#ritika talks

[hum-suffer]

I'm yours

Ishan is a hopeless romantic. In the sense that his romantic interests never let him hope.

The most recent person that he has been head over heels for is going to give a seminar in their college and he's Ishan's favourite.

Ishan is the head of the Cultural and Intellectual Committee and as such, he's in charge of almost all the extracurricular events that take place in the college. He's always had such bloody issues with 90% of the guests and speakers for being unprepared or late that these days he just assumes that the guests will be late, but hopefully not too late.

Which, brings him back to his current romantic interest— Shubhman Gill.

The man has been guest speaker in their college twice by now, third time monday, and he has never disappointed Ishan. He's always on time, he's always perfectly dressed, and he always emails Ishan his speech and let's Ishan point out details that he would humbly request to add or remove. Ishan could have kissed him for being a half decent human being the very first time he did that.

Plus, the college being the Techno faculty, the super famous technological prodigy of India coming as a guest speaker, Shubhman sometimes gets assaulted with too many questions and people and sometimes with no good interactive audience at all and yet, he smiles and talks to the teachers afterwards.

The first time Shubhman talked to him, Ishan had been putting away the gifts Shubhman received so that the man could take them on his bike without damaging the Tulsi plant.

(And that was another thing. A famous and important personality coming on his fucking bike? Ishan drooled a little bit when he heard Shubhman softly ask Ritika ma'am for a place to keep his helmet at.)

"Thank you for inviting me," Shubhman told him in a bashful way, an embarrassed blush on his cheeks.

Inexplicably, Ishan wanted to bite those cheeks. He held himself in chem and smiled back,"Thank you for coming, Mr. Gill. You've been a pleasure to work with."

"Please, it's Shubhman! And honestly, I had fun coming here as well. I hear you're the organiser of the event; it's amazingly done, I must say. Your management is impeccable."

So what if Ishan let the praise get to his head? So what if he stalked Shubhman on Instagram later? They had exchanged numbers—for future seminars, Shubhman had explained, much to Ishan's misfortune— and Ishan was entitled to be a little over his head for once!

The second time they talked, was when Ishan congratulated Shubhman on his award as the leading influencer of social media. The third time was when Shubhman wished Ishan on his birthday. The fourth was when Ishan had to invite Shubhman for ALASKA organisation's collab with their college and his presence as a guest judge.

Shubhman had sought him out again.

"I had a lot of fun," he said with that damnable smile of his,"thank you for inviting me again, Ishan."

Ishan shook his head,"Thank you for coming, man. Honestly, your way of interaction makes learning more interesting for the students. And, well, throws me some points to become the favourite teacher of the year."

Shubhman laughed, a sound that Ishan wanted to get drunk on for the rest of his goddamn life. "You have those competitions?"

Ishan looked around dramatically and leaned towards Shubhman, as of telling a secret. Shubhman, that perfect man, leaned forward as well, looking completely serious about this so called secret.

Ishan reached on his tip toes to whisper,"The students do that in their classes on Teachers' day. If they do it publically, they have to give the best teacher paper crown to teachers senior than me. So, a private award for me to take."

Somewhere in the background, something huge fell and Ishan startled badly enough to almost stumble but Shubhman caught him by the arm and grinned,"Cheers to the best teacher, then. What's the other activities you planned amazingly?"

And that's how Shubhman had ended up getting VIP passes to see the Darshan Raval concert that had been arranged.

Virat bhaiya had raised an eyebrow at Ishan showing Shubhman around the campus while they prepared for the concert lightings and all, but hadn't said anything. Ishan was so thankful.

They haven't talked in the four months after Ishan wished Shubhman a happy birthday.

____________________________________________________

So, in short, Ishan is a hopeless romantic. He turns every little gesture into a gesture of love and he has many one sided love stories that live rent free in his head.

He would have romantisized this as well, to be honest, if he wasn't confused as fuck.

He's been home for all of five minutes after a damn long day— it's exam season— and all he wants to do is flop on his bed and sleep for the next four weeks. A text pops up on his phone, from an unknown number.

'Are you tired, love? Anything I can do to help?'

Ishan frowns. None of his friends changed their numbers recently and moreover, none of them use nicknames. Can't be a student, no student of his would dare disrespect him. He may be lenient most of the time, but he's tempered enough to break their audacity on the very first lecture.

'Who is this?'

The reply came instantly. 'Your admirer? Your worshipper? Your fan?' a second passed as Ishan gawked at the message. Another message dropped. 'Whatever I am, I'm yours.'

Well, damn. Someone's smooth.

