#ceremo

[jadipose]

did your cute dress go over well today?

o+mg I go+t so+ many co+mpliments, I also+ almo+st had several wardro+be malfunctio+ns hehe

[gimmeurmoneyagh]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀 - 𝟎:𝟎𝟑

❝𝟏𝟔𝟎𝟎 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐄𝐠𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭❞

- Cleo De Nile

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!“

“NYAH?! The heck is this!?“ Grim frowned.

A half-red, half-black collor appeared around Grim’s neck, Grim tried to claw at it to make it get off.

“Laws of the Queen of Hearts: Number 23 ’One shall never bring a cat into a festival’!“ He glared at you now, you were about to walk over and curse his entire bloodline when Riddle began to speak again.

“You being a cat means you’ve broken the rule. I shall have you leave at once!“

“I’m not a cat!“ Grim cried, “I’ll burn this collar right up and... EH! I can’t use my fire!“

Riddle giggled but tried to pass it off as a chuckle (spoiler alert it did not convince anyone) to Grim’s misfortune, “Hmph! You won’t be using any magic until I remove the collar. Just like an ordinary cat.“

“Wh-what?! I’m not some pet!“ Grim tried to retort.

“Don’t worry I’d never keep a pet like you“ Riddle sneered. “I’ll take it off when you get thrown out anyway.“

Azul butted into the conversation wearing a saccharine smile, “Wonderful as ever. Any and all magic gets sealed by your unique magic, Riddle. I want it..- *cough* No. I would never want that cast on me.“ He nervously chuckled.

’Real smooth’ you thought, frowning a bit when that failure of a person, Crowley decided to reprimand you (for what? you never make any mistakes you’re practically perfect!)

“You must do something about this, (Name)! It is your familiar!“ He scowled. “Maybe properly discipli-“

“It’s not mine,“ You gritt your teeth in anger, you wanted out of this weirdo school. You missed Ghoulia and her doing your homework. 😢

“It’s not yours...?“ he pursed his lips, as you shook your head for a ’no’.

“Yeah, If I’m supposed to be ’magicless’ how am I supposed to have a familiar?“ You asked, motioning for him to answer.

“Ehhh..“ He tugged at his coat and coughed into his hand, “My apologies! Anyway, let’s get it out of the school. And as I am gracious we won’t cook it into a stew. My my, truly my kindess is boundless!“ He smiled.

’boundless my ass’ 

“Someone help please!“ at those words the entire crowd shuffled and went farther from him.

And honestly, same.

“GYAH! LET ME GO!“ Grim shrieked, still clawing at the collar “I am- I’m going to become the greatest mage ever!!“

Two boys were pushed into the open and forced to through Grim out of the ceremony.

’How annoying’ you curled your lips downwards, eyeing Grim with distate. It was deserved as he was annoying and even almost burned you! You took immense satisfaction at his shouts (were you beefing with an animal? yes. do you care? no)

“W-we may have had a bit of trouble along the way but this bring the entrance ceremony to a close!“ Crowley loud ahh voice snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“Housewardens, please show the new students back to the dorms!“ He said, putting his hands on his hips and looking into space as if he was delivering a great speech.

He looked down at the students again before pausing, “...hmm? Now that I think about it, I don’t see the dorm leader of Diasomnia, Mr. Draconia anywhere.“

“That’s no different from usual, is it?“ the were-lion(? you still weren’t sure) snarked.

“Whaat? Did nobody tell him about the ceremo....“

You tuned out and just looked around the room, you were busy looking at some cutie with white hair and purplish eyes when someone with a deep voice spoke up (LOUDLY! VERY LOUDLY! [it wasn’t it really wasn’t])

“It seems I was correct“ people still talk like that? 

“I thought he might come but Malleus really didn’t“ you turned your head to the direction of the voice and...

Draculaura?! She’s here too?

Wait no that was a boy.

But uhm... why was he so fucking short. No short people-hate but you did not expect that voice to come out of that.

You liked his hair though.

“It seems the invitation ’never arrived’ again...“ He lamented.

Not being invited? hah. Could never happen to you. (you miss monster high, even if you’ve only been gone for probably an hour)

“My dearest apologies. I promise we didn’t intend to exclude you“ said Azul, putting a hand on his chest. (he seemed fake)

“His aura makes it hard for us to approach him.“ Riddle defended himself (and the others ig).

Meanwhile you went back to looking at the cutie with white hair again.

“It’s fine. Members of Diasomnia can come follow me. I just hope this doesn’t upset him...“

That was a weird interaction. 

You were standing blinking wide eyed wondering what just happened when- “Then (Name), I’m terribly sorry about this but..-“

“You’re making me leave? Yeah I figured“ (you really didn’t but you would rather die then admit that)

“*ahem* Correct! Those without any talent for magic cannot be allowed to attend class here“ You shrugged at that you didn’t really care about this place and if you were gone for too long that bitch Torelai might steal your spot as fearleading captain.

“However there is no need to worry. The dark mirror will send you directly back from whence you came from“ He motioned his hands toward the big mirror.

You smiled a bit at that one, who knew a clown could actually make people smile!

“Enter the gate and picture your home clearly in mind...“

“Oh Dark Mirror! Guide this one back to the place she belongs!“  He belloed raising his hands ip

At that you scrunch your eye-lids tight causing some of those color/light spots. You thought of the sea Lagoona’s family came from, the normie town near Monster High, your room. Your room filled with clothes, posters, and burn books. You thought of your jewels and all your credit and debit cards. You missed your money already. And all your friends even Clawdeen’s annoying little sister. Uhhhh... Growleen. Yeah her.

You even crossed your fingers and spoke an old egyptian chant for luck. (you however didn’t notice someone jolting in surprise at the chant)

“........“

Crowley looked around (probably embarrased) “Oh... Uh once more. Oh Dark Mirror! Guide thi-“ 

“It is nowhere“ 

That’s a lie. You wanted to go already. ☹️☹️☹️.

“Eh?“ Crowley looked shocked “The place she belongs is nowhere in this world... It does not exist“

What?! Now you were shocked, you were standing hunched over mouth open and your eye was twitching. This wasn’t in (whatever Monster High world is called)?! And apparently (whatever Monster High world is called) doesn’t exist here either?!

Where the fuck were you?! You missed your ghoulfriends...

“What did you say? That is unbelievable! Hmm, well, the unbelievable has been on parade today.“ Crowley hummed, putting stroking his chin again.

Meanwhile you were having an existential breakdown, iconically.

“This is the first time it’s ever happened since I became headmaster, what should be..“ Crowley’s sockets narrowed. “Where exactly did you come from?“

“Are you dumb? I told you earlier Monster High, which is located in (wherever the fuck Monster High world is called)“ you stood straight up at the attention being brought back to you. Even if you were scared you had to make good impressions because you didn’t have daddy’s money anymore.

“I’ve never heard of such a place“ Crowley admitted. Yeah, you were absolutely screwed. 

“I have a general grasp of where all the students came from but I’ve never even heard that name before. Let us do some research in the library.“ 

And with a swish of his cloak he quickly motioned for you to follow him.

[lvrboy-inc]

I Lost My Mind in the Sakura Flowers ꫂ ၴႅ

“Lying from You” - Linkin Park

꒰: Précis | A first person POV, dipping into the mind of a melancholic young man who is just a bit..off. Is he really above all of the chaos that is his life? Or is it all just another façade in which he’s also fooled himself this time..

꒰: Disclaimer(s) | This act contains strong language, triggering topics [Home life issues, homophobia + manipulation] Tread carefully~!!

꒰: Word Count ; 5.5k

꒰: Sakura Flowers—All Acts ; Here

Act 1

The day that I realized I wasn’t like everyone else, wasn’t the kind you’d expect.

