#custom made ethnic wear

[samyakk-fashion]

Dress to Impress: The Latest Gown Trends at Samyakk

Introduction:

“Drape Yourself in Luxury”

In this blog, we delve deep into the realm of Exclusive Designer Evening Gown, exploring the latest trends in Latest Designer Gown for Bride and offering insights into the art of creating Bespoke Event Gown. From Party dresses for Women to Bridal Gown Dresses, and Cocktail Dresses for Wedding to Custom-made Designer Evening Gown, we leave no stone unturned in our quest to unveil the epitome of style and elegance in women’s fashion.

As we delve deeper into the world of evening wear, we uncover the allure of Exclusive Evening Gown Outfit for Bride. Perfect for those special moments that call for a touch of sophistication and flair, cocktail dresses exude charm and elegance. With their versatile designs and flattering silhouettes, they are the epitome of effortless chic.

Unveiling Your Dream Wedding Look

Your wedding day is a momentous occasion, and finding the perfect Bridal Gown for Women or Wedding Gown for Women is a crucial part of making it unforgettable. This guide will be your compass as you navigate the enchanting world of evening wear, offering insights into various styles that will make you feel like the most radiant version of yourself.

Exploring a Spectrum of Elegance:

High Fashion Evening Wear: Craving a modern, trendsetting statement? Look no further than High Fashion Evening Wear. Imagine yourself in a sleek, contemporary gown that exudes elegance fit for a red carpet.

Designer Ballroom Dress: Channel your inner fairytale princess with a luxurious Designer Ballroom Dress. Picture yourself gliding across the dance floor in a gown designed by a renowned fashion house, a masterpiece of opulence and grandeur.

Trendy Designer Formal Gown: Embrace the latest trends with a fashion-forward Trendy Designer Formal Gown. Envision yourself in a unique and captivating piece that embodies modern sophistication.

Beyond the Labels:

This journey goes beyond simple categories! We’ll delve into specific styles like a-line, mermaid, and sheath gowns, helping you find the silhouette that flatters your figure and complements your wedding theme. We’ll also explore various necklines, fabrics, and embellishments, allowing you to personalize your Bridal Gown for Women or Wedding Gown for Women and create a truly unforgettable look.

Samyakk offers a curated selection of designer gowns that cater to a variety of styles and preferences. Whether you crave the modern allure of High Fashion Evening Wear or the timeless elegance of a Designer Ballroom Dress, Samyakk has the perfect gown to make you shine on your special day.

Why Evening Gowns Are So Popular?

Evening gowns have long been a symbol of elegance and sophistication, captivating the hearts of women around the world. From red carpet events to gala dinners, these timeless garments continue to reign supreme in the world of fashion. But what is it about evening gowns that makes them so popular?

1. Versatility:

One of the key reasons behind the popularity of evening gowns is their versatility. Whether you’re attending a glamorous wedding or a formal dinner party, there’s an evening gown to suit every occasion. From the ethereal charm of a Latest Designer Gown for Bride to the classic elegance of an Embroidered Net Evening Gown, the options are endless.

2. Luxurious Fabrics:

Another factor that contributes to the allure of evening gowns is the use of luxurious fabrics. From sumptuous satin to delicate georgette, these gowns are crafted from the finest materials to ensure both comfort and style. A Satin Cocktail Gown drapes elegantly against the body, while a Georgette Evening Gown floats gracefully with every step.

3. Exquisite Embellishments:

Embellishments play a crucial role in enhancing the beauty of evening gowns. Whether it’s intricate embroidery, shimmering sequins, or delicate beadwork, these embellishments add a touch of glamour and sophistication to the garment. An Embroidered Glass Tissue Cocktail Gown sparkles under the lights, while a Shimmer Indowestern Gown exudes opulence and charm.

4. Variety of Colors:

Evening gowns come in a plethora of colors to suit every taste and preference. From classic shades of black and white to bold hues of Pink Designer Evening Gown and Blue Evening Gown, there’s a color to match every mood and occasion. An Exclusive Purple Evening Gown makes a bold statement, while a Beige Bridal Gown exudes timeless elegance.

5. Timeless Appeal:

Perhaps the most significant reason for the enduring popularity of evening gowns is their timeless appeal. These garments have been a staple in women’s wardrobes for centuries, transcending trends and fads. Whether it’s a classic White Dress or a trendy Party Dress for Women from brands like Samyakk, an evening gown never goes out of style. Transition seamlessly from ceremony to reception in our Net & Silk Reception Gown, designed to captivate from every angle. Embrace modern elegance with our Crepe Indowestern Gown, which will make you look fabulous on any event.

Glamorous Gown Outfit Selection at Samyakk.com

Looking for the perfect attire for your upcoming events? Look no further than Samyakk. Our curated collection features an exquisite range of attire to suit every occasion. From elegant Contemporary Ethnic Dresses to glamorous Reception Gowns, we have everything you need to make a statement.

Step into the spotlight with our stunning Cocktail Gowns, perfect for adding a touch of sophistication to any soirée. Planning your Sangeet ceremony? Our collection of Sangeet Gowns will ensure you dance the night away in style.

For those special moments, indulge in our Designer Partywear Gowns that exude luxury and elegance. And for brides-to-be, our selection of Trendy Bridal Gowns will make you feel like a princess on your big day.

Materials Matter: Embroidered Net, Satin, Georgette, and More

The materials used in creating exclusive evening gowns play a crucial role in their overall look and feel. From delicate embroidered net to luxurious satin to flowing georgette, each fabric has its own unique characteristics that contribute to the beauty of the gown.

Shimmer Indowestern Gowns: Fusion of Cultures

For brides who want to add a touch of cultural flair to their wedding attire, shimmer Indowestern gowns are the perfect choice. Combining traditional Indian fabrics and techniques with contemporary Western silhouettes, these gowns are the epitome of modern elegance.

Elegance in Detail: Embroidered Glass Tissue Cocktail Gowns

The beauty of embroidered glass tissue cocktail gowns lies in their intricate detailing. From delicate floral motifs to shimmering beadwork, every stitch is carefully placed to create a gown that is both elegant and eye-catching.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

1. Are exclusive evening gowns only for brides? A: While exclusive evening gowns are popular choices for brides, they can also be worn for other special occasions such as galas, proms, and red carpet events.

2. How can I ensure my evening gown fits perfectly? A: It’s important to work with a skilled tailor or seamstress who can make any necessary alterations to ensure your gown fits like a glove.

3. What accessories pair well with exclusive evening gowns? A: Accessories such as statement jewelry, elegant heels, and a chic clutch can elevate the look of an exclusive evening gown.

4. Are exclusive evening gowns only available in traditional colors? A: No, exclusive evening gowns come in a wide range of colors, from classic whites and blacks to bold and vibrant hues.

5. Where can I find exclusive evening gowns? A: You can explore a wide selection of exclusive evening gowns at Samyakk.com, a renowned designer boutique store. With a dedication to helping customers find their desired bridal outfits, evening gowns, and more, Samyakk.com offers a curated collection of exquisite designs. Additionally, their dedicated customer support team is available 24/7 to assist overseas customers via video call, ensuring a seamless shopping experience.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, when it comes to finding the perfect attire for your special day, look no further than Samyakk, your ultimate destination for exquisite ethnic and contemporary dresses. Whether you’re searching for the Latest Collection Gowns for women or a Custom-made Designer Evening Gown, Samyakk has you covered with its diverse range of options. From elegant Indo-western Dresses to intricately crafted Ethnic Gown Designs, you’ll find something to suit every style and preference.

Located in Bangalore, Samyakk stands out as a premier Online Wedding Outfit Store and Ethnic Wedding Outfit Store known for its exceptional quality and craftsmanship. With a commitment to offering the finest selection of attire for brides and wedding guests alike, Samyakk ensures that every customer feels confident and beautiful on their special day.

So why settle for anything less than perfection? Trust Samyakk to provide you with the epitome of elegance and style for your wedding or any other special occasion. Happy Shopping…

[6edesign]

For the modern man seeking elegance and tradition, the Sherwani remains an iconic choice for special occasions. Embracing timeless sophistication with a touch of cultural flair, the Sherwani by 6e Design embodies exquisite craftsmanship and impeccable style. Each piece reflects meticulous attention to detail, featuring intricate embroidery, rich fabrics, and tailored silhouettes that exude sophistication. Whether it's a wedding celebration, festive event, or formal gathering, the Sherwani by 6e Design elevates the wearer's presence with its regal charm and contemporary finesse. Experience the epitome of luxury and refinement with 6e Design's Sherwani collection, where tradition meets modernity in perfect harmony. Contact us +91 9700550251 or visit https://6edesign.com/

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 27: Gloryhole - Nick Fowler

Summary: You worked in a club that catered to the wealthy and powerful, with the job to satisfy them all in whatever way they wished. But what happens when the person needing satisfaction happens to be your boss, Nick Fowler?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, reader!stripper/prostitute, multiple customers, oral (m!receiving), degradation, possessive, deepthroat, fingering, glory hole, rough sex, praise kink, sir kink, creampie

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

Everyone gathered in the centre of the club, lounging on the lavish couches or on the edge of the stage that had multiple poles and dancing areas. The place was squeaky clean and, in the brightness, looked pretty respectable for a nightclub, showing the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent by the owner on maintaining the building. However, once the lights began to dim and the music turned up to a deafening level, the club became a haven for those with power and money to do whatever seedy activities they wished.

It paid well, especially the tips from specific customers, so you were more than happy to get dolled up every night and pleasure men and women in the back rooms, dance, or perform if it was what they wished.

Picking at your intricately designed nails, you chatted casually with the other girls and one of the security, waiting for the boss to come and inform everyone where they were positioned for the day. To ensure that your skills are kept up to top quality, the girls are usually moved around, and today, you were hoping to avoid being on the stage, needing a break from spinning and dancing as your muscles were starting to feel the strain of it.

The whispers hushed to silence as Mr Fowler strutted in, his signature smirk and crisp suit hugging his body to perfection. You couldn’t help but straighten your posture, the nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach that always seemed to come whenever he was in the room. He was a powerful man and your boss, making your need to impress him more severe.

“Evening, everyone. I hope you’ve all had a good night's sleep because you’ve got a long night ahead of you. We have some special guests tonight who have heard the rumours on my…samplings”, he gestured to the girls around the room that he’d made sure all had different ethnicities, shapes, heights, eye colours, everything you could possibly think of to appease to whoever would come and spend their money in his club. With his hands in his pockets, Mr Fowler began leisurely walking around the room, addressing each girl and where he wanted them to be.

Your breaths paused as he stopped before you, his startling bright eyes exploring your body, which was covered in a dressing gown as you’d decided to change after finding out where you would be working tonight. Refraining from letting your eyes roll as his exquisite aftershave floated over your senses, you waited for your instructions.

“Sweetheart, you’ll be in the hole. I want you to be at your very best today. I’ll be sending my special guests to you throughout the night as they like to keep things anonymous”. 

He only continued with his instructions to the other girls once you’d responded with a nod and “Yes, sir”, but his eyes lingered on your bottom lip that you’d tugged between your teeth.

It had been a while since you’d been to the glory hole, but you were somewhat thankful for this as it wasn’t as strenuous as dancing on stage for hours. You also took it as a compliment in a sick sort of way that he had trusted you to be in his most famous of locations, especially with there being some important guests.

As everyone was dismissed, you walked to your locker and prepared for the night. There wasn’t much point wearing clothes when you’d be switching between using your mouth, pussy, hands and ass if it was what the customer wished for. So, you kept the dressing gown on and collected a pillow, bottle of water, towel, and some lube.

