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seireiteihellbutterfly · 3 months

Text

Secure in your Lap

ft Nanami Kento

a/n: I can't believe I finally wrote thisI So this was inspired by this ask from @sitarawrites. It was supposed to be a cute fluffy fic, but somehow devolved into this angsty piece, so idk. Although I wrote this fic with a desi/asian reader in mind, I think anyone with a difficult relationship with their parents can relate to this, and I hope it comes across that way.

Rating: 13+, nothing explicit or sexual

Warnings: difficult family dynamics, mentions of familial trauma, guilt, manipulation

Pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

Summary: A phone call from reader's mother results in her remembering all the reasons she's grateful for her now fiance.

Word Count: 2343

Nanami masterlist

It’s never a good day when your mother calls. Sometimes you wonder why you put up with it and allow her to test your boundaries, despite setting a schedule that you would not be calling her except for Tuesday and Friday nights.

Even the hour spent on those nights are tedious at best. They never make you feel better; it's all for her. It makes her feel better. And despite the fact that you have graciously made this time for her, she never seems to appreciate it. In fact, most of these conversations are one-sided. You’ll have your headphones in, while she chatters away, as you try to focus on other tasks, like folding laundry, or tidying up the general clutter that always accumulates in the living room, throwing in the occasional ‘uhm hm’ every few minutes so that she knows you’re still on the line.

You’ve learned to tune out most of the conversation because very little of it is ever relevant to you. Unless you hear a few key words such as ‘dad’ or ‘finances’ or ‘house’ you don’t really pay attention to the conversation at all. Because you know how most of these conversations go. They start with her talking about her day, complaining about her job. Then she complains about your dad, despite knowing you’ve heard it all before. Then it devolves into blaming other people for circumstances she’s in right now based on events that happened long ago.

When all of these topics are exhausted, she gets to her juiciest arsenal; you. Oh, the things she has to say about you, about how you were such a wonderful child, sweet and obedient and how you suddenly became this rough woman who she doesn’t know how to talk to anymore. Or how you’ve stopped visiting of late, that you’re never home for the holidays, and that she blames your boyfriend for this. Then it’s criticism of your life choices, starting with how you moved in with your boyfriend while unmarried, the fact that he’s not from the same ethnic background as you, or the fact that she blames your ‘attitude’ on him because he defends you from her each time.

Today it was about how you could do so much better than him, and you finally snap.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

There’s a moment of silence, then with uncontained glee, she says, “Oh, I’m sorry. Well relationships sometimes don’t work out, it’s ok-”

“Because he asked me to marry him.” You finish bluntly, cutting her off. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore because he’s my fiance.” You wait for the bomb to drop.

“Oh.” Your mother’s voice sounds tight, like it’s been stretched taut between pins on a tacking board. “And when did this happen?”

“He proposed last Sunday.”

“And I’m finding out just now. You really must hate me…”

“Don’t do that,” You warn, keeping your voice deadly calm. You knew if you raised it or gave any signs that her words had affected you, it would give her a rush of satisfaction. “Either you’re happy for us or you’re not. Now which is it?”

“Well, it hardly matters now does it? Although I supposed I should be grateful you’re marrying him after all this time. There’s nasty gossip back in our community…so at least you’ve spared me from the embarrassing idea that you wouldn’t marry a man you’ve been living with like an unprincipled woman.”

“How lovely,” you said through gritted teeth. “Be sure to tell the community I have zero fucks to give them as well.”

“Language…I raised such a proper girl, when did you start saying filth like this?”

“I have to go mom. Your behavior will determine if you’re invited to the wedding or not.”

“You are the type to exclude your mother from your own wedding.I’ve known that for years. So it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Anyway, talk to you later…Friday night now?”

She disconnects the call and you sit there in disbelief, heart racing. Every time you stand up for yourself, you know it should feel like a victory but somehow, she manages to even steal that from you. You sigh and rest your head against the back of the car seat.

You had just driven home after a long day’s work and decided that it would be easier to talk to your mom in the car and finish it off since you didn’t want to detract from the peace you feel at home. You feel tears prick the back of your eyes and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself.

Why did you let her in on your life? There’s a strange sense of loyalty to her despite her abuse of you. Because despite everything, there are certain things she did which she wouldn’t have done if she hadn’t loved you. Putting you through your degrees, both bachelor’s and master’s. Letting you live at your parent’s house for free when you were in between jobs. Letting you borrow their car to get to job interviews. There’s signs of love there but why did it have to come attached with this emotionally manipulative price tag?

You let yourself cry for a short while, then hold up your left hand to admire the engagement ring your now fiance had picked out. A watery smile breaks out over your face as you look at it. You feel vain when you allow yourself to do this, but you can’t help it. You weren’t really looking at it for it’s monetary value, but more so for what it symbolized; the peace and balance he brought to your life, the maturity your own parents lacked while raising you, and the security that it didn’t matter if you made a bad choice, he’d never make you feel worse about it.

Wiping away your tears, you turn off the car and quickly look at yourself in the mirror. Thankfully your makeup hadn’t smudged much and you could chalk up the tiredness in your eyes as lack of sleep. You take a deep breath before getting out and entering your home. Your fiance was unloading takeout containers from a bag as you entered. He looks up and smiles warmly at you.

“Thought I heard you in the driveway,” he says as he comes over to embrace you, his arms enveloping you with affection. Nanami presses a kiss to your forehead then pulls you in closer, tucking your head under his chin.

You let yourself rest against the warmth of his broad chest, the comfortingly familiar feel of his body relief to the turmoil inside your chest. Resting your cheek on his chest, you close your eyes and breathe in deeply.

“Y/n? Are you all right?”

Nanami always notices. There’s never a single moment when he’s out of touch with your feelings. He’s learned all the lines in your face, the way your different facial muscles contract or relax depending on how you're feeling. He notices the tension in your shoulders, the slight drop in energy in your step as you walk through the door. Nanami always notices.

You slowly shake your head no. The flurry of feelings inside you, the hurt, the disappointment, the inability to cut off your mom for good, the overwhelming feeling of being inadequate, a disappointment, churn inside you to the point that you feel like you may never come out of this cyclone feeling like a winner. It’s so complex that you’re not even sure where to begin or how to put it into words. Your thoughts and feelings tangle like a ball of string, knotting into a mess of strands that are impossible to separate.

“Kento.”

“Yes my love?” His hands run soothingly over your back.

“I need your lap.”

That was all you could say at the moment. The complexity of everything was too much to bear. Over the years his lap has become a safe space for you. A quiet, designated spot where you could feel everything you wanted to, without any judgment.

Nanami nodded wordlessly, gently taking your hand and leading you to the couch, sitting down and pulling you on top of his lap. Your feet wrap around his lower back, wedged between the sofa cushions and his body while your head rests on his chest, listening to his breathing and you try to match yours to his, a calming technique you’ve learned over the years.

His large hands play with your hair, stroking it, cupping the back of your head and gently pressing kisses to your forehead. He’s learned over the years that lap sessions meant you were in a state of distress and that it wasn’t his place to force you to talk. You would talk when you’re ready, if at all.

“Mom?” he asks softly, his voice fluttering through the top of your hair. You merely nod, the thought of explaining it too difficult to even form words. A deep hum of understanding echoes from his chest and you close your eyes at the comforting sound.

Everything about him screamed security. You remember one time breaking a cup while making your morning coffee, the distinct crack of shattering porcelain filling the kitchen. You had flinched, waiting for the tirade of blame and accusations of clumsiness to come at you, only to see Nanami rushing over to you, concern etched all over his face.

“Are you all right? You didn’t get cut?” His words had brought you to tears, that his primary thought had been you and your safety, instead of a very replaceable coffee cup. No one yelling at you for making a mess in the kitchen, or muttering under their breath that you had wasted a usable mug. Nanami had, in a befuddled state, watched as you came to his side, wrapping your arms around him. It wasn’t until 2 weeks after the incident had happened that you had told him what that moment meant to you.

And now here you were, again, allowing your mom to rob you of the happiness you had worked so hard to build. You're amazed at the patience Nanami has with you, at the way he always reassures you, never letting you forget your worth. That you're more than just your parents’ child. That you are a whole human being on your own, that has the right to live your life without their interference.

“I don't think I want my parents at our wedding.” The words fall out of your mouth. There's lingering guilt but deep down, you knew it was for the best.

Nanami adjusts himself on the couch and leans back against the cushions. Most of the time, he leaves handling your parents up to you, despite how much it bothers him that they ruin your mood every time. But there's understanding in his eyes.

“Not even your dad? I thought you wanted him to give you away.”

“My dad’s an enabler. He'll never come if I don't invite my mom. Besides,” you inhale deeply and continue, “The only person worthy of giving me away is myself.” You gaze into his warm brown eyes, feeling proud that you had come this far. This would be your achievement today. That you were able to say these words and believe them.

“That’s so very true sweetheart.” He gives you a reassuring squeeze. “Look at you, remembering your affirmations.”

Although it’s not much, you still feel yourself glowing at his praise. Growth on your end. “Besides, if they got involved, they’d hijack all the planning, blow it up into a grand ceremony even though that’s not what we want. It’s just easier without them.”

“Anything you want.” He brushes his lips against your hair.

“No, not anything I want. It’s your wedding too. I’d be ok if you wanted a ceremony. I imagine there’s lots of people you’d want to invite. I just won’t be inviting anyone from my side. Except for my best friend.”

He grasps your chin between his fingers and with sincerity asks you, “How did you imagine it?”

You consider this for a second. Previously, you had imagined the typical traditional wedding that people of your background were expected to have. But the image has been fading lately, and now, unburdened from your parents’ expectations, your mind immediately creates a picture.

“I want to do it at the beach. Just…no expectations, no one grumbling about how we skimped on decorations or other unnecessary things like flowers. I want…to walk down towards you on the sand, barefoot. Feel the ocean breeze on my face. There’s a small group of guests. Very minimalistic.”