'Thank you for your kind words, but I prefer not to own people. It's illegal yk?' Ishan feels like an idiot as soon as he sends the text but he can't do anything because it's seen immediately. The person on the other side must be bloody stuck to their chat.

They send a few laughing emojis. 'I could turn the world around for you to be mine, though.'

Goddamn.

Ishan leaves the message on seen as he types the unknown number on Truecaller, but there's no registered name under the number.

He's about to leave and go freshen up when another message pops up.

'Searching for me on Truecaller will result to nothing, love.'

Ishan leaves the message on delivered as he looks around himself, his big house feeling emptier by the second. He blocks the number, somehow feeling a weird mix of anticipation and trepidation. He takes a fortifying breath and nods to himself, throwing his phone on the dinning table on his way to his bed room.

He tries to get the message out of his head as he looks for another YouTube video to see while eating his dinner.

'Do you know that blocking someone in the middle of the conversation is rude, Ishan?' the pop up message reads.

'Fuck off.'

____________________________________________________

There's a swarm of notifications going off and that's how Ishan wakes up at the ungodly hour of 2:34 am.

He blindly reaches for his phone, the brightness will kill him he's sure, but somehow manages to read the notifications with squinted eyes.

It's an annual Spotify subscription? What the fuck?

He scrambles to sit up and turns on the lamp, trying to focus more. The bloody notifications are an absolute onslaught to his ears. He even has an email announcing his annual Spotify premium account but there's no SMS of deduction from his account. What even—

Before he can start to plan a schedule to go to the bank tomorrow and also somehow plan a call to the customer service of Spotify, another message from that unknown number pops up.

'Happy belated Birthday, Ishan. Sorry I couldn't get you any actual gifts this time, I'll do better next time.'

Next bloody time?

'There won't be a bloody next time. Don't interfere in my life again. And cancel this bloody premium, i don't need it.'

And he lies.

He does need the premium for when he pulls all nighters and for when he drives to and fro to college. He needs it because he needs someone to talk and listen when he wants to be awake and podcasts are the only way that happens lately when he's off work.

Yes, he has a horrid social life— as a professor often does. All his friends are his colleagues. His family usually knows that he pulls insane hours and they only call at weekends.

'Don't reject it, pls' the message comes, as Ishan ponders his lonely life. When was the last time he enjoyed his life thoroughly? Another message pops up. 'Look, I just want to do something nice for you, okay? Leave it be, it's not your money thats costing you and I've got plenty of money to spend on my dear ones, with god's grace.'

Ishan doesn't know what to reply and he is incensed at himself for it. What the fuck? Ishan has never been greedy or wanted what he couldn't have. This random person suddenly gifts him a Spotify premium, Ishan contemplates his life and he hesitates in doing the right thing?

'Pls Ishan?'

Oh god, he can hear the puppy eyes. He turns off his internet and throws the phone on the bed. Somehow, Ishan manages to sleep.

____________________________________________________

The next morning, it's thankfully Saturday. His Saturdays go great almost always.

His hand itches to listen to his Spotify playlist he's made specifically for travel, but he doesn't want to use a stranger's gift. The stranger might know him and do it out of good of his heart or whatever, but Ishan, in all good conscience cannot use someone for their money.

As he absentmindedly drinks his evening tea, Ishan contemplates any tasks he has for the next day— grocery shopping, getting a haircut, finding a plumber to fix that minor leakage in his kitchen tap. It's gonna be a long day.

"Ishan!" He blinks up like a deer in highlights as he's startled by Rohit bhaiya. "What are you thinking?"

"Kuch nahi, bhaiya," he says and grins when Rohit bhaiya puts his hand on his shoulder. Ishan has always been a fan of skinship, and while Virat bhaiya being touchy is normal and comforting, Rohit bhaiya being touchy is rewarding and privileged. "Aap batao, how was your day?"

He groans in reply,"Puchh mat, Bhai. These B.Com students look innocent but they're so not! Apparently some kids sold around a paper of Accounts saying it's a leaked paper but it wasn't and making it clear to the students as well the board members? Hell. Why did I even accept to be the Secretary there when I'm Dean here too?"

Ishan laughs,"Because you love Virat bhaiya and lost a bet?"

"Shh, don't speak about it where students can hear you!"

Ishan laughs again. Feeling happy is a natural state of his when he's around his colleagues, they're all so good to him. It's what makes him stay in the college despite him getting offers from a lot of colleges in bigger cities. He's never gonna get the same affection anywhere else and he's ready to face some separation with his family while he works here. He's already made it clear that they're gonna come love with after his father finally retires.

"Accha, tell me what is the status of overmorrow's seminar?"

The one where his celebrity crush is going to be the main speaker?

