this little cafe he picked out, but it was going to be her treat in celebration of her new project beginning. It was so special because Japan is his most favourite place to be. And YN have also been so excited to show him something in particular she wouldn't tell him over text or their usual phone calls.

Just as he was about to text her to see if she was there as he walked up the street, he saw her jogging looking at her phone screen. Probably at the google maps. Her face framing hair bounced around her features, as she tried to be as fast as she can in a pair of sandals. A baggy hoodie and her favourite paor of jeans. Her usual glasses missing.

Harry remembered her saying she got contact lenses as she can't really perform with her glasses on. And she needs to see the stage for that.

"Harry!" She squealed omce she saw him.

"Hello love!" He greeted her with his usual warm hug, and recieved one right back. YN just squeezed him tight, like her life depends on it. "I got you flowers." He quietly whispered in her ear there.

"I know!" Her face buried in the fabric of his Bode button down shirt.

Now both of them spent their entire day together, had all three meals and snacks out, walked around seeing all they could see in a day, hand in hand. Before Harry was walking her back to her hotel, which was barely five minutes away from hers.

"I'll take you to see more places later, now please take some rest you've got a big day tomorrow." They both stopped just outside her hotel.

"I know!" YN nodded excitedly with her tired eyes moving closer to him. She works for next four days straight then she's got five days off before she's got to go to Australia for next shows. "You'll be there right?"

"Of course, came all the way here for it." He assured her, feeling his heart flutter in his chest.

"If your answer was yes, I want to ask you a question.' She spoke with a subtle cheeky smile on her face.

"Go for it." He said.

"You want today to be a date?" Now he completely forgot about his question he asked months and months ago. He was just pulled back to senses when she moved even closer to him, making his heart thump in his ears.

YN has had plenty of time to think, work on herself and talk to her new friends/ employer about this. Of course, Taylor is not a kid anymore. She was in fact so happy for YN, when she approached her one random day at the dinner after rehearsals. They both sat down seperately and had a nice thoughtful chat.

YN of course told her mother and grandmother, who she is the closest to about this. They obviously support her because she's so happy. Her missed her mum and grandmother, one of them couldn't travel because of their age and the other couldn't come because they had to take care of the other. She misses her family, being away isn't as romantic as she thought it would be.

But today was amazing. She felt like she had someone known with her for the first time in months and months, in flesh next to her.

YN just wanted to kiss him then and there. In the middle of the street. But she didn't know how to approach with it.

"Hands down, it was the best date I've ever been on." He shared with a beaming smile on his face. "We should do this again, yeah?" He snaked his arms around her waist sure that she's figured everything out by now and that she's finally willing to give them a chance.

"Yeah!" She nodded. He went in for a kiss as the same time as her, bumping into her nose they both ended up in a fit of giggle. "I am sorry!" She laughed, "I've never kissed anyone."

Harry giggled again but assured her, "it's okay." He leaned in again, his time taking the charge he placed his mouth on hers in a delicate kiss. Once he pulled away he had her blushing her forehead pressed on his chest. "It's just a kiss, you're gonna get a lot of those now!" He laughed hugging her again. She groaned before lifting her head up to look at him with a red face.

"I was just a fangirl!" She couldn't believe her life in that moment.

"Now I'll be a fangirl tomorrow." He pointed out, "cheering especially for you."

......................................................................

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @onlyangelrain @supersanelyromantic @haarrrys @originalsoulcollector @lomlhstyles @im-an-overthinker @tenaciousperfectionunknown @stilesissaved @allthelovehes @sunshinemoonsposts @harryssky1 @sofia-faustina @stylesfeverr @reputationolivia

Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

[thisismeracing]

I lost the ask's request, but here you go, honey! <3

requests are CLOSED

CARLOS DATING AN INDIAN GIRL | CS55

Warnings: mentions of food; tooth-rotting fluff; mentions of family members; not proofread.

A/n: Just a quick reminder that there are many shades, experiences, and backgrounds when it comes to Indians and their culture, what I am writing does not resume everything, but rather brings a piece of it to the table. <3

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee)

This man will start to tell India's story, location, and importance in the political context to everyone who dares to act uneducated around him!!! Most of what he knew he got from you, but the other half he got curious and just went on his own treasure hunt on the internet and, yes, shockingly, bookstores - he ordered online, but it still counts (those were his words);

Let's say he has never been to India outside the context of racing, so going with you for the first time makes it even more special (he will spend a few hours of the vacation telling you about the old Indian GP);

Carlos loved eating a traditional meal with your family, and he loved it even more because your grandpa taught him about the history behind eating with your hands and suggested he tried it if he wanted to (he had never felt the texture of food or appreciated its flavor quite like the way he did when he gave the tradition a chance);

You told him the story of the Taj Mahal while you walked there, and, of course, he got into a rabbit hole of questions and Google searches and even a book recommendation from a family member of yours (he told them about the experience, just like he told in the group chat of drivers he was part of);

The man bought just about everything in Chandni Chowk! You touched it, he bought it, and even when you didn't, he would point at a colorful fabric and say that the color suited you - but then again, in Carlos' eyes everything suited you, and you looked even more stunning when proudly displaying your heritage;

Pakora's probably his favorite snack, and, for now, his favorite dish is Dal Makhani (you still introducing him to the cuisine);

He'll love your family, and probably be added to the family group chat where he'll dutifully answer every message your parents, cousins, and so on send;

Carlos will casually ask if you would want two weddings or just one in India (yeah, his research took him to the wedding traditions, and he saw a few TikTok videos - he loved the energy and the colors, and of course, the story behind everything);

Looks even more handsome wearing a bandhgala!!!!