He looks like he’s considering it for a moment but his expression doesn’t show signs of objection. “We could do that. Small wedding, intimate ceremony.”

“Really?” You look at him with love in your eyes.

“Really. I think all the people I want to invite would easily fit into this setting.”

You lean forward and wrap your arms around him tightly. There were simply no words to express how grateful you are for him, for his presence in your life. That you could actually be a family, just the two of you. You lean back to take in all of him, just sitting serenely on the couch, in this shared space the both of you called home now.

“Thank you, Kento.” You say quietly. You know it’s unnecessary, that his love is so very unconditional, no emotional price tags attached. “I know I’m not the easiest to love sometimes.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He draws you tightly to his chest. “It’s so easy to love you. Because every small thing you do is filled with love and consideration. Thoughtfulness. Emotion. And that’s enough. You don’t have to be more than that.”

Your heart swells as you hear his words, the only person to ever really understand just how much you needed to know those things.

“I’m enough.” You whisper softly, still on his lap, resting comfortably in his embrace. You rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closing.

I’m enough…

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milknhonies · 4 months

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Sir Sherlock Holmes & The Indian Princess

शर्लक बाबू और भारतीय राजकुमारी

Chapter 1 || Masterlist || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: In England, Sherlock Holmes receives an alarm letter from his dear friend Doctor John Watson. In Delhi, You don't mind being a teacher, but with new building plans, you reflect on your circumstances and opportunities.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x Desi!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Slow burn, generational trauma, colonisation, implied murder, death of a parent, classism & caste.

Word Count: 6k

Author Notes:

★ Everything written in bold is being said in Hindustani

★The Reader character goes by the last name Newalkar and is the daughter of Damodar Rao Newalkar → the adopted son of Rani Laxmibai. I must advise this story is pure fiction but based in the occupation of the British Raj that invaded and Colonised India.

★I am a White European/Australian woman, I apologise for any cultural or historical inaccuracies. I am receiving help from online sources and desi Tumblr mutual @livesinfantasyland and I heavily encourage other Indian/South Asian/Desi readers to share their thoughts, constructive criticism and help as I write this story.

Inspiring Song: "Paint it Black" by Ciara

11:35pm Thursday 26th June 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

This story begins and ends with the sound of rain.

Tink!

The roof had begun a leak. And when this leak came to play it had a habit of landing directly on the head of a disgruntled and lonely fellow. The greatest detective in London who could not find a friend. Granted I must inform you, Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact have some friends, but by misfortunes, none were presently in the country.

Tink!

He angrily sighed. Another drop of rain hit his head.

He launched from his arm chair and grumbling moved an empty teapot to sit on the cushion he previously sat. The drops thus made a small tinkling as they landed inside the empty pot.

Plonk!

He rubbed his eyes and checked the time on the mantle piece clock. He had lost weeks of his life. Hours squeezed down to into unknown days or months, he could not tell. It did not help how he consistently drew the curtains closed to design total darkness other than the fireplace and his candles to light up his home.

A light shiver ran up his spine. The weather was dangerously cold today. His fingertips upon inspection grew from pale white to a dark pink.

Plonk!

He wandered if perhaps it was time to have a holiday in sunny Spain.

A knock on his door broke his imagined vacation like a hammer to glass.

His pesky landlady Mrs Hudson intruded on his stuffy dust filled space. She grumbled nonsense about the filth of her apartment she’s rented out to the famous Detective before handing him a thick envelope.

Plonk!

And the moment he could see and recognised the handwriting he snatched the Letter from her wrinkly fingers and banished her with a bellowing shout. The woman fluttered out and muttered her further disgusts of his treatment.

Plonk!

But Sherlock did not care for her opinion or rather anyone’s for that matter, Sherlock only cares about the stamp he tore opened the parchment he eagerly unfolded.

John Watson. Doctor, soldier and dear friend. He was Sherlock’s greatest companion to note. He had never felt such brotherly love until he met the very man seeking a roommate here in baker street.

Doctor and detective used to comb London for clues to solve crimes and very noticeably took an interest at the sports of pleasure. The luxurious brothels of London welcomed him and his friend with open arms and spread legs. Doctor Watson was the easy victim of sex while Sherlock was one to enjoy his opium pipe and watch his friend succumb to the mouths of half-pound harlots.

And among these adventures of interesting women did the doctor find himself in a savage tussle with another jealous male patron...

Sherlock recalled the evening with mirth. His dear friend, brother in arms had been pummelled to a pulp and drunk as a daisy. So when Sherlock escorted him to a hospital, the imbecile had declared that he was doctor of the ward and did not need any stitches. It is a grand thing perhaps Doctor Watson could not fathom the memory of yelling too proudly that his medicine could be only found in the elixir of a woman’s warm cunny.

His nurse, a dirty bird at heart had giggled at this...that nurses name was Mary Mortenson. And she became the very enamoured Mrs Mary Watson.

Sherlock was not fond of his friend becoming so besotted with his bride. He tolerated the woman’s presences at best. Unspokenly, the detective saw competition to gain the doctors attention and it was becoming far too obvious that Mrs Watson would win. Every. Single. Time.

After a month of young love the married pair had decided their honey-moon should be experienced back in John’s birth land...Delhi, a city in India. Mary was to meet the senior Mr and Mrs Watson. Coincidently, the English rose was not averse to the foreign lands…she so happened to have been born in Agra. Happy and married, they boarded and sailed across the sea.

Sherlock had high hopes their ship would run scarce of supplies so they might return quickly. He missed his dear friend and even his annoying wife.

The letter in between if thumbs and fingers were the first words from them he had gotten in nearly three months. The letter read as followed...

“Dear Sherlock,

Mary and I have come to my home I grew up in as a boy. I was blessed with my parents merry welcome. However, unfortunate circumstances have designed two coffins. For merely a week into our visit my beloved parents have passed. I have yet to decide whether to bury them in the English tradition or burn them in the Hindi ritual. My predicted return back to Baker Street may appear futile and non-existent. Please. Come visit us as soon as it is convenient.

13, 25, 27, 16, 1, 18, 5, 14, 20, 19, 27, 8, 23, 5, 27, 2, 5, 5, 14, 27, 13, 21, 18, 4, 5, 18, 5, 4.

Your sincere faithful friend, Doctor John H. Watson.”

Plonk!

Sherlock’s eyes raced over the page, and cupped his mouth staring at the plethora of numbers. They were not any numbers. John was a simple man, he wasn’t the smartest being but Sherlock appreciated his humble attitudes, he liked the doctor admitting he wasn’t a world genius, just a man who knew his medicines.

So when an enigmatic set of numbers was written at random Sherlock thought of the most simplistic cypher.

For every number was a letter. 1 being A and 26 being Z, leaving 27 to be a space between a word.

His brows lifted. The message was clear and alarming.

Plonk!

“My Parents Have Been Murdered.”

He determined his dear doctor had written this cryptic message under the desire of secrecy. His eyes lit up. It meant John needed Sherlock’s help. A case. Something was amiss. John did not know the killers name. If he did, he would’ve written it or not bothered to write asking Sherlock to visit at all.

He couldn’t have run faster to his rooms to start backing as soon as possible.

Plonk!

Sherlock Holmes had know idea what he was going to find in a land he had only heard stories from Watson’s childhood. He was eager to see his friend, to help him and to finally have an adventure.

01:35pm Friday 11th July 1890, Anglo Arabic Secondary School, Desh Bandhu Gupta Rd, Ajmeri Gate, Delhi.

You dragged the piece of white chalk across a black board and sketched a simple phrase in the English language. You smiled to the young faces that filled the room, sitting in long benches and desks. Their eyes wide and curious, eager to learn.

You waved your hands, “Now, clean your chalk slates students, you are going to learn how to spell good afternoon in English.”

They wipe them down with their small damp clothes and tucked them away in the groove at the top of their slanted desk. You waited patiently until they all sat with their hands resting flat on the wooden desks, mouths shut, eyes seeking knowledge.

You underlined each letter of the first word, “Gee, ouw, ouw, dee, this spells ‘Good’ and now ‘Afternoon’ is Aya, eff, tee, Ee, Ara, eynnn, ouw, ouw, eynn.”

The young boys sounded it out with you. Their sweet pubescent voices unionised. You smiled. They were so advanced at such a young age, most of the boys had come from average and wealthy families that could afford them to come to such a fine school. Many were Muslim, others Hindu, it was a good sign of peace. The youth coming together despite their differences. And on odd days you would teach the white children, boys and girls of British and French families who wanted their children to learn Hindi, Arabic and Urdu.

You didn’t mind teaching white children, some of the boys could be very disrespectful but you gathered it was behaviour picked up from their arrogant fathers. It wasn’t the young boys who had pillaged these lands, it was their fathers and grandfathers.

“The gee,” you circled the G, “Remember in English is also pronounced like Guh and,” you tapped the double o’s, “Ouw ouw in english together when two is said ‘oooowa’. Followed by dee being said as Dah. So, let’s say it together?”

You dragged a white line under the word and sounded it out with your students.

“Guh-oooow-dah.”

You smiled.

You repeated, “Good.”

“Now let’s look at the word ‘afternoon’,” you announced.

You cleaned the board and looked back at your students. One of the little boys who sat in the front was rubbing his eyes. You smiled softly. He was only six years old. His older brother, a young man now would most likely be the one to collect his brother from school and carry him sleeping back home. You looked at the bell tower just outside the window. It was nearly time for your students to go home and you to return back to your lodgings.

“Aye and eff is said as AAaff, then tee is a quick Tuh! And what is Ee and Arrra sound together children?”

“Errr,” they all purred.

You sounded out half of the word with them, “Aafftuherrr.”

You rubbed your chalk dust covered fingers together and further explained as you pointed to each important letter, “eynnn makes a Na, sound. And we just practiced double ouw, so sound it out.”

Like a symphony of speech, you all said together, “Guh-oooow-dah Aafftuherrr, Na-ooow-na. Good Afternoon.”