The glory hole was in a unique set of cubicle toilets; however, even this was luxurious and not anything like the dark and dingy glory holes you were used to seeing on porn websites. Instead, it was bright and welcoming, even if it was designed to be a toilet other than the hole in the cubicle at the end. Waving to the security guy who was stationed outside of the door, you entered and breathed in the regal scents from the air fresheners as you walked to your stall. There was a small shelf above the toilet that you placed all your items on except for the pillow, which you placed on the floor, knowing you’d spend a lot of time tonight using your both and wasn’t prepared to destroy your knees by being on them for hours on the marble flooring.

As the music increased, you sat on the toilet lid and scrolled through your phone, waiting patiently for the first customer. 20 minutes pass, and the door opens, the music intensifying for a moment and then dimming as the door clicks closed. Quietly, you switched your phone off and slid onto your knees, getting comfortable on the pillow as you heard the customer step into the toilet cubicle next to yours and could see a flash of expensive-looking pinstripe suit through the circular hole in the wall.

Seconds pass, and then a had cock is slipping through the hole. Your mouth descends onto it instantly, licking a long strip up the underside. It was a couple of inches long, so you had no issue taking the length entirely, which seemed to please whoever was on the receiving end of the oral sex if the groans were anything to go by.

He didn’t last very long as you gathered the cum into your mouth and quietly spat it into the tissue. You’d learnt from past mistakes that swallowing too much cum on a night like this only made it settle heavy in your stomach and left you feeling queasy by the end of the night. It wasn’t like they could see anyway, as the customers were usually zipping themselves up and exiting.

The next few were in similar situations. They were sticking their dick through the hole, and you were sucking or jerking them off to completion. Every so often, there would be someone who wanted to dirty talk, calling you their slut, whore or other unimaginative derogatory names that increased the firmness of their length. It was all white noise to you. You were here to do one job, which, to be truthful, you did very well, so if they wanted to be vulgar, they could because, at the end of the day, you were still getting a fat paycheck.

There were occasions when the customers would push a wad of rolled-up dollars through the hole as they zipped themselves up again, which you happily stacked on the shelf. These were your favourite customers, and sometimes, when you were lucky, you’d have a couple of fingers stick through the hole, wishing to pleasure you and hear your moans. Most of the time, you faked it as it was always an awkward angle, or they just thought ramming their fingers in and out without any clitoral play would ever be enough. It wasn’t, but they didn’t need to know that you were faking an orgasm as you scrolled through TikTok.

The night passed by steadily, and so far, you’d received very positive responses from the customers, and even though your jaw was aching and hands tingling from the amount of squeezing you’d been doing, it was definitely one of your better nights. It had also become incredibly warm in the windowless room, so your dressing gown had been hung on the back of the door so that you were completely naked.

The door opens and closes as you rush to shut the water bottle in your hand, swallowing the cool liquid that soothed the dryness in your mouth. Slow, calculated steps echo and bounce off the walls as you wait on your knees for the next customer, not thinking anything of the powerful stride walking towards you. The cubicle's door opens and shuts with the lock finding its home as you try to peep through the hole to have a glimpse as to who is next.

A flash of a black suit and then a thick, long cock is passing through the hole. Your eyes widen for a second, staring at the dick in front of you. It was the best-looking cock that had been in here tonight. The dark pubes were perfectly trimmed. Even though it had an incredible length, it still was rock hard and throbbing in the air, the veins bulging along the shaft and the bulbous tip a beautiful deep maroon that you complimented would look good as a lipstick shade.

Whoever it was, had a magnificent member that for once had your abdomen warming with arousal, and you hoped that whoever it was would ask to fuck your pussy, just to feel your walls stretch around it.

You licked the palm of your hand, deciding to get a feel of him first. Your fingers only just reached each other as you wrapped around his shaft, feeling the velvety soft skin and the firmness of the thumping blood beneath the surface. He was hot in your hand, and as you squeezed him tightly and moved your fist towards his tip, a clear drip of precum bubbled into the hole.

Your tongue darted out, catching the liquid and swallowing. The moan you produced was genuine because, for once, whoever it was, the skin tasted clean and not like he’d been sitting in his ball juice for hours on end. Even the precum had a satisfying salty taste to it, but you blamed those thoughts on the increasing flame between your legs.

Sitting up further on your knees, your tongue began to gently lap at the underside of his cock, following the movements of your fist. As you reached the base, the overwhelming scent of aftershave brushed over your nose as you completely froze, eyes widening and breath stilling.

A deep chuckle that you recognised immediately floated from the other toilet. “Hmm, finally recognised me at last, have you, sweetheart?” Mr Fowler confirmed your suspicions. Your body didn’t know how to handle this news. One the one had it still in fear, throat drying and heart pounding beneath your ribs. However, it also burned even more desperately with the need to satisfy him and do something you had been hoping for for months.

Even though Nick Fowler was an incredibly handsome man, he had always kept to himself, never once indulging in the girls he employed, which helped to gain the trust of the employees. This was a double-edged sword for you, having always found him attractive beyond words, but knowing any advances that you made would be worthless and potentially see that you were fired.

So now that he was here, cock resting on your tongue and in your palm, you were conflicted with what to do.

“You see, I’ve been hearing some very, very good things about the goings on in here. So much so that these gentlemen tonight have booked in with us for a further four nights, which means my profit has increased a whole fucking lot. And that’s all down to the perfect princess in the end stall.”

You weren’t entirely sure what to say. It wasn’t like you’d been going out of your way to pleasure the people coming and going from the glory hole; you’d just been doing your regular sucking and touching, so to hear him speaking so highly of your work had a deep shiver running down your spine and pooling between your legs.

“With all the high praise, I thought it would be a good idea to come and see what all the fuss was about. Test the goods, if you will. Do you think you can handle me, Princess?”

Your eyes fluttered close at the nickname, as simple as it was, the way his deep, sultry voice seemed to kiss the air, making everything seem like the most cheek-warming compliment; you were ready just about to do anything your boss asked of you.

“Yes, sir”, was your quick verbal response before your sexual acts continued. Squeezing your fingers around his cock again, your mouth moved at the same time to the very tip, wrapping your warm lips around him entirely and letting the natural weight of him lay against your tongue.

Closing your eyes, you tried to forget that it was your boss on the other side of the wall and that this was probably the most crucial blowjob that you’d ever given before.

Your mouth filled with salvia, helping to wet his length as you lapped over his size with delicate little licks as your hand moved up and down the base of his shaft. Mr Fowler sucked in a breath through his teeth as his cock throbbed in your mouth. “Didn’t think you’d be such a tease, show me what you’ve got, Sweetheart”.

Your smile for a moment before taking more of his length into your mouth, pressing your flat tongue against the sensitive underside and hollowing your cheeks to suck him in. Opening your eyes, you watched more of his cock disappear into your mouth as you forced yourself to relax your throat, a skill you had mastered since working for him.

Nearly the entire length of your boss’ cock slipped down your throat, causing a bulge with how your airflow was completely cut off, the lining of your eyes flooding with tears from the overwhelming sensation. There was still a portion of his member that hadn’t entered the warm cavernous home of your mouth, so your hand squeezed and tugged so he was utterly stimulated.

“Fuck! I knew that pretty little mouth of yours would be trouble”, Nick groaned, trying to push his hips against the wall to try and fuck your face. You tried not to choke on his length at the tiny compliment mixed into his words.

Pulling back slowly, you made sure to suck his cock thoroughly whilst licking every inch that you could. Now you knew he liked what you could do; you were desperate to see just how much you were able to make him moan.

You deepthroated him again, choking and holding your breath, eyes continuing to water and more saliva filling your mouth. Eventually, you were able to find the perfect rhythm of bobbing your head up and down his cock, listening to the gruff quiver of his voice as his palm slapped against the wall of the toilets as he became delirious due to the pleasure.

It was nearly unbearable how turned on you were. Your throbbing clit was begging to be touched so gently you spread your knees and slipped your unused hand to gently circle it, adding pressure whenever he made a noise like a reward for yourself.

The evidence of your arousal was soaking over the tips of your thighs, drenching the two fingers being used to stimulate yourself. Eventually, you needed more, especially as your chin was becoming coated in drool as the blowjob became more sloppy. Lowering your fingers, you couldn’t help and bust in a moan that caused your throat to vibrate around the cock within as those two wet fingers slipped into your hole and curled.

“Holy shit, do that again”, Mr Fowler begged behind the thin wall. You moaned again as your hips bucked to meet your finger's movements. “That feels so fucking good, I knew I’d never regret hiring you. Do you only offer your mouth?”

You pulled off the end of his mouth with an audible ‘pop’ and swallowed thickly the considerable amount of saliva in your mouth as you tried to find your words. “No, they can have any part of me they’d like”. As you explained, you pumped his cock with both hands, forgetting about your pleasure for a moment.

“Good girl,” his praise was like a sweet symphony to your ears. “Has anyone else used the other services tonight?”

“No, Sir. Only my mouth and hands; a couple have fingered me but nothing else”.

Nick growled as his fingers appeared over the top of the cubicle as he tried to hold onto something. As you wished for a moment that, there was a camera in his toilet so you could see him flush against the wall, holding on for dear life. “So you’re telling me that all those powerful people out there are spending all their money for another four days just because of a couple of sucks and tugs? You really are special, aren’t you? Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to share you in here and keep you all to myself”.

Biting your lip, you tried to stop yourself from grinning, just listening to him becoming possessive, which was a widespread occurrence during these intimate acts. Many of the people were so overcome with the pleasure that they’d decided that they would keep you all to themselves to use if and when they needed you. Usually, it earned an eye-roll, but right now, you were dripping wet and ready to hand in your notice if it meant you could just stay by his side and suck his cock every day.

“I’d be more than happy to let you feel my other talents, sir”, you suggested before thinking it through properly. Not that you’d regret this offer, as you were incredibly horny and wanted nothing more than to please him further.

The wall between you both creaked under the pressure of Nick’s hands gripping the top as his hips began rocking, causing his cock to push and pull through the hole. “Oh, princess, you have no idea how badly I want that right now”.

With great enthusiasm, you stood on shaky legs, ignoring the pins and needles that formed in the balls of your feet, having been on your knees for so long and turned around, facing away from the glory hole. Spreading your legs and reaching between them, you grasped his cock once more and began to position him between your legs, where you closed them firmly, trapping his length between your damp thighs.

You rocked your hips, causing his dick to press against your pussy folds, rubbing your clit and for him, he was trapped in the tight, wet hold of your legs as he fucked your thighs.

“So fucking wet and soft”, he muttered under his breath, and once more, you wish you could have been watching his face, wondering if his eyes were just as glazed as how yours were feeling at that moment.

You had him fucking your thighs for a few moments longer and then decided to change things up, not wanting to wait anymore as your feet widened the stance, and his cock nudged against your hole.

The moan you released was mouthwatering for Nick as he felt the sensitive tip of his cock become lost within your tight, gummy walls. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your hips moved backwards, slowly to give yourself a chance to adjust to his thick size until your cheeks were flush against the wall.

“You’re so big, sir”, you blurt out, body shaking with trepidation at the pressure of being stretched for him.

“I am, but you’re taking me so well, Princess”. Even his encouraging words had you mewling with quivers, wanting and needing more of him.

Leaning forward, you reached out to the other side of the wall, pushing off of it to help you ride his cock in the limited position that you had with the glory hole. Thankfully, Mr Fowler began to fuck the wall, so you were both thrusting into each other with increasing speed and strength. He seemed to fit you perfectly, stroking against all of those special nerves that built the tightening warmth in your core. Each time he pushed back inside of you was like a million exploding fireworks of pleasure to blossom throughout your body. You never wanted it to end.