[valkyyriia]

A Study in Green

Words: 2915

CW: Fingering, Artistic Liberties with History | NSFW

Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle / Female-Bodied Reader

Prompt: Abandoned Mansion (caution!)

Notes: This is I think the third time I've ever written smut, so please bear with me. I also thought the title was rather cliche, but I liked it, so... I also think I got a little carried away. Whoops. And Mo, if you read this - I remembered that comment I left you on your fic about the Paris Green and MC freaking out and it immediately came to mind when I rolled this prompt with my dice.

Crossposted on Ao3 here.

Banners/dividers by @natimiles.

For @xxsycamore's event, Sexy Ikemen Summer!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked, eyeing the abandoned building with suspicion. It appeared to have been an older, late-eighteenth century mansion. Ivy crept up the crumbling mortar like grasping tendrils, giving it a foreboding look. 

“It’ll be fine, luv,” Arthur said, a cheeky grin on his face. “A little urban exploration never hurt anyone.” 

“I would like to see the evidence to back up that stateme-” You were cut off by Arthur tugging you close and kissing you sweetly.

“Come now. I swore to protect you, didn’t I?” He tapped your nose with a gloved finger. “That includes the dangers of uninhabited, derelict places and all the things that go bump in the dark. You have absolutely nothing to fear as long as I am here with you, okay?” 

You exhaled shakily and offered a weak smile. “Okay.” 

“Besides,” Arthur added. “You do make a rather adorable damsel in distress.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he laughed, taking your hand and leading you inside. 

One thing you had never quite gotten used to in this era was the sticky heat and lack of air conditioning. Even though the climate wasn’t too different from what you were used to, the fashion of the day was much more stifling. The summer sun was currently high in the air, beating oppressive rays down on the building. Fortunately, the mansion was still in reasonably good repair; the roof was intact everywhere except the far left wing, where the walls had collapsed in on themselves. It offered some protection from the heat, paltry though it was.

Arthur had, true to his word, faithfully stuck by your side. The vampire hardly even let go of your hand, giving you something to anchor yourself to. You were grateful for his considerate nature. 

The sunlight shining through the cracked stained glass windows cast glittering constellations on the dusty wood of the parlor floor. Furniture draped in age-stained cream cloth was positioned in key places around the room. If it weren’t for the thick layer of dust and the obvious smell of decaying wood, you would almost think the owners were just out on vacation. 

Arthur had done some amount of research on the building before bringing you here, aided by le Comte and his connections. As it turns out, the owners of this mansion had fled to America twenty or so odd years ago due to some sort of legal trouble. The Crown had seized the mansion to repay the family’s debts and it had remained uninhabited since. According to Comte, the left wing collapse happened a few months after the Crown took over the property, and they hadn’t tried to renovate or rebuild the structure. Ultimately, other than the left side, the mansion should have been perfectly safe - within reason for an abandoned building - for a first-time urban explorer. 

He grinned. “Look at this,” Arthur said, using your joined hands to point at the desk in the corner of the room. It was neatly organized, a couple of books stacked on the side. A half-written letter lay on the workspace. A quill pen sat in a long-since-dried inkwell, the bottom of it stained black with India ink. “They really were in a hurry,” Arthur commented, pulling his tortoiseshell glasses from his pocket and setting them on his nose. “Let’s see…”

He blew gently on the surface, scattering the dust. Your eyes watered and you cough into your elbow. “Sorry,” Arthur murmured, rubbing your back lightly as he looked at the letter. 

“To my love,

“I hope the day comes when I can see you again. Father says we must leave in order to stay out of prison, and I dread leaving you behind. I had desperately dreamed of the day I would make you my wife, but I fear we must place those plans on hold for now. Wait for me, my love. I will return for you.

“Forever yours,”

And then nothing. There was no signature. You frowned. “The poor dears.. I hope he was able to stay in contact. Or at least let her know what happened.” 

Arthur studied the paper intensely for a moment, before looking at the books next to it. “I can’t imagine she wouldn’t know what happened. These kinds of things are rather big gossip in the upper echelons of society.” The hand on your back moved to your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Her family likely refused any further contact with him or his family after they left. Even if he continued to write to her, she probably never saw any of those letters.” 

“That’s so sad,” you said, leaning into him. “It sounds like he really loved her.” 

“If he loved her half as much as I love you, he must have loved her a lot,” Arthur replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “If you would like, luv, we can maybe try to deliver this letter to its intended recipient. There’s probably some other correspondence between the two stashed somewhere here, if we look for it.”

You looked up at him in surprise. He had a kind smile on his lips, but his eyes were serious. If it were something you wished to do, he would make it happen somehow. “I would, but,” you started to say. “What if it opens up old wounds? What if she’s moved on and this just brings it back up?” You sighed and laid your head against Arthur’s shoulder once more. He ran his thumb up and down your waist in soothing motions. “I don’t want to make things worse.” 

“Even if she has moved on, it could give her closure,” Arthur pointed out. “But you are right; it could cause more trouble for them. Maybe we should leave it here?”