It wasn’t gloomy. It wasn’t overcast, raining, or windy beyond comparison. It was the exact opposite.

Birds were chirping. The sun beamed on every face that it found. Even the unpleasant-smelling garbage that gathered and swirled in the gutters smiled when people stepped on it.

But I was there. So things wouldn’t stay that way.

Hello. My name’s Azura Makoto. And well, I’m insane.

When most people do bad things, they feel remorse. Guilt. Sympathy. Sadness even. But when I set fire to a pile of leaves, gathered in my backyard, at the young age of 6, I felt no remorse for the birds that were resting atop of it.

They fluttered and flapped their wings that soon became engulfed in flames. Their chirps got weaker and weaker until they finally ceased altogether.

It made me smile.

As a child, I should have run. I should have cried, and ran to my parents. But I didn’t.

I sat, and smiled, not caring about who or what I might’ve disturbed.

My parents were awakened by the smell of smoke. And that’s the moment that they realized that there was something wrong with me. Because as soon as they got there, I uttered the words, “Isn’t it pretty?”.

Yes, exactly like that cliche sociopathic child you’d see in a horror movie.

3 years after that incident, I was sent to a therapist for terrorizing one of my classmates with what children at my age would call, ‘adult scissors’.

And of course, the therapist was useless. If anything, he fueled my flames with gasoline.

“You’re just lost,” Over and over.

”You’re young and misguided,” He’d tell me these things all had a reason.

”It’s all a phase, you’ll get better.” But I knew…

There was no cure for what illness I had.

But, for a time, I entertained him. I told him what he wanted to hear. I showed signs that I was getting better. I showed signs of sanity for the time that I was there.

Oh, how easy it was to fool him.

Keeping up this act, this persona of the perfect little boy, I was able to escape that hellscape.

And just for good measures, I spent a year doing good things. Excelling in my studies, helping others, actually making friends. All things I had absolutely no interest in. And all so that my parents might’ve regained hope in me. Turns out it worked. Perfectly.

By the time that my parents started to look away from my issues, by the time they thought that I was on the right path for myself, I was 12.

I had a small circle of friends, who let me lie to them. It felt amazing. To be in control of my own life. To be in control of the people in my life. They listened to me. Did what I asked. Like Pavlov dogs, they were at my beck and call.

But then he came along.

Marko.

A conniving little bastard he was.

Junior year of high school I think it might’ve been. He appeared out of nowhere.

My track record was keeping me safe from prying eyes. No one was interested in tarnishing my reputation or dragging me down (none that I knew of at the time). At least, that was until he came along.

Thinking back, I should’ve known that he was out to get me. The first words he ever spoke to me were, “Your smile is so fake.” Granted, I wasn’t paying attention to him at the time. But I should have.

As student body president, it was my duty to greet new students and make them feel ‘at home’ in our establishment. He just happened to be there at the time. At the end of the entrance ceremony, I had to pass out flyers along with two other members of the student council. And lucky me, I had the pleasure of handing Marko his.

Before I could get the chance to say my line, “Welcome, please come to me if you have any problems finding your way around. I’m here to help,” Marko said his first.

“Your smile is so fake, you know that?” back then I brushed it off as if he was talking to someone else. Or if he was just joking around.

But in our second semester, he approached me and once again said something along the lines of, “Why do you fake it? Do you ever get tired of pretending you are what you’re not?”

That’s when the rumors started.

Up until then, I believed I was above teenage drama. Because I was. Or at least, I thought I was.

It was a classic, “What’re you guys talking about?” resulting in glares and disgusted looks.

The only person who came to tell me the truth was Allison. She was an angel, truly. A disposable one of course, but she was useful for the time that she was.

I can remember the exact moment she asked me, “Have you heard the rumors?”

Of course, I hadn’t. No one tells someone a rumor that they’re the center of.

“No, I haven’t. Mind telling me?”

She sang like a canary. I almost couldn’t believe what she told me.

“Well, people are talking about how you’re insane. Like...how you went to therapy for cutting a kid’s finger off in primary!” Okay, now that was an exaggeration. “And…” she then looked around like a suspicious party and leaned in saying, “how you like guys.”

That was the part that got to me.

Now, insanity I was fine with. Everyone has a little insanity hidden in them. Of course not so far that they’d go to do something physical to someone but enough that they’d say something really sick and shallow.

But being gay? That was going to be the end of me.

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against gay people. Not at all. But, from what I’ve seen, the people with whom I shared a learning space, were not a big fan of them. And if the rumors had already spread as much as I thought they had, I was majorly screwed.

I kept my composure and walked the halls with the same proud stride that I always had.

There were whispers when I walked by, and some back turns. The worst that happened was some assholes cat-calling me. That pissed me off.

Now, I’m not one to get on my knees and beg someone to stop something, but this prick was raking my name through the dirt. And so, I did what any hormonal, impulsive teenager would do; I took the petty route.

Unlike Marko, I worked behind the scenes with my scheming. The way he ,exposed’ me was so crude and had no aesthetic to it. No planning, nothing. Intricacy was certainly not in his vocabulary.

Firstly, I had to tie up all of my loose ends. The finger-cutting and being attracted to guys wasn’t that flattering to have in my hand of cards.

It was easy to get rid of the finger-cutting rumor. Mainly because it didn’t happen, so it was easy to deny. If someone brought it up, I would simply brush it off and say, “It’s a lie. If I were to cut any body part off of someone, then it wouldn’t be a measly finger.” That definitely raised some eyebrows with the way I phrased it, but it died down later on.

Then there was the rumor about being gay.

It was worse than I thought it was. I solved my finger-cutting problem, all the while oblivious to the fact that the gay rumors had begun to spiral out of control.

Before I knew it, underclassmen and upperclassmen alike were calling me slurs, making disgusting jokes and comments, and don’t forget the physical torment.

Sure, I could deal with my peers looking down on me but when the rumors finally got to the school board and my parents, that’s when I realized this had gotten much farther than I originally planned for it to go.

My parents sat me down after getting home from school one evening. That day wasn’t my proudest. I had gotten into some trouble you could say with some upperclassmen. Long story short, I don’t have much physical prowess and my face wasn’t in the best condition on the way home.

It wasn’t anything serious. A bloody nose, swollen lip, and a few scrapes and scratches here and there. I wasn’t phased by it but my mother sure was.

“My poor, Azura! Oh my, what did they do to you? Are you okay?” she was all over me. Touching my face, looking for any more wounds.

“Yes, mom. I’m fine. I just got into trouble with some friends,” I said, swatting her hands away.

After I managed to get away from my mother, my father called me into the living room, where he was sitting in his velvet blue chair that was positioned in front of the coffee table. It was where we would have our ‘family meetings’ you could call them.

He told me to take a seat, which I did. My mother sat in the chair next to his.

My mother initiated the conversation which was rare. “Hun...we got a call from the school today.”

I could see the hesitation in her eyes. It was annoying. “Sweetie, you know we want the best for you. And you’ve been doing really well. In school and outside of it but…”

“Rose, just give him the letter.”

His voice was gruff and I hated the sound of it. I simply turned my head and sighed. This is what happens when you let things get out of hand. I hate things that are out of my control.

My mother slid a piece of paper across the table. It was only a few words. Most of the paper was blank. The bottom was mainly white. Halfway through, the writing stopped. Honestly, it didn’t look like an official school paper. Then again, this is the first time I’d gotten a letter home.

Written in bold lettering at the top of it was: School Board Notice for: Makoto Azura. Reading those words over in my head made my stomach turn. I took a gulp and picked it up in my hands.

I was shaking.

