#khatri community

[parasiticstars]

To Teach an Old Dog: #1

re re re re re re uploaded bc tumblr keeps fucking it up

TW: BBU/pet whump, casual mentions of dehumanization, institutionalized slavery, and suicide idealization, and me being very pretentious

Kavan’s back hurts. Of the numerous things wrong with his situation, this is what he decided to focus on in an attempt to stave off the impeding sensory overload— and this is the only familiar, non-Pet-fuckery problem he has.

The bit was fastened too tight and digs in the corners of his mouth. He can feel drool starting to crust his beard. He’s disused to the shoddy buzzcut his masters captors gave him in an attempt to make him presentable before auction; he'll certainly never take the feeling of hair on his ears for granted again. The ear tag is pulling on already mutilated earlobes, adding to a budding headache just behind his eyes. The concrete floors look and feel like they haven’t been cleaned ever. The auctioneer’s voice is solidly the fourth most irritating sound he’s ever heard in his life.

Alas, nothing Kavan attempts to focus on staves off the visceral, skin-crawling feeling of too much. No matter how many times the man gets shuttled in and out of auctions and captors like a head of livestock, he’ll never truly get used to the non-personhood, the sheer objectification of it all. Nor will he get used to an audience leering and inspecting him and the other Pets people around him like the products they’re advertised and sold as.

Nobody seems to be interested in him, thank god. Kavan’s getting too old for most people’s tastes— even as a labor Pet, being above thirty is automatically considered a liability, as if he’d crumple into dust the second he set foot onto a construction site or a plantation or wherever the hell else. Has he felt close to it? Definitely. But that didn’t mean he would; even though some places, water and breaks weren’t a given.

(Why would they be? Employers and contractors who use Pets rather than workers don’t need to abide by silly things such as OSHA and basic human decency.)

But regardless.

With the slowly increasing amount of times he’s talked about like his expiry date has run out, Kavan wonders when he’s going to just be taken out behind the shed.

He wonders if he’ll do it himself one of these days.

A prod to the small of his back forces him to straighten, making him nearly drop his sign in the process. His attention snaps back to the crowd, all crammed together in this dingy-ass building in those dingy-ass folding chairs betting on dingy-ass people.

Long had Kavan lost the naïvety that Pet owners were this special type of evil, so impossibly cruel and uncaring that they simply couldn’t be human. Regardless, the fact that everyone here is so unassuming still screws with him. He could hypothetically see any one of them, say, at a Starbucks bitching at the barista about their overpriced order, or shopping at Trader Joe’s, or working in their cubicle, or at a PTA meeting. That in particular jars him.

Nobody around them would know that said person was willingly participating in legalized slavery, lacking even the flimsy pretense of “rescuing” their aunt’s-grandma’s-brother’s-husband’s-neighbor’s-girlfriend’s-niece’s Pet or whatever else they’d want to virtue signal on their Facebook wall or status or whatever else.

(Are Facebook statuses still a thing? God, Kavan’s been out of the loop too long. He doesn’t even know how long.)

One woman in particular has set sights on him. Judging by the fine cut yet plain color of her coat, the disgusted-holier-than-thou glances she’d occasionally give whoever she was seated near whenever they did anything particular crude, the brand name Ceilos, she’s probably fuck-off rich trying not to look fuck-off rich. What would someone like her want at a low scale labor pet auction like this? Why is she eyeing him in particular? Why are her irises barely darker than #FFFFF?

Catastrophizing is, it seems, a very time consuming activity. It muffles the rest of the auction, the auctioneer’s droning that would soon settle the man’s fate, the assistant taking away the sign Kavan was holding and tugging at the rope attached to his collar.

He stumbles as he’s led off the platform and into the pen for inspection. Through the buzzing of his ears, the sound of heels clicking follows.

[author-a-holmes]

Height Comparison Tag Game

Thank you @winglesswriter for the tag! (HERE)

Tagging forward, with no pressure, to; @jasmineinthenight, @tyne-sharrow, @rumeysawrites, @world-of-fire-and-flight-admin,

@cycleofash, @innocentlymacabre, @aalinaaaaaa, and anyone else who wants to play, consider this an open tag <3

Link to the Height Comparison Website

How To Play: List the heights of your OCs, add any notes you'd like, and make a chart

Lizzy Hail; 5'3 or 160CM

Lizzy's small, but mighty. Her mum's short too, so not knowing who her father is, she assumes she gets it from her mum.

Booker Reed; 5'10 or 177CM

Booker is in the upper end of height for a Fey. When he shot up in his early teens, he enjoyed lording it over Lizzy for a while, and it's where the habit of slinging his arm around her shoulders originated.

Nameer Khatri; 6'0 or 182CM

Nameer is exactly one inch shorter than his best friend, Andric, and it pisses him off. I think he'd have tolerated it better if there had been a bigger gap, but that one inch is so negligable, it irritates him.

Andric Roche; 6'1 or 185CM

Andric doesn't really think about his heigh much. It is what it is. It's why Nameer's only brought up his irritation once. The genuine look of confusion on Andric's face had been enough to deflate Nameer's whining.

Cara Evelyn; 5'6 or 170CM

Cara wishes she was taller. Mainly because she hates being forced to look up at people. She's fought long and hard to be respected in her kavian training classes, and she thinks if she were more imposing she wouldn't be underestimated or dismissed as easily.

You can meet Lizzy, Booker, Andric, Nameer, and Cara in Changeling.

[divorcingjimmatthews]

every time i get notifications on this post it's someone calling the show bad writing because "there would be no story if the characters just talked to each other" and i want to respectfully disagree. i believe the show goes to great lengths to explain why the characters don't always share all that they know with each other. so much character conflict in the show is literally about this. it would not make any sense for boyd to share all that he knows with jade of all people

boyd has military training and it is well established that he treats the town residents as civilians to protect while only sharing important information with his trusted circle (khatri, kenny, kristi), with sara when necessary and with donna. not only is this in line with him being a military officer but is also reinforced by what he has experienced so far in the town, given that everyone was completely helpless until he arrived and found the talismans. also, it is well established that acting on said information can bring terrible consequences and boyd knows this better than anyone. of course he is careful with what he shares

what i am getting at is that jade will have to earn boyd's trust if he wants to be told about the worms and the lighthouse and the dead monster and the spider and the boy in white and everything else. which makes perfect sense! i'm sure boyd is already surprised to see jade acting so normal given how hard he clowned when they first met. i am looking forward to see how their dynamic continues to develop ‼️

[kaalbela]

Rogan is an technique of cloth printing practiced in the Gujarat, Peshawar and Sindh regions of India and Pakistan. The word rogan has roots in both Persian and Sanskrit, meaning oil. In this craft, paint is made from boiled castor oil or linseed oil and vegetable dyes is laid down on fabric using a stylus.

The process of applying this oil based paint to fabric was developed among the Khatri community in Gujarat and the techniques of preparing and applying dyes was passed down in the family. As rogan printed cloth tended to be less expensive than other heavily embroidered garments but could still produce the illusion of embroidery, it was the wedding garment of choice for women from poorer families. The craft nearly died out in the late 20th century with the availability of cheaper and machine-made textiles. However, it is currently being revived mostly due to the efforts of the artist Abdulgafur Khatri and his family, who work tirelessly to spread awareness about Rogan art and teach it to young people, mostly young women from poor families in order to empower them by providing a means of livelihood as well as keeping the art of rogan alive.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 | textile series

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐝'𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ENTJ

Gryffindor

Neutral Good

Virgo Sun, Taurus Moon, Sagittarius Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・Being the Sheriff's romantic partner wasn't easy

・What made it not easy was a few things; Ellis, the memory of his dead wife and the fact that people now saw you as a leader of the community

・Responsibility was something you were used to, but not on this level

・The only thing that made it worthwhile was Boyd

・You got to know a side to him that not many people see

・It was difficult getting him to open up; but you waited. You waited and waited for him. Bringing him food when he hadn't been in all day.

・You had taken it upon yourself to track each monster and given them a name. Since the monsters admitted that they knew everyone, you were adamant that you all had to do the same.

・These little things were how they were three steps ahead

・When your crush on Boyd had eleviated, it came all crashing back when once again he saved your life.

'I really didn't want to be the damsel in goddamn distress,' you thought bitterly.

・You decided to distance yourself from Boyd, maybe you just seemed like a lovesick puppy to him. And you really didn't want to be that annoying person who follows others around

・So you chose solitude - and Boyd noticed immediately

・When he finally confronted his feelings about you, he was both elated and utterly devastated. Boyd realised that he could have spent so much more time with you.

・But something in him didn't want to pursue his feelings

・He felt like he was betraying Abby and Ellis...

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫

・But this town had been taking too much. And sometimes Boyd craved to be around someone; to tell them what was happening in his head.

・So, he approached Ellis and got his blessing.

・Having the 'ok' from his son felt weird but motivating at the same time.

・Boyd tracked you down and found you instantly. He knew all your favourite places, yet never admitted to himself how much he cared. Not until now.

"Hey, ah, (Y/N),"

A tingle ran up your spine. And yet, you took your time, getting up and facing him.

"Hello Sheriff." You said curtly.

Boyd knew he was in trouble then. You hadn't called him Sheriff in 5 months.

"I want to talk to you about a few things, you um - you wanna go to the station?"

"Ooh, under arrest am I?"

Boyd smiled a little and shook his head. "Never."

・Moving closer to you, he offered his hand and reluctantly you took it.

But as you went to let go, his hand tightened around your own. It made you blush, the way he interlaced his fingers. The delicate touch.

He walked you over to the small Sheriff's station, which was technically a post office, Boyd opened the doors and let you enter first.

He pulled out a chair for you and offered you Father Khatri's old bottle of whiskey.

You nodded. He poured and a glass was put in front of you.

・Boyd had a drink in his own hand as he sat across from you. His eyes barely leaving your own.

"What is this?" You asked, taking a sip. The drink instantly warmed you, but left a horrid burning taste in your throat.

"Whiskey, maybe bourbon-" he started and you frowned.

"No Boyd! What am I doing here?"

"Right, yeah. I'll-" He stood up and drank the amber liquid in a flash.