The deep bowing clang of the bells outside rang through the yard and open window shutters. The children looked eager to leave. Their hands were readily holding their slates, ready to put them inside the empty wooden box in the corner of the classroom where they kept all their slates and dusters and the bucket for where they kept their chalk.

“Good afternoon students,” You bided.

“Good afternoon Teacher Madam,” They called back.

“You may go back home now. Practise your English alphabet song.”

The boys were fast as rabbits, leaping from their desks and fleeing the classroom out the hall and down the stairs. But some at least saluted you as they left. It was a habit they’d picked up from the white boys who saluted their male teachers. You smiled to yourself as you waved them out. Each left with beaming smiles and playful chatter among themselves.

As you went about sweeping the floor after wiping the chalk from the board, you wondered if you should go to the temple and pray for your students successful education or if you should consider washing your clothing today. It had been very dry today, any moment and you knew the wet season and humid rain would arrive to flood the streets clean of dust and fill the forests with life of green goodness.

As you put away the English education books on the small shelves by the door, a familiar face came rushing in, flushed and excited

If it wasn’t her jingling anklet and bangle that announced her To your classroom, it was her shrill cry of your name that did.

“Y/N! Quick!” Miss Anjuli Paraiyars exclaimed, “You need to come with me.”

Her dark ink hair was peaking out from her sun patterned veil. The wispy curls stuck to her sweaty forehead and framed her dazzling walnut eyes. They were flooded with mischief that matched her biting lip. Her brows wriggled lightly.

Placing the last book onto the shelf you turned to acknowledge your dear friend.

“Anjuli,” you happily sighed, “Whatever is the matter?”

She waved her hands about, hoping to quicken you along and out the door, “It is the Watson son, Doctor Watson, he wants to speak with you with important news.”

Your eyes widened. ‘What on earth does that poor soul wish to say to me? After the death of the good Mr and Mrs Watson, I would assume he was still in mourning, why would he call upon me?’

Following your friend outside into the scorching sun, you lifted your saree over your head. She had her family Ox and cart waiting outside the school gates.

“What important news Anjuli?” You said a little standoffishly.

“He’s offering you a job,” She said giddily. She climbed up into the cart and leant down offering her hand to you. Once in the cart side by side she sighed, “That’s all he would tell me,” She grabbed the reigns and cane and tapped the Ox to start moving out onto the dirt road, “But we all know how very generous he can be like his dear parents.”

Anjuli was right. The late Victoria and Hamish Watson’s were angelic to the local community. Victoria had been the very soul to teach your late mother English and she was the one to encourage you to attain education enough to become one of the very few first female Indian teachers. She was a well known philanthropist, often aiding the sick and homeless and funding the Indian hospitals. Hamish was a local accountant, financial advisor and lawyer. He was known to be good to the children particularly. He would often hand out sweets as he walked down the street with his briefcase bag. He often aided the locals find new homes when the British planned to evict them and replace white families in their place. The English couple had lived in the country for many decades, long before you were even born. They spoke fluently enough and mimicked the culture so well that you could’ve believed they were born here themselves.

You sat back and nodded, “May their souls attain moksha.”

02:45pm Friday 11th July 1890, Willingdon Crescent, Central Ridge Forest, Delhi, India.

The sun baked down on the streets of Dehli. The Ox cart rolled along, it’s tail flicking the flies circling it’s flank every so often.

You pinches your saree scarf and covered your face before a bug could fly into your mouth.

Anjuli had to hold the reigns and cane, she leant closer to you and giggled as she nodded to the khaki covered soldiers. Walking by in many small groups.

Anjuli had a terrible habit, she fell in love too easily. For some ungodly reason Anjuli admired the foreigners that had come so long ago and invaded your beautiful country. Maybe she liked how different they looked. The flaxen hair and ice blue gazes in the faces of pale freaks were so opposite to the raven manes and hairy russet warmth of Indian men. It was erotic for her. You just didn't understand how she could so easily find infatuation with the people you considered an enemy, and so should she.

“Oh look at them,” she giggled girlishly.

You rolled your eyes, “I’m looking.” There was a timid strain in your voice. You had no real interest to entertain Anjuli’s fascination.

When Anjuli noticed how you in fact we’re not looking but rather looking ahead on the road path she playfully smacked your arm.

“Look!” She sucked her teeth and teasingly scolded, “Do you not know delight at the sight of men?” She reached forward and abruptly touched the front of your blouse, squeezing around for the softness of your breasts, “Are you sure you’re a full grown woman?” she smiled wickedly and prodded her finger in between your legs covered by your top petticoat.

You squeaked loudly and batted her hand. She howled with laughter and kept giggling even as you scowled at her beneath your veil.

You turned your head away from her and scoffed, “I am not as easily swayed by British soldiers. They look so sickly as pale as they are,” your nose wrinkled, “How could I righteously take a husband in front of beloved Lakshmi and her Vishnu when they look like they tempt Yama too take them at any moment?”

Your friend rolled her eyes, “Oh nonsense,” she tapped your hand and waved her fingers into a crowd of soldiers, “See there that one, his hair the colour of wheat, he is a handsome man. He would make a fine husband.”

And as the cart rolled passed, you couldn’t help gag at the smell of the same man Anjuli proclaimed would make a fine husband.

‘A fine swine perhaps. Many sow in heat could come trotting to him from miles with such a putrid scent.’

Your head wobbled and your flat palm waved at her, “A husbands good qualities are not to stand on his appearance alone. One day he will grow old, fat, bald and ugly.”

A long dragging sigh came out from the woman beside you. She managed to move both reigns into one hand and playfully tugged your saree away from your face

“You’re no fun, come on,” she jerked her chin out to the same street as the ox was about to pass another group, “Tell me you don’t find any of them a little attractive?”

You stared at the oncoming group and now sucked your teeth. You crudely stated, “They’d be far more attractive if they left. Went back to their lands, leave our villages and the people of Bharat in peace.”

Anjuli stared blankly at you. Before she could pinch and prod you again you relented and noticed one of the men in the crowd so different from the others.

He was tall, his hair a dark chestnut that matched the shade of his suit. His face was bare and clean in comparison to the soldiers who all adorned moustaches and muttonchop beards on their faces. He was carrying a rather large brief case and walking stick.

“Fine...that one,” you nodded, “In the brown English clothes.”

“The one wearing a suit?” Anjuli snickered, “He’s not a soldier though?”

You giggled,“And it is for such a reason I find he is most handsome among them.”

You both gazed at him as the ox fully passed by. Anjuli smiled at you.

“He is rather tall. Strong. What do you think he does?” She asked, “Maybe he is a farmer, or a bricklayer?”

You shook your head. ‘No. He couldn’t be.’

“He dresses too finely. It is not their Christian Sunday Sabbath today. He probably is a rich businessman, with a wife and children.”

You looked back to the path as the dusty road became thicker in trees and travel further away from the street. You thought about that strangers wife, what she might look like, probably some English rose with a house full of servants at her command, surrounded by maids and wet nurses for her children. She would live in a grand house and hold soiree’s, welcoming guests from all around to celebrate life. She would have a massive library and a place of worship. It was the life you should’ve had, the life you were owed and denied merely by the changing events of history and the extinguish of your father’s birthright.

Your soft smile faded; you felt a twinge of repulsion mixed with a hint of anger. You’d think after all these years you would’ve chosen to forget this, ignore this, let go and accept your circumstances in this life.... You didn’t live with your father anymore who would remind you practically daily why not to trust the English or any white man, as if you didn’t witness their subjecting abuse and consistent disrespect.

Your eyes fluttered shut, you reached to your side and touched Anjuli’s wrist. She was your truest friend despite her differences and low status. Anjuli came from a Shudra family, and you? You were the daughter, the descendant of Brahims and Kshatriyas...now lowered to the Shudra caste class…You never knew the lavish life of the Jhansi palace, nor tasted the rich foods served on golden plates and surrounded by pretty creatures of the palace menagerie. You would never know the joys of running through the gardens with other children in the royal family.

Everyone was gone, everything was gone. All that was left was your father who scarcely remembered that life but shared all he remembered so his memories would live on through you and bring you hope that one day it would be yours. It was a cruel false hope…

Eighteen years ago, you had been born inside of a nice house in Indore to the daughter of a prestige painter Vasudeoraobhau Bhatavdekar. As far as you knew, your father loved your mother very much for the incredibly brief time that they were married. A rare jewel in beauty is how he described her often. A marriage of love and choice. Your father said she was softly spoken and obedient, but it was her unconditional love for him and his dreams that held his heart in appreciation.

It was by unfortunate command that she would fall ill to childbed fevers after you were born. After you…a girl...not a son. You were nothing in the eyes of the British raj and had no chance of being installed as an heir for any restoration…you were the last hope and failed before your first breath. And that was something you’d never forget.

For a small time, you were raised in that home and then it was decided by your father that you would learn English. His tutors were not available, so he cut your hair short and shipped you off to Delhi with your young uncle Save to the Anglo Arabic Secondary School…It did not take the teachers and headmaster long to discover you were a girl. Before you were to receive the beating of a lifetime it was Mr Hamish Watson who so happened to be accounting the school costs to save you. He took you to his wife who taught you English and then set you to live with his maid servants, Anjuli’s mother.

Your friend spoke after some time of silence, “Oh, I’m meant to tell you- My cousin Vijay sent word this morning, he’s seeking a wife. My mother wants me to ask if you’d like to meet him, a prospective match.”

Your lips curled into a sneer, “Isn’t he the one that use to tie our braids together in a knot during Diwali and chase us around the street making animal noises?”

You recalled a young teenage boy about five years your senior with a tooth gap and ruffled hair. He was so annoying, calling you names and bullying you by calling you fat and ugly. He was spoilt and rude. He mocked you when you told him you were a princess. He said you were a princess of pimple pox and nothing more. Oh how you remembered the way your blood boiled.

“We were children, he was playing, only a boy,” she smiled, “He’s a man now, studying to be a barrister in Bombay but he will be visiting in a few weeks to help us move.”