I couldn’t have been nervous. I’m not one to get nervous. Maybe I was fearing for my reputation. Although...it was a natural human reaction to this type of situation so maybe I really was feeling nervous. Just a bit though.

Addressed to the parents/guardians of Makoto Azura,

Due to recent events, your child has caused a great disturbance in the normal functions of school affairs. Drama has no place in an environment of education. Your son has disregarded this in many instances. We must urge you to talk to him and show him how to get back on the right path.

If there is no change and/or response to this letter in the next three weeks, it will result in suspension. We hope to solve this issue with the utmost efficiency. Please see to it that it is handled in a timely fashion.

Sincerely, School Board of XXXX County

I had to forcibly bite back a groan. This was so annoying. And overall, a nuisance. There were a plethora of thoughts racing through my head at the time. But the emotion in front of them all was anger.

Firstly, these were supposed to be professional adults concerned with teaching students and getting them ready for their future. Why the hell were they getting involved in student drama? Just because it disturbed their sacred order of things? It was bullshit.

And secondly, did it really warrant a letter home? This all could’ve been said in a text or an email. Or even a call to the principal’s office. But a letter home? Wasn’t that a bit overkill?

And lastly, I was so ready to murder Marko. That loose-lipped fool was getting on my last damn nerve.

Honestly, why the hell would he do this to me? Once I figured it out I was going to make his life miserable. But I had to explain to my parents why they got this letter in the first place.

“Well, you gonna explain y’self or just keep starin’ at it like it’s foreign?” My father asked. His lack of regard to the way he spoke was another reason why I hated it when he would speak to me. Or when he spoke in general.

All I did was sit there. There was nothing to explain if you think about it. “If I had to guess it’s most likely about my distance from school work lately,” That lie would’ve gotten me kicked out of the drama club if I were to ever use it again. I’d been excelling in my studies. I was top of all my classes and not to mention I had just been offered 3 master’s courses.

But they didn’t know that.

“I haven’t been doing my best and I’ve been paying more attention to personal matters than learning matters. I guess the school picked up on it and well, you know the rest.”

“What personal matters?” My mother asked.

“Y’know, just normal teenage stuff. It’s nothing to worry about.”

My father stood up and slammed his hand on the table. Overreacting as usual. “If it was just normal shit then we wouldn’t be gettin’ phone call after phone call and letter after letter ‘bout you and your goddamn personal matters! So why don’t you quit the bullshit and tell us what you’ve really been doin’ up in that school!”

Ugh.

I stood up and placed both of my hands on the table as well, leaning my head in just a bit so that I could stare at him dead in the eyes when I spoke.

“Firstly, I don’t appreciate you talking so vulgarly towards your own son. Please treat me with respect. I’m a human just the same as you. So treat me as such,” I began, stroking up a second finger.

“Secondly, if you’ve been getting phone calls then that may be because I’ve been enlisting in club after club and helping with student council duties along with that. Maybe if you were to get off your ass and pick up the phone once in a while you’d understand that. But you never picked up the phone, did you? Exactly what I thought. And thirdly-”

My sentence was cut off by the crisp sound of skin against skin. A strike to my already sore face.

“And thirdly, you need to shut your mouth and remember who you’re speaking to! I’m your father, not one of your little friends! I’ll treat you with respect when you see me in the same eyes, got that?” He shook off his hand that had previously gone across my face.

Mouthing off definitely didn’t make this situation any better. Now, I was relatively aggravated.

“I know exactly who I’m talking to. And if you were one of my friends then this would be going a different way. I’m not one for teenage angst, but you need to piss off and stay out of my life before I do something I’ll regret.” I grabbed my backpack and made my way up the steps, making sure to slam the door to sell it all.

I locked it behind me and slumped down, heaving a heavy sigh.

“How annoying,” I mumbled.

“He’s out of control again, Rose! What the hell am I s’posed to do with a child who speaks to me like that? He needs to go to some sort of reform school or military camp or something! Because I refuse to let that bitch sleep under my roof rent-free!”

I could hear everything from under my room. My father was being unreasonable with my mother once again. He would ramble on about how terrible of a child I was, not allowing her to make her own argument in the matter. Although I doubt she would say anything even if he gave her the opportunity to.

See, my father wasn’t what you’d call a stable person. He was a pain to deal with in all honesty. Now, he didn’t go around hitting my mother and drinking himself into despair but he definitely wasn’t okay in the head. He had a short temper, and anger issues to chase them.

Although he’s never hurt me physically (not severely anyway), nor my mom, I can hear them fight all the time. More like a repeated one-sided argument than a fight I suppose.

After collecting my thoughts, I got up and took a shower. I needed to think this over and stop my body from aching. I told my mom I was alright but my whole body hurt like hell. A warm shower washed the pain away though.

Once I got out, I was patting my hair dry as I was headed downstairs. And in the process, I overheard a conversation I probably wasn’t supposed to. Then again, you couldn’t really get much privacy in any open space inside this house. Unless you were in your room or the bathroom, forget even thinking about privacy.

My father was pacing downstairs, clearly agitated about something. It was sort of entertaining to see. He was running his hands through his greasy hair and overall looked like a wreck. There was someone speaking to him and stupidly enough he had the whole thing on speaker. I sat on top of the steps, just far enough so that I was in earshot and still able to see him without him seeing me.

“No. No. I said, no! Look, I already have enough going on with this psychopathic child of mine, not to mention his mother. She’s a complete tool. She doesn’t combat me in any way. I don’t want a submissive little doll. I want a woman who can take control of a situation. And that’s you, Mary. So please don’t leave me, alright?”

Well so much for loyalty. I heard the yelling of a young woman over the line, she was clearly under immense pressure as well.

“I didn’t think I was going to stay with her this long, I swear! Jesus Christ, listen to me!” The phone went silent for a few moments and my father took that chance to get his words in. “I’ll divorce her, alright? And the child will go away with her. Or maybe into foster care or something, I don’t know at this point—” What came next was spoken quite clearly.

“If you send that poor boy into foster care I will tell your wife all the shitty things you’ve done behind her back! He doesn’t deserve that, no matter how psychotic you think he is! Do you know who you’re talking to? Do you know that I’ve been in foster care before? Bouncing homes and shit? Do you know how fucking hard it is to grow up in that environment? And you’re just willing to put your own son into that god-forsaken system to save your own ass? Are you fucking kidding me, Mason?”

Now, I hadn’t ever been in foster care, but the stories I’ve heard from comrades made it seem like a living hell. And I knew my dad hated me, but he was willing to put me up for adoption? And on top of that leave my mother? Just like that? What a shallow bastard.

“Mary, please, listen to me, I didn’t know okay? Just...just gimme some time and I’ll sort out something and we can be together. You know, in a nice ol’ house. By the beach maybe. We can start a family. You, me and,” He murmured a name that I couldn’t really pick up, going on. “And I’ll leave these two. All for you. Nobody else matters but you, Marianne.”

From there on, the conversation started to get friendlier but I could hear the annoyance in her voice from the other line.

And I’m assuming you’re wondering, ‘Where was your mother in all this?’. Well, she went out to withdraw some money for my father. And now that I’ve listened to this conversation, I’m almost certain he was spending all of my mother’s money on his side game. Seriously, it was like limbo with him. When you think he can’t get any lower, he gets lower. As low as he can go.

It wasn’t like he was broke. Quite the opposite. He was the CEO of one of the most successful companies in this shitty city. But maybe he didn’t care enough about this woman to let it show in his and my mother’s linked bank account.

I figured I’d heard everything I needed to. Standing up, I headed back to my room, feeling like I had just been dealt a brand new hand of cards to play against my father.