All you did was stare at him and wait.

He took a deep breath.

"You know life here is fucking hard," you nodded.

"And I know how you feel about me..." God that made you queasy, now you understood what he was doing. Sheriff Boyd was letting you down fucking EASY.

You could feel your heartbeat rise, such a heavy thump against your chest. You face was hot, sweat was starting to appear on your forehead and you could. not. take. this. Not now.

Jumping from your chair, you hadn't realised the light had gone from the sky. Racing out of the building, all you needed was air. Just some air.

But you heard another voice.

"Oh darling, what are you doing out so late?" And you realised your mistake.

"Fuck," you whispered as you turned around and immediately backed up. Four of them were advancing.

"Why are you running off, we can make it all go away-"

But you felt a large, warm, strong chest behind you. An arm went around your waist and he dragged you backwards. The gun in his other hand.

"We know she's precious to you Boyd...how long do you think you could keep her alive?"

Before the door closed fully, Boyd yelled out a growl - "Don't you FUCKIN' HURT HER."

And then the door closed and Boyd touched the talisman.

"Fuck you run off for?" Boyd said incredulously. His eyes wide, hands on his hips.

"I wasn't thinking..." but before he could cut you off, you continued, "- but I wasn't in the mood to be humiliated, Boyd! You want me to leave you alone, fine! But don't start the conversation rigHT AS IT GOES DARK!"

For a moment he was stunned.

And then he sighed.

"Just-" he rubbed the side of his face and stood before you. He was quite a bit taller than you, but not ridiculously so. Your eyes wandered to the white spot in his beard and closed your eyes. Waiting for the sentence that would crush you.

"I'm...I...I can't do this thing without you." Your eyes fluttered open and you stared at him. Point blank.

"And I don't want to do this without you," his voice was low. Steady. One of his hands wrapped around your own.

"You don't ... have to do this alone."

"That's not all..." his other hand came up and held the side of your face. Goosebumps erupted all over your body.

It was slow, but the anticipation felt too good.

"I love you," he whispered and pressed his lips to yours.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

You Fell First (You) x He Fell Harder (Boyd)

"You wear the pants in this relationship" (You) x "oh I wish, I cannot control you at all" (Boyd)

"Being With You Makes Me Better"

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Trust and Dependence

Unbreakable Bond

Healing and Rebuilding Together

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

The House of the Rising Sun by Nina Simone

A Sunday Kind of Love by Etta James

All For Us by Labrinth

I just wanted to add the reasoning behind choosing these songs. Each is intertwined with the relationship you have with Boyd.

𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒚 𝑵𝒊𝒏𝒂 𝑺𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒆 is a direct link to the context of where Boyd and Reader are. In a supernatural world, in purgatory, in void space - either way, their town, colony house > they are the houses of the rising sun.

Now, 𝑨 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒚 𝑬𝒕𝒕𝒂 𝑱𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 is to convey the type of love that Boyd and Reader has. It's romantic, it's dependent on each other.

��𝒍𝒍 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑼𝒔 𝒃𝒚 𝑳𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒉, this is the perfect song to describe Boyd's role in this town and how he is the personification of hope. Reader knows this, they know how important Boyd is to this town and not just finding a way to escape, but keeping everyone in order. Because what could be worse than a town without hope? It would turn into complete and utter chaos.

[author-a-holmes]

If it's wrong, we're wrong together!

I have two main characters, and two secondary main character... and then there's Nameer.

He was a character added in the second draft because one of my main characters needed a best friend, and frankly he steals every scene he's in.

Even my editor loved him.

Plus, he's just so much fun to write!

Is it wrong if my favorite oc of mine is not my main character?

[pinkfey]

OC TAG GAME ｡*･♡;

i was tagged by the lovely @noonfaerie to categorize some ocs + use this picrew; tysm ambie!! 💕💕

♡ FAVORITE OC.

ursula — baldur’s gate 3

my three favorite ocs always alternate between ursula, thea, and audra, but as of right now i’ve really been on an ursa kick!! probably my most universally beloved oc as well?? u guys already know everything abt her—a sailor, a tyrant, a lesson in pride, and the rest!!!!! her backstory makes my soul ache and i just love her sm celebrate pride this year by driving ur gf to her death just like ursula !! 🌈 🌈

♡ NEWEST OC.

lacie lane — infamous (if)

my gorgeous gorgeous girl!! my cocky ex gf!!!! my problematic lead singer!!!!!! u guys know the gist. what can be said abt lacie other than she’s toxic and beautiful and not as in control as she thinks. i’m really eager to see infamous develop so i can think of some juicy lacie/seven content bc as of right now i’ve been in a creative drought 😔

♡ OLDEST OC.

rowena cousland — dragon age: origins

so rowena is technically my second oldest oc (the honor of first belongs to silla 💕) but i’m listing her instead of silla because her story and personality has been consistent for the past ten years whereas silla has evolved!! rowena is proud, stubborn, and clever as the devil—and each of these traits have been both flaw and merit. her relationship with alistair is complex and tragic but mended with a bit of time.

♡ MEANEST OC.

kinasi irress — star wars

honestly ursula and jael were both strong competitors for most cruel oc, but kina takes the cake because, unlike the other two who cultivated strong affinities/bonds in their youth, kinasi has never known kindness. for over thirty years she lived in an environment of fear, hatred, and isolation. all she knew was the vie for power and all she knew was punishment if she failed the social climb. in a world of every-man-for-himself and please-your-master-or-fall-from-grace, community-centric skills such as teamwork, generosity, and emotional support were nonexistent, and so she never developed them. to be “mean,” which is putting it lightly, was just their nature. dog eat dog. need against need.

♡ SOFTEST OC.

ellery lux — pillars of eternity

the sweetest weirdo who ever lived!! ellery is a druid who, after being separated from her parents, raised herself in the forest with no one but the creatures and sun-dappled greenery for company. everything she learned, she learned from the woods—tenderness a kind of virtue no human could have taught her. she’s decisive and gentle and accepting and doesn’t care for social conventions in the slightest AND!!! i love her so much 🌿🦌🤍

♡ MOST ALOOF/STANDOFFISH OC.

salylia dreneri — the elder scrolls: morrowind

she doesn’t mean to be this way, but she’s a stranger in a strange land and her former partner just framed her and there’s some freak talking to her in her head and she can’t help but put herself at a distance from everyone !! though she was always the cool, quiet one—tennebrae did most of the talking.

♡ DUMBEST (AFFECTIONATE) OC.

bright — dungeons & dragons

her true name eaki, bright was given to a halfling village deep in the bramblewood when she was just an infant. an odd combination, tiefling and halflings, but they understood social scorn and ostracization and accepted her completely. when her adoptive sibling fell mysteriously ill, bright, at the behest of the village herbalist, sought out an ancient forest entity, and struck a deal—the life of her sibling (and many boons) in exchange for a favor when the time comes. all this being said, she is not the wisest warlock around. bright is bright for her charm and silliness, not her brains.

♡ SMARTEST OC.

jael khatri — pathfinder: wrath of the righteous

this was another tough one between jael and cath, but jael won because she’s, in the most reductive of terms, a sexy evil experimentalist!! everyone already knows everything abt jael and how her cruelty is clinical and her wit is sharp as a knife from when i first played pwotr last year but i’ll never stop being obsessed with her!!!

♡ OC YOU’D BE BEST FRIENDS WITH IRL.

corintha trevelyan — dragon age: inquisition

this isn’t because i think i’d get along with her best (i think that would be emika or honey??) but because i love a DELUSIONAL girlie. i’d kill to pick her brain fhdjfnfnfbd

tagging!! @malefiicarum @rosebarsoap @lvllns @devilbrakers @bunfey @saintjudegf @ladysanjo @statichvm @aartyom @celticwoman @shadowglens @druidgroves @mrs-theirin @necroticpetals @minaharkers @dantesparda @umbertors @nuclearstorms @liurnia @jillvalcntines @risingsh0t @brujah @solasan and you!!!!!!

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 10

Alpha!Damiano x Omega!Reader

Word count: 7.7k

Day 1 of Silence

When Damiano’s stomach rumbled you got up from the bed, assuming he’d want to go eat. Based on the look in his eyes, he very much did not.

“Love, you need food. You have a freakish metabolism.” His expression didn’t change. “How about I get you something to eat and bring it back?” Dami reached for his computer. Why hadn’t that occurred to you? He opens up a document and begins typing.

I’m really sorry for scaring you earlier. I don’t expect you to be my maid. 

His expression is so earnest. You take his face in your hands and press your foreheads together for a second.

“I don’t feel like your maid. You’ve watched over me for a year, Dami.”

I don’t want to hide in my room.

“Okay, but it seems like you don’t want to leave either.” He pauses and sighs.

They’re all going to be standing there, waiting for me to say something. I feel like if I start talking all the pressure comes back. I’m also so exhausted that talking sounds impossible, but also panicked. 

“Panicked, why love?” You rub a hand along his back, the same way Damiano does when he’s trying to comfort you.

It’s all just too much. 

He stops typing and looks at you, pleading with his eyes that you understand. Of course you do and he can see that too.

“You feel trapped?” He nods. “Trapped because everyone expects you to speak. Trapped because if you start talking everything goes back to the way it was, which is how we ended up here.”

Yes. Trapped by my AD2. I have to play the perfect part in case something happens. My entire life is an insurance policy, but it's necessary.

“I’m – I know you’ve been raised to think that, but I wonder if it's true. There might be another way.”

There isn’t. 

He’s so sure, but you aren’t. However, anymore destabilizing today would be cruel, so you put that in your back pocket as something to research.

“I think you’re so courageous to participate in the world. You have so much life and passion inside. No one realizes how much.” He doesn’t type. Instead he just rests his head against yours and folds your hands together. He can’t always be by his computer. Even with a cell phone, this written text thing is going to get exhausting.

“Let’s figure out a way to communicate, just us. One tap for yes and two for no?” Tap. “Okay that's good.” Yes or no questions were the place to start. Dami opens his computer and types one-handed.