As you tried to rise onto your tip toes to try and push back onto his harder, your pussy suddenly clamped down harder around him, like it was laying claim to him, holding him tightly and never wanting to let him go.

“Sir, oh my- I’m cumming, Sir, please don’t stop!”. You were thinking of nothing else but the cock pounding into your pussy, begging him with everything that you had for this orgasm to reach its peak.

“I can feel you, Sweetheart. So tight around my cock, you’re doing so well for me. Be a good girl and cum for me, and I’ll give you what you really want”.

Nick fucks the glory hole with even more enthusiasm as you are forced to have both hands against the opposite wall to push yourself even harder back against his cock. Your cunt was squeezing him so tightly he was nearly seeing stars as you finally came. Your knees wobbled as your walls spasmed in flutters through the orgasm, more fluid dripping down onto your thighs as you cried out for Mr Fowler.

He was shouting something as well, but you weren’t able to understand what it was he was saying as the faint, satisfied buzz filled your ears, and the edge of your orgasm began to calm. You were exhausted, but you didn’t stop fucking hard back against the cock until you were aware that there was thick, warm fluid seeping into your cunt as Nick’s thrusts stilled, his cum filling you completely.

It took all of your strength not to collapse to your knees as you both tried to recover from the fucking. As the softening cock slipped out, followed by a gush of cum was when you could finally fall back onto the pillow on the floor with a satisfied moan.

Being back in this position, you were able to watch through the hole as Nick began to tuck himself back into his suit, not even bothering to clean yours or his juices that gleamed over his length. Your cheeks warmed at this sight, knowing you’d remember it for the rest of your life.

Mr Fowler released a deep breath and reached into his back pockets, and once more, you wish you could see his face, but all you were able to see was his waistline and hands as they rummaged through his wallet and pulled out a hefty roll up of cash that he shoved through the hole and landed in your lap.

“This’ll cover any further tips you would have made for the remainder of the night. Which you can have off. Get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll drive you home, Princess”.

[koi-illust]

[StarWars AU] [Citizen Din/Master Luke]

Din Djarin of Aq Vetina

So, I let my imagination run wild, and here’s another Din Djarin AU!

What if young Din was still saved by a Mandalorian, but later reunited with his parents, who somehow survived the attack?

Din’s parents helped gather other survivors on Aq Vetina, rebuilt their home, and were chosen as governors. Din grew up learning about his own culture and became a promising young man who assisted with his parents' work. One day, to protect the newborn autonomous region, Master Luke Skywalker was assigned to Aq Vetina to act as their Jedi caretaker, and Din was given the responsibility to help Luke settle down.

Here are other settings for Aq-Din:

———

1. Din didn’t become a Mandalorian

So Din wasn’t trained, which resulted in his gentle and soft personality. He kept the mythosaur necklace given to him by the Mandalorian who saved him, it’s the only beskar Din has.

2. Din wears traditional Aq Vetina clothing

But I made it look more luxurious and ethnic with gold, shiny stones, and beads. I also created a custom where young people must wear a veil until they get married or reach a certain age. (I don’t want that veil to become a symbol of shame for those who don’t want or can’t get married, so they can simply remove it when the time comes. The veil is just for aesthetic purposes, like a peacock spreading its tail for courtship.)

3. Arranged marriage

Another custom I made up is that Aq Vetina people get betrothed at a young age, it’s not mandatory, but some traditional families still follow this rule, including Din’s. Furthermore, as the son of governors, Din was betrothed to another prominent and wealthy family for political reasons. Although Din doesn’t want this, he accepts it for the greater good of his homeland, until a Jedi master shakes his determination.

4. Claustrophobia

I always imagined Din having claustrophobia and a fear of darkness due to the experience of being hidden by his parents in that storage. I know this is a weak assumption because Canon-Din’s spaceship is confined as hell🤣, but my Aq-Din can have claustrophobia, which becomes a hindrance when Luke attempts to take Din away from the planet.

5. Heavy accent

Din is not proficient in standard language, so his communication with Luke is often somewhat clumsy, which may cause trouble at times, and he speaks with a heavy accent! (I have a thing for accents…🫣💕)

———

I will probably continue drawing this series because it was a lot of fun to draw Din in his Aq Vetina outfit, and I also want to have him wear different veils to hide his face. 😝

[funkopersonal]

THE SUDRA

The sudra is a traditional Jewish headdress with a history dating back thousands of years to the Biblical period and ancient Mesopotamia. It was worn like a turban or a headscarf and was of great spiritual importance at various points throughout history; for example, it’s mentioned directly in the Babylonian Talmud (written between the years 500-700). There are also some likely references to it in the Tanakh, such as in Exodus and the Book of Ruth.

CUSTOMS

Beyond spiritual significance, the Babylonian Talmud describes how it is customary to let another man hold one’s sudra as a gesture of trust during a monetary transaction.

In the Shulchan Aruch, there is an exemption for the sudra regarding the use of tzitzit. Even though the sudra is a four-cornered garment, tzitzit aren’t required.

Among Sepharadim, the sudra was worn over the shoulders like a scarf, while Ashkenazim wore it “coiled round the body like an Egyptian snake” or like the “kaftanis of the Tatars” when worn on the head. In fact, the sudra is likely the predecessor of the shtreimel (the fur hat worn by some Ashkenazi Jewish men), as Ashkenazi Jews in Europe eventually replaced the scarf with more weather-appropriate fur.

SUDRA IS OUTLAWED

With the expansion of the Arab and Islamic empires starting in 632 CE, Jews became “dhimmis,” relegated to second class citizenship and a whole host of prohibitions. Among those prohibitions was the use of the sudra. For example, in Yemen in 1667, the Jewish sudra was banned, likely to humiliate the Jewish community by forcing them to place regular clothes on their heads. The Jewish community bribed some government officials to reverse the decision. Ultimately a deal was struck where Jews were permitted to wear the sudra so long as it was made of bad quality cloth.

As the Arab keffiyeh became associated with Arab Muslims of high status, Arab rulers once again instituted prohibitions on the Jewish sudra because it was too similar to the keffiyeh.

DECLINE AMONG ASHKENAZIM

Jews in Europe still used the traditional sudra well into the 16th century, some 1500 years after their exile from Judea (Israel-Palestine today). In the Shulchan Aruch, Rabbi Moses Isserles specifically mentioned the significance of the sudra among Ashkenazim.

In the Middle Ages, the use of turbans such as sudras were outlawed in Europe, resulting in the gradual decline of the sudra among Ashkenazi Jewry. Eventually the sudra evolved into other forms of “legal” and weather-appropriate dress, such as the shtreimel, as discussed previously.

DECOLONIZATION OR APPROPRIATION?

Among other things decolonization is the process of removing the layers of oppressive foreign imperial and colonial influence imposed upon one’s culture. As discussed, Jews have worn the sudra since ancient times, dating back thousands of years. The garment came into disuse due to the oppressive laws of powerful empires, both in Southwest Asia/North Africa and among Jews in Europe. Reclaiming the sudra, which also happens to be of great spiritual significance, is an act of decolonization.

The keffiyeh, which uses a similar pattern, became a symbol of Palestinian nationalism and resistance in the 1930s (after longtime use among Palestinian farmers and others in Arab nations). Kurds, Persians, Yazidis, and other Indigenous Southwest Asian groups also traditionally use keffiyehs. In fact, the keffiyeh and the sudra likely have the same origin; that said, the sudra predates the keffiyeh by hundreds of years.

The Jewish reclamation of the sudra should not be weaponized to harm Palestinians. That said, claiming that Jews are “appropriating” keffiyehs while using the sudra is absurd, seeing as the sudra not only came before the keffiyeh, but is also a garment of spiritual significance for Jews that was still used relatively recently in the scope of Jewish history. Ultimately, we have to remember that Jews and Palestinians are historic, cultural, and ethnic cousins, and, as such, some parts of our cultures will overlap.

[jaggedjot]

Louis and Claudia are not just identifiable as American by way of their speech (“American? Your French is ugly.”) and movement (“You could tell from his walk, he was an American.”), but are posited by the narrative to be symbolic representations of postwar America itself (“The American vampires appeared to be as dull and plain as their tourists and soldiers were.”, “Do American vampiresses all wear pastels?”, “And are all American vampires as alluring as you?”). The pair set themselves up in France as “moneyed Americans”, described by Armand as having a “velvet-heeled arrival” despite the pair coming to the city on the back of a truck. That Paris has been left by the war with deep physical and societal wounds is treated as an inconvenience that they have to impatiently endure. Santiago picks at these stitches during the performative execution of the pointedly foreign Annika, invoking the paranoia of occupation with his line “[...] the next time you're in the pew, you turn to your neighbour and say, ‘Peace be unto you.’ They'll give you up... in a wink!”. It is telling that the only explanation Armand gives for his choice of victims to the coven is that they are profiteering from the suffering of postwar France (“Whilst their countrymen clutch ration cards, they've made quite a killing manipulating the black markets.”), a statement which seems to deepen their appetite for the ensuing slaughter. These are not resentments and histories however shared by Claudia, who may revel in the massacre but has already knowingly associated with a woman branded as a collaborator, or Louis, whose attempts to engage with the world through photography only further positions him as an outsider. This detachment is what causes Louis and Claudia to be regarded as interlopers, suspected to believe themselves to be too important to heed traditions, manners (“It's custom and practice for traveling vampires to make themselves known”) or the welfare of their temporary home (“We were constantly cleaning up for them.”). Though American soldiers played a role in the later stages of the liberation of Paris, the increasing presence of Americans in the city is framed as another more insidious occupation (“[...] our Anglican friends now invading Paris postwar”, “My dear American friend [...] who has dominated my mind”). As Americans, Louis and Claudia are granted more privileges in society than other black ethnics groups (“But I wasn't an Algerian. I was an American”). It is not just that the French theatre troupe composed of multinational actors now has “five out of every seven” of their performances in English, but the coven has been instructed by Armand to remake itself as “an English company” and speak the language offstage too. Armand’s welcoming attitude to increasing American influence in the city, how it creates a “more receptive” and “optimistic” audience, is not a simple or universal one. There is a distinct bitterness belying the fanfare accompanying Louis and Claudia’s arrival, particularly from Santiago (“I ask you, Maitre, was it worth the wait?”), but it is also notably still present in Armand’s lighthearted teasing (“Seventy-seven years and it still feels like a slight.”, “Five months removed [...] the Americans were finally coming to Pigalle.”). At least during these early months, Louis and Claudia seem to view Paris more as a static backdrop against which they can discover themselves and heal their relationship. This is a mistake that they will likely only realise when it is already too late, for this fragile and volatile setting is entwined with the tragedy that awaits them.

[amadenchart]

the saigans seem so lovely! what are the most common scale/hair colors among them?

Light colors, mostly whites and off whites with black hair! ^^ The Saigans are also the only Varanar ethnicity that can display a pearlescent/mother of pearl effect on their scales.

There are lot of thunderstorms in Saigan territory, and one of their customs is to cut and sand their horns so they can wear fake antler-like racks made out of fulgurite their collect from the wilderness.

It's a common tradition to pass fulgurite racks from generation to generation, from parent to child. Also common for husbands to collect fulgurite pieces and add to their wives bridal racks.

[springintoastory]

As we gear up to start striving for our April goals, you might run into a problem - how do you create a character? Or if you're editing, how do you add dimension to a character? Here's tips for both!