Ah yes, the dilemma you needed to find a solution too soon. It was a month ago that a letter had been nailed to the house door, it was an eviction commandment made by the British military and government. The Paraiyars family and you had to leave the home in Raisina hill, why? Because the British do what they like…building concrete monstrosities over beautiful land and demolishing the history of your people like it was worthless dust. Rumours spread about a grand governors palace was to be built there, but they couldn’t burn the village to ash with people living inside...well....at least not on their "morally good Christian conscious."

“Vijay I believe owns a cottage near the seaside. You could be his bride and live with him instead of moving back to Indore to your father.”

Moving back was not possible...not after his most recent letter.

“Father has…felt it improper for me to move back to Indore. He believes that my existence would cause me more harm than good under his jailers’ eyes…His pension he shares I give mostly to your mother for board. I have saved my wages, I am considering…moving to a boarding workhouse in Jhansi or Agra, but tell your mother I would like to greet Vijay when he arrives…”

You smirked looking down at your fingernails, “Lakshmi forbid I run out of money and need to resort to the ‘charity’ of Christians or to prostitution.”

Anjuli made a face, shaking her head and brushed her shoulder into yours, “You wrinkle your nose at every man, white, black or bronze,” she smiled cheekily, “I doubt you’d make a good prostitute.”

“Anjuli!” You shrieked.

Both you and her erupted into a large happy shrill of giggles enough to gain head turns from passing public. You and her playfully poked your elbows into each other. Anjuli was right, there was no chance that you could make a suitable prostitute…you hadn’t had sex and didn’t know how to please a man, most men you barely liked. They could be selfish. Anjuli on the other hand, she was a frisky thing. She had kissed a hundred men and given her ‘precious flower’ to a boy back when she was thirteen. She had no shame. Anjuli had shared her sordid tales of lust to you many times. You knew her boyfriends that snuck her out at night and returned her by morning. You promised never to tell her mother or father who surely would’ve disowned her if they knew how promiscuous she was. It was best if they believed she made money with her parents in the markets selling dyed clothes and wooden jewellery boxes.

03:04pm Friday 11th July 1890, 5 Bistdari Road, Central Ridge Forest, Delhi, India.

Arriving to the Watson Bungalow was simple enough, the ox cart rolled and bumped over the rock and sandy grooves of the path. Anjuli pulled the reigns of her beast and helped you both down. She tied her ox to the outside gate posts, the precious creature lowered its head and munched on dry grass that still was hinted in green. The ox would be glad as soon the wet season would hit and all the food delight lush and green would return.

You and Anjuli stepped inside and removed your sandals, Anjuli then led you through the house. It had been some time since you had been here. Anjuli’s mother was dismissed as Mrs Victoria Watson’s maid when the new Watson bride had arrived.

Doctor Watson, their son was a short ferrety man. His face was covered in a long mutton mustache like a snake of hair slithering along his face. He was a grown man from the teenager you had met many years ago. His parents had sent him to Europe to school, as far as you were aware he had join the army and fought in some notorious war battles like The of Battle of Abu Klea.

As you entered the bureau office, you found him hunched over some paperwork, his brows scrunched. His eyes lifted up and brightened his face on seeing you both.

“Oh Miss Paraiyars, Anjuli dear,” he said clapping his hands and opening a drawer in his desk, “Thank you so much dear for bringing darling Miss Newalkar here. Here,” he handed Anjuli a small bag and slipped four rupees into her hand, “and take these sweets back to your Mataji, Mrs Paraiyars.”

Anjuli put her hands together and smiled, wobbling her head before leaving you alone to return outside back to her ox cart.

You had your hands pressed together peacefully while the doctor hobbled over to you from around the desk. He was smiling brightly and nodded his head to you, offering you a chair in front of the desk.

“Y/N thankyou for coming on such short notice. I requested your presence in person to offer you a job position.”

Your smile fell, you sheepishly explained to the man, “I am currently employed at the Anglo school Doctor, Babu.”

The doctor nodded, “Yes…Anjuli tells me you are still teaching the children English and Hindi?”

“Yes Doctor Babu,” you confirmed.

“How much are you paid per month?” he asked quickly, touching his lips lightly in thought.

“Twenty five rupees,” you said softly, you didn’t dare try to sound prideful.

The doctor smiled and pulled out a piece paper contract, he then stated, “I will pay you a hundred per month.”

Your eyes widened, and then narrowed. It was too spectacular to be true, it sounded Impossible. Your fathers pension was only a hundred and fifty rupees a year, for the doctor to give you a hundred per month was unfathomable wealth. What on earth was he wanting from you!?

“What is the position,” you swallowed breathlessly, “Doctor Babu?”

“Housekeeper and…a carer,” he sighed, “I need you to live here, and watch over one of my friends. He is from England and I am afraid he might not understand the customs here.”

He leant against the desk cocking his head and looking down at his feet awkwardly. “Please,” he begged, “he is different to other men. He is particular and perhaps rather spoilt. I need you to make sure he doesn’t get lost, harmed or too upset. It is pressing that I should return to my wife in Agra. I would have hired Mrs Paraiyars, in fact I did offer this role to her, but I have been informed she will be moving and her English is not as it once was…and my English friend is rather…particular and impatient with broken speech...”

He wrote a signature across the bottom of the document and held it out for you to read. It was real…your mouth watered. You could save more than your regular wage and easily move back to Indore without burdening your father or mother’s family.

“If you accept my offer, you may live here as a free lodging, you recall where the servant quarters are I am sure? You will also receive a handsome budget for food. And-” he paused looking up and pocketing the cheque, he gasped, “Sherlock! Dear god man! Did you walk here from the train station?!”

You turned around in the chair and took in the sight of a familiar looking soul.

He was the gentleman from the road. The supposed businessman with his briefcase. He was taller standing here with you then when you sat above in the ox cart. He was standing in the doorway to the office. He stepped inside and lowered his walking stick and briefcase.

“My friend,” the handsome stranger gleefully called, “My dear John Watson, I came the moment I read your message. One of the khaki coated lads pointed me here.”

Up close now you could observe his features on a better judgement. Sherlock Holmes was well known in the British gazette for his distinct physical appearance. With his broad angular frame, sharp hard features, and mighty frame, he exuded a striking and intimidating aura that commanded respect. He reminded you of warriors you imagined before bed in story's of battles your father described at Jhansi Fort.

His face was marked by a strong, sharp pointed nose and intense, deep-set sapphire eyes. His hair was kept combed and short below his ears short and slicked back, revealing his angular eyebrows, and his pink lips that were tightly pursed. He wore a grand brown suit coat with a crisp white shirt, and woolen sweater vest beneath it. And at the base of his throat was a dark burgundy tie. Something about the time reminded you of blood. A cut throat. You felt cold.

His eyes smoothly shifted to you and your presence, his lips parted softly, he glanced back at John, “A patient of yours Doctor?”

The moustached man bristled and shook his head, he stuttered and leant his hand out to you. you carefully chose to take it and rise from the chair as he introduced you.

“Oh- I- Sherlock…um, Sherlock Holmes, I would like you to meet Miss Y/N Newalkar.”

“Miss Newalkar,” the doctor waved his hand over the figure of the giant stock of a man, “This is the very gentleman I was informing you about. This is my friend Detective Sherlock Holmes.”

You pressed your hands together and nodded in greeting. One of Sherlock’s brows raised and his lips hardened in a straight line.

Doctor Watson explained back to the detective, “I was in the middle of discussing whether this dear lady would like to accept a role of housekeeping during your stay here.”

“Whatever for?” Sherlock snickered, “Is your lady wife not up to par with her duties?” he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his leather shoes while his eyes scanned all the way down to your bare feet. It was a crude look of judgement. The westerner seemed to forget not everyone shared the same styles and habits here. You tried not to roll your eyes at him as he scanned your arms and the parts of your belly that the saree did not cover. Those dark blue orbs crawled up and settled over your faux sweetened smiling face.

“Some…plans have come up unexpectedly. Mary is back in Agra, staying safe with her family,” John stated, his fingers rubbed together, “I need to be with her. And the hospitals are in desire of my services as a surgeon. I ask that you will look around, see if you can find anything here…” he leant in closer and whispered to the man, “I will visit every couple of days, to check up on you and see if there is truth to be founded in my suspicions.”

'Suspicions?'

“John…” the detective pat his friends shoulder, “I am happy to see you. I promise I will do my very best.”

“Thankyou,” said the doctor.

Sherlock jerked his chin to your direction, “How much does the dear girl here know?”

“Well, I…not much,” the doctor blushed and looked back to you, “Miss Newalkar, your thoughts on the job position role?”

You swallowed and nodded slowly, “I accept the conditions, thankyou for your most gracious offering, Doctor Babu.”

The doctor smiled and carefully touched your back, leading you to the exist of his office as he happily stated.

“Splendid! Please, this is the contract. Sign it and return with your belongings later on a few hours while I converse with my friend and guest.”

You looked back at the mysterious Sherlock Holmes and back to the contract. You wobbled your head in goodbye and went on your way. The way you could feel his eyes over your body walking away made you shiver. He was a intimidateding looking man. You left the home and slipped your sandals on.

You thought about how you would now be the housekeeper of a prestigious British family in the community. A wave of relief to your stability washed over you. You didn’t need to crawl to your father and your mother’s family. You started smiling ear to ear. All you needed to do was take care of a house and baby-sit an Englishman who was vulnerable to these new lands.

“Did you see him go in?” Anjuli smirked from the ox cart, waving you over, “The British man you fancied?”

You jerked your chin up proudly exclaiming, “I met him.”

Your friend gasped with a wide smile, “What is he like?”

“I don’t really know,” you shrugged before waving the contract in front of your friends face, “but I am going to be his housekeeper, I need to inform the school of my resignation.”

Anjuli looked at the contract, she couldn't read english but made a light sad sound and sucked her teeth before sighing, “Oh, those children will miss you dearly.”