I’d heard the name Marianne plenty of times in our household. She was my father’s secretary. Yes, this was going to be one of those scandalous boss-secretary type deals. But I had a feeling it was going to be quite the ride.

But aside from that, I had to get the rumor situation underway.

Once I got into my bed, I plugged in my headphones. The sounds of classical composers like Debussy, Beethoven, Mozart, and the Nuvo Orchestra flooded my ears as I thought about how to solve this issue. I began to overthink the whole thing.

I always overthought things. And most things need to be overthought about. Mainly things such as these. I needed to think about every possible outcome to solve this problem. I was desperate. I needed to keep the validation. I wasn’t going to let one measly rumor tear me down from my pedestal.

When worse came to worse, I just put it simply. And the answer I got was:

Allison.

The conclusion I came to was Allison. She was the only one who was true to me and told me about the rumors in the first place. And for that, I knew she would fit perfectly in the grand scheme of things.

With her social standing and mine, if we were to get in a relationship it’d be perfect and the news would spread like wildfire and before I knew it, the rumor would be nothing but a memory.

So, what I did was pay off Allison to be my girlfriend for a month or so. And it worked surprisingly well. Yes, I know that it was quite sickening to pay someone to fake feelings for you, but it was basically an acting job if you think about it.

But it ended up getting more complicated.

She caught genuine feelings for me. And you can see how that can become troublesome. As student body president, rejecting girls came like breathing to me. Though, I suppose it would be harder to reject her since I was the one who gave her the wrong idea. I was ready to take the blame and play friends with her for the long run but I had to make a choice.

On one hand, there was the acceptance of Allison’s feelings. There weren’t many cons to that. I could date her for a while and then break up with her. It would be like we naturally drifted. Or at least, I could play it off as such.

On the other hand, I could reject her. There were quite a few cons to that. Given her status in the high school hierarchy, she could talk about how I paid her to be my girlfriend. Then even more whispers would spiral. Not to mention the fact that I had told her many times that it was just supposed to be an act. A ploy to clear my reputation. But in the wrong context, she could read that as, “I’m gay, pretend to date me to cover that up.”. And I wasn’t about to take that chance.

So, I did the logical thing and said, ‘Yes’ when she asked me to be her boyfriend.

I wasn’t completely against it. She was fairly attractive and stable in the mental sense. And she was also more intelligent than I had previously given her credit for. But at that time, I had things to do. I was planning on smoothing things out and leaving it there, but being the sick person I am, I wanted revenge. I needed revenge on the bastard who started it all.

Yes, Marko, it’s your turn to take the torturous spotlight in this story.

ᡣ𐭩

About a week or two into Ali and I’s ‘real’ relationship, I had already gotten to work on destroying Marko.

I wanted to make the last few years of his high school experience a living hell. He came after me for no apparent reason. Not one that I knew of at the time at least.

The first thing I did was confront him. And I won’t lie, I was beyond ticked off.

We met up after school, near a local corner store and that’s where I genuinely lost my shit on him. It was a shady place that we met up at. A back alley to be exact. It looked—and smelled—like a place where drug deals happen. Which they probably did.

As soon as I saw him, I pushed him up against the brick wall and just let loose.

“You! You fucking bastard! You started those rumors, didn’t you? Didn’t you? What? Did you think it would work? Huh? What the hell did I ever do to you? I haven’t done shit to you and yet you still went and tried to wreck my life! Honestly, tell me what the hell’s your problem with me!” I was ready to go on but I soon realized that he wasn’t worth my energy.

To my surprise, he was smiling the whole damn time.

“What’re you? Some sort of masochist? Are you enjoying this, you sick bastard?”

Marko simply started laughing.

He lightly pushed me off of him and dusted himself off. Like I was nothing. “Are you done yet? If so then take a walk with me, okay?”

“Yeah, like hell I will.”

“Your choice, but you’ll never get your answers if you don’t.”

At that moment all I could think of was how wildly seething with anger I was.

And did this bastard really just give me an ultimatum for information?

I sighed and pushed him forward. This was shaping up to be a really annoying situation. He led the way and pulled out a cigarette.

“Want one?” he asked, as he gestured the box towards me.

“I’m not here to be all buddy-buddy with you. I honestly hate your guts. I’m just here for answers. Nothing more, nothing less. And if you’re going to waste my time, then I have other ways to get what I want.”

He pulled out a blue lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette, blowing smoke in my face. It stunk so bad. “Suit yourself, man. See, this is what I mean, you’re so fake.”

There goes that sentence again.

“What the hell are you trying to say about me then, huh?”

He took another puff and once again, blew it in my face.

“When you’re at school, or around other people, your ‘friends’ you wear this mask, dude. It’s a literal mask. You always wear that fake smile, and you act all nice and it pisses me off. I can tell that you’re not the person that people think you are. But yet they still believe you,” He stopped in his tracks and took another drag of his dwindling cigarette. This time, blowing it to the side, directly away from my face. “Why is that?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” I dismissed with a light shrug of my shoulders.

Laughing, he smiled this toothy grin and took another puff, coughing as he did so. “And the biggest liar of the year award goes to: Makoto Azura!” He steadied himself and said, “Do you really think I’m gonna believe that BS?”

“It’s not BS! You’re delusional!”

But it was BS. He wasn’t delusional. He was spot-on in everything he was saying. Which was exactly why I had to shoot him down.

“You have this fake vision of me. That I’m someone who fakes everything and is really hurting inside or some sob story bullshit like that. You’re trying to make me a victim so that you can be a hero. Isn’t that it?” I accused, jabbing my index into his chest.

“You have a hero complex and because I was at the top, not struggling at all, you wanted to take that away and try to ‘expose’ me so that you could be the hero of my story, isn’t that right? Well, it’s not going to work.”

“Oh please. Why the hell would I want any part in your life? It’s sad and dreary.” He scoffed.

“How?”

Taking one last puff of his cigarette, he dropped it to the ground, grinding it with the heel of his foot. He stepped closer, and said, “Because you’re in it.”

Now, need me remind you, Marko is about a good foot taller than me, so I was a bit intimidated by him. But at this time I was purely driven by anger, and anger alone and insanely ready to fucking deck him.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous as my fingers curled into a fist.

“For fuck’s sake, stop playing coy with me, Makoto,” He said as he flashed that smug-ass smile. God, it’s in these moments I realize how punchable his face is. “You don’t know who I am? Your father hasn’t talked about me?”

“Why would he?”

Once again he started to laugh and finally said, “My name is Marko Austin. Son of Marianne Austin.”

I was honestly going to laugh. I wanted to laugh. And at the same time, I wanted to murder my father. Because of him, my life has been a complete and utter train wreck. Of course he would fuck me over like that.

Somewhere inside, I honestly felt like hugging Marko. But the majority of me wanted to beat the living crap out of him.

“Do you get it now? Your father is a homewrecker.” He finally spat.

Sitting down, I leaned my head against the wall. How could I be so rash? I should’ve just come out and asked him in a calm manner. Instead, I acted just like the bastard who started it all.

Marko stood next to me and handed me a cigarette. “Want one now?”

Unfortunately, I did. And so I took it out of his hand and stood up. This obviously wasn’t my first time but I didn’t do it often. So, he pulled me a bit closer, giving me a light and I coughed as I breathed in the disgusting thing.

He pulled another out for himself too.

I sighed, taking a puff. Honestly, one moment ago I was ready to rip this guy’s throat out, now I was sharing a smoke with him? How cliché.

“So, what now?” He asked, calmly.

“What the hell do you mean ‘what now’? My question is still left unanswered. Why did you do it?”

Turning towards me, he sighed, “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one here. Azura, I did it because your dad ruined my life. But, talking with you now, I’m assuming you didn’t know. Did you?”