Creating A Character Tips

Use a template - Templates are broads. They can be a Myer's Brigg type, a star sign, an archetype, or your blorbo from your current fandom. But each serves as a template you can customize. The fiery Scorpio who is willing to step on folk to reach for CEO. The mentor who sends each adventurer off with a packed lunch. Crowley from Good Omens - but twisted so he's just someone in the building who wears black and disregards every. single. rule. and completes every request made by blondes with puppy dog eyes. Start with a template, then make them you're own!

Know their SES - Social Economic Status. Things like education level, class, age, ethnicity, and social status. Together they have an impact on someone's lived experiences and outlook - a wealthy black man and a wealthy white man will have different experiences. Figure out your character's status, and use that to shape them.

Give them a goal - Your character's goal can be grand - kill the king - or small - make the perfect cake - but they should have something they are striving for.

Give them a weakness - Just like Marty McFly can't stand to be called a coward, what is your character's weakness? It can be a physical thing, keep Superman away from the Kryptonite, or something that causes them to make bad decisions, like hubris.

Adding Dimension to A Character

Add a Counterpoint - Give your character a trait opposite something standard in your template. Your grumpy character lights up around their hobby. Your mentor character is actively trying to learn some new skill. These type of elements prevent your character from feeling flat.

Link weakness to strength - This gives your character a range. If their weakness is their stubbornness, a refusal to back down getting them into trouble, show situations where it flips to determination that helps save the scene.

Give them an arc - A growing character makes them more developed, and for many protagonists this growth is based on the events of the plot. But your secondary characters can grow too! Even if readers don't see every step.

Whether you're springing into a new character, or revisiting one, we hope these tips help! Feel free to share your own in the tags.

[lostinwalmartmymomleftme]

What r ur dreamswap headcanons :3

Have to redo this bc Tumblr hates me:

* 7 each

* Human Ver. Specific

Dream

Dream 100% has something that’s dedicated to Ani, (hospital, orphanage, medical organization, etc.)

To add more depth to him being Latino, I choose to believe he’s Chilean-American

He doesn’t like to be touched, but would never correct anybody on it because he doesn’t want to offend anyone and he doesn’t view it as a priority or concern 

Only has one scar and it was prior to the incident (tm), nightmare, dropped a bowl, and a shard of the ceramic cut dream deep enough to form a scar, and subconsciously Dream doesn’t want it to heal, so it doesn’t fully heal, though it is fairly faint, it’s on his wrist directly above the bone 

He’s probably some form of genderqueer, yeah, doesn’t know it and refuses to look into it because he just doesn’t view it as important, he probably goes by pronouns 

His magical blondness, skips a few streaks of his hair, so he has black streaks that he dies blonde to match the rest of his hair

Canonically multilingual, speaking both English and Mandarin, though I would like to add that he can fluently speak Latin, modern Spanish, and French

Bonus: Dream does that OCD thing (w/o actually having it) where all of his pens when they’re laying on his desk are at the exact same place, in a perfect little row

Nightmare

He sits in trees and people watches, like he sits up in trees, kind of in forests and watches people on picnics and fun little family outings, and tries to imagine what his life would be like if it hadn’t been what it is 

His hair is extremely heat damaged, because he totally straightens it (it’s the only thing about him that’s allowed to be straight /j)

Extension on him canonically being Latino: I think he’s Peruvian-American

For some reason collect bottle caps (like the little metal ones you get on alcohol bottles (he doesn’t drink though))

He has a peanut allergy

Despite being an insomniac, whenever he does actually sleep, he starfishes

He doesn’t like looking in mirrors, there’s anything wrong with it, there isn’t really reason why he doesn’t like it, he just find it unsettling and he covers the one in his room with a blanket

Ink

He has one of those canopy beds, but the actual canopy part is custom painted and embroidered (by himself) with band logos, TV show logos, characters he likes, etc.

He is really bad at spelling, professional emails are more like word scrambles

If someone were to ask him to draw them, he would draw them, claim he made mistake, tear it up, then draw a stick figure, and give it to them

Usual Ethnicity one: he actually doesn’t know his ethnicity beyond being Latino, but he is Cuban-American

He’s emo and claims his favorite color is black, but it’s orange which is equally as bad

He has no real gauge of his own pain tolerance and usually has to be forced into medical situations by other people, usually Dream when he reports back to him

Ink’s allergic to bleach and ant bites

Cross

He hasn’t had his first kiss

He uses Old Spice cologne in the classic scent. But he does it to a NAUSEATING level.

He’s Irish, ethnically. I don’t make the rules.

He’s minorly lactose intolerant

This man owns like five Tamagatchis

He makes really good bread for some reason? Like this man SLAYS a sourdough

Cross uses 3-in-1 bodywash

(This is a Tamagatchi if you don’t know)

Blue

This man wears hair curlers to bed 100%

He’s really bad at math

Probably advocates for eating healthy (being a yoga instructor, possible influencer)

Blue is so ADHD to me

American-Italian/Portuguese

Has never made a bed in his LIFE

Blue seems like the kind of man who would burn water

Error

Clean freak, he prefers to keep the house clean, but it ends up a mess anyways because Cross and Nightmare always end up messing it up

Easily the best driver of the Meme Squad

His lock/homescreen is an inspirational quote

LOVES the rain, finds it calming and loves the smell of it, but hates getting caught out in the rain (loves the aesthetic, hates the actual thing)

Maybe American-Moroccan?

He likes dark fantasy books

Was top of his class when he had been in school, prior to his amnesia

Kevin

Can read. (Can’t write (no thumbs))

Can and does steal from the meme squad

Bonus:

How long I think it takes DS to get ready in the mornings:

Dream takes a solid hour and a half

Blue takes an hour

Nightmare takes 45 minutes

Cross and Ink take 15-20 minute for the sake of layers

Error and Finch take like 5 bc they dress really basic

dreamswap by @\onebizarrekai

[beehunni62]

Married Mongolian Women’s Hairstyle in the Yuan Dynasty

Mongolians have a long history of shaving and cutting their hair in specific styles to signal socioeconomic, marital, and ethnic status that spans thousands of years. The cutting and shaving of the hair was also regarded as an important symbol of change and transition. No Mongolian tradition exemplifies this better than the first haircut a child receives called Daah Urgeeh, khüükhdiin üs avakh (cutting the child’s hair), or örövlög ürgeekh (clipping the child’s crest) (Mongulai, 2018)

The custom is practiced for boys when they are at age 3 or 5, and for girls at age 2 or 4. This is due to the Mongols’ traditional belief in odd numbers as arga (method) [also known as action, ᠮᠣᠩᠭᠤᠯ, арга] and even numbers as bilig (wisdom) [ᠪᠢᠴᠢᠭ, билиг].

Mongulai, 2018.

The Mongolian concept of arga bilig (see above) represents the belief that opposite forces, in this case action [external] and wisdom [internal], need to co-exist in stability to achieve harmony. Although one may be tempted to call it the Mongolian version of Yin-Yang, arga bilig is a separate concept altogether with roots found not in Chinese philosophy nor Daoism, but Eurasian shamanism.

However, Mongolian men were not the only ones who shaved their hair. Mongolian women did as well.

Flemish Franciscan missionary and explorer, William of Rubruck [Willem van Ruysbroeck] (1220-1293) was among the earliest Westerners to make detailed records about the Mongol Empire, its court, and people. In one of his accounts he states the following:

But on the day following her marriage, (a woman) shaves the front half of her head, and puts on a tunic as wide as a nun's gown, but everyway larger and longer, open before, and tied on the right side. […] Furthermore, they have a head-dress which they call bocca [boqtaq/gugu hat] made of bark, or such other light material as they can find, and it is big and as much as two hands can span around, and is a cubit and more high, and square like the capital of a column. This bocca they cover with costly silk stuff, and it is hollow inside, and on top of the capital, or the square on it, they put a tuft of quills or light canes also a cubit or more in length. And this tuft they ornament at the top with peacock feathers, and round the edge (of the top) with feathers from the mallard's tail, and also with precious stones. The wealthy ladies wear such an ornament on their heads, and fasten it down tightly with an amess [J: a fur hood], for which there is an opening in the top for that purpose, and inside they stuff their hair, gathering it together on the back of the tops of their heads in a kind of knot, and putting it in the bocca, which they afterwards tie down tightly under the chin.

Ruysbroeck, 1900

TLDR: Mongolian women shaved the front half of their head and covered it with a boqta, the tall Mongolian headdress worn by noblewomen throughout the Mongol empire. Rubruck observed this hairstyle in noblewomen (boqta was reserved only for noblewomen). It’s not clear whether all women, regardless of status, shaved the front of their heads after marriage and whether it was limited to certain ethnic groups.

When I learned about that piece of information, I was simply going to leave it at that but, what actually motivated me to write this post is to show what I believe to be evidence of what Rubruck described. By sheer coincidence, I came across these Yuan Dynasty empress paintings:

Portrait of Empress Dowager Taji Khatun [ᠲᠠᠵᠢ ᠬᠠᠲᠤᠨ, Тажи xатан], also known as Empress Zhaoxian Yuansheng [昭獻元聖皇后] (1262 - 1322) from album of Portraits of Empresses. Artist Unknown. Ink and color on silk, Yuan Dynasty (1260-1368). National Palace Museum in Taipei, Taiwan [image source].

Portrait of Unnamed Imperial Consort from album Portraits of Empresses. Artist Unknown. Ink and color on silk. Yuan Dynasty (1260-1368). National Palace Mueum in Taiper, Taiwan [image source].

Portrait of unnamed wife of Gegeen Khan [ᠭᠡᠭᠡᠨ ᠬᠠᠭᠠᠨ, Гэгээн хаан], also known as Shidibala [ᠰᠢᠳᠡᠪᠠᠯᠠ, 碩德八剌] and Emperor Yingzong of Yuan [英宗皇帝] (1302-1323) from album Portraits of Empresses. Artist Unknown. Ink and color on silk. Yuan Dynasty (1260-1368), early 14th century. National Palace Museum in Taipei, Taiwan [image source].

To me, it’s evident that the hair of those women is shaved at the front. The transparent gauze strip allows us to clearly see their hairstyle. The other Yuan empress portraits have the front part of the head covered, making it impossible to discern which hairstyle they had. I wonder if the transparent gauze was a personal style choice or if it was part of the tradition such that, after shaving the hair, the women had to show that they were now married by showcasing the shaved part.

As shaving or cutting the hair was a practice linked by nomads with transitioning or changing from one state to another (going from being single to married, for example), it would not be a surprise if the women regrew it.

References:

Mongulai. (2018, April 19). Tradition of cutting the hair of the child for the first time.

Ruysbroeck, W. V. & Giovanni, D. P. D. C., Rockhill, W. W., ed. (1900) The journey of William of Rubruck to the eastern parts of the world, 1253-55, as narrated by himself, with two accounts of the earlier journey of John of Pian de Carpine. Hakluyt Society London. Retrieved from the University of Washington’s Silk Road texts.

[crazyyanderefangirlfan]

Cat Tamami

"Your accessories are as tacky as your personality."

---+---

BASIC   

Name: Catrina Pearl Tamami

Nickname(s): Cat (by everyone) Kitty Cat (by close friends), KitKat, My Kitty Cat, Gorgeous, Babe (all by Lev).

Alias(es): Nekoma’s Wildcat, The Wildcat. Chaos Cat (St Trinians)

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Ethnicity: Japanese/British

Blood Type: A

Age: 15-16

Birthday: March 9

---+---

APPEARANCE  

Hair: She has thick black hair that’s is often tussled, tied back in a large, messy bun which flares in every direction.

Eyes:  Sky blue with black eyeliner and dark purple eyeshadow.

Height: 160 cm

Skin:  Porcelain

Body:  Petite

Tattoo(s): A fake tattoo of a cat on her hip.