You mulled it over for a moment. “If I were in her shoes.. And you had moved away for some reason against your will, I don’t think I could really move on. Even if I was forced to marry someone else. I love you too much to ever forget you.” 

Arthur was silent for a moment. “Then we should do everything we can to make sure it’s delivered. Even if it is twenty-something years late,” he said, voice quiet and somewhat choked. You went to move away and look up at him, but Arthur’s hand kept your head against his neck. His free arm wrapped around you and he held you firmly to his body. You gave up fighting him, and just locked your arms around his neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Arthur finally let go and stepped away from you, looking around the room once more. “Let’s see if we can find out who the lucky lady is, yeah? The game, my dear, is on!” 

The two of you went looking around the parlor for any other correspondence between the pair. Coming up empty handed there, you moved to other rooms. Normally Arthur would have been able to make an educated deduction on which room likely belonged to the author, but with the state of disrepair the house was in it was much more difficult. Or at least, that’s what Arthur said - but you suspected he just wanted an excuse to lead you around the house by the hand for a little longer. Not that you’d complain about that.

The two of you looked inside a bedroom suite on the second floor. The door creaked open, revealing a lavish room, covered in linens matching those in the parlor. A thick layer of dust coated the room as it did everywhere else in the house. You carefully stepped over to another desk, this one facing the window that overlooked the long-overgrown lawn. Spread across it were several letters in varying states of completion. Some were well-worn, clearly having been read over multiple times. Those ones appeared to have a different author than the one found downstairs. 

“Alyssa Bloodwell,” Arthur murmured. “That name doesn’t ring any bells for me, but Daddy Dearest knows just about everyone worth knowing among Europe’s elite. We can ask him when we get back. For now, though…” Arthur turned to you, a devilish smile on his lips.

“Arthur,” you warned him to no avail. He quickly stepped forward and grabbed you by the hips. Your arms snaked around his neck automatically. 

He grinned. “What is it, oh darling love of mine?” He gave you an innocent peck on the lips. 

“Oh, don’t even start, Arthur,” you protested, but made no motion to step out of his embrace. His lips moved to the side of your face and you reflexively tilted your head to give him access. “We can’t - not here.” 

“Says who?” Arthur murmured seductively, nibbling at the shell of your ear. “It’s not like there’s anyone here to stop us.” He walked you backwards to a sturdy chest of draws against the far wall, and easily lifted you up onto it. “You’ve been looking positively delectable all day. I can’t help myself from wanting a taste.” He leaned in and kissed you more insistently, his fingers dancing around the ribbon at the collar of your blouse. 

“You are incorrigible,” You responded weakly, already returning his kiss. 

“But you like it, don’t you?” Arthur replied, grazing your earlobe with his fangs. “You dirty little thing.” He ghosted his lips down the side of your neck, pressing a kiss right over your pulse point, before mouthing the spot and sucking hard. You cried out at the sharp pain of it. 

Arthur ran his thumb over the red blooming there. “Beautiful,” he said. “I would bite you, but then I’d have to carry you back to grab a carriage.” He ran his tongue down the column of your throat, his fingers gently setting the ribbon to the side and dragging the top of your blouse down. His other hand slid up your skirt, the thumb running back and forth over the flesh of your inner thigh. “And I really don’t want to have to explain that one to the constable,” Arthur whispered, his breath coming out in puffs against your collarbone.

The drag of his sharp fangs against the skin of your chest combined with Arthur’s fingers moving higher underneath your skirt caused your breath to hitch. His gloved hand pressed gently against your clothed sex, applying a small bit of pressure through your underwear. You let out a soft whine at the contact. He rubbed his fingers back and forth between your thighs while leaving love bites all over your exposed chest. 

His lips kissed back up your throat, and he pulled away to look at you. Smirking, he pulled his hand from between your thighs and took the glove in between his teeth. Arthur slowly, teasingly, pulled it off of his hand, the now bare appendage returning to its former place between your legs.

“Arthur,” you whimpered as he slid the material of your panties aside. He dragged his fingers back and forth through the wetness gathering there, circling the sensitive nub at the apex of your thighs. 

You threw your head back, a low keening sound escaping your lips as he continued to swirl his fingers between your legs. Arthur shot out his other hand to catch the back of your head.

“Look at me,” he murmured. You bit your lip but did as he asked, and he smiled. “Good girl.” 

Arthur’s thumb brushed against your lips and then he leaned in for a deep kiss. “You’re so cute when you come undone under my fingers like this,” he purred. “You’re normally so put together.” You probably were a sight to behold right now - skirt hiked up to your hips, blouse untied and loosely draped under your cleavage, chest heaving  - you were the very image of debauchery. 

Arthur leaned back in for another kiss, his tongue moving against yours in time with his fingers as they pushed inside of you. 

Your gaze drifted up, suddenly settling on the walls of the room. Your eyes widened and you broke the kiss. “Arthur,” you breathed, voice scratchy. “Is it just me or is that wallpaper green?” 

Arthur groaned and he pulled away with a discontent sigh, his lips forming a frown. “It is, and quite a lovely shade of it. But I don’t see how the color of the wallpaper is more important than my hand.” His fingers deftly continued their work, and you bit back a groan. “Unless you are unsatisfied, and want something more?”