Three=maybe

“Okay.” There's a burning question you can’t resist asking. “Have the non-verbal episodes happened since you were diagnosed?” Tap. “So you must have stuff like this,” you raise your clasped hands, “with your parents.” Tap, tap. “It's just all been on devices?” Tap. That struck you as strange. This was a fuck of a lot easier and more accessible than typing.

There’s specialty devices, but I hate them. Docs called me treatment resistant.

“Well, fuck them.” Tap. Dami smiles, finally. You knew Isabella and Matteo weren’t trying to punish or silence Damiano. They were terrified, too. They had to be. Doing everything by the book was their only way to cope.

“As long as we’re holding hands, we can talk like there’s no one else in the room. Okay?” He nods, looking weary, but more willing. “So I can either go get us lunch, dinner, whatever meal it is. Or you can come with me and we’ll feel like zoo animals together, because I guarantee I’m getting weird looks too.” Tap.

“Okay, so I got our meeting with the board pushed by, so you’ll be able to play on a temporary basis. Our appointment with Dr. Khatri is Monday morning. I’ll pick you up after your first class and we should have you back to school by lunch.” Tap, tap. “Of course, I’ve booked you in with your normal therapist –” Tap, tap. “But we should also see the specialist about more treatment options. I was thinking y/n could be somewhat involved this time.” Tap. “Dinner should give us time to strategize. As for what happened today –”

“Woah, that’s a lot of information!” Isabella had started hurtling words at Damiano the minute you turned the corner. “And none of it was phrased like a question,” you observe pointedly. Sandro has disappeared, but both Dami’s parents stand in the kitchen. No wonder he didn’t want to eat. Isabella looks floored, like she never thought to ask Dami instead of telling him what she perceived to be in his best interests. Matteo seems to be more receptive. 

“Right, good point y/n. So, um…” He doesn’t know where to start, so you jump in. Physically putting yourself between Damiano and his parents, you speak gently.

“Do you want to continue playing soccer right now?” He nods, tapping your hand as well to confirm the answers. “Would you prefer waiting to meet with the collegiate board until you’re more verbal?” He shrugs his shoulders and taps three times. “Okay, let’s give you time to think about it. Are you okay with having a doctor’s appointment in the morning?” Damiano winces, but nods. “Do you feel ready to go to school on Monday?” He shakes his head and then commences a stare down between him and Isabella. You expect her to demand Dami go to school for appearances sake, but she folds. Meanwhile, Matteo looks terrified.

“Are you okay with meeting with your old therapist?” He shakes his head and Isabella moves to speak up, but Matteo raises a hand to stop her. “What about a different therapist?” He makes eye contact with his mother while nodding. This seems to calm her.

“Well when would you like to decide on a new therapist? I could pull everything up over dinner today and —” She’s interrupted by Damiano shaking his head. “But our past specialist is okay? Fine, alright,” she sighs. That seems to be an adequate amount of integration for the evening. Matteo herds her down the hall and into the bedroom. Luckily, it’s too far away to perceive any concerned whispering. Still, you poke your head around the corner and try to eavesdrop.

Damiano watches this and shakes his head in light-hearted disapproval. When you turn around he’s pulling cilantro and shallots out of the produce drawer.

“Are you cooking?” you gasp. Confidently, he fills a pot of water and puts it on the stove. Afterwards, he takes a container of pasta out of the refrigerator with a block of what you assume is parmesan.

“I’ve never had fresh pasta before.” Dami is absolutely scandalized, holding a hand to his heart in Italian offense. You try to chop the tomatoes, but he won’t let you near the knife. You argue for your competence and end up stuck on cilantro duty, picking leaves off the stem. Damiano sits you up on the counter right next to him while he slices, dices, and works over the stove. The domestic proximity is nice. It seems that this is a hobby he genuinely enjoys because he starts humming. Occasionally he’ll look up from stirring and smile when he sees himself being admired.

“This counts as our first date,” you decide. Dami cocks his head to the side. “Dates aren’t always at a restaurant. They can also be someone making you a nice dinner.” At the word nice, he rolls his eyes. “This is fancy!” Cue a secondary eye roll. “Oh, I’m sorry we’re not all Italians who can make sauce from scratch.” You reach a finger towards the sauce pan to taste and get your hand slapped away. He probably doesn’t want you to burn yourself, which is why you do the gesture again to annoy him. This time Dami growls a little while batting your hand away.

With a burdened sigh, he goes to the drawer, pulls out a spoon, and dips it in the pan. Damiano blows on the liquid to cool it before handing the utensil over. Deciding to annoy him further you try the sauce and gasp dramatically.

“Why didn’t you warn me this would be hot!?” He tries to glower, but it doesn’t work because he’s smiling at your dumbassery. Dami gives you a peck on the lips and you repeat yourself with much different inflection.

“Why didn’t you tell me this would be hot?” You wink, wiggling your eyebrows. Damiano mimes hitting his head on the oven hood, putting himself out of the misery that was your sense of humor. 

Day 2 of Silence

It was barely Sunday when he woke you for the first time. The word codependence had crossed your mind when it was just assumed you’d spent the night again. You hoped the David’s were reasonable people who reasonably wouldn’t expect a 15 year old omega to do all the emotional labor of comforting Damiano. Upon reflection, they absolutely were. Isabella reminded you to prioritize your well being and gave you an out daily. However, she also lacked soothing maternal instinct, even for an alpha. While soothing, Matteo didn’t possess Dami’s intensity and couldn’t begin to understand it. So he could only provide well-meaning platitudes that he learned in the effective communication section of a parenting book.

Regardless of efficacy, they were there, they were committed, and they’d seen Damiano through to the other side of episodes before. If you felt over your head, you’d put yourself here, right? Except that giving Damiano their best wasn’t necessarily giving him everything he needed. So while you weren’t socially obligated, you did experience Dami’s suffering viscerally, in a way no one else did. There was simply no way to love him, feel pain that you could alleviate, and do nothing. 

Which had landed you here, in Damiano’s bed at 12:36am. Wide-awake and contemplating it, because being marked by someone suffering so much emotional turmoil, was uncomfortable. How could Dami sleep was answered three minutes after you’d rolled away from to get some personal space. He woke up, anxious, about to say your name but the words got stuck. Instead he sought you out via that gravitational pull and exploratory hands.

His touch didn’t make you jump, because you’d heard Damiano shifting around by the rustling bedsheets. He was a pretty active sleeper, so you ignored the hand that came to rest on your arm, pulling on you weakly. When he tapped, you assumed his hand was trembling, moving in a dream. However, the repeated canine whines got you to check for a nightmare.

Damiano was awake, his eyes fluttering open and closed. He was panting, breath heavy like he might cry. 

“Love, did you have a nightmare?” He shakes his head. His exploratory hand is lightly stroking your hair where it rests.

“Do you want to snuggle?” Dami nods, leaning in closer already. Based on him not pulling you over, you guess that he wants to be on your chest. With Dami’s upper body halfway on yours, his breathing returns to normal. His soft snores in your ear lull you to sleep. Trying to cool down, your unconscious body eventually creates room between itself and Damiano. This time you barely wake up. Your arms were already positioned tightly against you in sleep. Dami just pulls you against his chest, getting your head under his chin. 

Only during the third time do you realize the issue, because Dami startles you awake. The sensation of someone touching your scent glands overpowers any other feelings of safety. You sit upright immediately, bleary eyed and scanning your surroundings. Two warm, smooth, and study arms wrap around your waist. The anxiety immediately plumates, body recognizing Damiano before your brain does a second later.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you pant. Damiano sits up as well, pulling your back against his chest. One hand goes to your hair. When he moves it to expose the right gland, your entire body tenses. Damiano scents you and your heart rate slows. You relax against him while he kisses everywhere but your scent gland for a couple moments. When his lips finally brush the area, you don’t jump, humming in delight at all these sensations. 

Finally, you get your bearings. It’s 3:11am and this is the third wakeup because Damiano can’t sleep unless you’re physically touching him. How the fuck is he gonna sleep tomorrow? Also, how the fuck are you gonna sleep? This level of clinginess had gone from endearing to claustrophobic.

“Baby, I need you to tell me what's going on.” Dam grabs his computer from the nightstand and begins typing.

Afraid you’ll be gone. 

“What kind of gone?” Admiring Dami’s profile he’s beautiful as ever, but he’s also tired. There are bags under his eyes, his skin looks older. You’re both squinting at the screen, painfully.

Everytime I wake up and we’re not touching, I panic that it became too much. When I try to fall asleep my anxiety goes “if you’re not holding her then you can’t be sure she’s still here.”

“Oh, love,” you sigh, holding him sideways, check pressed to his shoulder. “I can’t sleep here every night. I have to go home.”

I know. It’s more if you said you’d spend the night then disappeared, what that would mean. I’d also be so worried about your safety, but you might not answer my calls because you’re mad at me, so I’l never know if you’re okay. Maybe you’d never talk to me again or you wouldn’t be okay and I’d never know anything and I’d just have to wonder forever. Like I could help if I knew, but I don’t know, so what if

Damiano’s typing speed has become hysterical and his hands are shaking. You push the computer from his lap and take its place, kissing Dami with his face between your palms. He mewls and crushes your body against his. This could easily became sex, and maybe preventing it from doing so is a bad idea. However, Damiano’s nervous system needs solutions that last longer than a couple hours.

“Mm ‘kay,” you pull away. “Let's go through this.” You pull the computer up beside you. “I wouldn’t disappear in the middle of the night because I love you and I know how stressful that would be.” At some point you’d have to muster the courage to say the words on their own and not in a phrase. Dami rests his head on your clavicle and gazes up at you with wonder and adoration in his eyes. He’d smiling, just barely showing his perfect teeth. His hand comes to tuck the hair behind your ears, so he can see your whole face. Taking a breath, you bite your lip and continue on.

 “As for ignoring communication, we can come up with a code word which means it's an emergency and we both promise that we’ll answer to that word no matter how angry we are.” Damiano loves that idea, nodding while adjusting your faces to be level. “And that word will be…we’ll figure it out later because I wanna go to sleep. Anything else?” 

How are you?  

Honestly

“I really need to sleep in my own bed tomorrow, but I don’t want to worry about you needing me to be here.”

I don’t, really.

“I’m worried that you’re not getting everything you need, but that you’re –”

But I love having you here, always. You’re always welcome.