"Spectacular. I've done everything, bas I'll get the flowers and the gift watch and everything else is set. Bhaiya bas Monday ko maachis dhundhni na pade, haa?"

It happens almost every damn time. It'd be ten minutes from arrival time of the guest and Ishan would tell some student to get the matchsticks for the auspicious diya lighting and no one would find the matchsticks. With everyone else, it's fine, but Shubhman? He's a punctual man, running around like headless chicken in front of him is not how he wants to establish himself and his students.

Rohit bhaiya nods understandingly. "Pakka. Varna ye apna hai na vo, usse lighter le ke candle light karke de Dena."

Ishan shakes his head at the confusing slang Rohit bhaiya uses. Amar, one of his students, has a smoking habit and hence carries around a lighter. The idiot always saves himself by offering his lighter at times when lighting something was necessary.

"Thik. Anyways, I'm going home, bhaiya. Anything left for me to do?"

Rohit bhaiya shakes his head with a grin and lets him go.

Its almost reflex when Ishan puts his earphones in and starts Chhaiya Chhaiya.

The bloody quality makes him blink and straighten up. And oh. Yeah, he's using premium.

Even as he feels a little guilty, his head bops to the beat as he drives back home.

____________________________________________________

When Ishan comes back home again, his garden looks different.

He's convinced that it's because he's not inspecting it properly so he crouches down and cranes his neck to look at the grass and some flower plants he has. He can't put his finger on it, but it's different.

He glances around the rest of his garden and that's when it catches his eye— the mower. And the pile of grass beside.

Someone fucking mowed his garden? And somehow, to the exact way he likes it.

And then, he hears the start of a two-wheeler, and before he's even out of the gate, the person has turned the corner and all Ishan can see is the shade of their taillight on the trees.

Ishan hightails it inside his house and checks it all over.

No lock broken, no thing stolen and no money moved. Everything is as it was when he left in the morning.

His phone pings with another message.

'Sorry to leave like that, ik it was obnoxious'

'how'd you like your garden tho? Did I do well?'

And. Ishan is a weak man, okay?

He knows this is wrong, he knows he has a stalker probably, and someone with probably deep issues, but. He bloody can't accept such big help without saying anything in gratitude, okay? He's weak.

'Its fine, tho I'd like to meet you someday' what the fuck is he saying. He wants to meet a probable sociopath?

'And thanks for the garden. You've done it perfectly and it's a great help. Thank you' there. He's been polite.

Another message comes. 'I think you'll enjoy our meeting a lot, love. And your welcome'

No other messages pop up throughout the evening.

Ishan denies to even himself that he checks his phone every five minutes for the stranger.

He's intrigued, he says to himself when he goes to sleep.

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @mayakimayahai @onthecloudseven @ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si @kyayaarkiraa @fortunatelycrazyyouth @khwxbeeda @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @ishkrisq

[kittypatch]

"There'll be a moment when you realise you're 27 when yesterday you were just 17; and you wouldn't be able to tell how a decade passed away and your life got divided into before and afters. The fury of youth will subdue and nothing will really change but everything will feel different when you look at old photographs and blurry videos taken on cheap mobile phones. Scents will remind you of childhood and certain friends you don't talk to anymore, hangouts will become reunions and mom's burnt pie will become the best food you ever had. And I know on some days you won't be able to show anything of those 10 years but I hope you remember to breathe, and let go of the knot in your chest. I hope you go out in the sun and live a little, because tomorrow is 37. "

by Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned

And before you realize what happened and long before you are ready, you find all you can do is hold it in neutral as you head for the barn. By my now deceased friend Patsy, who is much missed.

[kookslastbutton]

Sometimes I think I made my friends introverted too. Like I always hated socializing, and I always have difficulty making friends and talking to people. When I first met my friends they were very extroverted and they used to talk to almost everyone in our school. But now whenever anyone approaches us they are like ' man, why are they coming here' or ' let's not go from that way otherwise we have to interact with others' . And I tell them about this too and they are like we like to be in our circle only. And sometimes I feel like a bad person and it's my fault.

Hi Ritika! 🥰🤍 I know I’m so terribly late replying to this but I’m gonna do it now!

I wouldn’t worry too much about this tbh as your friends have likely gotten comfortable with being around you. It’s like once you find your people you don’t wanna divert haha.

But I understand that they could still be open to socializing with others. Still, you’ve brought it up to them and if they don’t wanna then there is not much else you can do. If you really want, you could push to socialize with someone together every in once in a while, but I wouldn’t blame yourself or feel like a bad person for this matter in the slightest.