“Because,” you breathed, trying to ignore Arthur’s actions and failing miserably. “Green pigments from around this time period are made of arsenic. It’s poison.” Your thighs trembled as he pleasured you. You were so close-

-and then Arthur suddenly stopped and looked at you, bewildered. You whined at the loss of stimulation. “Really?” He looked away from you, his gaze flitting all around the room that was blanketed in peeling green wallpaper. Arthur’s cobalt gaze met yours again, a light panic to his eyes. “And they didn’t know this?” 

“No! The paint was invented sometime in the early nineteenth century and fell out of use during the mid nineteenth century because people were getting sick,” you sighed, the ache in your belly slowly subsiding, leaving you feeling uncomfortable and wanting for more. “It was later used as a pesticide, until they realized that was dangerous, too.” You were somewhat regretting your choice to stop Arthur at this moment. Curse your brain for being safety-conscious even with an incredibly attractive man between your legs, who wanted nothing more than to bring you pleasure.

Arthur sighed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “We should probably continue this elsewhere, then,” he conceded, removing his hands from your thighs. You shuddered at the loss of contact and watched as he lifted his slick-covered hand to his mouth, sucking on the fingers. The lewd sight sent another flare of smoldering heat right to your belly. “When we get back home, you’re going to have to make up for leaving me hanging like this. I hope you’re ready for the consequences of your actions.”

Bonus:

After speaking with Comte about what you discovered while exploring (trespassing), you and Arthur found yourselves standing outside of a beautiful, well-kept mansion in the Parisian countryside. As you approached the gate, a butler, who was trimming roses nearby, placed his garden shears down and stepped over.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle, Monsieur,” he greeted. “How can I help you?” 

“Is there an Alyssa Bloodwell at this residence?” You asked.

The butler frowned. “Madame Bloodwell does live here, yes, but we were not advised of any visitors today. Was she expecting you?”

“Not exactly,” you replied. Arthur then pulled a time-worn letter out of his pocket and showed it to the butler, explaining, “I shan’t go into the specifics on how, but we came across this letter and believe its intended recipient is your mistress. We simply wish it to go where it belongs.” 

The butler looked at the letter for a moment before nodding. “If you will, follow me,” he said and led you both into the mansion’s entryway, and from there to the parlor. “Please wait here, mademoiselle, monsieur. I will inform Madame Bloodwell of your visit and we shall proceed from there.” 

After a few minutes of waiting, you looked up to see a woman in her late thirties descending the stairwell. “I am Madame Alyssa Bloodwell. I was informed you had correspondence intended for me?” she asked. 

You curtsied and Arthur handed over the letter. She took it, eyeing it, and her hand dropped to her chest. “Where did you get this?” she said, breathless. 

“We recently came into possession of it,” Arthur said, smoothly avoiding giving the details. “We did some detective work, and determined you were the recipient.” 

Lady Bloodwell walked over to an armchair on uncertain legs and sunk down into it. “Louis,” she murmured. “I haven’t heard from him in twenty four years.” Her fingers caressed the fraying edges of the paper. “His family had been found to be embezzling money from one of the royal artisans and was disgraced. They fled Paris in the middle of the night and caught a ship to America. My parents forbade mention of him and the betrothal was called off. I ended up marrying a local lord, but.. I never did stop wondering what happened to him.” 

You smiled sadly at her. “I’m sorry that we didn’t come bearing current news, but I’m glad we could at least bring you the letter. It’s obvious how much he loved you.” 

“Thank you, cherie,” she said. “Please, is there anything I can do to repay you for doing me this kindness?” 

You began to decline, but Arthur cut in. “If you don’t mind, could you answer a question for us as payment?“

She inclined her head. 

“Did you ever move on?” Arthur asked, a serious look on his face. 

Madame Bloodwell shook her head. “I love my husband,” she began. “But no. Louis was - is - special to me. I never stopped loving him, and I doubt I will stop until the last breath leaves my lungs.” She looked between you and Arthur, a content smile on her face. “I see such a resemblance between you two and myself and Louis. Monsieur, whatever you do, don’t ever lose her.”

Arthur looked straight at you and squeezed your hand. “I won’t.” 

Taglist: @natimiles

[olderthannetfic]

Hi I'm sorry for the incoming rant but I'm so frustrated and I need somewhere safe to yell. This is insanely long so I 100% understand if no one wants to read all this.

It’s so fucking ironic that people are trying to make publishing more friendly towards queers/women/POC/disabled people/etc. but at the same time they’re turning publishing into a fucking minefield of discourse.

I'm an autistic, bisexual woman with multiple mental illnesses and a learning disability and I'm absolutely terrified to publish anything.

Everyone keeps going “We love books by minorities! Hashtag own voices! We love to support minorities and their stories! Even if you’re not a minority, we love to see authors making characters that are! :)”

But they certainly don't act like it.

They see people like Amélie Wen Zhao or Tess Sharpe or Isabel Fall get harassed relentlessly and they go, “Well if people dogpile someone over something it was obviously because that person did something Bad And Wrong™ so if you’re a Good Person™ the twitter masses won’t have to punish you :)” except in reality that’s not at all what happens.

If your experience is not generic enough to fit every single person in a group, you’re obviously writing an unrealistic stereotype! How dare you write about your personal experiences as a mixed race Indian if not everyone can relate to it? What about the Indians who grew up in India!? You’re erasing their experiences!