Piercing(s):  On her ears, she wears silver thorn dangle earrings.

Scar(s):  Deep scars on her sides

Other: She wears an aquamarine pendant 

---+---

SCHOOL  

Occupation: Manager

School: Nekoma High

Year: 1

Class:  3

Club(s):  Boys VBC

Number: None

Role/Position: None

Attendance Record:  Good

Average Grade: B

---+---

STATISTICS (out of 5)

Power: 4/5  

Jumping: 5/5  

Stamina: 5 /5  

Game Sense (ability to 'predict' or 'sense' the opponents next move): 1/5  

Technique: 2/5  

Speed: 5/5  

Overall (total): 22/30

---+---

CHARACTER  

Personality: Cat is often portrayed as a confident, independent, and determined individual. She's a skilled martial artist and jeweler and forger, she takes pride in her skills and considered to be a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to jewelry making. Her eye for detail is also what make her an effective manager.

She's prideful of her work, even scolding a friend in one occasion for damaging a necklace she made, however, if the situation calls for it, she does not mind having them damaged and/or destroyed. She's also skilled in forging, able to create weapons disguised as jewelry.

Despite her age, she's an adept business woman, able to balance work and school life as well as handling vexxing customers. She commissions at three pieces a week and prioritizes emergency commissions. Her jewelry is highly popular both in and out of school, even teachers admire them. However if a teacher ever commissions her, she'll make it clear she doesn't want special favors and treats it like a normal transaction.

Cat typically communicates in an honest, direct style that can take some getting accustomed to. Her dispute resolution techniques may be viewed as unconventional because she dislikes wasting time on justifications. She possesses a strong sense of justice and a desire to protect her family and friends. Cat can be quite rebellious, often challenging authority and traditions that she believes are holding her back or harming others.

Cat never takes the conventional route and prefers to explore life from off the beaten track, relying heavily on her instincts and powers of observation to guide her through. She often has an air of indifference and her need for privacy often keeps her from making new friends, but she's deeply loyal to those who break down her walls.

Cat follows punk philosophy, which is promoting freedom of the individual and working against conforming to the cookie-cutter form, often wearing edgy and gothic clothes, wearing bold make-up and getting creative with her school uniform, the last often gets her in trouble but she doesn't care.

Though often the mediator in Nekoma, she is quick to use violence once they struck a nerve. It takes the entire team to hold her back from killing the person, but even they have a hard time holding due to her surprising strength and her sheer anger was terrifying. Inouka even commented she looked like a feral cat when angry.

Her relationship with Lev is odd to most people. Both of them would deny being in a relationship with each other but would act like a couple. There are many examples such as sitting on Lev's lap, cuddling whenever they can, eating each others food or just a bit too affectionate with each other. Another action that supports this that they scare off each other's suitors.

Likes: Family and friends, Lev, Jewelry, her cats Pancake and Waffle, katsudon, skateboarding, video games, music, parkour, naps, fun but dangerous places.

Dislikes: Johnny being overprotective, her food stolen, tacky jewelry , pranks that cause trouble for everybody, entitled people, harm to her friends and family, someone’s taking credit for her work, mustard, pencils with no erasers, her skateboard broken, fakeness.

Hobbies: Jewelry making, parkour, MMA (specifically Muay Thai, Brazilian jiu-jutsu and Krav Maga), singing, playing the guitar, video games, reading, watching movies, cooking, forging, skateboarding, snowboarding, hunting.

Goal(s): To have her own jewelry brand (and marry Lev)

Current concerns: Whether a sapphire or a topaz will look good on a silver chain.

---+---

SOCIAL  

Mother(s):  Mary Tamami

Father(s):  Jun Tamami

Sibling(s): Johnny Tamami (older brother)

Relative(s):  Unknown

Friend(s):  Nekoma VBC, Shoyo Hinata, Alisa Haiba, Akane Yamamoto, Yukie Shirofuku, Kaori Suzumeda, Marjorie Karanakaran.

Best Friend(s): Teresa Diamandis, Bridget Fortuné, Heather O'Cleary, Irene Song, Juliette Chaveleir, Skyla Barretto

Love Interest(s):  Lev Haiba

Rival(s):  None

Pet(s): Her Bombay, Pancake and her mixed breed Waffle.

[chinesehanfu]

[Hanfu · 漢服]Chinese Early Qing Dynasty Traditional Clothing & Qingming Festival/清明節

————————

Han ethnic Women's attire & Hairstyle ”Peony Head (牡丹头) in the Early Qing Dynasty

Han ethnic Women's attire and hairstyle in the early Qing Dynasty was not like men that force to change by the Qing government. Women's attire and hairstyle were not particularly different from late Ming Dynasty.

————————  

【Qingming Festival/清明節】

The Qingming festival or Ching Ming Festival,also known as Tomb-Sweeping Day in English (sometimes also called Chinese Memorial Day, Ancestors' Day, the Clear Brightness Festival, or the Pure Brightness Festival), is a traditional Chinese festival observed by ethnic Chinese in mainland China, Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan, Malaysia, Singapore, Cambodia, Indonesia, Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam.

During Qingming, Chinese families visit the tombs of their ancestors to clean the gravesites and make ritual offerings to their ancestors. Offerings would typically include traditional food dishes and the burning of joss sticks and joss paper.The holiday recognizes the traditional reverence of one's ancestors in Chinese culture.

The origins of the Qingming Festival go back more than 2500 years, although the observance has changed significantly. It became a public holiday in mainland China in 2008, where it is associated with the consumption of qingtuan,green dumplings made of glutinous rice and Chinese mugwort or barley grass.

--------

【Qingming Festival Customs: 插柳/戴柳 put willow/wearing willow 】

“清明不插柳，红颜变皓首”：

As the saying goes, it means in Qingming Festival, in the first ten days of March of the lunisolar calendar every year, is the day when traditional customs go to graves to worship ancestors. According to the old custom, when returning from worshiping ancestors during the Qingming Festival, people have to break off willow branches and wear them on head.It is said that if people don’t do this, young people will become old people with white hair.

According to the "Qing Jialu/清嘉录" written by Gu Lu of the Qing Dynasty：

「清明日，滿街叫賣楊柳，人家買之插於門上，農人以插柳日晴雨佔水旱，若雨，主水。」

every Qingming Festival, "willows are sold all over the street, and people buy them and put them on the door.

Q:why wearing willow or put willow on the door?

Jia Sixie(贾思勰)of the Northern Wei Dynasty(386－535) said in "Qi Min Yao Shu/齐民要术":  “取柳枝著户上，百鬼不入家。”

“Take the willow and put it on the door/house, and a hundred ghosts will not enter the house”

It is said that a hundred spirits come out on Qingming Festival, and people need to worship their ancestors while carefully keep a certain distance from other spirits and keep them out of house. Willow has become a weapon for people to avoid evil spirits and protect people from them.

The custom is still widespread in parts of China especially Wudi(吴地) area： area in the south of the Yangtze River

----

In ancient times, there were many interesting Qingming Festival customs. Apart from visit the tombs of their ancestors to clean the gravesites and make ritual offerings to their ancestors, there were also a series of custom sports activities such as spring outing, swinging, Cuju (蹴鞠：is an ancient Chinese ball game��  , playing polo etc.

_______

🧚🏻‍Recreation Work：@吃货娃娃

🔗Weibo：https://weibo.com/1868003212/MAyid6Mtv

_______

[6edesign]

Buy this amazing designer open jacket for Sangeet/any of your wedding occasions, book your appointment today #designeroutfit #menswear #mensfashion #trendystyle #openjacket #sangeetalook #sangeetoutfit

[alexbkrieger13]

*click link to watch video*

The Women’s World Cup is just over three weeks away and there’s been plenty of media coverage about the bespoke items that players will be wearing in Australia and New Zealand – including the Phantom Luna, Nike’s first boot designed for female players.

Unfortunately, there has also been much written about the players who will be missing this tournament because of ACL injuries, such as England’s Leah Williamson and Beth Mead.

The worry for many players I know is that a connection exists between the boots they’ve been wearing – which are designed for a male foot – and the greater risk of serious knee injuries faced by women footballers.

For this reason, I sat down in a cafe in Kingston with Dr Katrine Okholm Kryger, an associate professor in sports rehabilitation at St Mary’s University, Twickenham, who I first met when she came to Chelsea for a study into women footballers’ feet.

She sits on the Uefa Women’s Health Panel and the findings of her study, commissioned by the European Club Association (ECA), involved nearly 350 players.

Here she tells me about the scale and findings of a study never before done on footballers, male or female – and explains why boot manufacturers now have no excuse when it comes to producing better boots for women players at all levels.

Magda Eriksson [ME]: Kat, can you tell me about the research you were doing and your findings?

Katrine Kryger [KK]: We scanned players from top clubs from Europe, travelling around with a scanner and speaking to some of the best players in the world.

We know men and women have different foot shapes so we scanned these to quantify exactly what a woman’s foot shape is like, so we can pass that on to the manufacturers so they have a model to base a women’s boot design on.

I’ve done groupings of different ethnicities, different playing positions, different foot types and all of that is going to be in a database that manufacturers will be offered access to.

ME: What are the potential problems for women from wearing boots designed for a man’s foot?

KK: There are three main areas of concern. The first is the fit. Football boots are really tightly fitted – or should be because you need to be able to move and change direction without sliding inside the shoe – but that means you’re wearing something that’s fitted around a man’s foot, and a white man’s foot to be more specific. And with a female foot being differently shaped, that’s going to cause squeezing and aching and blisters.

When I asked if they had pain or discomfort with football boots, just 18 per cent left it blank. So 82 per cent had an issue somewhere with boots and one in three women highlighted the heel. They’re so stiff and if the shape isn’t perfect, they’re going to rub on the heel.

ME: I had a team-mate who had to cut a hole in her boot just so her heel can stick out. I’ve also had that problem when the bone starts to grow because of constant rubbing and had to have my Nike Tiempo boots custom-made. My heel cap is really soft and they’ve had to stretch it bigger as well just to get more space.

KK: The second big concern is that a football boot will only bend in between the stud lines. It cannot just bend anywhere and if it bends over bone, bones don’t like to be bent and you are going to end up irritating both the bones and the tissues. We’ve been measuring exactly where that is for women and we’ll offer that to the manufacturers.

ME: On studs, before games I always hear players asking: ‘Should we wear the studs or the moulds?’ I know certain girls who’ve done ACL injuries when wearing studs and are afraid to wear them again. On a slippery pitch they’ll sacrifice playing well and risk slipping because they’re afraid of getting injured. They might slip but at least they’ll stay injury-free.

KK: This is tied in with the third thing we want to highlight – that the outsoles to the studs should be designed for women.

We see women have three times the risk of ACL injuries and the common feature for getting injured is planting the foot, getting stuck, and not being able to rotate the foot but instead rotating the knee.

Currently for men and women the length of studs and number of studs is the same yet when you go into the physics of it, the traction – the grip on the surface and how much you get stuck – is much higher in a women’s football boot.

Women need less than men because they weigh less and don’t have the same muscle mass so don’t generate the same power. When pushing off, they need less and so there’s an increased risk of ACL injury.

The survey we did showed that while women often change studs depending on the surface and the weather conditions, a large group actually don’t, which is quite interesting.

ME: As well as men and women, you mentioned ethnicities before. What variations have you found there?

KK: We tried to select clubs with a high level of diversity, especially in France, and we saw there’s a tendency for African or African-descended players to have a wider foot.

To give you an example from men’s football, one Premier League player signed a sponsorship agreement with a boot company and when they asked him what size he was, he said a size 14. Yet they measured his foot and he was a size 8.