I’m also a firm believer that you can get close to only a few people in this life anyway, so as long as you’re not being mean to others I think you are fine.

I hope this helps even though it’s super late! I’m so sorry! 🤍

[hawkepockets]

BG3 CHARACTER PAGE

Jove they/any 🌩️ blue dragonborn 🌩️ paladin 🌩️ guild artisan

🌩️ multiclass: bard

Jove’s Oath of Ancients is a sacred commitment to affirm life, foster joy, be excellent to each other, and PARTY ON, DUDES!! A literally sworn optimist, they can come across as risk-happy, blasé, even callous in their dismissal of danger and negativity, but it’s also easy to get swept up in their huge dragonborn muscles and +9 rizz modifier and believe them when they say it’ll all be okay.

They used to be a gifted artisan, but don’t talk about their career or how it ended. Now they’re a paladin errant, wielding their giant glaive and ferocious positivity against the agents of despair. After losing an eye, breaking their wrist and their oath, Jove’s optimism has grown back harder and more gnarled than before, and they tend to defer to their companions for major decisions, not trusting their own judgment anymore.

Romancing Shadowheart Lae’zel. Best friends with Gale. Healer tank.

My first solo playthrough PC, abandoned at Moonrise Towers (for now).

TAG: #oc: jove

Estis she/her 🌞 gold dwarf 🌞 dream guardian

Ritika Estis was the master metallurgist who taught Jove to work with molten materials, despite their misgivings about being a blue dragonborn without fire breath or resistance. She passed away some years ago in Baldur’s Gate, but Jove’s dream guardian takes her form—whether as a cheap ploy to gain Jove’s trust, or as a genuine echo of their old mentor, they can’t be sure.

Auntie she/her ◾️ githyanki ▪️wild magic barbarian◾️ The Dark Urge

▪️ multiclass: storm sorcerer

This gith knows nothing about her life before the nautiloid, but since Lae’zel addressed her (and mocked her) like an elder relative she answers to “Auntie.” Lonely, curious, reactive. Center of a Venn diagram between “cigarette mom” and “Frankenstein’s monster.” Looks and fights like a gith, but lacks any cultural context or instincts that would make her feel like one.

Romancing Gale & Minthara.

Second playthrough, the only one I’ve completed.

TAGS: #oc: auntie, #ellie’s fucked up playthrough

Deadeye & Singer she/her 🏹 human 🏹 rogue/ranger she/her 🪕 halfling 🪕 bard

Auntie’s 2 hirelings. Deadeye was a young hunter, blinded in an accident and then given her sight back by a True Soul… just so she could watch her entire village burn, then have—her killers thought—her eyes put out and closed forever. Singer was a halfling traveling apothecary, killed for refusing to tend to Absolutists and sing for them after the massacre.

Though both women’s presences are cold and diminished and they can only speak with Withers’s vocabulary, traces of their personality remain. Deadeye was playful once, and still has the light step, deft hand, and trace of a wicked smile to prove it. Astarion swears he’s heard her coo and giggle faintly while playing with Scratch at night, long after the party’s living members are asleep. Singer was stern, matronly, and humorless with others, her face only relaxing when she was absorbed in her herbcraft or music making. Auntie gifted her Lihala’s lute, though it hurts to see a bard outlined against the campfire again, quietly picking out the notes of “The Power,” just feet away from the shadow of Alfira’s bloodstain.

Auntie doesn’t know she is a Bhaalspawn, but she feels instinctively that it’s her duty to care for murdered bodies and souls. She knows the names these revanants bore in life (Maddala and Brenna), but doesn’t use them, out of respect for these women’s vengeful echoes being different from the women themselves, and she’s as protective of them as she is of her “real” companions.

Terpsichore 🐏 she/her 🐏 satyr 🐏 rogue

She sings! She dances! She rams you with her horns!

Like Shadowheart, Terpsichore is on a holy mission for her patron goddess, armed only with her wits, blades, and the memories that her enclave—her Selûnite enclave—considered necessary for her to complete the task she’s been set: a pilgrimage to Moonrise Towers to assassinate an agent of Shar.

One second, she was crossing the Tower’s threshold (or windowsill, in the adept rogue’s case)—the next that she knew, she was being sealed in a pod aboard the nautiloid for processing. Failed. Abandoned. Godless. For now. If she doesn’t salvage this.