You have to out yourself to prove that you’re one of the Correct People™ who’s allowed to write that experience. Oh, you’re writing a trans character? Please describe your gender, in detail, so we can know whether or not you’re Allowed or if you’re an Outsider who we need to punish. Oh, you can’t come out, because you might be killed or disowned? Well, no #OwnVoices clout for you, we don’t want your book.

Your character needs to be a Good Minority™. They cannot be angry or violent or rude. If they are, you’re clearly saying that all of those minorities are angry and violent and rude and not just that one character.

There are four additional rules you absolutely must follow at all times to prevent harassment, and all of them contradict each other:

If you’re not [minority], you need to have [minority] in your stories, because they exist and it’s bad if all your characters are [not minority].

If you’re not [minority], you cannot have [minority] in your stories, because you’re not [minority] and clearly, you’ll never be able to understand how [minority] thinks and acts because you’re not them.

If you’re not [minority] you can still have them in your stories, but they can’t experience any discrimination at all, or talk about their culture or experiences with being [minority] because that’s not your story to tell and you’re profiting off of their trauma. No, you’re not allowed to do this even if you hire ten sensitivity readers that confirm these experiences are realistic and correct.

If you’re not [minority] you can still have them in your stories, but you need to show their experience with discrimination, and have them talk about their culture or experiences with being [minority] because if you don’t, then you’re basically just taking [non minority] and pretending they’re [minority].

Also, there’s an additional surprise bonus rule: Sometimes people will just want to destroy you for no reason, so watch out!

They’ll take things from your story, remove them from their context and then present them as the most horrific, problematic thing possible in order to create a hate mob.

Sometimes, though, they don’t even know what they’re talking about. People who are not part of a minority group (or not the one relevant) will see something, go, “Omg? Problematic?” and post it on Twitter so they can say, “Um guys wtf is this shit? Are you fr? Can we talk about this?”

And the worst and most horrifying part, people will blame YOU for the harassment campaign!

I’ve literally seen people say, “Well if someone calls you out on Twitter you should admit you did something wrong, apologize, and tell them you’ll do better :)” as if that’s not the most insane, victim blamey shit.

Like, I cannot fathom seeing a marginalized author get torn apart by a mob, get sent horrific death threats, and have their career and life ruined, only to say, “Okay but they must have done something Problematic. Have they tried publicly flagellating themselves to appease the people who are threatening to break into their house and kill them?”

People just sweep it under the rug and pretend that it’s not a big deal, and say, “Twitter’s not real, it doesn’t matter!” as if thousands of people harassing you and sending you threats isn’t massively damaging to someone’s mental health. Like, this is the kind of shit people kill themselves over, and it's apparently no big deal because "Twitter's not real"? What?

Writing is supposed to be fucking fun! Showing your beloved story and characters and work to the world is supposed to be enjoyable!

But instead of writing my story and just enjoying the process and adoring my characters, I’m sitting here, absolutely terrified, trying to make sure I give people the least amount of ammunition to destroy my life as possible.

One of the main characters in my story is vaguely based on me. I love her with all my heart, I think about her all the time, I want people to love her just as much as I do.

But instead of having fun writing about her, I’m waking up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, thinking to myself, what if she’s too problematic?

Will people get upset with her saying the word “cunt” or bathing naked with men (and thus having her tatas out) and accuse me of being sexist or catering to the male gaze or not being a Good Amazing Feminist™? Will people call her a pick me?

Will people get upset with her being bisexual, but ending up in a “straight” relationship with the male character? They have a five year age gap, is that too much? Will people think he’s a predator or abusive? Is their relationship toxic?

Will people think he’s a creep for flirting with her and getting into her personal space and telling sexual jokes, even though that’s how I want someone to flirt with me?

What if people think she’s not autistic enough? Will people get mad that she’s ~glorifying violence~ for not becoming a pacifist and admitting that violence is bad and yucky at the end of the story?

I need to make sure she spends ten paragraphs explaining exactly why she works as an assassin. I need to sit cross-legged and whip my head around like Dr. Strange in that Avenger’s movie so I can imagine Every Possible Discourse Outcome™ and make sure she debunks everything people could call problematic.

I need to change that. I need to remove that. I need to make her sanitized and good enough so that I'll be safe.

And then repeat this thought process, with every other minority character in my story (and there are a lot).

--

Things are bad, but if you stay off of book twitter and do not write YA, you're a lot less likely to face this level of drama. There are always exceptions though, like Fall.

[niteshade925]

April 12, Xi'an, China, Daci'en Temple/大慈恩寺 and the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda/大雁塔 (Part 3 - History):

The entrance to the Xuanzang Memorial Hall:

Xuanzang/玄奘 (602 - 664 AD; birthname Chen Yi/陈祎) was a famous Chinese monk, scholar, and translator who journeyed throughout Central Asia and India to bring Buddhist sutras from India and translate them into Chinese. He was also the founder of the Consciousness-Only School/唯识宗 of Chinese Mahayana Buddhism.

A statue of Xuanzang in the memorial hall:

Xuanzang's 17-year journey from Chang'an (Xi'an) to India and back drawn out on a map. The route he took to India is in red, and the return route he took back to Chang'an is in green. On his way he traveled through many kingdoms in Central Asia and India, and he would later compile his experiences into the work known as Records of the Western Regions/《大唐西域记》. This work is still very important for historians and archaeologists studying Central Asian and Indian history, because it gives locations of important sites, such as the ruins of Nalanda monastery (phonetically translated as 那烂陀寺 in Chinese) in modern day Bihar. The Ming-era novel Journey to the West/《西游记》 was also very loosely based on this work; more specifically, the novel was based on folk tales about Xuanzang's travels, which was in turn loosely and partially based on Xuanzang's experiences recorded in this book.