“No, I didn’t. I only found out recently and even so, that doesn’t give you a right or an excuse to do what you did to me,” I said, blowing smoke in his face, conveying my own frustration at the whole ordeal through the plumes.

I watched Marko’s face turn to one of somber understanding. Doubting he felt remorse but rather just slightly guilty for bringing in an unsuspecting third party to someone else's funeral.

As much as I wanted to walk right in and beat the brakes off of my deadbeat father, there was a small ‘eureka’ moment that enveloped me as I smirked. “You want to ruin his life? So do I.” I said calmly, my face one of newfound determination and conniving intent.

“Hear this, if you get all those stupid fucking rumors to subside, entirely then I'll get you what you want,” I began. “But after that, I want to never see your face again. Rather it be a passing glance, in the halls, or even in public, I want nothing to do with you. Understood?” The offer was a bit rash. I was surprised that I even put it out there whilst my blood still boiled from his immature leap to action that had caused me so much damn trouble.

Studying his expression for a moment, I saw the hesitation. He knew me–or rather, he thought he did–and so he should've known there was a catch. Maybe he did, but nonetheless, he shook my hand, agreeing to the offer without batting an eye. With that, I slipped him a business card of sorts with my contact info on it.

I pushed off of the wall, dropping my cigarette and letting it fizzle out as I stepped on it without mercy. Walking away, I raised a dismissive hand to wave.

“Call me, if I don't pick up, I'm ignoring you.” I purred before beginning on the path down the streets and back to my oh-so humble abode. Now to be a crash site for everything ready to unfold.

Orange and pink tinted skies, hues illuminating and casting harsh shadows over the neighborhoods gave me a sense of calm before a fucking tsunami. If I was going to make this all play out in my favor; bringing my father to his knees, freeing myself and my mother from his constrictive grasp, as well as getting my swift and merciless revenge on Marko, I'd have to play all sides. This was sure to be fun.

A/N: First chapter is published!! Thanks to an amazing delay from my dearest friend but after the long wait the series has kicked off! Please enjoy and leave lots of love so I can know if you want to see how this story unfolds! 🥡🥢

[backtonormallife]

This is also one of my favorites. Miss Guillaume’s beard. @the-cat-with-the-emerald-tiara-1

[doyourememberrocknrollradio]

Luciano Pavarotti's Last Public Performance - Torino 2006 Opening Ceremo...

[sagauobsessed]

Cinderella.

On to part 2 of my 50 followers event! This is partially inspired by this anon -

Although it isn't the exact same premise as my Diluc one, I hope you still enjoy it! I'm not very good at writing Miko though, so it might be ooc.

Contains - Miko being flirty, she kinda doesn't care that you are the creator, she's still going to be a menace, me finally using the golden blood trope, you are chaotic and also a kitsune

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It is time for the annual celebration of the Creator in Inazuma and Yae Miko will let nothing get in the way of the ceremony. So when a fox with golden blood causes havoc, she will not rest until she tracks it down. It doesn't matter how many foxes she must check until she finds the one.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Lady Guuji! The fox is back."

Yae Miko liked to think that she was not an unfair person or someone who got impatient easily.

After all, she waited 500 years for Ei to return from the Plane of Euthymia.

However this fox was beginning to truly test her patience.

And Miko LIKED foxes!

But something about this one and the manner of which it was acting was truly beginning to annoy her.

Miko was more than willing to make sly jokes and cause problems for her fellow shrine maidens and the Traveller.

But she would NEVER go so far as to attempt to disrupt the preparations for the Creators ceremony.

She had standards, even a crafty fox like her would not stoop so low.

"Ignore it, Maki. I have plans for it."

No true fox would have the intelligence to break into the Narukami Shrine, Miko was certain of that, so it seemed she was dealing with one of her own.

Another Kitsune.

A strained yelp echoed from the courtyard, signalling that it was time for Yae Miko to confront her little troublemaker.

But as Miko stepped out, ready to deliver punishment to the thorn in her side, she was met with no fox, just a few shrine maidens.

She bent down to inspect the wards she had created, specifically designed to ensnare the kitsune, but found the wards ruined.

The kitsune had destroyed her wards.

Now THAT, that was trouble. A kitsune with the power to directly go against her magic...

It would have to be destroyed.

As Miko turned, hell bent on tracking down this creature, her eyes caught on the rack of decorative swords sitting nearby and the reason for the fox's yelp made sense.

Because covering one of the swords was a golden liquid, that Miko's nose instantly told her was blood.

It seemed that in its hurry to run away from the Guuji, the kitsune had brushed up against the sword.

Gold blood, how curious. It would be an interesting plot for a light novel.

But that did not matter right now.

What mattered was that Miko had a trail to follow.

Yae Miko had spent 5 hours combing the forests of Narukami Island and was still no closer to finding her culprit.

No matter how many kitsunes she came across, not one had gold blood and none could direct her towards one that did.

Miko's patience was fast running thin, she had things to be doing, but until this troublemaker was dealt with, she could not rest.

But eventually her persistence was rewarded.

"Gold blood?" The group of kitsune that Miko was interrogating shared a worried glance.

"Ah, so you do know the one I am searching for. Perfect. I trust that you will tell me their name, so I can properly deal with them."

"I-I don't think we can do that, Lady Guuji."

"Hmm? You can't? You would aide a criminal who has attempted to derail our most precious ceremo-"

"That's enough, Miko."

For quite possibly the first time in her life, Miko was speechless.

Because you, the most powerful and worshipped being in all of Teyvat, were casually leaning against a tree, as though your very presence was not a miracle.

Yae Miko heard the other kitsune scatter, but it did not matter to her.

"Your Holiness? Why, this is a most pleasant surpr-"

Her voice cut off as you shifted, your shirt riding up to reveal a golden scar across your stomach.

"Oh? You are the troublemaker that has vexed me so much over the last few days? I expected better of our dearest Creator. Did you hate the decoration for the event so much that you could do nothing but tear them up?"

You blushed slightly at Miko's words, prompting another wave of teasing.

"Was it simply that you wanted my attention, hmm? If that was it, all you had to do was ask, you didn't need to go to all this effort."

"..."

"You'll have to speak up, Your Holiness. I'm getting quite deaf in my old age."

"...imsorryforbotheringyouandruiningyourdecorationsijustwantedyourattention."

"Really? How sweet. You really are more trouble than you're worth though. Think of all the extra work I have to do now! If our Creator themself is attending the ceremony, there are so many more preparations to do. Come on, seeing as you are the cause of this headache, the least you can do is keep me company."

And so the two kitsune returned to the Narukami Shrine, Yae sporting a cheerful grin the whole time, knowing that she had finally found her gold-blooded troublemaker.

Link to the other parts of this event here.

Enjoy and feel free to comment and send asks!

[the-eternal-quest-for-balance]

Jill Biden criticized for praising 'spectacular' Olympics opening ceremo...

[book-fight-club-au]

Memory 4: Mark’s betrayal

Warnings: Violence, Major Character Death

“You really mucked this one up Mark. None of them could even cast ceremony-“ he frowns “or you changed your strategy. You’re just aiming to kill both me and Scam Likely now.” He steps over the body of a barbarian that was still disintegrating. “Lazy information gathering either way. That party was weak. I’m disappointed. How much of a pushover do you think I am?”

Mark has two of her arms crossed, with a disappointed expression on his features. She shrugs in protest.

"Hey, they got further than the last group. You almost always oneshot them anyway. I figured since there were more of them, they'd have a better shot. Though after that, I'm kind of out of ideas…"

“What is even the point then? To annoy me?” He flicks a significant amount of blood from his katana, frowning.