Terpsichore was told she’d know her target on sight, but she can’t be sure it isn’t Shadowheart—after all, while wrestling for the chance to kill each other they saw flashes of their own memories in each other’s minds, and Terpsichore feels… a lot… when she lays eyes on this particular enemy. ;-)

Romance: 3 guesses

TAG: #oc: terpsichore

[ritikarajpal04]

Two reasons why it's hard for me to talk about my art

To be quite honest

When a collector asks me to talk about my work, in my head, something about it feels fake - This is not because I don't have an understanding of what my work means to me, but there are 2 main reasons:

1) My thoughts about my work are in themselves pretty abstract. The reason they come out in the form of painting is because it's easier to translate it that way, than written or verbally. How can I explain something in words when the painting in itself is my explanation?

2) I'm genuinely excited about the smallest things in my work. That shade of blue, or that particular brushstroke, or that little dried flower I stuck in there that only I know about or the general feeling the painting conveys to me. Paintings can feel very personal and I'm not sure if what I think about it is what you should think about it. Usually l'd prefer the viewer put their own thoughts and story to it rather than me just giving mine.

Also, not everything is that deep. I'm all about enjoying the process and the end product just being the aftermath of that.

By,

Ritika Rajpal

[msm-tsotmw]

6.18.20XX

Hi ! It’s Toorie , And I Just Wanted To Apologize For The Lack Of Posting 😅

I’m Just Hanging Out With My Friends Under The Monstralis , Having A Good Time !

Anyways , Sprigg , Mauna And Moperetta Have Been Gone For A Concerningly Long Time … I Hope They’re Okay !

yea

hopefully they arent dead or some shit

… Dead ??

we havent gotten any calls or messages from them recently

I Mean , They’re In A Cave , So The Reception Might Be Crappy-

it looks like the reception is pretty decent, actually.

… What ?

i mean, we all share a blog, right?

uh

yeah

turns out, sprigg’s been posting basically as much as we have.

oh cool

wait what

jeeo, can you tell ‘em what they’ve been doing down there? I’m gonna go get a cookie.

alright, sure!

(Flitz flies away, leaving Jeeo, Toorie and Mondo with each other.)

?

uh

(He fiddles with his claws.)

so, ummmmmmmm… apparently, sprigg got attacked.

WHAT ??

WH

luckily, they weren’t harmed!! mauna, moperetta, and some kid named bister helped them out.

Oh , Phew .

yea phew

wait who the fuck is bister

ummm, apparently this whiz-bang who washed up on faerie and ended up here on light?

that’s all i know, but they seem to be getting along pretty well with moperetta and mauna, who sprigg is apparently calling “m&m” now.

M&M ! That’s A Cute Nickname !

seems like something id call them ngl

yeah, uh, sprigg was thinking about you guys when they came up with that nickname.

oh cool

That’s Nice ! Where Are They Now ?

um…

(Toorie stares at Jeeo intently.)

lost in a really big crevice.

Oh

WAIT , WHAT ?!?

HOLY SHIT ARE THEY OKAY

yeah, they are!

oh thank glaishur

Whew , Thank Torrt …

however, they’re super lost right now, and they’re wandering around waiting for someone to find them.

oh ok

Well ? Let’s Go Find Them ! They Need Our Help .

but what about flitz? we’ve gotta wait for her to get back.

Oh Yeah

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight .

(Everyone turns to face Flitz, who has returned holding a batch of cookies in her talons.

hey, guys!

oh, there they are!

so, uh, do you guys know about—

Yeah ! We’re Gonna Go Find Them !

wait what

Flitz , Can You Go Tell My Sisters ?

uh, okay??

(Flitz flies away to go tell Crysta and Ritika about where Toorie and co. are going.)

okaaaaaaay, let’s just wait for her, then.

hey uhhh toors

Mhm ?

can i talk to you for a sec

Yeah ! What Is It ?

uhhhhh

are you sure about this

because its probably super dangerous down there

like

its literally pitch black and theres rocks EVERYWHERE

we might trip and fall on smth or even break a fucking bone

Relax , Mondo ! We Can Bring This To Light The Way .

what if we starve

Uhh , Flitz Can Bring Cookies ?

Why Are You Even Worrying So Much In The First Place ? This Isn’t Exactly Like You …

oh

uh

well

its kinda complicated

but uhhh

can we talk a little quieter bcs i dont like other monsters listening to me talking abt this

Sure ! Go Ahead .

uhh

when i was like idk 15 or something one of my buddies dared me to explore a cave

i said no so he went in there instead

and uh

he never came out

Oh .

then i went in there and uh

all i found was his scarf

and nothing else

Oh .

That’s … Scary .

yeah

thats why i dont go in caves

(The two exchange a silence which lasts for like 50 seconds before Toorie suddenly hugs Mondo.)

wha

huh

why are you hugging me

I Just Felt Like You Needed One .

oh uh

..

thanks

(Mondo hugs her back, not knowing that Flitz has flown back. She lands next to Jeeo.)

oh, they are SO in love.

what?

they’re in love, Jeeo! pretty sure that’s kinda obvi-

HEY

We Heard That , Y’know !

flitz!

sorry, but you can’t fight the obvious.