(Metal?) wall murals and a giant wood relief depicting Xuanzang's early life and his journey to India and back (generally viewed in order from left to right since it's a continuous narrative):

Biography of the Tang Dynasty Buddhist Tripitaka Master Xuanzang of the Great Ci'en Temple/《大慈恩寺三藏法师传》 (alternatively translated simply as "The Life of Xuanzang"), written by Xuanzang's disciple Huili/慧立 in 688 AD.

An artifact not strictly related to Xuanzang: Ritual Confession of Mercy Temple/《慈悲道场忏法》, a Buddhist repentance work/忏文 written for Emperor Wu of Liang (464 - 549 AD) for the purpose of conducting a "ritual of transcendence" (called 超度; I could not find an English translation for this so this is my own translation) for the emperor's deceased wife. This particular version was printed in Ming dynasty in 1608.

Ceiling of the memorial hall, decorated with Sanskrit characters:

The second exhibition hall also has wall murals and a giant wood relief, this time depicting Xuanzang's life after returning to China:

Xuanzang has stated that the purpose of his journey was to bring back Buddhist sutras in their original Sanskrit, so that the integrity of the original texts may be better preserved in future translations and a more faithful interpretation of the sutras may be achieved. When he returned from India in 645 AD, he brought back with him 657 Buddhist texts in Sanskrit, and with support from Emperor Taizong of Tang, he proceeded to translate these texts into Chinese with his team of translators.

Daci'en Temple still preserves less than 20 leaves of the original palm leaf manuscript/贝叶经 brought to China by Xuanzang. I didn't get to see these artifacts myself, but just for reference, here are some potato quality pictures I've found online:

Below is a part of a (Ming-era? Not sure) printed copy of the Mahā-prajñāpāramitā Sūtra (《大般若经》 or 《大般若波罗蜜多经》 in Chinese), which was translated into the Chinese text seen here by Xuanzang and his team:

Part of Complete Translations by Master Xuanzang/《玄奘法师译撰全集》:

A view of the exhibited part of the collection of works that were either by Xuanzang or written about Xuanzang. Being an aspiring translator myself and knowing that these were works connected to a great translator who lived 1300+ years ago, there is just a feeling of awe here that can't be described properly in words...

There's also the twin steles associated with Xuanzang at the foot of the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda. The stele on the west (below left) was written from right to left, composed by Emperor Taizong of Tang Li Shimin/唐太宗 李世民, while the stele on the east (below right) was written from left to right, and was composed by Emperor Gaozong of Tang Li Zhi/唐高宗 李治 (the two emperors are father and son). The calligraphy for both steles was provided by Chancellor Chu Suiliang/中书令 褚遂良. Both steles gave an account of Xuanzang's life and praised him for his achievements, and both were erected in 653 AD. Since I didn't go into the pagoda, I didn't see these two steles (I believe one of them isn't at the pagoda anymore? It might be at Beilin Museum now), so here are pictures of the ink rubbings from Open Museum (open in new tab to view the full image):

And finally, some fun souvenirs from the gift shop! These are tiny incense pellet holders topped with the twelve zodiac animals

A funny greeting card that translates to "And We miss you too" (朕 is a first person pronoun used exclusively by emperors to refer to themselves; today many people use 朕 to jokingly refer to themselves)

[dami-is-delusional]

Fighting or Flirting?: A Series of Confusing Events (seriously. someone stop them.) - Steve Rogers x ExHydra!Male!Reader

Summary: You used to be an experiment, curated by Hydra to be a living weapon. Somewhere along the line, SHIELD saved you and decided to place you with the Avengers. As the superficial leader, Steve Rogers tried his best to welcome you. Somehow it all went downhill from there... until it didn't!

(enemies to lovers, might not be the most accurate Steve, my second fic ever so i apologize in advance.)

PART TWO: Meeting the Avengers (and your downfall... jk it's just your future bf!)

If someone were to see your expression on the car ride to the Avengers tower, they would've assumed someone had just killed your puppy. But nope, you were simply upset that you had to join the team of heroes. Were you even going to get paid for this? Probably not. You sighed, the agent who was driving paid no mind. Now, one might be questioning why you were so against joining the Avengers. If it were anyone else, they probably would've been absolutely thrilled! Who wouldn't want to be in the same space as the heroes of New York? You. That's who.

It wasn't like you had anything against them. No, quite the opposite. You admired their heroism and their desire to keep people safe. You found it noble and extremely cool. It was like something out of your comic books. The real problem was the fact that you would have to work with them. As in teamwork. As in talking to them. As in socializing and having to hold conversations.

Due to your experience at HYDRA, you knew how to do many things. Like how to intimidate and interrogate people into giving you information. How to sneak around buildings without making a sound. How to end someone's life in 74 different ways. You know, the basics! What you didn't know how to do was how to interact with other human beings. Making conversation past a basic introduction? Not your thing! Turns out that being isolated from humanity for a good portion of your life doesn't exactly do wonders for your social life. When SHIELD took you in, you were perfectly content with going on solo missions where you only had yourself to depend on. That's what most of your life has been like anyways. It wasn't anything new. You went from one set routine at HYDRA to another set routine at SHIELD, both in which you were by yourself.