"Can't I just say I want to see my big brother?" Mark sighs, and then smiles. "Honestly, this is the most we've seen each other in years. Before you drew that card, you were all over the place. I have to admit… this is kind of nice."

He hesitates but lowers his katana. “It is… kind of nice. I’m glad you’re finally seeing that Mark. I’ve been trying to tell you, I’m an improvement.” He steps closer.

“It’s different. And I was startled at first, but you’re right. I think this is better.” Mark looks at Well and uncrosses his arms. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I’ll try my best to make it up to you.” He steps forward and opens his arms a little bit. “Awkward sibling hug?”

He looks Mark over and relaxes further. “I’m glad. I think a fresh start… would be nice.” He moves close, wrapping one set of his arms around Mark’s waist, happy to finally be understood.

Mark wraps her arms around Well Actually, glancing at the ring on the pointer finger of one hand that hovered in the air behind Well’s back.

“I agree. All we need is a fresh start,” Mark says, pressing the hand into Well’s back and closing his eyes. “And that’s what we’ll get. Ceremony!”

Utter betrayal wracks his body the second the light of the spell hits his back. For a moment it looks like it might take but then Well’s fists tighten in the back of Mark’s shirt, Lifting his Katana to Mark’s throat “Don’t.”

“I promised that I would save you,” Mark whispers dryly. He’s not stupid. He knows his chance of success is nearly zero. This doesn’t end with him walking out of here. “I promised, no matter what.”

“I trusted you and you tried to KILL ME!” The betrayal starts to morph into pure rage. “I thought you understood me!” He presses the blade harder against Mark’s throat.

“I do understand you. I understand you better than you understand yourself right now, and- it’s okay, big brother. It’s alright. I’m going to save you. Ceremo-”

The blade of the Katana cuts through. Ending both Mark and his casting at the same time. Well stills completely, shocked by his own movement. He stares up at where his sibling’s face would have- should have been in near horror.

“It didn’t- …. It didn’t have to end this way.”

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Naming Ceremony (short story)

Alderstar lay upon the fattest low hanging-branch of an alder tree, though one would be forgiven for not being able to properly identify it with every leaf blackened and scattered upon the ground. Grousemane had suggested the location for his ceremonies and meetings long ago–it was easy to remember. Alderstar would be found at the alder tree. Not to mention its height, standing out among the other massive trees, was useful in finding the place. It was helpful, too, that it was in eye-view of the Eye-Out Thorns, though far enough for the more faint-hearted to feel comfortable.

Once everyone was gathered, he rose and spoke loudly across the small space. “Welcome, kin and friends.” So many ceremonies like this had passed that he had forgotten what words would have been spoken when he was alive and the leader of Shadowclan. Something about their warrior ancestors, he’s sure. But those were taught to him by his father and the leaders before them. These are his own words. Every leader who gives names gives them with their own words.

Alderstar had even gotten into a routine, too. Or perhaps it is better to call it a tradition. Because he no longer lived in a Clan and was much less likely to know the traits that some cats had, parents who planned to have him do the naming would inform him. Sometimes when they were about to become ‘paws, sometimes when they were kits or even expecting. 

Alderstar would then occasionally watch the kits train, observe them. He would take time to speak one-on-one with the parents, mentor, and the kit themself. It was a good way to pass the time. He found he greatly enjoyed having something to do, too he greatly enjoyed thinking up warrior names, and he was satisfied with the ones he picked out for this batch.

“Today, we honour six apprentices, who defied their fate long ago. Had the Stars had their way, they would have remained small and defenseless.” The faces of several of the apprentices–namely Smallpaw–snarled at the idea. “We are not the Stars,” Alderstar said with pride, his chin lifted and chest puffed out. The families and mentors in the crowd purred in agreement. “We defied them, we defied the logics of death, and we grew. Now, we shall honour the growth, the strength, and the courage in these six young cats, now ready to become full warriors of the Place of No Stars.”

Yowls of excitement rang around the clearing. Alderstar waited patiently for them to calm down before going on. He had plenty of time. “Antpaw, step forward.”

Antpaw did as told, his steps shaky and his eyes round. “For your resistance against fate, and your heedful nature, you shall from this day forth be known as Antgrove.” 

He was happy to see Antgrove’s worry-edged smile quickly shift to one of delight as he dipped his head, and moved to the front of the crowd. All names had to have meaning, that was Alderstar’s rule. Antgrove loved to explore groves. It was where he was the most comfortable, where he felt the most peace. Alderstar had hoped that by giving him the name, he was hearing that his introverted nature was not only being noticed, but celebrated. Judging by the look on his face, it had been heard.

“Smallpaw, step forward.” 

Smallpaw’s reaction was much different. His body was tense, clearly it took a lot for him to pad forward gracefully and not simply race to the open space in which he would stand.

“For your resistance against fate, and your fierce bites, both real and metaphorical, you shall from this day forth be known as Smallclaw.”

Smallclaw’s smirk was broad. He took a moment to bask in the attention before he dipped his head and padded to sit beside who might have once been his brother. Alderstar wasn’t sure, all he knew was that the kits separated because of the different views they had on their deaths and crime.

“Hootpaw, step forward.” Alderstar had to hold back a smile as the name reminded him of his lovely mate. He was definitely going to nuzzle her and Myrtlewing once this ceremony was over. 

Hootpaw padded forward patiently. His ears were pricked and he looked up at Alderstar with interest and patience. Alderstar had wondered a long time how to convey THAT in a name.  “For your resistance against fate, and your ability to follow the wind so long as you see fit, you shall be known as Hootbloom.” Hootbloom’s eyes shone with a hint of pleasure, and something more beneath that.

It was good. Flowers bloom at different paces, some slow, some fast, but they all open up in the end. The same went for the kit. He had patience that astonished Alderstar, but the patience was for himself–he only felt it because time mattered only to him. He was slow and easy when he wanted to be, and fast as a frog’s tongue when he wanted to be. He bloomed when he wanted to bloom, it was no one else’s choice. This name was a way to announce it.

“Cinderpaw, step forward.”

Cinderpaw raced to the spot before Alderstar had finished the final word, her eyes wide and bright, and her fur dusty from the run. Kiteburn huffed in irritation where he sat with his and Cinderpaw’s family.

“For your resistance against fate, and your ability to see the heart in everyone, even when cold ice surrounds it, you shall, from this day forward, be known as Cinderrose.” The colours differed in meaning. Alderstar imagined the pink and white ones, happiness and innocence. Those were the two words that always sprang to mind whenever he thought of Cinderrose. She was an eager young cat, always ready to learn and make new friends. Even then, he could see the trauma that she was pushing away. He didn’t want to make her think about it now, or anytime she heard her name, so he stuck with the positives. Perhaps she could find help or figure out how to accept her past now that she didn’t have so much time taken up by training.

“Flarepaw, step forward,” Alderstar continued once Cinderrose was seated beside Antgrove, Smallclaw, and Hootbloom.

Flarepaw was slower. He didn’t look afraid, more curious, like he was still shocked that he could really be receiving his warrior ceremony even though he had died as a kit. Alderstar gave him a reassuring smile. “For your resistance against fate, and the justice that burns like fire in your paws, you shall, from this day forth, be known as Flarelight.” It was a double-name, what flares brings light, but Flarelight does in two ways as well. He brightens the space wherever he is, making jokes and always making sure that everyone is as comfortable as can be. As well, he never looks away when he notices that someone is being mistreated, even by a single whisker. He sheds light on the situation until it is solved.

Flarelight’s whiskers quivered in delight. He took a moment to grin at his father, Cricketclaw, before joining the line.

“Lavenderpaw, step forward.”