So basically, there was a big gap between the end of the toe and the end of the boot. I went to one club where three black players told me the same. It’s players wearing one or two sizes too big.

Women tend to have two types of feet: a wide foot with quite flat arches and a wide Achilles tendon, and also a narrower foot with a high arch and slimmer Achilles tendon.

The big conclusion is we should be able to cover people from different ethnicities, whatever playing position, within these two types of footwear. That’s going to be our suggestion to the manufacturers – that you don’t just have one football boot but you have two that align with those two options.

ME: This is my biggest take – that you are actually doing research on women that’s not yet been done in men’s football because it’s so conservative. It’s what I love about women’s football, that maybe we can start different conversations. What good do you hope will come from this?

KK: Having an optimal football boot designed for women from a holistic perspective is the dream.

We’re going to pass on the information that we have to the manufacturers and then it’s their job to design football boots for women.

[ronaldofandom]

A Love Eternal / Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna

Chapter 7 is up guys, after a month of hiatus :)

Summary: Finally, the lovemaking sequence is here - this is Bheem in all his glory. Followed by some fluffy/teasing talks between SitaJenny, SitaBheem, and RamBheem.

Warnings: Suggestive language ahead, but not smut.

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Suggested music - Parineeta (Recommend listening to this before/while reading the chapter - the feels match)

Moodboard - created by the brilliant @meastradeur, who graciously allowed me to use it.

Chapter 7

(Links to Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10 , Ch 11

Bheem loved like he laughed. Like he fought. With all his might. With every fibre of his being. There was no hesitation tonight. No shyness. No second thoughts. He was a man on a mission. And from his actions, Jenny half-believed that the mission was to give her a stroke or set her body on fire.

‘Sari Sita ne pehnaayi?’ (Did Sita help you put on the Sari?)

He whispered into her ear.

She was on her back, and he was on his side, leaning over her. His fingers ran circles around her belly button as he rubbed their cheeks together. 

Words failed her. But she managed to nod a yes. 

‘Hmmm.’ He muttered against her cheek as his index finger finally dipped into her belly button, playing with it. Her hand reflexively clutched his bicep.

Bheem felt weirdly jealous that the first time she had adorned Indian ethnic wear, he hadn’t been the one to dress her up. At least he would get to take it off.

He started with her bangles, sliding them off carefully, kissing her wrists. Next were her jhumkis (earrings) as he nibbled on her earlobes, making her whimper. He slid the accessories well under the cot so she doesn’t step on them in the morning. His fingers unpinned her pallu from her shoulder, and he slowly pulled it down, holding her gaze all the while. Bheem tugged at the pleats of her sari, pulling them out all at once as he peeled the garment off her, throwing it somewhere behind. The shell necklace he let stay on, admiring how it suited her long, slender neck.

The assuredness of his touch was driving Jenny insane. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

Growing up in conservative British high society, Jenny had been told practically nothing of intimacy, which was referred to as ‘marital relations.’ She was supposed to be given the talk once she was betrothed to someone, before her wedding night. Even her married friends spoke very little of intimacy - it was improper to speak that way to maidens. Her mother, aunt, and friends had always spoken of marital duties with their husbands and finding bliss with the children. The concept of physical bliss and pleasure seemed alien to them. Therefore, she was all the more confused about the fuzzy sensations emanating in her body, at strange places, from his touch. She had only read of those in some ‘not so proper’ novels but was living them now. And she knew he was just getting started.

In contrast, Bheem was firmly in control of his actions and emotions. He had thought long & hard about the two of them while he had been away and had taken care of all formalities before wanting her this way. As the protector of the tribe, he was the de-facto leader of the tribal council, yet he had still sought and received the council’s blessings for their relationship. He had made their courtship official, as per the customs of his people. The Gond customs were quite progressive. It was not uncommon for couples to live together before marriage to test their compatibility. It was also not uncommon to have pre-marital relations. Marrying for love was actually the norm. In their simple ways, they were far more evolved than the complex modern societies.

It was also customary to offer gifts to the woman during the courtship period, hence the shell necklace, which she had gladly worn, thereby accepting his affections. Bheem had meant to discuss this with her tonight, but all rational thought went out of the window when he saw her. 

As he enveloped her in his arms and kissed her senseless, Jenny forgot everything else in the world other than his name, which she moaned like a chant. His strong, musky scent - of fresh rains on the forest floor - dominated her senses. As did the feel of his gruff beard and calloused hands on her soft skin.

He insisted on holding her gaze throughout, coaxing her back to him in the moments she couldn’t handle the intensity on his face & looked away. Jenny found this to be more intimate than anything else he was doing with her. The mix of wonder, adoration, and nerves in her eyes spurred him on even more; he couldn’t hold back any longer.

She sensed the shift in his mood and gulped as he swiftly pulled open the thread and hooks of her blouse on her back, bringing it down her shoulders, throwing it behind, along with her petticoat, leaving her just in her underthings.

Bheem was mesmerized by the ravishing sight in front of him. He wanted to drink her in. The faint moonlight bouncing off her spotless skin wasn’t doing enough justice to her beauty. He stood up, reached for the lamp, and placed it right next to the cot. Her cheeks, already crimson, turned cherry red, but she let him have what he wanted.

He straddled her, caging her between his thighs, slowly unbuttoned his kurta, and threw it behind. His eyes held her in place and took in her curves hungrily. Jenny had read that desire fuelled by love was the most burning kind; his desire sure was burning her from the inside. Her breaths became short and shallow as her arms went around his shoulders. Balancing himself on top of her, he kissed her repeatedly - slowly at first, then with more force, coaxing her to part her succulent lips and letting him plunge into her sweet mouth. Her bra was next to go. He cupped her and swallowed her moans. When she gasped for breath, he let her lips go and nibbled at her neck & collarbone, leaving his fair share of marks. 

As his lips started trailing lower, she grabbed his face with both hands. Their eyes met, and she could see the depth of want flashing in his.

‘Bheem…dheere (gently)…please.’

Jenny was extra sensitive there and thought it better to let him know, especially given the nipping mood he was in. Bheem acknowledged that with a slow, sensual kiss on her lips. And then he proceeded to make her eat her words. He went atrociously slow, gently yet thoroughly ravishing every inch of her upper body. 

The soft flesh of her hardened peaks caught his fancy in particular - he tended to them exclusively and relentlessly till she pleaded for respite.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. Her moans became more wanton. Which made his blood rush south - fast and hard.

His hands instantly went down to her inner thighs, caressing her lovingly. She gasped and arched her back when his fingers edged closer to her core, involuntarily trying to cross her legs. He tried one more time, pecking the soft flesh of her inner thighs, and she nearly bounced off the cot at the sensation.

This made him pause. Her eyes were shut tightly, and her hands were fisted in the mattress below. She was still a bundle of nerves, too tense for his liking. He had tried to take it slow, to get her to relax. Ram’s advice was still fresh in his mind - he knew taking her like this could be uncomfortable and even painful for her. That was a no-go, despite his own body screaming otherwise.

When he rolled off her, she looked at him in confusion, worrying if she had done something wrong to put him off. He saw the worry lines on her face and pulled her in for a deep, loving kiss, assuring her with his touch, only letting go when he felt the tension releasing in her posture.

They lay on their sides, facing each other. Bheem caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

‘Koi jaldi nahi hain, Jenny. Jab tumhe sahi lage. Agar tumhe sahi lage.’

(There is no rush, Jenny. We can go ahead later, when you want to. If you want to.)

She wanted to cry for a different reason now. God must have taken his sweet time when he was making this man. And he must have broken the mold afterward.

Jenny started to trace his face with her index finger, admiring his beautiful features. Luminated in the golden glow of the lamp, he looked extra divine, extra serene tonight. His eyes, which were swimming with desire till a few moments back, were radiating love and warmth now. She leaned in to kiss the top of his eyes and heard him sigh, making her heart flutter. She traced the outline of his thick beard from his cheek down to his neck. He stayed still, following her moves. When her finger moved to his plump pink lips, he couldn’t resist a quick peck. And was rewarded with his favorite sound in the world - her giggles. She moved her finger to his lips again, and he licked it this time. She played with the ends of his mustache like he himself did many times. He pulled her closer and kissed the tip of her nose, making her giggle harder.

Her hand tentatively moved to his chest. She had touched him there before, multiple times, while tending to his scars. But this was the first intimate touch. She didn’t need to guard her reactions this time. Her hand traced the taut skin of his neck, his toned pecks, the broad expanse of his chest, down to his ripped abs. A shiver ran down her back, and his keen eyes noticed the change in her breathing. The raw, tsunami-like strength of his rugged build had always enticed Jenny, even when she knew him as Akhtar, but especially since she had known him as Bheem. She had witnessed it at that fateful party and multiple times since coming here - in his hand-to-hand combat training, in the way he swung the children around while playing with them, and how he had carried her in his arms like she weighed nothing. She wanted more. She wanted to taste those deliciously hard, erotic muscles.

Bheem had to grip the rough edges of the cot, hard, to restrain himself when her lips touched his skin. His knuckles turned white, but he was determined to let her set the pace. A chaste kiss on his lips was followed by an agonizing exploration of his torso. Her lips followed the same trail of her fingers, but they lingered more. He didn’t dare to move or do anything which could make her stop. She kissed his scars, wishing for them to disappear. The tattoos on his biceps got special attention as she nibbled there. She wanted to give the same treatment to the ones on his thighs, but the thought itself of fondling his thighs made her nearly combust on the spot.

Jenny was shocked at her actions beyond measure. She had never imagined herself to be capable of such forwardness. This was contrary to everything she had been conditioned for since her childhood. They weren’t married, he wasn’t British or of high society, and she was acting as un-ladylike as her imagination could allow. 

This wasn’t a union her people would understand or approve of, but who were they to fathom what she felt for this beautiful man, who had swept her off her feet, literally and figuratively. Theirs was a union of love. A mating of two souls. A bond forged in empathy, kindness, and courage. 

Bheem was safety. Bheem was freedom. Bheem was comfort. Bheem was her whole heart. Bheem was everything pure and worth loving in this world. That was more than enough for her - she didn’t need a societal stamp or nomenclature.

‘Bheem?’ She was gazing into his eyes now. He gazed right back, squeezing her hand.

‘I take you to be my love, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, for as long as you shall have me, which I hope is forever.’

Bheem didn’t understand the significance of her words, but he held her close as she shuddered through it. 

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, trying to pull him on top of her. He broke their kiss and looked into her adoring eyes for confirmation.

‘It’s fine, my love. I am ready now. Please, take me.’

He had been on edge for far too long, almost from the moment he first carried her back to the hut, and he needed no further invitation. Getting back on top, he let her feel some of his weight, and she loved the sensation. They made out passionately while he removed both their underpants and rubbed himself against her thigh, sending her mind reeling.

As he spread her legs and positioned himself between them, he whispered into her ear.

‘Thoda sa dard hoga jaan, par main dhyaan rakhunga.’

(It might hurt a little, sweetheart, but I will take care.)

Jaan. Jenny knew that word; she had heard Sita refer to Ram as that. It was the first time Bheem had used a term of endearment for her. She was so lost in that feeling that she didn’t realize it when he entered her. It did hurt, a fair bit, but he kissed her through the initial discomfort and paused after each thrust to let her get used to the intrusion.

Once buried to the hilt inside her, he started to gain his rhythm, and she lost any remaining semblance of sanity. Their bodies moved in unison, almost of their own accord, as he wrapped her legs around his waist for a deeper angle. Her soft constant moans intertwined with his deep intermittent grunts as he took her closer and closer to her peak. 

Her senses registered the blurry pattern of the ceiling, the near-violent creaking of the cot, and the pitter-patter of feet outside as people started retiring to their huts post the festivities.