Now, you were being added to a team of people who already knew each other pretty well. You would be an outsider who didn't even know how to knock on the door. You didn't know how people behaved around each other. You didn't know how to get closer to people. You had very low hopes on surviving this. You sighed once more and the agent driver ignored you and your brooding once more as well.

The tall and imposing Avengers tower stood like a mean taunt. Poor little Y/N is going to have to function like a normal human being! Let's hope they don't secretly hate you! You looked up at it and grimaced. It almost felt like the building was making fun of you and already predicting your inevitable doom.

"Maybe doom is a bit much. Oh, who am I kidding? If I'm lucky, the building will explode and I won't have to talk to anyone," you thought hopefully. You looked at the tower for a couple more seconds. No explosion. You sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Before you could decide to run away to India, you stepped into the building.

The elevator ride up to the floor you were told to go to was nerve wracking. Questions and doubts swirled inside your mind like a snowstorm trying to keep you frozen where you stood.

“What if I can't do my job properly? What if I can’t figure out how a team works? What if I trip when I step out of the elevator and that’s all they think about?” Luckily (and unluckily) for you, your thoughts were brought to a stop when the doors of the elevator opened. Taking a deep breath and giving yourself speedrun mini pep talks in your mind, you took your first step as an Avenger.

CRASH.

Several people stumbled over to the elevator and tried their hardest (and failed miserably) to look normal and stoic. Clint Barton and Tony Stark seemed to have toppled over each other in an attempt to be first. Natasha Romanoff and Bruce Banner approached in a much more orderly fashion, the former looking as though she was going to whack the first duo. Finally, the poster boy of all of America. Steve Rogers. How could someone look like a Greek statue and a golden retriever?

“So these are the Avengers… at least I didn’t trip!” you thought, feeling the most joy you could muster up from this day.

The owner of the building and the man who could probably buy your entire life with one phone call started to speak first.

"So you're the new member that Eye-Patch was telling us about! Welcome to my- our tower," Tony said in greeting, correcting himself after a sharp nudge from Natasha. You knew both Natasha and Clint since they were also SHIELD agents like yourself. You hoped that they could help you out so that you didn't actually have to talk to someone entirely knew about it.

"Yeah, I'm Y/N L/N," you answered simply. You were already off to an awkward start as you stood there, unsure of what to say. You had expected this, of course, but it felt ten times more unbearable in real life.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Steve Rogers, welcome to the team," came a kind and gentle voice.

You looked over at the source and saw Captain America himself, smiling politely. What were you supposed to say to that? You didn't want to lie and say you were happy to be here.

"Shit, should I smile back? Do I say thank you? Oh wait, a thank you sounds right..."

Hoping no one took note of your obvious silent panic and hesitance, you cleared your throat, "Uh, thank you. I hope... we can get along...?" you weren't sure if you were actually replying or asking a question. At this point, you were just relieved that you managed to say something at all.

To your surprise, the recently defrosted Super Soldier just continued smiling. It was beginning to creep you out. "I'm sure we all will. We're excited to have someone new! You should join us for lunch, Stark is taking us to some shawarma place," Steve offered, his golden boy smile seemingly glowing and radiating with his optimism.

The idea of being thrown into a group social setting right off the bat made you want to jump out of a window. You prayed to some divine being that your face didn't automatically react and show your distaste to such a plan.

"I'm okay, thank you. I'm just gonna... find my room and settle down... and stuff," Lord, you wanted to shoot yourself because of how stupid you probably sounded to them. You saw the slightest falter in Wonder Boy's face but it was gone the next milisecond.

"That's alright! You do that. We can all get together another time," he suggested. You just sort of laughed awkwardly and walked past them with your bags. You wanted nothing more than to hide in a hole and never come out.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y is gonna help you find your room!" Tony called out as the group walked over to the elevator. You turned back slightly to nod in acknowledgement, even though you had no idea who the hell 'Friday' was. As you did, you noticed that Steve was staring at you oddly. He immediately looked away when you caught him. Weird... but who were you to judge?

The elevator door closed and you let out a shaky sigh. How long would you have to repeat the tedious and torturous act of making conversation? You picked up your bags, ready to crash into a bed.

Now for future references, if anyone asked you if you screamed louder than a tornado warning siren when a disembodied, robotic voice began talking, you will deny it with your whole body and soul.

So that's who F.R.I.D.A.Y is...

A/N: This totally did not take almost a full month to make, no you're just being crazy. I don't procrastinate EVER.

Side note, I don't know why I put this off for so long. I will try my best to be a tad bit more consistent in the future.