And that you could both agree. You grabbed the ox reigns and tapped its flank with the cane rolling back to the school again quickly to collect your last wage.

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

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vibeshiftsurvivor · 1 month

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in your opinion, what are some pros and cons of arranged marriage

arranged marriage is unethical—there are no pros. it is a violation of fundamental and core autonomy that is the right of every human. i can hear some of you about to say “there’s a difference between arranged marriage and forced marriage. if they both consent, it can work!” and i think that’s absolute bullshit.

to believe that consent changes the entire nature of a marriage to somebody that you did not choose to build with and marry on your own is naive at best, dangerous at worst. the “arranged marriage vs forced marriage” division-through-consent can only exist if you project western standards onto a practice that’s deeply rooted in cultural behaviours, expectations, and norms. it works on the assumption that the people within these cultures have a similar understanding of and capacity for marital consent as westerners do, which they do not always have.

even as a first-generation canadian with desi and persian heritage, i grew up with obedience towards my parents as an intrinsic way of life — i did not know how to individuate myself and what i wanted for myself from what my desi mother wanted for me. you have to cultivate the ability to individuate yourself and your wants from your parents and that is not something that’s easy or even possible to do when your culture has a “what will people say?” mentality and encourages sacrificing your needs in the service of “what’s good for the family.”

i can tell you with absolute certainty that my mother wants to marry my brother to a beautiful, polite, smart woman because my mother is embarrassed to have a lesbian daughter while all my cousins have gotten married with at least two kids each and she needs to prove to herself / our desi community that she hasn’t failed as a parent. at least one kid turned out normal. it is not in honour of my brother's wants and dreams out of life—it’s just to maintain status and avoid ostracism.

let's go beyond it—you do the damn thing, you're married to somebody your family or community chose. how many women have privilege of living within a westernized territory where, if you absolutely needed to, you could escape your family or community and gain the support and protection of outsiders? even in canada, my mother was belittled for leaving my father and their arranged marriage—my father was deported for taking part in gang initiations and arms trafficking, but my mother STILL did not have support from the community to leave my father because divorce is stigmatized and you’re expected to work through it.

#i feel v strongly abt this.

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starryalpacasstuff · 3 months

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Indian BL? FROM 2017????

There's an Indian BL from 2017 that I just watched. And I have incoherent thoughts

Before I continue, massive thanks to my bestie @anixknowsnothin for telling me about this show and proofreading the post for me. You don't even watch bl so I have no idea how you found this, but I'm incredibly grateful nonetheless

Here's the link to where I watched the show from, there's a glitch in the first episode subs where the subs seem to be from another show entirely, but it's only for the first ep and about 50% of the dialogue is in English anyways, so it shouldn't be hard to follow.(My ask box is also always open if there's a specific dialogue/scene in Hindi that you want the translation of)

Edit: The link seems to be region locked, so to watch it you can use a vpn and set your region to India, otherwise the episodes are available on youtube, albeit without subs

Note:- this post is going to have a few mild spoilers throughout, but I'll flag major spoilers in red

It's no secret that India is fairly behind when it comes to queer love shows if we compare it to other Asian countries. While it has a handful of great queer shows and movies, it's still quite a small quantity. Additionally, before this, I'd never watched an Indian show that felt like I was watching a bl (if you have recs, please send them my way!!). I'm not going to get into the technicalities of what feels like a bl and doesn't, because honestly, I'm not completely sure myself. For now, I'm just going based off of vibes and feelings, and this show felt like a bl through and through.

Titled 'Romil and Jugal' after its main characters, the story is a modern, desi, bl remake of the classic story...

Romeo and Juliet

Well, Bad Buddy was the first Thai bl I ever watched, so Romil and Jugal being the first Indian BL I watched just feels right, no?

I didn't actually know that the story was based off of Romeo and Juliet till the second episode, because I didn't bother looking for a synopsis, and jumped right in. However, it's links to Romeo and Juliet quickly became apparent, around the same time I started to see similarities between this show and Bad Buddy. I also did not know that this show came out in 2017 before I googled it, having already watched the entire thing, which was a pretty huge shock, because this BL is progressive by 2024 India standards.

Alright, enough of my rambling. Here's a synopsis of the show in case you haven't heard of it. (I couldn't find an official one, so I did my best to write a spoiler free synopsis)

Ramya happens to start talking to a slightly older woman at an airport, who believes that there is no romance in the younger generation. To prove her wrong, Ramya decides to tell the older woman her brother's love story. The story from the past is shown to us as Ramya narrates it to the woman in the present. Jugal is a closeted 19-year-old who lives with his parents. One day, a family moves into the house next door, and Jugal immediately falls for the son, Romil. The two of them attend the same college, and eventually become friends. The two of them eventually get together, but have to face the challenges of a homophobic society and having parents that hate each other.

I was a little skeptical of the show going in, but the show surpassed all of my expectations in the best way possible. It's no masterpiece, and it has its flaws, but it was far better than what I expected. It had both comical elements and darker themes, and it did not shy away from exploring the darker themes at all. Oh, and it has a few musical numbers. What did you expect? This is India after all.

The show is 10 episodes long, with 20 minutes per episode, and so it does unfortunately fall into some of the pitfalls that shorter shows tend to fall into, namely underdeveloped relationships and rushed endings. I did end up feeling a little bit like it didn't make sense for the pair to sacrifice and suffer as much as they did because they hadn't known each other for very long, and I felt like they should have been given more time to fall in love with each other. But it also could be argued that the show stays true to the play, and Romil and Jugal are dumb teenagers who make mistakes and stick with each other through them. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it.

One thing that I loved the show for was that it showed us that the relationship is not all sunshine and rainbows. They argue, they break up, they get back together, and they do argue even after that. But every time, they eventually work through the issue and reconcile. The show even depicts Romil dealing with internalized homophobia and struggling to reconcile with the fact that he will never be who his family wants him to be. Although I do wish they'd have had more time to explore this, I'd say it was decently depicted and handled. The show really delves into how children are forced to uphold their family's wishes and are constantly put under pressure to make them proud. Although it clearly affects both of them, it's more obvious with Romil, who is expected by his family to date and marry the daughter of his father's boss, whom they think he is dating. There's a metaphor along this theme too, where Romil pretends to like the mango shake that his mom has been making for him since he was a kid, even though he hates it, and when he tries to tell her, he has to act like it was a joke to spare her feelings. The show also goes into the communal mindset of basing your actions off "what will people think?", and you can see how a lot of the characters' actions throughout the show are haunted by this question. Some of Romil and Jugal's earlier disagreements are due to this very mindset.

The show also very candidly depicts the extreme homophobia of society in India. Romil and Jugal had to constantly hide who they were, always having to keep up a mask and I felt that reach somewhere deep inside me. When the pair come out, the show really shows how ugly homophobia can be in India. Their parents immediately disown them. They're mocked in college and wrongfully suspended for a fight that was provoked by other students. Very, very few people stand with them, and the pair very quickly realize that now that they are out, they simply cannot live in the city anymore. So with the help of Jugal's best friend and her mother, they flee to Mumbai, where they get jobs and live as paying guests with a friend of the aforementioned mother. But, even in Mumbai, the masks stay up. They have to act like cousins, for fear of being persecuted. The series depicted the worst-case scenario that so many of us live in fear of, so watching it was something of a cathartic experience for me.

Another thing that the show did quite well is showing how different people and their mindsets can be. Jugal's best friend, Ahalya, and her mom are very supportive, and they help the pair out quite a bit. Ahalya's mother provided a safe house for the pair and helped them find a fresh start. Meanwhile, Romil and Jugal's parents are incredibly homophobic. There was a scene that really stuck with me, (mild spoiler ahead, skip to the last sentence of the paragraph) where Ahalya's mother came across Jugal's mother, who prided herself on being educated and well-read, searching up how to cure homosexuality. Ahalya's mother then tells her off for calling herself educated yet believing that homosexuality is an illness. It is so important to me that the show depicted both the violent homophobia that permeates Indian society and the surprising, warm acceptance that one can find.

One final thing that I loved about this show so, so much is just how authentically Indian it feels. Asian cultures share a lot in common, but they also have their differences, so seeing a show where I can imagine encountering the characters in real life is really amazing. Rather than something big, it was little things sprinkled throughout the story that warmed my heart. The story felt like something I could hear the local aunties gossiping about. The way it depicts queerness in India hits incredibly close to home.

One thing I've learned watching Asian bls is that the ending of a show can make it or break it, but with this one, I'm stuck. The best way I can describe the ending is absolutely insane and incredibly Bollywood.

I believe this show was supposed to get a second season because the last two minutes of the show leave us with a massive cliffhanger. Now, it's been 7 years, so a second season is unlikely, so I'm simply pretending that the last two minutes of the show never happened. But the ending has so much more to it than just this (Major spoilers for the ending up ahead. I mean it when I say major, this is like going into Bad Buddy knowing that they're going to trick their parents in the end).

About halfway through the show, I remembered what play it was based upon and realized that there was a very real possibility that Romil and Jugal would die. The first half of the last episode leads up to this, telling us that they died when reconciling after an argument in the middle of the road when they were hit by a truck. We get a super emotional scene (yes, I cried) where the two families somewhat reconcile in their grief as they go to the police station to identify the bodies. Except... they're not dead, which is revealed when Romil's father hugs Romil's (not) dead body. They reveal that they planned this to show their family that they still loved their sons. I did say it was like PatPran tricking their parents in the end, didn't I? So the families reunite, Romil and Jugal get jobs in New Zealand and get married, and return to India for a wedding celebration (yes, I cried. again). The ending does feel slightly rushed, but if I'm being honest, it wasn't as terrible as it could have been. Believing that your child is dead for a bit is a somewhat justifiable reason for a sudden change of heart. There's a part where Romil and Jugal tell their parents that if they choose acceptance, they can reconcile, but if they choose to remain prejudiced, Romil and Jugal can simply get back on the stretchers, because they'll be as good as dead to their families anyways and it is *chef's kiss*.