Jenny was reduced to a quivering, incoherent mess underneath him - only uttering two words on loop - ‘Bheem’ and ‘please.’ 

She learned and experienced a great many things tonight. About male anatomy - an image that was now imprinted in her mind forever. And about female biology - how women could peak multiple times in a single intercourse. She bit her cheek to keep herself from screaming as she came over and over, shattering around him, driving him near the edge.

Bheem was unrelenting, and he kept his pace. The need to have her was so deep, he could feel it in his bones. She tried to hold on, but when she couldn’t take it anymore, she yelped and pushed against his chest.

‘Shhhhh, bas thoda sa aur, jaan.’

(Shhhh, just a little bit more, sweetheart.)

Aiming to put her out of her misery soon, he pinned her hands down, buried his face in her bosom, and went faster, giving her a taste of his real strength that she was secretly craving. That’s when she realized how much he had held himself back tonight. And she was grateful because this was too overwhelming. His movements turned sloppy, and he peaked soon after, collapsing on top of her, still buried inside her.

They stayed like that for a while, still dazed. Bheem recovered first after a few moments and rolled off her. When he got up to put on his underpants, he was amused at the state of their surroundings. It looked like something had exploded there. He picked up their discarded garments from all over the floor, along with her accessories, and placed them in a neat pile on the side. 

When he tried to help clean her with a wet cloth, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away, not allowing him anywhere near her erogenous zones. When he tried to place the cloth in her hand, she refused that also, too exhausted to move a muscle. She was yet to open her eyes and was still lying lifeless on the cot. Bheem smiled and kissed her sweaty brows. He covered her up to her chest with a spare sheet, both for her sake and his. His desire wasn’t sated yet, far from it. He wanted to go on for a few hours, but she had made it amply clear that she was quite done for the night, so he wanted to avoid further temptation.

He pulled her closer, ignoring her little whimpers, and cradled her head on his shoulder. She turned and snuggled into his chest, sighing happily, playing with his chest hair lazily. Bheem’s astute eyes hadn’t missed the visible evidence of their lovemaking on her body - her swollen lips and the marks on her neck, cleavage, inner thighs, hips & wrists. These were just the visible things. 

‘Jenny?’ He kissed the top of her head.

‘Hmm.’ She sighed, already half-asleep.

‘Tum…theek toh ho na? Maine kuch zyada toh..’

(Are you…alright? Did I overdo….)

Jenny cut him off by covering his lips with her palm. She kissed his chest and finally opened her eyes, looking up at him with all the love she could muster.

‘Bheem, I have never been better.’

She smiled, found a comfortable spot on his chest again, and was out like a light in a few minutes. Bheem spent a good part of the next hour reliving the events of the night, chuckling to himself and worshipping this goddess of a woman in his arms. His thoughts went to the same image from earlier tonight, of Jenny cooing to their fussing toddler, and he stroked her belly possessively. When he finally dozed off, it was the most warm, cozy, and blissful sleep he had had in ages. 

Jenny woke up the next morning feeling hot, which was strange given the climate there. Bheem was spooning her from behind, his front plastered to her back. The memories of last night hit her then, as did the ache in her joints and between her legs. Suddenly very aware of their naked state, in broad daylight, she fixed the thin sheet around herself.

It was late morning, way past Bheem’s wake-up time. She turned in his arms, and boy, she would never tire of waking up to that face. 

‘Bheem?’ Jenny tapped on his chest. No response. She tried again, tapping on his cheek. He whined and nuzzled into her neck. She laughed and shook his upper arm lightly. He opened one eye, figured that there was no burning emergency, then closed it again, pulling her closer. She gave up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

‘Aaj walk par nahi gaye?’

(You didn’t go for your morning walk today?)

‘Mann nahi tha.’ 

(Didn’t feel like it.)

‘Hmm….Aur training? Tum late ho.’

(Hmmm….and training? You are late for that also.)

Bheem knew he was late. He also knew there was some important business to be dealt with today. But he still didn’t have the heart to let her out of his arms. And he wanted to ensure she was doing fine after last night, both physically and emotionally.

He didn’t need to pop the question though; she read the tentativeness in his eyes and cupped his face.

‘I am fine. Really, I am more than fine. Don’t worry, my love. You can go.’

Very reluctantly, he let her go, and she went into the adjoining chamber to dress herself. By the time she was out, he was ready for the day. They both walked toward each other slowly, and Bheem held her hands. He hadn’t missed the tiny change in her gait and couldn’t help feeling guilty. They hugged silently, stroking each other, drawing comfort from each other’s presence. Jenny broke the hug eventually and had to practically walk him out of the hut.

He came back to check on her every half hour in the pretense of having forgotten something or the other. At first, she found it endearing, but then she started to get annoyed and had to practically shoo him out the last time he sneaked in.

When she heard the latest knock on the door, she was ready to throw something at him.

‘Bheem, for the love of god, I am not a child. I said I was fine. You need to get it through your thick head that…’

Her rant was cut off when she actually opened the door and saw a very amused Sita on the other side. 

‘Ummm…what was that about?’ 

They were both inside now, and Sita was looking at Jenny curiously. 

‘Nothing. Just some misunderstanding.’

Jenny tried to look calm, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Sita would see through everything. 

‘Hmm.’

Sita didn’t buy it but put it on the back burner for the time being. She had other things on her mind, and her face lit up as she playfully elbowed her friend.

‘So, did Bheem like the surprise? I am guessing yes - since you two never showed up after he….well, after he swooped you up in his arms and carried you back bridal style.’

Sita giggled loudly, and she had expected Jenny to giggle with her. Jenny didn’t - she looked down, played with her hands, and didn’t utter a word. It was as guilty a look as humanly possible. Sita noticed the blush on her friend’s face and then her attire - Jenny was wearing a full-sleeved top with a scarf around her neck. Which was crazy in this weather. Unless…

The wheels started to churn in Sita’s head. She sat close to her friend and held her hand, making Jenny look up at herself. She tried her best to look patient, but her eyes were wide with curiosity and anticipation, making Jenny smile.

‘Well, he did like the surprise. A little too much, actually.’

Jenny looked down again, and Sita squealed happily, shaking Jenny by her shoulders.

‘TELL ME EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE ANYTHING OUT.’

It was tough for Jenny to get the words out, but she tried. Every time she stuttered, Sita filled in and kept Jenny talking. Sita gasped, jumped, squealed, blushed, and half-danced through the full details. And then asked a thousand questions just to ensure she didn’t miss anything. 

Jenny was scandalised with some of her questions, gaping at her. Sita dismissed her bewilderment and prudishness, making her lay out everything. And Jenny did - it felt good to talk about this life-changing experience. Sita couldn’t contain her happiness for her friend. She was also a tad bit jealous, which was only human, after all.

‘I knew he would like the Sari. I didn’t know he would love it this much.’

They both giggled loudly.

‘By the way, pls keep that Sari now since he liked it on you. Also, I don’t want it back. Even if I boil it in hot water, I would never be able to touch it.’

‘Umm…we didn’t…I mean, the garments weren’t on me when…stuff happened…it’s not ripped or anything…it’s unscathed that way.’

‘Irrespective. It will constantly remind me of THAT. Pls keep it, I insist. Wear it for him again.’

Jenny blushed widely, and Sita laughed at her friend, finding her so cute at that moment. Jenny also wanted to talk to her about something important, something that had been playing on her mind since morning.

‘There is something I wanted to ask you. It‘s slightly…intimate in nature. May I?’

‘Of course. You can ask me anything.’

Jenny worked up the courage to form her next words.

‘How does one, unmmmm, get with child? From what we….what happened last night, do you think I can, you know, get with child?’

Sita looked at her in wonder. She had understood by now that Jenny’s upbringing had been very sheltered, but she had no idea it was like this. It also hit Sita how young Jenny was - she was many years younger than Bheem, who in turn was younger than Ram & Sita. 

She must have been so confused about some aspects last night. Sita hoped Bheem had talked/helped Jenny through those. From how Jenny had described, it did seem that he had taken good care of her, and Sita was glad.

‘Yes. What happened last night is exactly how a woman can get with a child.’

‘Hmm.’

Jenny played with her hands. She was worried that this was going to be the answer.

‘So, is there a way to…take something afterward…so that it doesn’t happen?’

This was too soon for them to be thinking of a child. They were still just getting to know each other. This was a whole new world for Jenny, and she was still taking baby steps into it.

Sita looked at her with compassion and understanding.

‘Yes, there is. I can give it to you. It needs to be taken within 12 hours, so you should hurry. And for what it’s worth, I think it’s the right decision. But tell me, have you spoken to Bheem about this?’

Jenny shook her head slowly. She didn’t know how to bring this up with him or how he would react. She didn’t want him to misinterpret it as a sign of her hesitation in this new life.

‘My dear, you need to talk to him. About what you feel and what you want to do about this. He should know too. He would understand, don’t worry about that.’

Jenny nodded. She knew Sita was right. She had to figure out the right time and the right way to talk to Bheem.

‘And you may also want to talk to him about ways, about forms of intimacy in which…one doesn’t get with child.’

Jenny looked up at her with such innocence and confusion that it made Sita smile. But she wasn’t going to educate her on this - it was something she needed to explore with Bheem. 

Sita brought the necessary herbs, which Jenny had with hot tea. She left the younger woman with her own thoughts and made her way out.

Bheem was outside, circling near the entrance of the hut. He jumped when he heard the door open and was glad that it was Sita, not Jenny.

Sita smiled when she saw what was in his hands, which he quickly hid behind himself.

‘Bheem - why are you tip-toeing around your own house, like a thief?

Bheem looked at Sita and understood there was no point in lying to her or hiding anything from her. He wasn’t going to breathe a word of last night to anyone else. But Jenny would have either told Sita already, or Sita would have pried it out of Jenny. 

‘Let me guess - you have checked on her too many times already, to the point of annoying her, and now you are scared to go in?’

Bheem nodded like a little child - resignation written deep in his big doe eyes. Something about the sweetness of it tugged at Sita’s heart.

‘Is she…is she doing fine? She won’t tell me if she is not ok, but she would have told you.’ Bheem said in a small voice.

‘Yes, Bheem. She is absolutely fine. There is nothing to worry about.’

Bheem took one hand out from behind himself and opened it to her. Sita knew those herbs served as painkillers.

‘I gave these to her already. She said she doesn’t need it but I have still left them inside.’

Bheem nodded again, relieved by her words.

‘Has she eaten? She didn’t have anything in the morning.’

Sita smiled and clasped his open palm.

‘Yes, we had lunch together, just now.’

He smiled. Finally. And Sita clasped his hand tighter with affection.

‘You know, she is not as fragile as you think. She is quite strong-willed.’

Bheem was taken aback a bit by her statement and implication.

‘Oh - I don’t think she is fragile. She is very brave and spirited and strong-willed. I know that, I admire that. But she is delicate, Sita. She is not used to living like us. All this is very new for her. She hasn’t seen any harsh realities of life. Well, till before she met me, at least.’

His voice fell at the last sentence.

‘If you ask her, she would say her life really began when she met you.’

He was still looking down, not convinced. It happened with him a fair bit. When he was with her, drowning in her affection, the doubts never surfaced. But the moments away from her were like this sometimes.

‘She has left everything behind - her home, her people, her friends, the luxuries of her prior life, her way of life. Anything and everything she was familiar with, she has left it all behind. All for me. Sometimes, that’s a heavy burden to carry. And most times, I don’t feel like I am worth it.’

His voice became small and distant again. Sita clasped his hand tighter and made him look at herself.