“Thank you, dear. I wasn’t feeling rejected, but um…I worry that you can’t ask for the things you need,” you admit, stroking his cheek.

Really, I’m okay. Promise. If you knew the team of doctors I have behind me…

“Well, I mean…should I?” It’s something you’d considered, but didn’t want to overstep. “Because I plan to be here for the long haul.” Damiano squeezes you way too tight in response. “Oof! Alright.” He hums happily in your ear, more canine dialect than English. It's impossible to accurately translate because spoken language is dependent on a standardized system and the other is dependent on individual bonds. 

You try to tap into your feral side to bridge the understanding gap, but it's not coming easy. Could be because you're sleep deprived.

“Sorry,” you shake your head. “I’ve never been good at this.” You sigh and lay back in bed. Damiano types something and shows it to you before plugging in his laptop to charge. 

Don’t try to translate into words or emotions. 

You look at him, confused and a little frustrated. Deriving sentiments has always been the way you understood canine dialect. How was a person supposed to glean any meaning from the sounds?

Feel it on your body only.

He slides the computer under the bed and lays beside you. You comfortably find a big spoon, little spoon shape. As solacing as the position may be, your inability to communicate with Damiano via the only language he presently spoke was distressing. It felt like failing him as a partner. 

Dami made that rumbling hum from the back of his throat again and you tried to take his advice. The sound felt warm, soft…round. Gentle wasn’t the right word. It didn’t have any sharp corners or things that might poke you. It felt not gold, but silver…metallic? No, it shimmered in your mind’s eye. That shimmery feeling runs down your spine. The ball of warmth settled in the pit of your stomach as you yawned. 

Damiano’s hands tried unfurling your balled fists and you went easily, relaxing. He made a second, similar sound to encourage this behavior. The muscles in your face moved, even as you tried to still them. You felt the sides of your mouth curl into a smile. Between your legs tingles, too. The soles of your feet and palms of your hands felt toasty warm. Enjoying the sensation, you rubbed your fingers and toes together.

Dami fondly asked what you were doing. Except he didn’t ask, and you didn’t need him to, understanding his canine vocalizations. You shrugged in response and yawned again. He accepted this as an answer. To someone else it’d sound gruff and aggressive, but Damiano was actually being quite affectionate. He even scents you and rubs his cheek against yours. 

In this moment of shared peace, the significance of Dami’s communication sets in. He didn’t compliment you. It was so much more than that. He’d wanted you to feel good inside, good about yourself, content in your body, safe in his den. The way you’d made Damiano feel made him want you to experience all that in return. 

You tried saying I love you but the noise was too guttural. You were doubtful it made any sense until Damino growled in return. With a sentiment that big, there was no translating it, but all those pleasant sensations flared up once again. Instead of that ball of warmth and shimmering feeling, it was as if a heavy quilt came to cover you. The fabric was made of sunlight. That should have blinded you, but it didn’t. Nothing would harm you. Everything inside felt so cherished that your significance in the world was nearly suffocating. Each organ, each bit of connective tissue, every drop of marrow was affirmed as being special. This typical, average body that you’d had for 15 years was made a temple, consequential to the entire universe. Dami wanted to show you how he felt about you. 

Unsure if it's been a second or a full minute, you surfaced with tears in your eyes. Damiano’s thumb swept along your cheek in case, unable to properly see your profile in the dark. Still, he was deliberately observing, breathing relaxed and even. Relaxed perhaps because he felt all your gratitude and reciprocation. Dami kissed the back of your head and nuzzled to get comfortable. This indicated contentment and that he expected no further validation from you on this front. Each warm exhale tickled your healing mark.

Day 3 of Silence

“Is that a hickey!?” Watching the milk and coffee combine in a travel mug, you couldn’t help but wonder if the world couldn’t have waited another 10 minutes for this particular interaction. 

“Uh…yeah?” Dad stomps across the kitchen’s laminate floor, but you dodge him. Thinking you have a hickey is probably the best case scenario, so you hide on the other side of the fridge. Unfortunately, he’s having none of your evasion. 

“Don’t make me chase you around the goddamn kitchen, y/n.” With a sigh, you stand still. He yanks the collar of your pajama shirt aside and gasps in horror. The goal was to get your mark fully healed before he saw it. Without coffee, you’d forgotten all about that.

“Did he hurt you!?” your dad bellows. You swat his hand away and take a step back. Having someone yell in your face at 8am wasn’t exactly conducive to a positive state of well-being either.

“No. dad. Dami would never hurt me.” He’s shaking his head, face turning bright red.

“That – that thing is – is,” he stammers, enraged and pointing an accusatory finger at your precious mark. Seeing the anger and disgust directed at something sacred made you pull your shirt to cover it.

“It's not like that!” How you yearned to have a verbal Damiano, whose charisma could make this conversation so much easier. In an ideal world, you’d have told your dad together. Being accosted before you’d even caffeinated was perhaps one of the worst ways this could come about.

“What in the hell…” he turns you to the other side. Knowing the bruising on the right is going to be difficult to explain away, you cover it with your hand before he can get a good look. 

“Stop that,” he orders, checking his pockets for something. “Where is my phone? We need to call and report –”

“NO!!” Your feral scream surprises even yourself. The sound reveals exactly how violated you feel even when your words don’t. You’d done a lot of yelling with your dad, but this outcry was a novel sound that made even him freeze. He looked over his shoulder in alarm, at least shocked into silence and inaction. Upstairs are sounds of hurried feet and doors opening.

“It’s my mark! Damiano marked me. It’s completely normal, dad.”

“That is not normal,” he seethes.

“Mom! Clio!” you call. “Do you want to understand or is your mind made up?” Stomping down the stairs is definitely not your mother’s measured physicality.

“Why the fuck are you yelling before 10am?” Clio demands, gesticulating dramatically. “Oh, that,” she winces, looking over her shoulder for backup. “Listen, dad, I know it looks bad, but Damiano actually took care of it really well. It’s like wearing his letterman jacket.”

“Are you out of your mind, Clio? Look at it!”

“Well, what did you expect? Everyone knows how marking works.” Even discussing the interaction with your father felt icky, and a wee bit treacherous.

“I’m sorry, what did I hear about reporting something?” Your mother rounded the corner, breathless and still in her sage green nightgown. After quickly surveying the situation she speaks.

“Oh, no, Kevin there's been a misunderstanding.” She places a delicate hand on his shoulder, like all her softness could quell such brute force. Clio slinks upstairs, happy to be free of the situation. How jealous you are of her.

“There’s no misunderstanding, he doesn’t want to understand. He doesn’t give a damn! Why’d you have kids with an omega, huh? Why not just adopt and spare us all the misery?”

“Y/n -”

“He was going to report Damiano for abuse!” You don’t feel the hot tears on your face, but your parents' faces change in the way they always do when you cry. It’d become such an uncommon occurrence that your dad has a satisfying amount of dismay in his expression. You lean against the counter while panic creates a tightening fist under your sternum.

“Let's all just sit down and lower our voices.” Somehow, the three of you end up at the dining table, yourself and dad at opposite ends, glaring. Taking a deep breath, you pledge to give the man in front of you exactly one chance.

“He didn’t hurt me. Damiano marked me to show his devotion, how much he cares about me. If you actually went to Supports you’d know that it doesn’t hurt when you do it right.”

“Oh, bullcrap!”

“Kevin!” An even tempered person would recognize that this was all out of fatherly concern, but he’d threatened Damiano when he was already vulnerable and wounded.

“Darling, I’m sorry to make you cry with all the shouting.” Mother squeezed your hand, but everyone knew that the yelling wasn’t the reason for your tears.

“How's this for the omega you never wanted? I asked for the mark and it's my favorite thing about myself. Because he’s always with me!” You choke on a sob and make an ugly sound.

“Y/n –”

“I just want him to be here,” you confess through the tears. “I want him here,” gasp, “with me. Because he’d – because he’d know the right thing to say.” Except he wouldn’t because he’s not speaking. Partially because of bigots like your own father. The look in mom’s eyes reveals that she hasn’t mentioned it. She hasn’t mentioned any of it, probably so dad doesn’t find out about Alpha Dysregulation and exile your boyfriend.

“Well, until we can get this figured out,” dad motions vaguely towards your neck, “you’re not gonna see him.” There are no words to articulate your infuriation, so you accidentally dip into canine dialect. Standing up, you try to push your chair away from the table, but end up just pushing the whole table. Coffee splashes everywhere, dad’s chair almost tips over, the fruit bowl flips, and all its contents scatter. The apples make dull thuds as they land on the floor.

“No. We won’t be forbidding our teenage daughter from seeing her alpha right after she’s been marked.”

“He’s not her alpha, they’re not mated!” Mother doesn’t design to acknowledge this petty outburst.

“You should know that is unacceptable and irresponsible.” Your father assesses the situation, looking between his wife and his youngest rapidly. He comes to the conclusion not to challenge mom. 

“Right.” Kevin nods once, and it's a reminder of how miniscule proud men can look. 

“I think I am partially to blame here.” Mother’s words are shocking, not just to yourself, but also to father. “As an omega who decided they were not bound for an alpha, I have given you an inaccurate idea of what should be expected.” She sighs heavily, looking vaguely in the direction of the far wall. “And I haven’t done enough to correct that.”

“Well Olivia, I don't know that that’s true,” your father splutters. He gets up and grabs the kitchen towel to begin mopping up the coffee. 

“You shouldn’t be justifying yourself to him,” you bristle. The only person that should be undergoing self-actualization was your father. Never had her fickle submission to him been more arduous to watch.

“I’m not,” she replies curtly. “I’m apologizing to you. Your father is accustomed to a sanitized, genteel version of omega’s and I believe this is a direct result.” He straightens up slowly, then forcefully hucks the towel into the kitchen sink, insulted. For once, dad’s glowering doesn’t reduce her. Your mom isn’t quite standing up for you to your father, but she’s putting herself in the way. Every appraisal of your character has to pass through her first.

“It’s not your fault, mom.” You’re still flabbergasted at the turn this argument has taken.