[releasemyad1]

Timing is Everything: Best Days for Advertising in Times of India

[newspaper-advertisement]

Honouring Memories: Booking Obituary Ads in The Times of India

[babamediagroup]

https://speakerdeck.com/babamediagroup/court-notice-in-the-toi-newspaper

[eatmangoesnekkid]

One thing I struggled with when I was in my 20s during my coming-of age-story of blooming into Goddess spirituality as taught by one of my mentors/muses was how semen was healthy for the female body. This is a common way of thinking with those who practice tantra, kama sutra, divine union, ancient temple arts, etc., and what is pushed in "Goddess- centered" and of course heteronormative patriarchal women spaces. However, the most disciplined, healthy, regenerative, mentally-clear men will always practice semen retention, which means that they would NOT release their semen into a woman's body during sex, and would circulate it internally throughout their own body to increase their organs' vitality instead, unless both parties were desiring to procreate a child. The thinking that semen was generally healthy for the female body as also taught in one of my favorite books "The Sexual Secrets of the White Tigress (a book I obviously don't completely agree with but helped to expand my consciousness) never fully added up with me and no one could ever answer my inquiry that "if semen is so healthy for the female body, why do the healthiest, strongest men have to practice semen retention....why would the divine be so cognitive-dissonant..lol?" I would not be surprised if our Western world had a centuries-old, clandestine operation to weaken both the female and the male body so that neither one of us would know our full power and magical potential. And I know many women whose pH balance and vaginal biomes gets out of wack after having penetrative sex with their male lover. There is so much division and anti-male propaganda out there, and that's not what I'm up to nor is it a conversation or line of thinking I would ever participate in. I'm more interested in women and other female-bodied people coming into our full alive power and magic—softening and strengthening our bodies and life force energy, expanding our minds, integrating our shadows, and birthing real authentically beautiful lives of rest, nourishment, regeneration, adventure, and ease that shift the collective energy forward into more love and life-giving resolutions. I wrote this to encourage those with female bodies to question everything, including me, because the "truth," whatever that means, will also influence your entire physiology overtime. What I know is that most of what we have been taught are lies and made up by men and patriarchal-centered women, for the benefit of men. Many of you have asked me private questions around working out and getting back active and strong in your body, but also express how tired and inflame your body is, could this be why? Because what I also know is that there are plenty of men who dump their stress, disappointments in life, rage, anger, and the like into women's bodies when they ejaculate therefore women have to be more intuitive and mindful in choosing lovers. But there is so much unlearning that every human must be willing to do in order to live healthier more emotionally-intelligent lifestyles thereby be awake enough to not continue to make a series of bad decisions in life. Because there are plenty of healthy, dutiful, deeply loving men out there to choose from if/when you are interested. May the veil of conditioning be lifted from the inner eye so that you begin to know who you truly are. Elevate your frequency so that you CAN be more grounded, centered and clear in your choosing. And what's also true is there is valid nuance as well that I won't be able to go into here on this blog at this time. -India Ame'ye, Author

[centrally-unplanned]

While I would caveat this since I don't fully trust the statistics India's government puts out (that groups like Brookings, the IMF, etc reprocesses), the thrust is definitely true - India's past decade has been really good for broad-based growth. And it hasn't just been due to economic growth and commercialization (though that is the lion's share) - massive public works projects in areas like sanitation, electrification, and housing construction have also taken place. The sanitation one is of particular note - I can find books on my own shelf that would tell you in the mid-2000's that India's issues around open defecation and poor water treatment were "cultural realities" that weren't budging any time soon, and they weren't insane for saying that, but the Indian government had other ideas and defied the skeptics on implementing them. (Though credit as well to the "RCT Revolution" adding better ideas to how to do development aid, for which India is depending on the year the world's largest recipient) Overall great news! India has definitely had its share of not-great developments in the past decade, so its a very positive sign that there is another side of that story.

[mybeingthere]

Isabella Ducrot, born 1931 in Naples,

lives and works in Rome.

She began her career as a painter at the age of 60, and for almost three decades she worked more or less in silence - much of that time here, in the Palazzo Doria Pamphilj. From her studio you can look directly into the baroque garden in the palace's inner courtyard, a hidden oasis in the middle of Rome where time seems to have stood still.

“Sometimes I enjoy the freedom that comes from not having studied art, the freedom to be ignorant.”

She has traveled to Afghanistan, China, India and Tibet with her husband, and since the 1960s often with the painter Cy Twombly, whose wife Tatiana Ducrot was a close friend. On these trips she collected fabrics over decades - magnificent, sacred, folk. And she has written philosophical, poetic and art-historical texts about them. So it was only natural that fabric would be the subject of her painting, which is now being discovered by the international art world.

When asked whether she was influenced by Buddhism, minimal or conceptual art, she answers in the negative: "I didn't follow anyone. I had no masters, I didn't study at the academy. I'm a self-made woman." She says that Tatiana Twombly, herself an artist and a legendary interior designer, encouraged her and bought her first works, and that Achille Bonito Oliva, one of the most important Italian curators, commissioned her to create a mosaic in the Naples subway in 2005, where Ducrot grew up as the daughter of a noble family. You can sense that she has lived a privileged life surrounded by art and artists. But her pictures of bulbous teapots, her landscapes inspired by miniature paintings, speak of a mystical simplicity, a spiritual experience that is conveyed in the decorative elements as well as in the nature of the material.

"Textiles have to do with something invisible, like breath," says Ducrot, "you don't see it, but you feel it - in the void between the threads." The grid of warp and weft, of crossing threads, which is exposed like a skeleton in the Tibetan shawls, forms an archetypal matrix for Ducrot. In her book "The Checkered Cloth" she describes the fabrics as "textile prayers", "an indestructible connection between spirit and matter" into which thoughts and words are woven. In Isabella Ducrot's work, fabric is a semiotic, poetic, social network of history, stories and myths.