‘Bheem - let her be the judge of that, please. When she tells you there is nothing in this world she wants other than you, she means it. Trust her on this. When I can see it written loud and clear in her eyes, so can you. And I know you do so see it, but for some reason, you are not letting yourself accept it.’

Sita could see she was getting through to him, so she continued.

‘I understand why you feel responsible for her. It’s sweet that you are so protective. But you both need to communicate better and listen to each other. Don’t just act based on your own assumptions. And that goes for her also. She is very mature in a few things, wise beyond her years, but is quite naive in some other aspects. Just like you. You both are two silly people - silly in love, made for each other.’

There it was, his pearly laugh, mixed with the twinkle in his eyes. 

‘Thank you. For being there for her. For being her friend. It has meant a lot to her; I can see that. There are things that she may not discuss with me yet, but I am glad she has you for those.’

Sita was overwhelmed by this sudden burst of emotion from him.

‘I am grateful for meeting her, too; I treasure every second of being with her. I can see why you love her so much. And Bheem - thank you for making my friend the happiest girl in the world. That’s what she feels when she is with you.’

In the limited time Bheem and Sita had spent together, they had felt a special bond - of kindness, compassion, and empathy. Sita had been able to say the right thing at the right time in the right way to him, just as he needed to hear it.

‘So, are you planning to give her the flowers or what?’

Bheem took out his other hand from behind himself. He had brought her a collection of roses this time, which took some effort. 

‘I will just leave them at the door, don’t want to disturb her while she is resting.’

‘You liar - you are too scared to knock on that door and risk annoying her.’

Bheem looked sheepish, but he neither confirmed nor denied that.

‘Wait till you see her reproachful face and admonishing eyes. Then we will talk.’

Sita burst out laughing, almost making him conscious. This man - who hadn’t hesitated for a second to storm the British barracks alone - was scared of angering a petite woman. It was as comical as it was endearing. Sita laughed all the way back to her hut. And Bheem somehow made it to the training again.

Ram had noticed that Bheem had arrived late, which had never happened before, but he didn’t say anything. He also didn’t miss how Bheem kept disappearing in the middle. He hadn’t even shown up for their morning walk today, which was a first, too. He kept his thoughts to himself for a bit and focused on the task at hand.

When they were wrapping up late afternoon, and others had left already, Ram made his way to his friend, who had stoically avoided looking at him all day.

‘Where are you lost today?’

‘Lost? Not at all. I am right here. I have been right here.’ Bheem blurted out instantly, making Ram even more suspicious. Something was different about him today.

‘Look at me.’

‘What?’

‘Turn around and look at me.’

Bheem cursed inwardly and slowly turned around, trying to appear calm, but his eyes betrayed him, as always.

As Ram started to put two and two together, Bheem could see a devilish grin building on his face. But before he could get a word out, they heard Malli coming towards the clearing.

‘Annna - where are you?’

‘We are here.’ Bheem waved to her, and the child came running towards him.

‘Anna - is Jenny akka still hurt from last night?’

Bheem felt like someone had just sucker-punched him. His face was a mixture of confusion and horror. And utter disbelief at what he had just heard. Had they been that loud? Did Malli hear something? Ram, who was standing behind Malli, was equally stunned.

‘WHA….what do you mean?’ He choked out somehow.

‘She hurt her foot last night; that’s why you carried her back, right? Is she still hurt?’

The color that had drained from Bheem’s face had returned somewhat. Ram also let out an audible sigh.

‘Yes, she did hurt her ankle, but she is fine now.’

‘Then why did she not come for our class today?’

Ram picked that moment to compound Bheem’s misery. 

‘Is that so? She didn’t take the class today? I wonder why - care to enlighten us, Bheem?’ 

Ram was standing behind Malli, the devilish grin back on his face. Bheem tried his best to not look at him.

‘She is……a little tired after the….festivities last night, nothing else. The class will be back on from tomorrow; you can see her then.’

Malli whined loudly, making her best pouting face. Ram felt she had learned that from Bheem.

‘Tomorrow? You mean she won’t play with us this evening also?’

‘No. Not today.’

‘But you just said she is fine. Why can’t I go to her right now? Why can’t I play with her?’

‘Because your Anna has played with her enough last night.’ 

Ram muttered from behind, low enough so Malli couldn’t hear, but Bheem caught it instantly and gave him a death glare. Ram was legit taken aback and shut up after that. While Malli just looked at the two men in confusion.

‘Malli - I just told you, not today. Don’t ask so many questions. And what are you doing here anyway? I have told you a zillion times to stay close to the village.’

Bheem responded curtly, annoyance seeping into his voice, which was mostly from Ram’s antics. Malli used the full power of her whining and stomped her feet.

‘It’s not fair, Anna. Back in the haveli, Jenny akka used to spend so much time with me. Even after coming here initially, she played with me all the time. But in the last week, I have barely seen her. She is always away, always with YOU. Why? She was my friend first.’

Ram looked ready to burst into a laugh, barely managing to contain himself. But he didn’t make a sound, not wanting to invite Bheem’s wrath again. 

Bheem was befuddled. It was true that he had claimed most of Jenny’s time lately, especially since they had both confessed their feelings to each other. But he had never considered that Malli would feel this way. While Bheem was thinking of a response, Malli doubled down.

‘Amma doesn’t even allow me to go to your hut, at any time of the day. When I ask her why, she just says that children shouldn’t ask so many questions. What kind of an answer is that? How is any of this fair?’

Bheem bent to his knees in front of her, bringing his hands to her shoulders.

‘Malli, I am sorry. I didn’t realise you felt this way. Your Jenny akka is your friend first - it is true and I will tell her how you feel. I promise she will spend more time with you from now on.’

Malli smiled widely and jumped into his arms. Bheem picked her up and started walking back to the village, leaving Ram to bring back all the training equipment; that should serve him well.

‘Anna - can I come to your hut from now on? Jenny akka tells the most amazing bedtime stories - of faraway lands and princesses. She used to tell them to me in the haveli, to get me to sleep. I miss those stories.’

Bheem had no intention of compromising their privacy during the nights, so he thought of a round about way.

‘How about she comes to your hut on some nights and tells you a couple of stories? And comes back afterwards?’

‘That should be alright.’

Bheem was glad at having pacified her. But she wasn’t done, not yet. Malli raised her head from where it was resting on his shoulder and looked at Bheem intently.

‘Anna - you like her, don’t you?’

Bheem didn’t want to lie to her. Not on this.

‘Yes, I do.’

‘And she likes you too, right?’

‘Yes, she does.’

‘Is that why you both spend so much time together? Because you like each other?’

‘Yes. But who told you about this?’

‘No one told me. No one tells me anything. But I figured it out myself. Both of you have been happier since last week. You smile more. And you both keep looking at each other all the time; it’s so funny.’

Malli kissed his cheek, and he kissed the top of her head.

‘So, you are okay with that then? With sharing your Jenny akka’s time with me?

‘I am okay. I love you both, and I am happy that you are happy. But remember - I said sharing, not taking up all her time.’

Bheem burst into a big laugh.

‘Yes, I heard you on that. Loud and clear.’

They chatted about many other things, mostly random, on their way back. Bheem was glad to hear her laughter, something she had only started doing recently. She had started drawing again too. Listening to her excited gibberish, Bheem was hopeful that someday, she would be able to get past the trauma of her capture and be their little nightingale again.

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

A/N: Massive thanks to @carminavulcana for sharing the Gond customs. A loose interpretation of that has been used in this chapter.

As always, would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter :)

@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @anyavaramyr @yehsahihai @budugu @rasnak2 @fadedscarlets @maraudersbitchesassemble @juhiiiiii @justmeand-myinsight @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @bromance-minus-the-b @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland @annieginny @chaanv @ssabriel @sally-for-sally @milla984 @doodlesofthelastpage @boochhaan @mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @teddybat24 @fangirlshrewt97 @stanleykubricks @stuckyandlarrystuff @burningsheepcrown @veteran-fanperson @voidsteffy @ronika-writes-stuff @beingmes-blog @yonderghostshistories @nisreenart @chaidrivenwhore @bheemaxrama

[hunterartemis]

The Kate Sharmas in Real Life : Indian women in 19th Century Attire

As an Austenite, I find Bridgerton an abomination, from the costume to plotline. However, like many people I found the 2nd season a bit tolerable especially the storytelling. Simone Ashley who was Kate Sharma (it’s rather pronounced as “sher-ma”) reminded me someone, especially someone dressed in western clothes in colonial India.

It is a preconceived notion by many that Indian people, especially women did not wore western clothes until it was post 1960s, but it is not true. The most fundamental garment, a blouse for saree was a Victorian addition. The eastern Indian women often worn saree as a single garment, and in ancient times, Saree or “akhanda vastra” (undivided cloth) was worn with a “kanchuki” underneath, or an Indian version of Bandeau. Blouse, in its modern form was then called a Chemise (semij, as the local vernacular called it). It came as in late 19th century, and the trendsetters were Upper class Bengali women. Rabindranath Tagore mentions how modern yet scandalising it was for a woman to wear a “Semij” in his numerous novels, especially in Chokher Bali .The picture below is of Princess Sudhira of Cooch Behar wearing what can be deemed as the earliest Indo-Western Fusion fashion in 1900s (she was known to have some good european wardrobe)

You might be thinking, Indo-Western garment is not anything near to the empire line Regency costume! yes, it is not. But before you at me, behold this historical photograph.

She is Maharani Suniti Devi, Queen of the Princely state of Cooch Behar, North Bengal. This shot was taken at 1902. I Know I am 100 years too late but during the 1813 Indian royals were busy from saving their states from the British Subsidiary Alliances, and Artisans were getting crushed by the flooding capitalists as the Monopoly of the East Indian Company was abolished by the 1813 Charter Act--- long story short, they didn’t wear the western garments that early. I picked her photo specifically because Simone Ashley, as Kate Sharma reminded me of her. Tall, slim, thin mouth, bright eyes, voluminous hair and dark skin. 

It is not that there are no dark skin rulers in India, and there were no royal women who donned western clothes--there are: in Fact the Daughter of Daleep Singh, the last Sikh Emperor and the Maharani of Kapurthala, both were photographed in Late Edwardian costumes in the beginning of 20th century. My pick is specially Suniti Devi because she exudes a classic ethnic Bengali beauty. I am emphasising on the fact Bengali because in Indian pop-culture Bengali women are portrayed as docile soft shy beings venerated for their big eyes and pliant beauty. However here you can see that this women is anything but. She is properly clothed in Late Victorian gown. From the prim contours of the waist it is clear that she is wearing proper undergarments like longline corset; light bustle as it was fashionable at that time and the correct petticoat. Loose but well arranged Gibson curls define her thick Bengali waves at the front of the head. The entire thing does not come off as costume-like, she looks like she was made for wearing it: she was not obviously corset trained because Indians often prefer loose fitted clothing and yet she does not look least bit out of place in that dress. 

Despite everything western in that dress from the Gibson hair to the black passmentary lace detaiiing on the white skirt, there is a distinct Indianness that graces the outfit. A long trail of English tulle is draped across the chest, as to emulate the shoulder drape of the saree: in India, a gentleman’s daughter is required to cover her chest with the drape of saree or a light scarf with Salwar. She didn’t need to; she was a Maharani, she could go without it, but she chose to drape it anyway. she also wears bangles in both hands, again a Custom by Bengali women who think a girl should not leave her wrists empty, because it symbolises widowhood. It was unlikely for a Victorian or Edwardian woman to wear bangles in both hands, especially without gloves-- but she did it anyway.

This distinct Indianness with western outfit is the exact essence which Kate replicated in the Wedding Scene