(Mondo buries his face in his hands, embarrassed, then does the Shinji pose on a rock. Toorie bends down to pat him on the back.)

Hey , Flitz ?

yeah?

I Almost Forgot , Can You Get Some Of Our Stuff In My Sisters’ House ? We’re Probably Gonna Need It When In The Cave .

alrighty!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

yea

toorie and mondo were too stupid to check the other posts for whatever tf Sprigg was doing lol

(they’re t4t girlfailure x malewife bimbo x himbo and they comfort each other. funny yet wholesome ship dynamics my beloved 👍)

-Mod Jimmy 🗣️

[sunseekerstarchaser]

Sunseeker First Challenge

My brother cracked my rib one morning and gave me half of his orange in the evening.

One evening, in a fit of anger, I told him how I never wanted him to be my brother and he yelled that he didn’t ask for it either. The air smelled like kerosene and my chest was filled with arsenic. I was raging and threw his favorite toy aeroplane down the window, 7 stories of guilt and shame. He cried all night and I wanted to cut off my right hand, the hand that hurt my baby brother. I didn’t know if he was ever going to forgive me or even talk to me. The next morning at breakfast, he didn’t look at me or say a word, I felt like my chest was about to explode and guilt clouded my vision. But then, I felt a hand quietly holding half of an orange my way.

— Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire.

Only the Brave by @solmussa

Scent of the Moon by @quietlemonhush  

The Cadence of Part-time Poets by @motswolo

Downfall by @lunardeao3​

through a glass, blackly by wheresmejumper

[bloodyhistorie]

always thinking about

"My brother cracked my rib one morning and gave me half of his orange in the evening. I remember being younger and sometimes wishing to be a single child, to have all the attention and gifts and time but when he was away from home for the first time, I remember crying and stroking his side of the sofa as if blurting out my first wish- for him to be home, without thinking twice, without a shadow of doubt. Even the genie cried. Growing up with a sibling is like being the only people on a stranded boat, constantly figuring out how you can live with them and questioning how you could ever live without them. One evening, in a fit of anger, I told him how I never wanted him to be my brother and he yelled that he didn't ask for it either. The air smelled like kerosene and my chest was filled with arsenic. I was raging and threw his favorite toy aeroplane down the window, 7 stories of guilt and shame. He cried all night and I wanted to cut off my right hand, the hand that hurt my baby brother. I didn't know if he was ever going to forgive me or even talk to me. The next morning at breakfast, he didn't look at me or say a word, I felt like my chest was about to explode and guilt clouded my vision. But then, I felt a hand quietly holding half of an orange my way. The only people on a stranded boat. How do you live with them? How could you ever live without them?" -Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire"

in relation to anne & blanche.

[eptesicuss]

There'll be a moment when you realise you're 27 when yesterday you were just 17; and you wouldn't be able to tell how a decade passed away and your life got divided into before and afters. The fury of youth will subdue and nothing will really change but everything will feel different when you look at old photographs and blurry videos taken on cheap mobile phones. Scents will remind you of childhood and certain friends you don't talk to anymore, hangouts will become reunions and mom's burnt pie will become the best food you ever had. And I know on some days you won't be able to show anything of those 10 years but I hope you remember to breathe, and let go of the knot in your chest. I hope you go out in the sun and live a little, because tomorrow is 37.

- Ritika Jyala

[postaresume]

Expert Talk Ep. 134 with Ritika Mody on How to find your inner Artist? Ever wondered how poets turn ordinary moments into extraordinary art? What does it take to transform everyday life into profound poetry? Curious about how to channel your creativity into powerful storytelling? Join us live to discover Ritika Mody's secrets to finding your inner artist. LinkedIn Event - https://www.linkedin.com/events/7236703898260897794 In this session, Ritika will share her journey as an artist, exploring how she finds inspiration in everyday life. She believes that art is everywhere, waiting to be discovered, and her insights will encourage you to see creativity in the most unexpected places. Don’t miss this chance to explore your own artistic potential and learn from one of the most captivating voices in contemporary poetry. Click the link to join us: https://youtube.com/live/5ZgF27JZ0x0 Mark your calendar for this Friday, and come prepared to discover the artist within you! #VipulTheWonderful #ExpertTalks #CreativeJourney #SpokenWordArt #Inspiration

[tristeng121]

There’ll be a moment when you realise you’re 27 when yesterday you were just 17; and you wouldn’t be able to tell how a decade passed away and your life got divided into before and afters. The fury of youth will subdue and nothing will really change but everything will feel different when you look at old photographs and blurry videos taken on cheap mobile phones. Scents will remind you of childhood and certain friends you don’t talk to anymore, hangouts will become reunions and mom’s burnt pie will become the best food you ever had. And I know on some days you won’t be able to show anything of those 10 years but I hope you remember to breathe, and let go of the knot in your chest. I hope you go out in the sun and live a little, because tomorrow is 37.