All in all, the show was surprisingly heartfelt and poignant. It had me laughing, kicking my feet and even crying. There's a lot more about this show that I could talk about, but I'm going to stop here for now, and I'll try to write more on it later. This show really does deserve more recognition than it has, and I'm almost mad at myself for not knowing about it before. Am I being really biased when talking about this show? Absolutely. But I do think that this show is a worthwhile watch, and I'd really like to see what other people on here think of the show, especially because I'm aware that I am biased towards this show.

I'm tagging a few people who I know might be interested/have some thoughts about the show because this is a show that I really want to hear other people's opinions on and have conversations about, so I hope you guys don't mind!

@waitmyturtles @lurkingshan @bengiyo @neuroticbookworm

#good lord this post is almost 2k words #i think this is the longest post i have ever written #and there's more thoughts rattling around in my brain about this show #did i convince you to watch the show?#please say yes #i need people to talk to about this show #bl recs #indian bl #indian bl recs #romil and jugal #romil & jugal #bad buddy #i mean it's related #how does everything i write about somehow find it's way to that goddam show #but seriously romil and jugal was surprisingly very good #i did not expect it at all #but i have never been so glad to be proven wrong

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total-drama-shark · 1 year

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First impressions on every contestant!

Warning this gets long.

Millie

Was really interested on the possibility of a nerdy character from her introduction, but I feel like my biggest gripe with her is the whole “my generation” thing, it just feels slightly mean spirited and not realistic for a personality trait. Teens generally don’t like being told that their generation sucks or that they’re all dumb or have their use of technology criticized. The ones that do dislike their generation are those either trying to receive approval from older people or “I was born in the wrong generation” type kids. She’s just, unrelatable.

Axel

Her voice is higher than I expected, I like the survival theme and was surprised we got another zombie conspiracy nut in the cast (so happy we got a Shawn cameo/reference as well!) she really is like a mix of Jo and Eva with a sprinkle of Shawn and I wish we got to see more of her!

Priya

Super interesting to see a contestant raised by TD fans, and her intro was amazing! Baby and toddler Priya! Owen reference! She is 100% going to be an interesting character. I guess there’s also a subversion of a big Desi stereotype with her, she wants to go to med school but her parents want her to enter a more unconventional and unstable field, I don’t know exactly how to feel about this, specially since I’m not desi myself.

Zee

My man!!! I love me a skater/surfer dude and the Jude vibes are impeccable!! He is so chill and just here to vibe. I’ve audibly laughed at multiple of his lines and just love him so much. I also think he’s neat amputee rep, he’s casual about it and was just born that way, but can make fun stories up about it.

Ripper

Am I disappointed by the fart and potty jokes? Yes, but besides that I actually really like his character! An annoying bully who despite his best efforts is a loser. Also if his voice doesn’t fuel the nowen child headcanons out there I don’t know what will.

Damien

A total newbie! Very opposite to Priya in this case and also super interesting character trait for him, I hope both him and Priya can function a bit to show off the POV of both old and new fans alike. He’s also very entertaining :)

Scary girl

Exactly what I expected from her and more! She is very much one dimensional compared to most the rest but I love her! I love wildcards! So excited to see her shenanigans

Bowie

Introducing yourself as the first openly gay contestant is definitely a first impression! I’ve got to say I adore his competitive and scheming nature and you can tell he’s in it to win it, he also has amazing social skills and is overall an icon. I know not everyone will be into the idea of the first openly queer contestant being very stereotypical but I’ve always thought that just as while his sexuality isn’t the center of his personality and there’s at least another queer character that isn’t as stereotypical it’s all good, and by the looks of it that will be the case. Also I know multiple gay dudes that act just as him so I have a bias.

Chase

Did not expect a stunt Youtuber type guy but I definitely should’ve seen it coming, also DRAMA?? Pre established EXES??? I am so interested in seeing how this pans out

Emma

I love her voice first of all and I did not expect her to have been part of the stunt Youtuber group, hope the ex drama isn’t all there is to her character and I really enjoy her friendship with Bowie so far!

Oh I love her, we haven’t seen a character like her before and she has so much potential! A character that knows she’s underestimated and takes advantage of that? Yes please!

Caleb

Pretty much a Justin copy, I can’t really say much about him and we knew how things were going to pan out so I can only hope he’ll make if farther and get more development next season.

Wayne & Raj

Hockey dudes! They’re such jocks and can sense the “makes fun of me lightly for being unathletic but cheers for me when I finally start participating in sports” energy from them so hard, they’re fun guys and feel so much like real teen boys.

Nichelle

An actual TV star! I didn’t see that coming but I love it! Love seeing the little flashbacks to her shows and movies and seeing someone in the show be treated as an actual celebrity, she’s also as far as I’ve seen pretty smart, level headed, and humble for a TV celebrity! So interested in seeing her work!

Julia

The influencer chick! Her intro was amazing and I definitely didn’t expect her to be into healing crystals, feel like she’ll be a very interesting character and I await her interactions with Nichelle.

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birdy-bat-writes · 1 year

Text

Tu Maan Meri Jaan

Jake Seresin x Desi!Reader Headcanon + The Dagger Squad and Maverick

A/N: Hey Guys! So, @girl-in-the-chairs-void and I sort of slipped into the topic of conversation of a Jake getting married to a Desi woman and we both were so in love with the idea that we came up with this. I want to thank you, Pav, for always helping me break out of creative blocks and always being there for me in general. And ofc, I also want to thank you for working with me to create something that can desi and brown girls in this fandom can relate to. To all you, We hope you love it! Now, even I sometimes forget some of the terms that are used for Indian wedding functions so I’ll try to drop a quick explanation in parenthesis after specific terms 😊 But if I miss anything or you’re confused, just let me know in a comment and I’ll be sure to explain it.

Also, A few months ago I saw a reel on Glen’s Instagram of him at Nick and Priyanka Chopra Jonas’ Diwali party so here’s that 😁

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

I completely melt at the thought of Jake getting married to a South Asian bride and they make the wedding half Western and half South Asian.

I feel like he’d already just love the parts of your culture that you share with him. When you go to plan your wedding, he’d already be down to do a multiple-function, multi-day wedding and his sisters and parents would be so excited.

When you first started dating, he didn’t understand the things you whisper to him in your language.

He makes it his mission to learn a little bit of your language without telling you. So, when you speak to your family or friends and it’s mostly them teasing you two, he knows but doesn’t mention it until later.

Like on the reception he just whispers “meri jaan” My life or something sweet in your ear as the Pandit (Priest) officiates it.

All the little kids calling him the various names for “uncle” and you’re feeling so proud and holding them all close to you, he looks at you so softly, getting the kids to leave the stage as they scurry off after hugging both of you.

Jake on a horse, riding his way to your house with the Baraat, and being a natural because he’s no stranger to horse riding.

Him seeing you in the wedding lehenga for the first time and just forgetting how to speak.

You are not expecting to be as speechless as you are when you see him in his wedding outfit. And he would tease the hell out of you about it.

His dirty blond hair glistening in the harsh light coming from the camera man and seeing the rest of the squad in traditional desi clothes is the cherry on top.

He had his hands in the air as the dhol and drums (a traditional drumset that plays live at weddings) echo loudly, mimicking some of the dance moves your father or brother may have taught him.

He gets down on one knee as he approaches the stage where you stand, a ring in hand, maybe saying a few sentences in your language that has you crying.

“Main aur kisi ke bare main kaise soch sakta hoon jab meri duniya mere samne hai?” Basically how can I think about someone else when my whole world is in front of me?

Also, I headcanon sometimes that Jake loves to dance and his whole family really enjoys dancing at the wedding. It usually take a glass of wine or so to get him loose but the man can dance.

They drag him onto the stage and what people don’t know is that he has been practicing his moves.

If a lot of Punjabi families are there, then we know we got the booze flowing and as soon as the songs come on, he is going at it.

You are laughing and giggling in your chair as you watch him do bhangra or any other type of dance that he has up his sleeve.

You’re just like, “Babe…. where did you learn to dance like that? When did you find the time to learn this?” “Well, I am a Seresin, Darlin’.”

The wedding vows go like this:

“The things I do for you my love, but today, I wanna dedicate this day, not to us; but to you. Because my heart has been so full of you that I simply cannot call it mine anymore. My soul has been bewitched and my mind has been taken over by every thought of you. I am a mere reflection- a shadow of you. There was a quote in this movie we watched on our third date: om shanti om (apologies for the pronunciation); you said it was your favorite movie growing up and you cried when shah rukh khan said; "Itni shiddat se maine tumhe paane ki koshish ki hai, ki har zarre ne mujhe tumse milane ki saazish ki hai. So today as our worlds gather around us to witness this beautiful moment, I want to say to you; mujhse shaadi karogi?”

To which you just laugh and say “We’re already married, dumbass” while tugging him up to kiss him and whisper, “A thousand times yes.”

The food, omg, okay. So, in your 5 year long relationship, you have never seen him enjoy pani-puri as much as you do at your own wedding. He happily ate them whenever you went out to eat at an Indian restaurant or made him eat Lamb Karahi (for my Pakistani girls out there), he ate it with a smile on his face, but usually, all he could feel was his mouth going numb at the spice.

But now, he is just gobbling them down. The shocking part? He’s eating them with the spicy water.

You’re shocked because he can handle more spice than you almost. And when you mention it he’s like “Baby you know I like it spicy”😉😉

Every daal or butter chicken or biryani that is brought to the table is just eaten, mostly by him.

When you taste the things yourself, the spice is there but he hasn’t picked up his glass

When you look at him, He just shrugs and says “I’m hungry.”

And you’re already reaching for water now and again.

Rooster and Javy are borderline crying.

And you keep giving them dahi (yogurt) to cut the spice because even you’re starting to

Even Phoenix can handle her spice, but Jake is surpassing that level and your mom is impressed to say the least.