“Maybe, but I allow the man I raised omegan children with to look at their world through a deficit lens. I should have shouldered that from the beginning.” You hear the floorboards creak and wonder if Clio is listening, just as enraptured, around the corner. 

“Olivia, I’m right here,” dad exclaims, indignant. Your mothers gaze never wavers from yours. It feels like a promise.

Day 4 of Silence 

53 hours was officially more than enough space. It was good that Damiano respected his own boundaries and didn’t show up for school. At the recommendation of his new therapist, he decided to take Tuesday off as well (after some reassurance on your part.) It’d also give the very colorful collection of rumors time to calm down. Still, you missed him like hell. Unknowingly, you’d become accustomed to Dami’s presence, months before you spoke. This building you’d driven past hundreds of times felt foreign without him. 

Ever the protector, Damiano was trying to give you time to recover and recharge. It’d been a tremendous amount of emotional labor and now he had other competent people to support him. Apparently, the new therapist was great and the hormonal specialist was discussing new treatment options to prevent the episodes. Messing with Dami’s endocrine system made you extremely nervous. What if he didn’t smell the same? 

Not hearing his voice puts a damper on your intimacy. You’d grown so accustomed to speaking almost daily. Whether it be on the phone or in person, the warm timbre of Dami’s voice was always soothing. After lunch, the missing him becomes too much. You send a text asking if it's alright to come over. It's mostly just courtesy. Two hours later he hasn’t responded and it's the end of the school day. You decide he must be napping and head over anyway. Maybe you could slide into bed next to him. A nap sounded pretty damn good right now, especially in the safety of your alpha’s room. What might occur after the nap was even more alluring.

It takes much longer than usual for the door to be answered. When you peek through the window, there's multiple figures having an unintelligible conversation. You’re about to leave since the David’s have company when Matteo finally opens the door and invites you inside. He looks uncharacteristically muddled, distracted even as he greets you. Standing formally in the foyer are two professionals with tablets in hand and analytic gazes.

“Sometimes there are drop in assessments after an episode to objectively evaluate home life,” he explains, obviously caught off guard.

“Oh, sorry! I texted Damiano, but he didn’t respond and I thought I’d just come over anyway.” You imagine that positive conclusions won’t be made about the pushy omega girlfriend who barges in. “I’m sorry for interrupting, I can leave.”

“No, that’s just fine,” a woman with intricate braids answers curtly. “It gives us a more holistic assessment.” She’s probably a psychologist and the balding man besides her you suspect to be a social worker, based on their uniforms.

“In cases of alpha-omega selective mutism, normalcy is good. Special treatment can actually make episodes longer,” he says. So act like nothing is wrong, reduce empathy, and hope the whole situation goes away. Great. After yesterday’s blow out, your capacity for holding your tongue with ignorant men is drastically reduced. It wasn’t very substantial to begin with. Giving the psychologist a pointed look, you decide to remove yourself from the situation.

“I think I’m just gonna go.” You awkwardly slink backwards towards the door, but before you can even reach it, you hear pounding footfalls coming from the direction of the kitchen. Damiano slides around the corner in socks, bites it on the hardwood floor, and catches himself, all while looking at you.

“Hey, crazy!” The rest of the room turns awkward while Dami’s face comes alive with a bright smile. Of course, they’d all been calling him crazy all day in veiled language, but no one would ever address it. You throw your arms around his neck and the embrace is so enthusiastic that it lifts you a few inches off the floor. He gives you a single, brief kiss, but in it is conveyed all the gratitude for forcing everyone to see that he wasn’t fragile.

Verifying that nothing has changed, you rest your face by his scent glands. Damiano does the same thing. The high bridge of his elegant nose presses into your trapezius muscle. You can feel his breaths quicken as he takes in your scent. Both by the sound of his sharp exhales and the quivering of his movement of his abdomen which is pressed against yours.You try to pull away after hugging for an already inappropriate amount of time, but he tightens the embrace. Damiano nuzzles your profile, a loving alpha who is unapologetic to the polite society that nearly asphyxiated him. If the room was empty, you’d close your eyes and treasure this moment where Dami uses your pheromones to self-soothe.

When someone clears their throat, he finally lets go, but keeps you in his personal space. As he kisses your head, temple, cheek, and back up again, you forget everything else. Smiling so wide that you feel shy, you hide your face against Dami’s chest, hugging again. This time the embrace is loose and more relaxed. The piling on his old sweatshirt is rough against your skin, but everything smells like him, so other senses lose their relevance in comparison.

When Dami presses his face to your hair, you realize it's been a few days since you’d washed it. There’s a moment of insecurity before reminding yourself that he’d far prefer the scent of natural oils to the fragrance of shampoo. It’s exactly what you’d prefer. Like in the car after soccer, when he was disgusting and sweaty and absolutely irresistible.

“Ahem,I just realized I haven’t properly introduced you. This is y/n, Damiano’s girlfriend.” Matteo not so subtly prompts the pair of you to let go. Damiano does so begrudgingly, keeping a hand wrapped around your waist.

“Great to meet you, I’m Clem, by the way.” Her eyes flit up to Damiano’s face, looking for permission to breach doctor-patient confidentiality. He nods, and her shoulders relax.

“I've been Damiano’s psychologist for over three years now. He’s a good one.” She clearly means it, despite seeing Dami at his worst. You like that about her.

“You’re a good judge of character. Oh, and it’s nice to meet you.” Before the other, less favorable, visitor can introduce himself, there's a new voice from the kitchen. A man with a scraggly beard, flimsy wire glasses, and a frumpy gray sweater leans against the doorway with his arms crossed. He’s judging you, but out of genuine interest, not critique. 

“That’s the first smile I’ve seen all day,” he exclaims, warmly. They must have been speaking, or rather communicating, in the living room when you came inside.

“This is Dr. Laurel, Damiano’s new therapist.”

“Please, call me Jay.” He’s relaxed in a room of anxious people. While everyone is treating Dami’s silence as a crisis, he seems almost curious. He’s invested in getting to know him, not just in doing his job for the sake of it. 

“Let's talk.” He beckons you over with a casual hand gesture and nonchalant nod towards the living room. It was all calibrated to not make the request scary, but it still was. Dami’s expression is reassuring, and he’s not all tensed up from stress. From the foyer, through the kitchen, and into the living room, you wondered about how sound would carry. Regardless, Jay got credit for not disrupting the safety of Dami’s den. Besides his bedroom, this was the most private place in the house because the living room was only accessible via the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about anyone overhearing,” assures Jay, as if he can read your mind. Damiano sits in the cushioned armchair, which you didn’t expect because it leaves you to sit on the couch alone. Bringing it up would just make the situation more awkward, so you cringe internally and go to take a seat. Dami makes a sound of indignation and grabs your wrist. He guides you towards him until he can get a grip on your forearm and tug. Surely he didn’t mean for you to sit on his lap in front of his therapist.

“Excuse me, young man? Young man, what are you doing?” you jest in a formal voice. Humor is the only thing you can think of. Jay chuckles, shuffling through papers with his eyes averted. Damiano puts the index finger of his free hand through a belt loop on your jeans. While you’re distracted reading the room, he manages to pull you close enough that he can lean forward, wrap his arms around your hips, and haul you onto his lap.

“Oof, okay.” You settle on sitting upright, knowing from the strength of Damiano’s embrace that you weren’t going to get away. He uncrosses his legs, hands hovering a couple inches away like guardrails while you adjust position. You roll your eyes at how overly cautious he was, as if falling two feet to the carpeted floor was going to hurt anything beyond your ego. 

“However you’re comfortable is fine by me.” Jay seemed to get his forms in order and set them down on the coffee table. He sits with his feet on the sofa, facing you. It’s a strange dichotomy: such a youthful gesture, to take up the entire couch, but at the same time he meticulously arranges the pillows behind him, grumbling about his back.

“So y/n, you are not my patient and are under no obligation to answer any of my questions if you don’t want to.” He clears his throat and clasps his hands. “With that said, everything that happens in my sessions with Damiano is covered under doctor-patient confidentiality. This includes anything you say as well.”

“Okay…I’ve – I don’t know if this matters, but I’ve only ever been to family therapy. I didn’t talk much though, because I’m the most normal of my sisters. I don’t know how it works.” Dami opens his laptop.

You don’t have to be here if it makes you uncomfortable. 

“No, no, I want to be involved. I just thought I’d meet your doctors at an office. I didn’t think I’d be part of it though.”

“Ah. You’re here to provide information, not receive treatment.”

“Oh, okay!” You relax back, leaning against Dami instead of sitting bolt upright.    

 “What do you want to know? We’ve only been together for…god, has it really only been three months?” You turn to Dami and he seems to be having an equally difficult time wrapping his head around how such a strong bond could be built so quickly.

“Fresh perspective,” Jay declares, cheerly. “Obviously old coping mechanisms aren’t working, so we need to find new ones. Dami feels you’re the only person who sees him for who he is.” Rather than meet your eyes, Damiano adjusts the position of his hands, one coming to rest just above the knee.

“So you want my opinion?” Jay gives a tight-lipped smile and gestures for you to continue. “Well, he’s not usually like this.” You tame Damiano’s hair as you speak, sweeping it away from his neck. “He has this cool, mysterious facade and under that is a confident, sporty exterior and under that is cocky alpha hard shell.”

“Sounds like a lot of defense mechanisms.”

“Oh, yeah and if you get past the hard shell he’ll pretend like he doesn’t really care to protect himself.” You fondly tuck a lock of hair behind his ear and Dami looks up at you through his lashes. He’s blushing and it distracts you completely until Jay reclaims your focus.

“Obviously, you’ve built a lot of trust. Which was the hardest layer to get past?”

“Oh, that would be the next layer.”

“There’s more?”

“Absolutely this man was a fortress.” You rest one arm on his shoulders and Dami uses the position to press his profile against your chest. “Once you get the bastard to actually feel something he freaks out and tries to control everything. But under that he’s afraid of himself.” Your smile drops and you press a long kiss to Dami’s forehead, breathing in deep through your nose.

“And is that fear of your Alpha Dysfunction?” Dami nods and Jay flips through some papers. “Well, it looks like you had one significant episode at..you were 11.”