Lavenderpaw was not slow nor fast, she moved at an even pace, though stumbled a few times as she was unable to remove her gaping gaze from Alderstar in the tree above her. “For your resistance against fate, your way of hearing sorrows and spreading joy, you shall from this day forth be known as Lavenderspring.” It was another name with two meanings, one indicating the spring Lavenderspring always tried to bring to everyone’s steps, and in symbolism to the body of water, gentle and comfortable, which she always tried to be to those who needed it.

There was one more part of the ceremony that had to be done. He leaped from the branch and padded toward Antgrove. “Are you ready?” He asked.

Antgrove’s voice quivered. “Yes. I would like it by my tail.”

“Stand.”

Antgrove did as told. He sucked in a breath, and Alderstar laid a claw across his skin. He dragged it down deep enough to last, but not enough to cause serious damage. Then he laid another, smaller mark beside and just across it. “You are a true warrior now,” Alderstar told him. He repeated the markings onto the other newly-named warriors on areas of their choosing, before backing up and addressing the crowd once more. “Let us call out their names, and tell the Stars they have no strength here.!”

“Lavenderspring!”

“Antgrove!”

“Smallclaw!”

“Flarelight!”

“Hootbloom!”

“Cinderrose!”

================================

I will be explaining how the kits differed when the grew, and this claw ceremony thing! Basically really, it’s different leaders conducting ceremonies mark cats they named. I figured in the Dark Forest, that wouldn’t be frowned upon at all. Alder’s marking is like a branch with a thorn on it.

@frightnightindustries

@wills-woodland-warriors

[epicfx]

Sikh Wedding Videographer: Capturing Tradition, Love, and Memories

Introduction

Sikh weddings, rich in tradition and vibrant culture, are more than just ceremonies—they are profound celebrations of faith, family, and love. Capturing these moments requires a professional who understands the intricacies of Sikh customs, rituals, and the unique visual storytelling required for such an occasion. This is where a Sikh wedding videographer steps in, playing a pivotal role in preserving every sacred and joyous moment of the big day. From the colorful pre-wedding ceremonies to the emotional Anand Karaj and lively reception, a skilled videographer ensures that these memories are cherished for generations.

Importance of a Sikh Wedding Videographer

A Sikh wedding videographer does much more than just operate a camera; they are tasked with narrating the love story of the couple and the unity of their families through a lens. Sikh weddings are filled with emotional moments, vibrant colors, and elaborate customs that need to be captured with precision and care. Whether it’s the serene prayers in the Gurdwara, the traditional bride’s entry, or the exuberant Bhangra during the reception, the right videographer ensures that no moment is missed.

Understanding the Sikh Wedding Rituals

To truly appreciate the role of a Sikh wedding videographer, one must understand the structure and significance of a Sikh wedding. Sikh weddings are built on centuries of tradition, and the videographer’s responsibility is to immortalize these rituals. Here’s a brief overview of some key events that occur:

Pre-Wedding Ceremonies: Before the wedding day, there are a series of important ceremonies like the Roka, Kurmai (engagement), Sangeet (music night), and Mehndi (henna ceremony). Each event is unique and carries its own emotional significance.

Anand Karaj: The actual Sikh wedding ceremony is called Anand Karaj, which translates to "blissful union." This is a religious ceremony held at a Gurdwara (Sikh temple), where the bride and groom pledge their union in front of the Guru Granth Sahib (the Sikh holy scripture). The ceremony includes the Laavan, where the couple walks around the holy scripture four times.

Post-Wedding Celebrations: After the ceremony, the reception and the various cultural celebrations begin. These are lively, full of dancing, music, and festivity, giving the videographer plenty of dynamic moments to capture.

A good videographer will not only document the various elements of the wedding but will also focus on the emotions, reactions, and love shared between the couple, family, and guests.

What to Look for in a Sikh Wedding Videographer

When choosing a Sikh wedding videographer, there are several key factors that couples should consider to ensure their special day is perfectly captured.

1. Experience with Sikh Weddings

It’s crucial to hire a videographer who has prior experience with Sikh weddings. The traditions and customs are unique, and someone familiar with the sequence of events will be better equipped to anticipate and capture the essential moments. An experienced videographer will understand the importance of rituals like the Milni (formal meeting of the families), the Laavan (four rounds of the holy scripture), and the Doli (bride's departure) and will know the best angles and timing to shoot these events.

2. Cinematic vs. Documentary Style

Sikh wedding videographers typically offer two types of video styles: cinematic and documentary.

Cinematic: This is more of an artistic, stylized representation of the wedding day. It involves a lot of creativity, slow-motion shots, transitions, and sometimes even drone footage to give the wedding video a grand, film-like quality.

Documentary: This style focuses on recording events as they unfold, keeping it more traditional and straightforward. The focus is on capturing every moment as it happens in chronological order, with minimal editing.

Many couples prefer a blend of both, where the main ceremonies are documented in detail, but artistic shots and montages are included for the highlights.

3. Use of Technology

The technological capabilities of a videographer are important, especially for a Sikh wedding, where the events unfold quickly and require dynamic shots. Check if they offer:

High-definition 4K video: This ensures the highest quality for your wedding video.

Drone footage: For stunning aerial shots, especially during the Baraat (groom’s procession) or outdoor wedding venues.

Multi-camera setup: To ensure that no important angle or moment is missed, such as the bride’s entrance and the groom’s reaction at the same time.

4. Editing and Post-Production

A lot of the magic happens during the editing phase. It’s important to discuss what kind of editing style the videographer offers, whether they include:

Color grading for enhanced visuals

Adding music to the video that matches the theme of the wedding

Special effects and transitions

It’s also worth discussing the delivery timeline to ensure that the final video is provided within a reasonable time frame after the wedding.

5. Client Testimonials and Portfolio

One of the most reliable ways to assess a videographer’s capabilities is through their portfolio and client reviews. Make sure to watch previous Sikh wedding videos they’ve done to gauge their style, attention to detail, and ability to capture the essence of the ceremonies. Client testimonials can also provide insights into their professionalism, punctuality, and reliability.

The Role of Storytelling in Sikh Wedding Videography

What makes wedding videography truly special is the art of storytelling. A Sikh wedding videographer doesn’t just record the day’s events; they weave them together into a beautiful narrative. The couple’s personal story, how they met, their journey together, and their families’ joy are all incorporated into the final video.

The videographer captures key moments such as the bride’s emotions during the Doli, the exchange of garlands, and the significance of the Laavan, creating a seamless blend of tradition, personal connection, and celebration. By paying attention to the couple’s dynamics and interactions with their loved ones, the videographer ensures that the story told is heartfelt and reflective of the wedding’s emotional depth.

The Growing Popularity of Live Streaming

As technology advances, live streaming has become increasingly popular in Sikh weddings, particularly for couples with family and friends across the globe. A Sikh wedding videographer can offer live streaming services to ensure that even those who can’t attend in person can still be a part of the celebration in real-time. This is especially useful for Anand Karaj ceremonies held in Gurdwaras, where space can be limited.

Budget Considerations

The cost of hiring a Sikh wedding videographer can vary depending on the length of coverage, the number of videographers involved, and the level of post-production required. Some offer packages that cover everything from the pre-wedding events to the reception, while others may offer more customized options. Typically, a full-day videography service with high-quality production can range anywhere from £2,000 to £6,000 or more, depending on the location and services included.

Couples should carefully review their budget and ensure that the chosen package aligns with their vision for their wedding video. While it may be tempting to go for cheaper options, it’s important to remember that wedding videos are lifelong keepsakes, and it’s worth investing in quality.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Why is it important to hire a videographer experienced in Sikh weddings?