Rooster watching hangman eat straight spicy biryani like 👁👄👁️

The Mehendi (a wedding function in which the bride, groom and guests’ hands and somethings feet are decorated with ethnic temporary tattoos” and Haldi rasam (a wedding function in which a yellow paste made from turmeric is applied to the bride’s and groom’s skin) has you thinking he looks absolutely adorable.

The yellow pastes make his skin glow and while everyone is admiring him all the young girls and aunties eyes are on him, he is just admiring you from the corner of the room as you get the haldi all over you.

You don't notice his eyes on you through the thin curtain until your mother whispers to you: “Everybody’s watching him, but he’s only been looking at you”

If there is haldi left after the ceremony you and Jake just attack Mav and the squad with it.

And the aunties probably have something to say about how he’s just completely all over you, but you two don’t even care. You’re already too far gone into the bliss of your wedding preparations and traditions that nothing seems to affect your mood.

He’d probably really enjoy the fact that your wedding outfits reveal the midriff if you wear a lehenga. For each function that you wear one or even a sari, he probably really likes being able to feel your skin on his when he puts his arm around your waist.

Maybe if you decide to have a destination wedding in the house you rented, he shows up late at night at your door in a beige or black kurta that your mum made him wear, a few buttons undone from the top, hair a little messy.

He was up with your male family members playing antakshari (a card game often played at celebratory occasions).

If it’s in India, he takes you to a late-night drive to eat ice cream. You introduce him to paan and chai, two common late nigh street foods.

You threaten him that if he ever calls chai, chai tea, you will divorce him.

When you get back it’s dark and late enough that no one else is awake, he quietly slips into your room as you both try to take in the last few days, barely having a moment to yourselves, as he just stays there and holds you until you drift off to sleep and when you do, he gives you a kiss on the forehead before slipping back into his room.

There’s a tradition where the brides name is written in the groom’s mehndi, and the groom’s name is written in the bride’s. When it comes to him trying to find his name in your hands, it takes him time, but he finds it hiding in the side of your pinky, because when you are nervous you hold onto each other’s pinky’s in a crowded room. It was a small thing you guys used to do before you had started dating.

If you've hidden his name as well, he finds it immediately but takes his name pretending like he didn’t see it just to play with your hands longer.

Yours is hidden in a kaleidoscope of stars and things he’s got on his palms and wrists, it’s in a moon shaped piece that has another thing written under it “mera chaand” My moon.

Phoenix shows up in the most stunning outfits and turns out she has dressed up every single one of the dagger boys.

It came as a surprise to you when she helps you with your jewelry, having known about many uncommon things about the certain things you were putting on.

She manages to take the boys away from you as you are getting ready for your main ceremony.

You both keep a Polaroid of the two of you getting ready, hair and makeup done, mehndi pristine, bangles on, jewelry pretty much all on and your outfits are on the hangers. Standing with arms around each other in tank tops and shorts and it’s the funniest sight. It's a memory you’ll cherish forever with your best friend.

Dude, can you just imagine Javy, Rooster, Mickey and Reuben all lifting the kids at the wedding in the air and pretending like they’re flying fighter jets.The kids are just like “I love Reuben uncle!” And “Jake maamaji is my favorite”.

After the wedding ceremony everyone’s making jokes about how y’all are probably going to get it on but you’re both so tired that you just fall asleep.

Before you do, Jake helps you take off your jewelry.

He counts the huge amount of bobby pins in your hair, the pile is bigger than your head. His eyes are wide by the time he is done taking out the last one.

“Do you have anything else hiding in your skull somewhere? How did your head not fall?”

“Yeah, now you know why I’m so tired, I’m carrying twice my head’s normal weight.”

You let your clothes just fall to the floor but being the neat freak that he is, he goes to pick them up and put them on the hanger. He groans at the weight of it because it is just so heavy.

“Babe, how were you walking in this? Are you a bodybuilder?”

“Damn, Jake, I thought you navy officers were strong. Can’t even carry a dress??” He glares at you playfully.

He will not stop referring to you as Mrs. Seresin for ages.

You both lay down and just take in the past few days.

He says “Goodnight Mrs. Seresin”. You both just let yourselves fall asleep in like oversized shirts and underwear because you’re too tired to find anything else.

The next day you choose to have a little Western wedding party reception.

And he didn’t know what you were going to wear so when he sees you in a white wedding dress, he loses his mind. Bonus points if it’s Jake’s Mom’s dress.

Mrs. Seresin loves you, and seeing you make her son so happy, just fulfills her life mission.

You look angelic in it.

You remember when he had teased you about how when he gets married he’d take the Garter off with his teeth like some people do and I feel like even if he didn’t, he’d tickle up your leg a little as he took it off with his hands.

He lets his hands roam around a little longer than needed, announcing that he can’t feel it until he disappears under your dress. He has is in his mouth as he reappears from under your dress, secretly giving it a sniff before tugging it into his pocket.

You get so flustered because your mother and his parents were there too.

Your father would be so mad, as most Asian dads would be in this situation.

Jake's mom might spontaneously combust; “Doesn’t this boy feel embarrassed?”

and the aunties will go feral. You don’t even care though because you’re way too in love with the man in front of you. But everyone had a good laugh over it, it was cute how in love you two are.

You cut cake and toss the bouquet.

Rooster just cuts through- like the diva he is and catches it.

Maybe giving it to your sister or a cousin of yours he’s been eyeing…

And everyone just tells stories from them about how you made naval aviators fall in love with the brown women in your family. Because it’s a common thing for a lot of matches to be made at desi weddings. They’re usually so big; friends and very extended family are invited from both sides and over the 3-7 days you all spend together, it’s not uncommon for some people to exchange numbers or so.

Like it all started there for everyone.

You and Jake take total credit for all the matches that were made.

Even phoenix, she saw your distant cousin that she got along with when your wedding ceremonies started and as she gets to know her; you stumble upon them on the rooftop on a late night, wrapped up in each other’s arms, a blanket around the two of them

Bonus points if you and Jake caught them there together and you all agree to just never mention it because you two weren’t supposed to be there either.

Imagine rooster giving the bouquet to your sister.

Like that man has been following her around the entire time the wedding ceremonies. It’s like a classic trope in a Bollywood movie.

One night, you’re looking for your earring which you’re convinced you sister took. And you walk into her room and he’s just there, minding his own business, chilling on his phone and he just jumps seeing you walk in, trying to explain.

Jake doesn’t even realize that rooster is involved with your sister until he sees them dancing. He just turns to you and is like “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” And you’re just sitting there, smirking. *I know what you are dog meme*

According to Punjabi tradition, you have to wear a red set of bangles after the wedding as a sign of being a newlywed woman.

According to tradition you need to keep it on until you have kids or like at least for a year.

It’s not even a year after your marriage that Jake comes home to find your wrists empty of the beloved bangle set he’s so used to. Oh. Oh.

He knows what it means. The empty wrists have him staring, and he’s dying to ask whether you took it off because of discomfort or if there is bigger news behind it.

After an hour of pondering, he gives up his patience and asks you.

“Oh, I was waiting until later to tell you this but…”

You drag him to the nearest seat, sitting him down as you sit opposite, burying your hands into your cardigan pocket and around the plastic stick that felt a little too heavy now that you were face to face with him. This is what you had been trying for, it's good news. The warmth in his eyes encourages you to let it be, that this was the right time.

You place the pregnancy test in front of him, he picks it up to inspect as his face lights up with joy that you had only seen the day you got married. In a flurry, he just picks you up and spins you around. You're screeching for him to put you down, but he refuses, burying his face into your stomach as you laugh.

When he does put you down, he makes you sit on the couch with him as he bends down to your stomach; “Hey there champ, you gonna give your ma trouble for the next few months huh?”

—--------------

Taglist:

@glorified-red Thanks for always supporting me :) @startrekfangirl2233 @darkheartcherry @jstarr86 @alchemxx @keenmarvellover @the-romanian-is-bae @forever-sleepy-sloth @emorychase

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to my taglist:D

Tagging some friends just because :) No pressure to interact!

@roosterbruiser @callsign-fangirl @roosterforme @tongue-like-a-razor @startrekfangirl2233 @arson-tm @roostersrooster @bussyslayer333 @blue-aconite @roosterschick @roosterscock @lunamoonbby @roosters-slut

#jake seresin blurb #jake seresin #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman top gun #top gun fanfiction #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #natasha pheonix trace #javy machado fluff #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x desi reader #top gun headcanons

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triviareads · 2 months

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I'm Indian too. I have never met anyone in real life who reads historical romances. So it's quite surprising to find another Indian who reads HR. In my family and among relatives, reading fiction is considered a waste of time. Is your experience similar?

It's always nice to meet a fellow desi HR reader! I know a couple people who are romance readers so they've tried a few historicals, but I don't actually know any dedicated historical romance readers irl who are South Asian either.

My mom used to take me and my sister to the library every week when we were kids and her rule was we had to pick two nonfiction books for every one fiction book, so that should give you an idea of her feelings. Like, we were encouraged to be readers in general, but especially during my years as a student, studies came first and a lot of things were considered "time waste" or secondary. It's a very Indian attitude from my understanding, and I struggled with it for a long time as an Indian-American. Last year my sister was telling my parents she was going "insane" over a novel she was reading, and my mother, out of genuine concern, asked if she should maybe read something less intense so it doesn't mess with her studies.

Now I'm an adult with a job so it's a little different. My parents know I'm a big HR reader and romance reader in general but it's not.... something I super discuss with them and a lot of that has to do with the implications of me reading about sex, and even romance to a lesser extent. Apparently I did such a good job of not talking about it that my mom expressed her surprise that I even liked the romance genre a few months ago 💀

But also, they have to know the kind of content I'm consuming right? I have a wall of prints from romance novels in my room that they've seen (lol my poor mom looked and chose to ask about the safest one on there— "what does abortive hussy mean?"), and my mother has read a few Kleypas books back in the day so— It's just, we don't talk about it.