I wasn’t diagnosed yet.

“Right, so that’s to be expected and you aren’t to be held responsible.” Jay gives Damiano a pointed look, reminding him to be forgiving of his childhood self. 

“But he had to move schools.”

“After a series of minor incidents. Essentially, he just got too many strikes.” Jay shuffles the papers pensively and takes his time setting the stack behind him.

She knows I went into headspace while hooking up with a beta a couple years ago, about how they flipped out and involved their parents.   

“Yet, clearly y/n knows you’re not dangerous.” He gestures to the way you’re tenderly cuddled up together. “Where does that fear come from? Is it fear of what you’re capable of or fear of Alpha Dysregulation itself?” The room falls silent, Dami drumming his fingers on his leg while he thinks.

I don’t know. Everyone acts like it's the worst thing in the world. They act like it's the end of the world that I have AD2. I probably internalized that.

“There's a lot of fear of abandonment.” Just saying the words makes you choke up a little. “It’s all to hide the AD2. Everyone needs to stop treating it like a dirty secret if they want Dami to get better.”

“I agree.” You look up at Jay in surprise. “Absolutely.” 

“But it’s not, uh,” you take a deep breath, fighting for an amicable way to phrase this. When you can’t find one you decide to speak anyway.

“It's not like it's just some small group of alpha parents who hate that Dami is better at soccer than their kid. It’s everywhere. Even that asshole,” you point in the direction of the foyer. “It’s his job and he can’t extend a modicum of empathy. No one can! Fuck, even Isabella doesn’t know how to be soothing.”

“Isabella is Dami’s mother?” Jay starts typing. Perhaps ranting to your boyfriend's therapist about his own mother was over the line.

“Yeah, but maybe it’s because she’s burnt out. I don’t have some special skill set. I just take the time to be comforting and loving and fucking listen. The whole family has protocols, but none of them actually comfort Dami. They always skip right to the solution.” You glance at Damiano to see if you should hold your tongue, but he looks genuinely interested, and a little impressed.

“Go on,” Jay encouraged, accompanied by rapid tapping sounds.

“Basically, all the parents are ignorant and they raise ignorant children. They create stereotypes that aren’t even accurate for Dami. But they don’t actually care about the truth, it's all about feeling important. It's not like he’s a grown up either who's been hardened by life and can take this shit. He’s technically still a kid!” You can feel that you’re ranting, but no one’s ever asked and listened before. 

“As long as he has to keep a secret, there’s stress. But the consequences of getting found out…how is a person supposed to function with that hanging over their heads? Why can’t we remove the stigma? Why can’t we just teach children how to interact with people that have developmental differences?”

“Excellent point,” Jay validates, gesturing at you to go on. It takes some of the wind from your sails, since you’re so used to fighting in these conversations.

“Yeah, everyone is doing what they think is right for his physical health, but what about his mental health? What about his autonomy? He should be consulted. He can’t be made responsible for whether he’s rejected or accepted by society. That’s not fair. That’s fucking unreasonable. He’s 17!”

“Asking these questions is important.”

“Yeah, but everyone is asking the wrong questions. ‘How do we get him talking again? How do we fix it faster?’ They should be asking why he stopped talking in the first place so it doesn’t happen again.” Jay must take a full minute to finish documenting. Or, at least, it feels like it. When he looks up, you realize you haven’t checked on Dami in a while. His face is still lent against you, pressed against your breast. Even partially concealed, you can see that his eyes are watering. It feels like a dagger to the heart.

“Wait, no!” you exclaim at the prospect of Dami enduring even more emotional hardship. The hand on your thigh comes to your face and he guides you into a passionate kiss. Even with your mouths closed, the public display of affection was entirely too personal. Knowing he’s only going to get this one kiss, Dami draws it way out, sliding his palm under your ear, fingers threaded into your hair. When he does allow it to end, he keeps your right there, forehead against his. Rather than pull back, you wait for him to release you, praying every moment that he’ll decide not yet. 

Despite having barely an echo of public decency when it came to physical affection, he does have to let the moment go eventually. Your cheeks burn, but Dami doesn’t have an ounce of shame. He sits up tall, challenging Jay to take issue with the act. After all, he is an alpha too. Jay’s demeanor is constant, unprovoked. You’re horrified at the prospect of Dami ruining his relationship with a therapist that could do him some real good. Tapping twice on the back of the shoulder doesn’t work. Resorting to school yard tactics, you flick his ear, finally earning his attention. He’s surprised and a little bit ticked off, but at least he’s not intimidating Jay. 

“It’s good that you two are so comfortable with each other,” he chuckles. Well that's one way to put it. You remove your arm from behind Dami’s neck, trying to create situationally appropriate space. That actually upsets him.

“Y/n, the vast majority of my clients are young alphas with behavioral issues. It takes a great deal to offend me.” He stands up with a groan, once again shuffling his papers. Jay does seem genuinely unbothered, bordering on serene.

“It’s good to see that Damiano is still feeling like himself. Tea, anyone?”

Notes: Expect chapter 11 much sooner! Thank you for reading my silly little fics <3 I always enjoy hearing your favorite parts and your thoughts. I know this isn't as spicy as past chapters but trust me it heats up very soon.

-XOXO Eden

Masterlist

 @bieberhoodforever @blackberryblossom @butkutee @cuzimitaliano @elvirabelle  @iamtashaquinn @icarodamiano @idyllicbutterfly @ilwiwbysmv @immrbrightsideeee @little-moonbeam-666 @maneslut @mortyandem  @the-chaotic-cow  @wasteddoubts @weareoddlydrawn @whore4damia   @azertyhug @biancathecool @xweirdxsceletton @bohemianrainbow @boyswillbeexecutied @daisy0gf @dustyinkpages @katyldamusic @minnietmouse @obiw4n @persona1read1ng  @gr8rainbowpunk @hiraetheral  @iosonoarina @l0standn0tf0und @que--sera--sera @stardustingold  @teenyweenynightghost   @softmullet @solacestyles @thegeminisgirl @bobfood  @slavicgoddess13

[punk-pins]

with season two airing next week who else got from theories

oh my god do I have theories. my main theory is that

1. the town separated from the timeline in the 1960s-70s, which is when the current system started. all the Things are the original inhabitants of the town that have undergone a process of transformation. in victor’s origin flashback, the merry go round the boy in white plays on isn’t rusted and the town isn’t dilapidated. plus, the clothing of the Things all match that era.

2. I think the town and colony house are from two different timelines that have converged, and the land they’re on might even be a third timeline. it’s the only way I can rationalize the distinctions between jade’s civil war flashbacks/the existence of colony house and the modern town that was built way after that.

3. the Things are like an insect swarm, inspired by cicadas. 1. im an mcr blog 2. they operate under some sort of psychic / hive mind communication, live underground and surface at night, and they rise cyclically. in tabitha’s dream and in boyd’s bottle, I think the numbers are years that correspond to high points in the cycle where they rise and recede. this is what victor was measuring with the trees.

3. the boy in white is separate from the Things, and is legitimately helpful to people by saving them from non-Thing related near death experiences. he only appears to victor after the massacre, to ethan after the crash, and to sarah in the woods in the storm. I trust him.

4. jade, tabitha, and sarah are more susceptible to psychic connections/visions, but the visions can NOT be trusted. just as a Thing spoke to jim over the radio, we do NOT know who is communicating with them. jade is tapped into colony house/the civil war era, tabitha is tapped into the lighthouse, and sarah is just being played.

5. I don’t think they’re dead. I think the conversation between father khatri and tabitha was more to give a nod to the from creator also being the lost creator where spoiler alert they are all already dead. I don’t think it would be the same thing twice. but there ARE some biblical allegories happening. I’ve seen the boy in white is god/the devil/an angel theories but I don’t think that’s what he is but who knows! who fucking knows. if they ARE in a biblically evil place, which I’m not sold on, then someone/thing is controlling the flow in and out of the place.

anyway please send me from theories I need to hear your from theories

[gkfarming]

Haryana was part of the Kuru Kingdom during the Vedic era during 1200 BCE.

Haryana has been inhabited since the pre-historic period. Haryana was part of the Indus Valley civilization during the Bronze Age period. The ancient sites of Rakhigarhi and Bhirrana are some of the oldest Indus Valley civilization sites.(5) Haryana was part of the Kuru Kingdom during the Vedic era during 1200 BCE.(6)(7)(8) The area now Haryana has been ruled by some of the major empires of India. The Pushyabhuti dynasty ruled the region in the 7th century, with its capital at Thanesar. Harsha was a prominent king of the dynasty.(9) The Tomara dynasty ruled the region from 8th to 12th century. The Chahamanas of Shakambhari defeated them in the 12th century.(10)

Harsha Ka Tila mound, ruins from the reign of 7th century ruler Harsha.

Lal kot built by Anangpal Tomar in 1052

Portrait of Hem Chandra Vikramaditya, who fought and won across North India from the Punjab to Bengal, winning 22 straight battles.(11)

In 1192, Chahamanas were defeated by Ghurids in Second Battle of Tarain.(10) In 1398, Timur attacked and sacked the cities of Sirsa, Fatehabad, Sunam, Kaithal and Panipat.(12)(13) In the First Battle of Panipat (1526), Babur defeated the Lodis. Hem Chandra Vikramaditya claimed royal status after defeating Akbar's Mughal forces on 7 October 1556 in the Battle of Delhi. In the Second Battle of Panipat (1556), Akbar defeated the local Haryanvi Hindu Emperor of Delhi, who belonged to Rewari. Hem Chandra Vikramaditya had won 22 battles across India from Punjab to Bengal, defeating the Mughals and Afghans. Hemu had defeated Akbar's forces twice at Agra and the Battle of Delhi in 1556 to become the last Hindu Emperor of India with a formal coronation at Purana Quila in Delhi on 7 October 1556. In the Third Battle of Panipat (1761), the Afghan king Ahmad Shah Abdali defeated the Marathas.(14)

In 1966, the Punjab Reorganisation Act (1966) came into effect, resulting in the creation of the state of Haryana on 1 November 1966.(15)

Distribution

Haryanvis within Haryana

See also: Demography of Haryana

The main communities in Haryana are Gujjar, Jat, Brahmin, Agarwal, Ahir, Chamar, Nai, Ror,Rajput, Saini, Kumhar, Bishnoi etc.(16) Punjabi khatri and Sindhi refugees who migrated from Pakistan had settled in large numbers in Haryana and delhi.