Each passing day feels like a silent farewell to the innocence of youth leaving behind a trail of bittersweet longing for the days when life seemed simpler.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned

[renee-writer]

There'll be a moment when you realise you're 27 when yesterday you were just 17; and you wouldn't be able to tell how a decade passed away and your life got divided into before and afters. The fury of youth will subdue and nothing will really change but everything will feel different when you look at old photographs and blurry videos taken on cheap mobile phones. Scents will remind you of childhood and certain friends you don't talk to anymore, hangouts will become reunions and mom's burnt pie will become the best food you ever had. And I know on some days you won't be able to show anything of those 10 years but I hope you remember to breathe, and let go of the knot in your chest. I hope you go out in the sun and live a little, because tomorrow is 37.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The Flesh I Burned

[hawkepockets]

i’m finally getting to those tav asks. thanks everyone who sent one!! the lovely @dragonologist-phd asked for #1, which includes birthplace & family, and i Got To Thinking in too much detail, much too much detail by far, too detailed, so here’s a separate post for just those elements.

jove grew up in baldur’s gate. they did have a clan, but it wasn’t a biological family unit—it was an all dragonborn craftsmen’s guild! most members were copper, brass, red or gold dragonborn who used their fire or acid breath to manipulate metal and glass. jove wasn’t born with that skill. their mother was a vagabond blue dragonborn, and although jove inherited their father’s brassy scales, they also manifested their mother’s electrical breath type, which wasn’t of any use in metalworking. the clan was warm to insiders but highly competitive and proud of their handiwork, and judged members’ worth almost solely by what they could craft. jove knew they’d be fed and cared for, but only tolerated, unless they excelled at a trade.

as a teenager, jove struck up a friendship with ritika estis, a much older gold dwarf metallurgist from a rival crafting guild. estis taught jove how to use a dwarven forge to work with metal, glass, and jewels using tools instead of relying on naturally heatproof hands and melting breath. estis was tough on jove, working them hard and giving praise sparingly, but every compliment meant the world to the young dragonborn. she built up their confidence to apply for a jeweler’s apprenticeship with their clan.

but estis also noticed that despite their dogged devotion to learning their father’s trade, jove was much more moved by folk songs and carved wood than any bauble made for a baldurian noble. jewelrymaking made them focus and sweat; music made them tap their foot, twitch their tail, and part their lips to try to taste it. it was a different kind of love. the day jove won their jeweling apprenticeship, estis went to them and, in a rare moment of open encouragement, urged them to forget the forge and learn to make music and instruments instead.

jove took up a secret, second apprenticeship with a human master luthier, learning to craft and repair string instruments and, tentatively, how to play the fiddle with their big, clawed hands. when the clan found out, jove was pressured to choose one trade and master it, instead of burning themself out to fail at both. with the self-assurance they’d learned from estis, jove committed to making instruments. many of their older clanmates were deeply embittered toward ritika and her guild for molding a promising young metalworker just to turn them against the family trade, but jove was happy.

after years of practice under the luthier, jove achieved the rank of journeyman and started to make gold for their clan selling handcrafted string instruments and repair services. they were much better at working on instruments than playing them, but had achieved enough skill on the fiddle to play gigs at local taverns and make passersby smile at them on festival days. they were more than content, and would have lived happily as an amateur musician and aspiring master luthier in the gate for the rest of their days.

and then came the bar fight.

fights weren’t that unusual for the cheaper inns and alehouses jove played music at, but this particular brawl started with a human woman harrassing a tiefling bachelor party, talking loudly about how they brought crime and sour luck on baldur’s gate, and shouldn’t be allowed to marry lest their offspring overrun the city. when she implied they killed and ate human children, one of the prouder and drunker tieflings took a swing at the woman. she reacted as though she’d been attacked, unprovoked, by the whole party, and other non-tieflings sprung to her defense. within seconds, the taproom turned into a battlefield, and within minutes all the celebrating tieflings were senseless on the floor. when the guards arrived, it was the tieflings who were arrested for disturbing the peace.