Sikh weddings have unique customs, traditions, and religious rituals that need to be captured with respect and understanding. A videographer experienced in Sikh weddings will know the sequence of events and how to document them with precision and care.

What is the difference between cinematic and documentary videography?

Cinematic videography is more artistic, with creative shots and transitions, often giving the wedding video a film-like quality. Documentary videography focuses on capturing the events as they happen, keeping the recording straightforward and detailed.

How long does it take to receive the final wedding video?

The timeline for receiving the final video can vary depending on the videographer and the amount of editing involved. Typically, couples can expect to receive their edited video within 4 to 12 weeks after the wedding.

Can the videographer capture both the bride and groom’s preparations?

Yes, many Sikh wedding videographers offer multi-camera setups or work with a team to ensure they can capture both the bride and groom’s preparations, as well as other key events happening simultaneously.

Do Sikh wedding videographers offer live streaming?

Yes, many videographers offer live streaming services, which allow family and friends who cannot attend the wedding in person to participate in the celebrations in real-time.

Conclusion

Hiring a Sikh wedding videographer is a crucial step in preserving the memories of one of the most important days in a couple’s life. With the right professional, couples can relive every emotional, joyous, and sacred moment of their wedding day for years to come. From the rich traditions of the Anand Karaj to the lively celebrations of the reception, a skilled videographer will ensure that every cherished memory is captured beautifully and professionally. When choosing a Sikh wedding videographer, couples should prioritize experience, storytelling ability, and the use of modern technology to create a timeless keepsake that will be treasured for generations.

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The Allure of Pakistani Bridal Dresses: A Deep Dive into Tradition and Style

Pakistani bridal dresses are renowned worldwide for their intricate designs, vibrant colors, and the deep cultural heritage they represent. These dresses are more than just garments; they are a testament to centuries of tradition, artistry, and the rich tapestry of Pakistani culture.

The Essence of Tradition

Pakistani bridal dresses encapsulate the essence of Pakistani traditions. Each region in Pakistan, from Punjab to Sindh, Balochistan to Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, boasts its unique bridal attire, reflecting its distinct cultural influences. These dresses often incorporate traditional embroidery techniques, such as Zari, Zardozi, and Gota, which have been passed down through generations.

A Pakistani bride's attire is not just about the dress; it is a holistic ensemble that includes intricate jewelry, elaborate hairstyles, and henna designs. Together, these elements create a look that is regal and timeless.

The Design and Craftsmanship

The design of Pakistani bridal dresses in Pakistan  is a meticulous process that involves skilled artisans who specialize in hand embroidery, beadwork, and fabric embellishments. The craftsmanship is often detailed, with artisans spending countless hours to create a single dress. The materials used include luxurious fabrics like silk, velvet, and chiffon, often adorned with gold and silver threads, beads, sequins, and pearls.

Each dress is a work of art, reflecting the bride's personality and the cultural significance of the occasion. The design process typically starts months in advance, with consultations between the bride, her family, and the designer to ensure that every detail aligns with the bride's vision and cultural expectations.

The Evolution of Styles

While tradition plays a significant role, Pakistani bridal dresses have evolved over the years to incorporate contemporary styles. Modern brides often seek a balance between traditional and contemporary elements, resulting in unique and personalized bridal attire.

Designers have started experimenting with new cuts, innovative draping techniques, and modern color palettes. However, even with these contemporary touches, the essence of Pakistani culture remains intact. This blend of old and new has given rise to a dynamic bridal fashion scene in Pakistan, where brides can choose from a wide range of styles that suit their tastes and preferences.

The Role of Color

Color plays a vital role in Pakistani bridal dresses pk. Traditionally, red is the most popular color for bridal attire, symbolizing love, passion, and prosperity. However, modern brides are increasingly opting for a broader spectrum of colors, including pastels, golds, and even whites. Each color carries its own significance and can be chosen based on personal preference or cultural symbolism.

For instance, green is often associated with fertility and prosperity, while gold symbolizes wealth and opulence. The choice of color can also be influenced by regional traditions and family customs, making each bridal dress a unique representation of the bride's cultural heritage.

The Jewelry and Accessories

No Pakistani bridal look is complete without the right jewelry and accessories. Traditional bridal jewelry includes heavy necklaces, earrings, bangles, and rings, often made of gold and encrusted with precious stones. The maang tikka, a headpiece that sits on the bride's forehead, is a quintessential part of the bridal ensemble.

Additionally, brides often wear a nose ring called a nath, which is another traditional accessory that adds to the bridal charm. The jewelry is not just about adornment; it carries cultural and familial significance, often being passed down from generation to generation as heirlooms.

The Significance of Henna

Henna, or mehndi, is an integral part of Pakistani bridal traditions. The bride's hands and feet are adorned with intricate henna designs, which are applied during a pre-wedding ceremony called the Mehndi night. These designs are not only beautiful but also carry cultural significance, symbolizing joy, beauty, and spiritual awakening.

The Mehndi night is a celebratory event filled with music, dance, and vibrant festivities. It is a time for the bride to bond with her family and friends, and the intricate henna patterns add to the overall bridal beauty.

The Influence of Celebrity Weddings

Celebrity weddings have a significant impact on bridal fashion trends in Pakistan. High-profile weddings often set the stage for new trends in bridal attire. Celebrities and influencers showcase the latest designs, which are quickly adopted by brides-to-be. This influence extends to social media, where images of celebrity bridal dresses are widely shared and admired, inspiring countless brides in their own wedding planning.

Designers often look to celebrity weddings to gauge emerging trends and preferences, ensuring that their collections stay relevant and appealing to modern brides. The fusion of traditional and contemporary styles seen in celebrity weddings often translates into mainstream bridal fashion, further enriching the Pakistani bridal dress landscape.

The Shopping Experience

Shopping for a Pakistani bridal dress is an experience in itself. Bridal boutiques and designers offer a personalized shopping experience, where brides can try on different styles, consult with designers, and customize their dresses to their liking. The process is often accompanied by family members, making it a memorable and cherished experience.

In recent years, online shopping has also become a popular option for bridal dresses. Many designers offer virtual consultations and customizations, allowing brides from around the world to access and order their dream dresses. This accessibility has expanded the reach of Pakistani bridal fashion, making it possible for brides globally to embrace this rich cultural heritage.

The Cultural Significance

Pakistani bridal dresses are deeply embedded in the cultural and social fabric of Pakistan. They symbolize not only the union of two individuals but also the coming together of families and communities. Weddings are grand celebrations that reflect the social and cultural values of Pakistani society, and the bridal dress is a central element of these celebrations.

The attire worn by a Pakistani bride is a reflection of her family's traditions, values, and social standing. It is a way to honor and preserve cultural heritage while also celebrating personal identity and style. This dual significance makes Pakistani bridal dresses a unique and treasured aspect of the wedding experience.

Conclusion

Pakistani bridal dresses are a blend of tradition, artistry, and modernity. They represent the rich cultural heritage of Pakistan while also adapting to contemporary fashion trends. The intricate designs, luxurious fabrics, and vibrant colors make these dresses a symbol of beauty and elegance. Whether steeped in tradition or infused with modern elements, Pakistani bridal dresses continue to captivate and inspire. They are a testament to the skill and creativity of designers and artisans, and a celebration of the cultural richness and diversity of Pakistan. For brides, wearing a Pakistani bridal dress is not just about looking beautiful; it is about embracing and honoring their cultural heritage, creating memories that will be cherished for a lifetime

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Your wedding day is a whirlwind of emotions – joy, laughter, love overflowing. But amidst the ceremony and celebrations, there’s one crucial element that binds it all together: the wedding banquet. It’s where heartfelt toasts are raised, delicious food is savored, and lasting memories are made with loved ones.