Haryanvi diaspora overseas

(icon)

This section needs expansion. You can help by adding to it. (July 2021)

See also: Indian disaspora overseas

There is increasingly large diaspora of Haryanvis in Australia, Canada, Singapore, New Zealand, Saudi Arabia, UAE, UK, USA, etc.

In Australia, the community lives mainly in Sydney and Melbourne, has set up Association of Haryanvis in Australia (AHA) which organise events.(17)

In Singapore, the community has set up the Singapore Haryanvi Kunba organisation in 2012 which also has a Facebook group of same name. Singapore has Arya Samaj and several Hindu temples.

Culture

Main article: Haryanvi culture

Language

Main article: Haryanvi language

Haryanvi, like Khariboli and Braj is a branch of the Western Hindi dialect, and it is written in Devanagari script.(18)

Folk music and dance

Main article: Music of Haryana

Folk music is integral part of Haryanvi culture. Folk song are sung during occasion of child birth, wedding, festival, and Satsang (singing religious songs).(2) Some haryanvi folk songs which are sung by young woman and girls are Phagan, katak, Samman, Jatki, Jachcha, Bande-Bandee, Santhene. Some songs which are sung by older women are Mangal geet, Bhajan, Sagai, bhat, Kuan pujan, Sanjhi and Holi. Folk songs are sung in Tar or Mandra stan.(19) Some dances are Khoriya, Chaupaiya, Loor, Been, Ghoomar, Dhamal, Phaag, Sawan and Gugga.(19)

Cuisine

Haryana is agricultural state known for producing foodgrains such as wheat, barley, pearl millet, maize, rice and high-quality dairy. Daily village meal in Haryana consist of a simple thali of roti, paired with a leafy stir-fry (saag in dishes such as gajar methi or aloo palak), condiments such as chaas, chutney, pickles. Some known Haryanvi dishes are green choliya (green chickpeas), bathua yogurt, bajre ki roti, sangri ki sabzi (beans), kachri ki chutney (wild cucumber) and bajre ki khichdi. Some sweets are panjiri and pinni prepared by unrefined sugar like bura and shakkar and diary. Malpua are popular during festivals.(20)

Clothes

See also: History of clothing in the Indian subcontinent and History of Textile industry in India

Traditional attire for men is turban, shirt, dhoti, jutti and cotton or woollen shawl. Traditional attire for female is typically an orhna (veil), shirt or angia (short blouse), ghagri (heavy long skirt) and Jitti. Saris are also worn. Traditionally the Khaddar (coarse cotton weave cloth) is a frequently used as the fabric.(21)(22)

Cinema

See also: Haryanvi cinema and List of Haryanvi-language films

The First movie of Haryanvi cinema is Dharti which was released in 1968. The first financially successful Haryanvi movie was Chandrawal (1984) which spurted the continuing production of Haryanvi films, although none have been as successful.(23) Other films such as Phool Badan and Chora Haryane Ka followed with only about one out of twelve films being profitable at the box office.(23) In 2000, Aswini Chowdhary won the Indira Gandhi Award for Best Debut Film of a Director at the National Film Awards for the Haryanvi film Laddo.(24) In 2010 the government of Haryana announced they were considering establishing a film board to promote Haryanvi-language films.(25)

[parasiticstars]

To Teach an Old Dog Masterpost

Kavan, as an aging labor Pet, thought he'd seen the worst that the Pet system he so despises had to offer. His body is marred from a decade of mistreatment, his mind moreso- only barely holding onto the remnants of who he was out of spite and sheer desperation.

He thought wrong.

Art: The whipping boy - Installations: #1 -

[author-a-holmes]

Random Headcanon Generator Tag Game

Thank you @rumeysawrites for the tag (HERE)

Tagging forward, with no pressure, to; @duckingwriting, @oh-no-another-idea, @faelanvance, @elliottsbigstrongboyarms,

@mr-writes, @pluttskutt, @thatfunkylilfey, and anyone else that wants to play, consider this an open tag <3

How To Play: Use this headcanon generator to make headcanons for your OCs! Then talk about how accurate they are.

Lizzy Hail

"Lizzy drank an almost toxic amount of coffee once"

While this isn't actually true, I could believe it to be true. She is not a morning person. She relies on coffee to move from conscious to awake. I could believe it.

Booker Reed

"Booker is a horrible liar."

Untrue! Booker is actually a really GOOD liar. The fact that he doesn't like to, is probably his saving grace, but Booker could excell the two-talking, double-speak, that is natural within the Fey Court.

Cara Evelyn

"Cara will remind others in the midst of chaos how good they're being."

I can see it. Cara's quite a naturally sweet person. If she thought someone needed to hear it, to get them up and fighting again in the midst of said chaos, the words would come easily to her.

Andric Roche

"Andric can drive."

This one is so simple it feels like a cheat. Yes, Andric can drive. It's seen in the first book, and it's important to the plot in book two as Andric's car is the only way Lizzy and Booker can get to all the places they need to be.

Nameer Khatri

"Nameer has chronic nightmares."

Not something I'd thought about but, again, I can see it. Nameer is a kavian hunter. He's very good at his job. But that does mean he's witnessed, and done, some truly horrendous things. But Nameer's also a genuinely good soul, so I think they could definitely weigh heavy on his mind. Might also explain why he's so often laughing and joking, and taking those small pleasures where he can.

Mia Harris

"Mia does not know what sleep is"

This is an interesting one. It's true. Sort of. Mia does work herself to the bone, but it's not entirely willingly. She has a lot of demands and expectations placed on her from her home life. So she pushes, and she should sleep more than she does. And while her attitude isn't naturally the friendliest, all those sharp edges are only eenhanced by the pressure she's under, and the drastic lack of sleep she operates on.

Connorbar Moore

"If Connorbar was presented with an intergalactic portal, they would enter it without question."

If 'Intergalactic' was 'portal to Arbaon', then the answer is yes. 1000%. Without question or hesitation. Unfortunately for you all reading this, the reasons why are spoiler territory.

Olwen Pryce

"Olwen has fallen asleep at their desk while working in the middle of the night."

Another easy one to end on. Yes. Olwen is Connorbar's right hand, and she takes it very seriously. She's absolutely fallen asleep trying to keep on top of work, and Connor has absolutely ordered her to bed when he's found her.

[hypnctics]

☼☾ ( AVAN JOGIA , 27 , HE/THEY , GENDERFLUID, BEAN SIDHE ) - have you seen NAVEEN KHATRI?  they’ve been living in afon vale for THEIR WHOLE LIFE and they really think they’re safe. people say that they’re CHARISMATIC but i heard they’re NON-COMMITTAL. you can usually find them working as a/an OWNER at NAAN OF YOUR BUSINESS. they’ve tried hard to keep THE FACT THAT THEY PREDICTED THEIR BROTHER’S DEATH buried but the truth always comes out. a few things that remind me of them are … flour dusting their hands and clothes, a blend of rock punk & metal on full blast in his headphones, a different body in his bed each week, the refusal to conform to the boxes they ought to fit in.

triggers: death, car accident, substance misuse

born and raised in afon vale, naveen was a relatively happy kid. the khatri parents - while both coming from bean sidhe families - decided to raise their children as human as possible. naveen and his older brother akash were heavily involved in the local community, going to the afon vale schools. akash was the sporty, outgoing leader and naveen the quiet creative that idolised his superstar big bro.

as inherited bean sidhe, naveen had some affinity to his abilities but as he had been raised human, his parents had never tried to teach him anything so what he could do was very minimal.

as a teen, naveen went through a wave of typical rebellion - making friends with the wrong people and getting into trouble. as the quieter, artsy type in the shadow of his older brother he became a bit of an outcast and the boys grew apart.

one night when he was 16, naveen had a prediction. it wasn't clear, just an overwhelming sense of dread and certainty that something awful was about to happen. that his brother was going to die. he buried it, ignoring the feeling and doubting his abilities. the consequence ?? later that night while driving home from rugby practise, his brother got into a car accident and died. naveen, as a fellow passenger, was put into a coma. when he finally awoke, his world was changed.

the loss of his brother broke naveen and the guilt of knowing he might've prevented it is something he has never been able to shake. he became even more withdrawn, burying himself in alcohol and drugs, and falling into bed with anyone that would have him.

falling apart and totally disconnected from his family and friends, it was his aunt that finally got through to him. stepping in and showing him a new path - to learn to use his bean sidhe abilities. she showed him how to connect to his predictions, how to listen and understand, and how to use his scream. finally, when she believed he was ready, she taught him how to commune with the dead. and naveen was able to speak with his brother again.

repairing what was fractured within himself, naveen learned to find joy in life again. he found fun in creativity and has started to try and become closer to his parents again. his mother has taught him old family recipes and their bond has become founded in food and tradition which naveen now recreates ( with some modern twists ) in the street food truck he owns.

though he has dialled down on the drug and alcohol use, he's not tee-total and definitely still dabbles in both. he's also not good at romantic relationships and still prefers to keep people at arms length.

naveen is pansexual and has recently begun being comfortable exploring his genderfluidity. while he for the most part still uses he/him pronouns, he is starting to use 'they' and explore aspects of typical 'femininity' publicly.