jove watched the whole thing, their bow sliding uselessly off the strings, unsure what they could do short of belching out a cone of lightning that would hit attackers, tieflings, and bystanders indiscriminately—so they did nothing.

when they told their master what happened, he was unsympathetic to the tieflings, saying that the other humans had taken things too far but that they hadn’t been wrong about the “foulbloods.”

jove got up before sunrise, stole their favorite of the violins they’d crafted and a simple glaive from estis’s forge (she would have given it freely if they’d woken her to ask, but jove couldn’t risk talking to her—if estis was as callous about the tieflings as their other mentor had been, it would break their faith completely), and left baldur’s gate. they’ve been roving the sword coast ever since, a vagabond like their mother, determined to protect strangers’ right to live and celebrate life loudly, especially those from “monstrous” races. this became the foundation of their paladin’s oath.

they’ve gotten rusty on the fiddle. but on the night of celebrating peace between the druids and tieflings, they’re compelled to play again.

[letterstoyourlove]

My 13 year old cousin came back from a date with her boyfriend and said, “I can’t wait to grow up and spend sunday afternoons with him.” At first, I wanted to laugh (after all they’re just 13), but I remember being 13 and having the world in my hands. I remember getting excited to talk to someone about my dreams and wishes, and how happy these daydreams and fantasies made me. There’s this innocence you can only have at 13 and the world rises and falls and crashes and burns every year… until you do not think about quiet sunday afternoons.

So I asked her about the date and heard her giggle about bubblegum flavored ice cream, and how much she loves this little life. I think she makes me love it too.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

[msm-tsotmw]

So we're still in the middle of nowhere, Toorie's staring off into the distance and Mondo's just curled up in fetal position in the boat hatch. Probably because of what happened with her earlier-and with me butting into their conversation.

Maybe You Should Apologize. He Looked Really Embarrassed When You Said That ...

What? They were being really-

Really What ?

He's HORRIBLE at-

Horrible At What ?

That was really cheesy, and-

And?

I-

(Sprigg ponders for a moment.)

You know what? You have a point. Maybe I SHOULD say sorry.

You DID Do That For No Apparent Reason ...

(Sprigg looks back at the boat hatch. After a few minutes—and what feels like the loudest silence—they finally open it.)

..Hey, uh, Mondo?

yea

I'm, uhh... sorry for butting into your conversation with Toorie earlier.

eh dw about it no need to apologize

Yeah, but. I kinda did that for no reason. At all. I'm sorry, whenever I'm trying to do something and some others are doing something REALLY MUSHY, I get ticked off for some reason. Sorry about that.

its ok

i kinda do that too sometimes

esp when bombidabul and her girlfriend zalde start actin all uhh

nvm

i aint against her having a gf but their flirting gets kind of annoying sometimes

Wait, you never told me your sister had a girlfriend.

yea she does

oh wait actually i mean fiancé

Your Sister's Getting Married ?

yea

its in like a month tho

A Month ? Oh, Wow! Good For Them! Hey, Are We Invited ? I've Never Been To A Wedding Before :O

yea were all invited i think

Cool !

...So where's it taking place?

idk maybe plant island

Oh, so where I grew up.

What's It Like There ?

On Plant Island?

Pretty warm. There's a lot of plants (and it looks nice there,) but then there's Jackle and Seethroo, who are basically Plant Island's resident tricksters.

Like How My Home Island Has My Sister And Hehe ?

Yeah, basically. There was this time Jackle almost set the Castle on fire.

My Sister Almost Blew Up A Storage Once

excuse me what

My Family Has Issues . Kind Of . Dizzie’s A Pyromaniac/Kleptomaniac , Ritika’s Very Shy (And Has Breathing Problems) , Crysta Doesn’t Feel Like She Belongs , And Eyevee’s Very … Ignorant .

Sounds like you all need a group therapy session.

hey we need one too

i have issues

she has issues

you have issues

Don’t we all, Mondo. Don’t we all.

…You Know , With This Warm Weather And Talk About Home , I’m Starting To Miss Earth Island . Sure , It Was Really Hot , And Some Residents Kind Of Bugged Me , But It Was Home .

Yeah, I miss Plant Island, too.

same goes for me and cold

but uhh hey at least we got to visit it

…And At Least We’re Making New Friends !

And discovering new things. Who knows, we might find something groundbreaking.

Yeah ! Like Strawberry Tacos !

…Toorie, those aren’t groundbreaking.

They Are In My Heart .

and youre groundbreaking to me

Huh ?

nothing

~~~~~~~~~~

OH and btw the “Hehe” mentioned earlier here is my mutual @paidexp’s Hyehehe OC

go follow them, they’re poggers B)

-Mod Jimmy 🗣️