[nijjhar]

Punjabi - Bandaee Khalsae of MunnMukh Lala Banda Bahadur ParMeena Sodhi Punjabi - Bandaee Khalsae of MunnMukh Lala Banda Bahadur Sodhi Khatri ParMeena greater than Lala Prithvi Chand Sodhi Khatri. https://youtu.be/546DvBSShy4 Why did Sachae Patshah Gobind Singh Ji and His Tatt Khalsas never enter the Holiest of the Holy Amritsar Complex? https://youtu.be/2UYYQ-5tKTI The description is too long. I have the full on my website:- www.gnisticgospel.co.uk/GobindAmrit.htm There are four spiritual states called “BIRTTIS” in Punjabi:- Ego called Humae in Punjabi and Khudi in Urdu, Mind called Munn in Punjabi and Nafs in Urdu, Wisdom called Budhi in Punjabi and Akall in Urdu and Will called Chitt Birti or Padh in Punjabi and Al-Haam in Urdu. Based upon these spiritual states, there are FOUR Communities, Panths, Millats or Samaj. 1. The First community in which their Ego in Brahma, Khudah, Yahweh, etc. is boosted is called Hindu in India and Jew in the Middle East. Their intake is once-born children who are first taught the Moral Laws of Moses and Ram Chander Ji, Muryada Parshotam Avtars of “Vishnu” for social affairs and Lord Krishna and King David Neeti Parshotam Avtars of “Shiv”, Prophets, of political affairs as they grow up and their Ego is so fully boosted that they are ready to die for their country or called “Shiv Sena”. Those who have over powered their Ego and learn about our Supernatural Father of our supernatural “souls” in which we have One Father and we are all his spiritual Sons, the moral teachers would introduce to them the Spiritual Principles, “His Word” of our Supernatural Father and this is the knowledge of the Oral Torah = His Will, “Inshallah”, the Taproot of the Tree of Life, the Scriptures; “Vaedon Mae Naam Uttam”. In this, our Most Merciful, Al-Rahim, Supernatural Father Allah, Elohim, Parbrahm, etc. is reminded of Righteousness and to love God through His creation in Agape which is much greater than your own love for the tribal people in Eros. As a Tree is known by its fruit so is the quality of the Moral Teacher through his students as demonstrated by the Samaritan man who picked up the wounded person and looked after him on a philanthropic basis, “Agape”, whereas the dead in the letters Pharisee and Sadducees passed by in Eros. Thus, the Deliverer of the “Oral Torah” Christ Jesus was much needed by the “Saltless” Jewish people than the Samaritans and Gentiles, “His Fold”. Out of the ten lepers that Christ Jesus cured, only the Samaritan man of “Salt” returned to thank Jesus. Thus, the Samaritan people of Joseph were faithful to Abraham and Yahweh, sons of Man, Bandae dae Puttar, and didn’t need the Spiritual Doctor Christ Jesus so much as the “Saltless” unfaithful to Abraham and Yahweh needed. They rather loved “Darkness” and killed him. Today, they are getting bundled up for the FINAL BURNING through the Atomic War as predicted by Christ Jesus in Matthew 13v24-30. About this, Christ Jesus said in Matt.24.22; "And unless those days should be shortened, there should no flesh be saved; but for the elect's sake, those days shall be shortened". I expect the ATOMIC WAR on 14/05/2025 when Israel is 77 (70 + 7 Menorah) years old. Our Father knows BETTER. 2. When the Rabbis had become crooks and started twisting the moral laws to suit their whims, the people were highly cheated. Then, the very Son of Elohim appears to redeem the victims of the Rabbis/Brahmins, the Gentiles as Simeon in the Temple stressed, a Light for the Gentiles. Thus, the First Christ = Satguru came to the Middle East to introduce the Royal Kingdom of God that has a low for the humble like Lazarus and narrow for solitary masters of their own destinies as the Sadhus, Melchizedek. To be spiritually twice-born, you must first be faithful to your tribal father as the Samaritans were the faithful sons of Brahma, Yahweh, Khudah, etc. Bandae Dae Puttar, sons of Shiva, KACHA PEO to Serve ParShiv Sachae Patshah Gobind Singh Ji, PAKKA PEO as His Purely Spiritual Khalsa Soldiers to establish the RULE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS in which the ego of serving Shiv is changed to ParEgo of serving the ParShiv Royal King Sachae Patshah Gobind Singh Ji of the Third Khalsa Panth of Khalas, “NIRMAL”, Men (Puritans) and not women, THE SHAKTI – MAI BHAGO. Thus, TANN, PHYSICAL BODY IS CLEANSED NIRMAL WITH WATER, the tribal father and Munn, mind, Nafs, heart, etc. with His Word delivered by Christ Jesus and Satguru Nanak Dev Ji of the Bhagti Marag in which we are all, friends or enemies, the Sons of God Parbrahm, Elohim, Allah, etc. and in which case we hate none and love all in Agape called “Prem” as demonstrated by Bhai Ghaniyia Ji who gave the First Aid to everyone in the Battle of the Khalsas against the tyrants. Of those Khalsas who wanted to Preach the Gospel, they were ...... My ebook. ASIN: B01AVLC9WO www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/JAntisem.htm M Books:- ONE GOD ONE FAITH:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/bookfin.pdf Punjabi www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/pdbook.pdf EXPOSES KHATRIS:- Punjab Siyan. Trinity:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/trinity.pdf ...

[imtiaz-khatri]

Imtiaz Khatri- A Visionary Producer Transforming Indian Cinema

Imtiaz Khatri is a name that resonates within the Indian film industry, embodying creativity, innovation, and a commitment to excellence. As a prominent film producer, he has carved a niche for himself by embracing diverse storytelling and nurturing emerging talent. With a passion for cinema that began in his youth, Khatri's journey has become a remarkable testament to his dedication and vision.

Early Life and Inspirations

Born on September 9, 1989, in India, Imtiaz Khatri was drawn to the arts from an early age. His fascination with storytelling and the magic of film inspired him to pursue a career in the industry. Khatri understood the significance of film as a medium to convey powerful narratives and evoke emotions, and he set out to learn the intricacies of production.

Establishing VVIP Universal Entertainment

In 2017, Imtiaz Khatri took a significant step forward by founding VVIP Universal Entertainment. This venture marked the beginning of his professional career as a film producer. His inaugural project, the Marathi film Hrudayantar, was a critical success, showcasing his ability to blend compelling narratives with quality production values. The film not only resonated with audiences but also set the stage for Khatri's future endeavors in the industry.

Diverse Filmography

As a film producer, Imtiaz Khatri has built an impressive portfolio that spans various genres, including drama, comedy, and thrillers. His dedication to quality storytelling is evident in every project he undertakes. Khatri believes that a successful film should not only entertain but also provoke thought and inspire change. His works often reflect contemporary issues and resonate with a wide range of viewers, making him a versatile player in the industry.

Commitment to Emerging Talent

One of the hallmarks of Imtiaz Khatri's career is his commitment to nurturing new talent. He actively seeks opportunities for fresh faces, whether they are actors, directors, or writers. By providing platforms for emerging artists, Khatri fosters creativity and innovation within the industry. His mentorship and support for young talent are integral to his production philosophy, ensuring that diverse voices and perspectives are represented in Indian cinema.

Embracing Technology and Innovation

In a rapidly evolving entertainment landscape, Imtiaz Khatri understands the importance of staying ahead of technological advancements. He embraces new production techniques and digital platforms, enhancing the quality and reach of his films. Khatri’s forward-thinking approach allows him to connect with broader audiences and adapt to changing viewer preferences, ensuring that his productions remain relevant and engaging.

Philanthropic Initiatives

Beyond his professional achievements, Imtiaz Khatri is also committed to giving back to society. He actively participates in philanthropic initiatives that aim to uplift underprivileged communities. By leveraging his platform, Khatri strives to make a positive impact and support social causes. His dedication to philanthropy reflects his belief in the transformative power of cinema to inspire change and promote understanding.

Conclusion

Imtiaz Khatri is a visionary film producer whose influence on the Indian film industry continues to grow. Through his diverse filmography, commitment to nurturing talent, and embrace of technology, he is shaping the future of cinema in India. As he forges ahead, Imtiaz Khatri is set to deliver captivating stories that resonate with audiences and inspire the next generation of filmmakers. His dedication to quality, creativity, and social responsibility makes him a key player in the ever-evolving landscape of Indian cinema.

[jacksprrow]

The Power of Mobile Apps for Realtors and Loan Officers

The Power of Mobile Apps for Realtors and Loan Officers

In today's digital age, real estate professionals are increasingly turning to technology to streamline their operations, boost their brand, and enhance client experience. Among the most impactful tools are mobile apps tailored for realtors and loan officers. These apps not only serve as powerful marketing tools but also provide clients with quick access to essential services and information. Why Realtors Need Mobile Apps Real estate is a fast-paced industry that thrives on instant communication, quick access to property information, and seamless client engagement. A realtor mobile app offers several advantages: Client Engagement: Realtors can stay connected with their clients around the clock. Push notifications about new listings or changes in property status ensure that clients never miss out on opportunities. Convenient Access: A mobile app allows potential buyers to browse listings, schedule viewings, and even calculate mortgage rates—all at their fingertips. Brand Building: Having a custom-branded mobile app gives realtors a professional edge, setting them apart in a competitive market. Benefits for Loan Officers Similarly, a loan officer app is a valuable tool that simplifies the mortgage process for both the officer and their clients: Simplified Calculations: Mortgage calculators, loan repayment schedules, and financial estimates can be easily accessed, providing clients with clear and instant insights. Real-Time Updates: Loan officers can send updates on loan applications, interest rate changes, or new products via the app, ensuring their clients stay informed. Convenience for Clients: With everything housed in one app, clients can track their loan progress and contact their loan officer with ease, resulting in a smoother and more efficient experience. Affordable and Customized Mobile App Solutions For realtors, loan officers, and real estate companies, the idea of having their own mobile app for real estate companies might seem like an expensive and complex project. However, it doesn’t have to be. With advancements in app development, it's now possible to create customized, functional, and affordable apps tailored specifically to the needs of real estate professionals. If you're a realtor or loan officer looking to enhance your services and grow your business, consider investing in a mobile app. It's an effective way to stand out in a competitive market, engage your clients, and provide them with a seamless experience. Schedule a Demo Today Interested in learning how a mobile app can transform your real estate or loan business? Take the first step by scheduling a demo today. Click here to book an appointment and discover how a personalized mobile app can work for you.

View Agent Branded App Live:

Apple App Store : https://apps.apple.com/us/app/jayesh-khatri-realtor/id6450607515?l=en

Google Play Store : https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.qcm.jkApp

View Office Branded App Live:

Apple App Store : https://apps.apple.com/us/app/remax-innovation/id6450897008

Google Play Store : https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.qcm.remaxInnovation