#ask

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aelloposchrysopterus · 4 months

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Do you ever sit and ponder about the wonders of being of mixed ethnic origin??

As far as I know you're white passing too, so it's like, people will tell you that you don't experience racism because you pass as white and ironically will dismiss your opinion in a borderline rude way. Bitch, being jewish isn't the same as being white, especially in a place where you find a jew every 5 years.

Someone who is of mixed race is technically not white, and although our experiences are different and we do not face the same problems non white passing people do, you cannot fucking ignore the cultural, social, political and economic shit involved in there.

Idk, just rambling, thought you'd get it.

Yes.

All the fucking time.

I'm very white-passing, paler than both my parents by far. Some people can guess that there’s something not quite white about me, but that’s uncommon. And yeah, I get what you’re saying. We’re both privileged by looking white, or at least white enough, but that doesn’t erase the generational trauma that comes from oppression, and it’s really frustrating to have to assert the part of the identity that’s less visible before people take our opinion seriously.

I have a friend, also white-passing, who’s part Native American and she’s told me that she had to explain the American government’s oppression of Native Americans in the 20th century to her American history teacher because he just didn’t know about it, and honestly that’s sometimes the most frustrating part of being white-passing, at least for me: the ignorance of others, especially those who should know better. I had to explain police brutality to someone because he just didn’t understand that the fear people of color have of a system that has oppressed them for centuries is real. Sometimes people have just not believed me when I tell them I’m half-Desi. I’ve had people straight-up tell me I’m white when I’m trying to explain that I’m just white-passing. Like, hello? I don’t want to have to pull out the fucking family tree to justify my ability to call myself multiracial.

For me, it’s also complicated by the fact that, up until fairly recently, both my parents would have been classified as white by the US Census. I know a few of my American Jewish friends have struggled with something similar; while they look white, they don’t always feel white due to their experiences with antisemitism, and yet they don’t feel completely like an “other”. Our relationships to the arbitrary, legally defined races aren’t solely a binary; they’re complicated and based as much on culture and societal experiences as the color of our skin.

For me at least, there was also this pressure to be and act white, even though I wasn’t. I had a chance to assimilate successfully into white society. I fucking hated that, because even young me knew that I wasn’t fully white and it would be folly to pretend I was. I have one of the whitest sounding names possible. And yet, at the end of the day, I’m only partially white.

Anyhow, yeah. I think about this a lot lol.

#holly #aellopos’s friends #on being white-passing

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

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i think for a lot of us, relationships and ~weddings~ with our 2D boys and gals and nbs would be multicultural and i really really think that’s wonderful and beautiful

for eg you’re south Asian right? imagine ur wedding. bakugou insists on having as many wardrobe changes as you at your wedding so you’re always matching … his mom spends years!!!!!!!!!! before the wedding (she knows you’re the one for her son the moment she sees you two interact) with a mentor studying your cultural fashion so she can ask you (as if you wouldn’t have asked her personally!!!) for the honor of designing one of your outfits… maybe with a lil Japanese twist to show the union of two cultures… beautiful. whatever she can do to make the person who caught her son’s eye feel welcome. i hate it when his parents are written as standoffish and rude like where was that even implied... anyway his father and mother (and bkg himself ofc) wear your cultural clothes with pride at your wedding and you know what they’d design bespoke Japanese cultural outfits for every member of your family too.

i’m Chinese and i like to think of how our families would interact and bridge the cultural gap too. a union, not a division. what would your family do to make the bakugou’s feel welcome and included? mine would do the Chinese tea ceremony in English/have a translator and would include Japanese tea as well. they’d be invited every lunar new year and given red packets oranges and we’d teach them the phrases in mandarin (what i learned in school) and Cantonese (my family’s dialect) during the mooncake festival we would teach the bakugou’s how to make mooncakes. his parents would make us custom mooncake tins as a gift. for wedding’s (there would have to be two ceremonies) we’d do photoshoots in both sets of cultural outfits as well. i like to think both sets of parents would cook for each other. my traditional Chinese mother would look lovely in a kimono and i know mitsuki would kill it in a qipao. sorry for the word vomit. what about you, fang? if you’re up for it, tell about me you and/or your multicultural interactions w the bakugous 💕

waaaah this so so cute :(( im going to pass away at the thought... i do often think about the way like. our cultures would interact mostly bc its hard not too. but the idea of their parents designing my wedding saree is making me feel sick in the best way. or just the general cross of cultural attire like waaaahhhhhhh

THE TEA CEREMONY.....HOW SWEET IS THAT. hearing all the little details of ur cultural exchange is simply making me cry and weep. the romance of custom mooncake tins.... i cant even imagine. i am not too informed on any specific aspects of chinese culture but the details u have provided r so vivid i feel like i can see it so very clearly and i love it?? like im crying. the translator detail is very adorable to me as well fdkjkjfdvd like im </333333

ive thought pretty indepth about it..!! i think it'd also have to be a two ceremony thing. i think bakugou would probably get very excited to watch me get my mendhi done so he can search for his name in it </3 i think he's probably the most excited about the part where everyone comes to put holud / turmeric on us and feed us sweets. like desi weddings r v complicated so he's kind of excited by how elaborate it all is..... im so </3

#return to sender

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shesthespinstersimmer · 6 months

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Time has come! Use the OC list you made earlier and answer the following:

1 and 3 are in charge of arranging a general house party. How does it go? 2 appears in the news broadcast. What has happened? 4 and 5 need to buy a birthday gift for 6. What do they get? 3 asks 6 to teach her/him/them something. What is it and how does it go? 1 finds a seemingly lost cat. What does she/he/they do? 5 has to buy a quick snack for her-/him-/themself, what is it? 6 uses a search engine (Google or similar) and searches their own name. What are the top results? 4 has to take one of the other numbers to a date. Who's the lucky(?) guy/gal/other? 2 invites all the other numbers to a party - except one. Who's left out? 3 learns a dirty secret about 5. What is it and does she/he/they keep it? 4 has lost a bet and must get a tattoo. What will she/he/they get? 1 and 3 are stuck in an elevator. What happens?

You can answer with simple text, or take a picture or write a short story if you feel more inspired.

Ooooooh… i’ve gotten myself in quite the pickle, haven’t ?

Here we go!

✏️ I’d like to thank Baldwin would want to be helpful, but Cora is terrible at organization. In the end, they’d probably just beg Jude to take over.

✏️ Alcina probably is on talking about the new bill she’s passed with the Board of Education about better treatment of students. 👀🤭

✏️ Probably a gift card, because no one ever knows what to get for Sugar. If not that, a spa day.

✏️ Definitely fashion advice. Some make up tips too. As a matter of fact, she’ll probably just take her for a makeover (it won’t last)

✏️ Baldwin would probably hide it in the treehouse because he’d be afraid his parents wouldn’t let him have it in the house. Eventually, he’ll break down and tell them, and the family would declare it their outdoor cat.

✏️ Judith’s guilty pleasure:

“ What is golden sugar”

“ golden sugar vs. white sugar“

“ 14 types of sugar to build out your sugar pantry “

(Nondescript, just how she likes it)

✏️ Under the circumstances Wiley would just invite Baldwin over to watch movies.

Party?

✏️ I guess she wouldn’t invite Sugar; she seems to be the one Alcina knows the least.

Secret?

✏️ Oh no… I can’t even imagine that; at this point, Cora and Jude have already bared their souls to one another.But I’d like to think they talk about it and work through it.

Tattoo?

✏️ Wylie would probably consult an artist to come up with some thing that incorporated both her Desi and Korean heritages 🖤 (she kind of wants one anyway)

Elevator?

✏️ Baldwin would probably call for help, then suggest he and Cora do brain teasers until help comes. Depending on how long that was, they’d both probably fall asleep eventually after they ate the snacks Cora has on her (they’re both pretty chill )

Thanks @someone-elsa ! This one really made me think ☺️

#shesthespinstersimmer #oc ask game

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tellywoodtrash · 1 year

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I have something I wanted your perspective on, but before I ask, I know you've been getting a lot of asks like this recently (I read some of them), and if you need more time to answer this one, that's fine. I really hope you're doing well and aren't too overwhelmed by asks like this (listening to people vent about their issues is not the easiest thing, I hope you're not feeling burdened). Now, my ask. I've had anxiety and panic disorder since 12th grade. I was going to therapy for it, and +

it was getting better throughout college. My panic attacks had actually stopped for a while, and I thought things were getting better. After graduating, I moved back home while working on grad school apps, and things started getting bad again. The panic attacks are coming back, and I'm starting to visibly twitch because of them. The reason for that is my own intrusive thoughts about my parents. I have a mostly healthy relationship with them, but I'm the eldest daughter in my family, so while growing up, my parents naturally struggled with some parenting things. They have yelled at me and hit me sometimes when I misbehaved or when they didn't approve of something I did, and they still do sometimes, because they don't love how introverted and quiet I am. The amount of nitpicking they do is overwhelming at times, but they're not bad people and I feel guilty for disliking some things they do at times. I'm in therapy again. Can you still give me your opinions on all this?

Hi friend!

First of all, thank you for being so considerate and concerned about my well-being as well. You're right in that listening to people's problems isn't easy, but so far I'm doing okay; I still feel like I have the reserves to give to anyone who needs it. If at any point I find it weighing on me, I shall be sure to let everyone know that I need a break.

Sighhhhhhh, desi parents. Can't live with them, can't (sometimes) live without them. They're really difficult to get our minds around, because they're bundles of unresolved traumas and mental health issues themselves, but from a generation where it wasn't accepted to question the system or acknowledge any weakness in this area. They themselves have suffered through the things that they put us through, and so they perpetuate harmful things without realizing how messed up it is. And the worst part is, they're resistant to being shown the truth; because that means acknowledging that they've been doing something wrong for all these years. That's a really bitter pill for anyone to swallow, especially confronting the fact that their parenting served the opposite purpose of nurturing and making their child feeling safe and loved.

You said you moved BACK in, so I'm guessing you had a brief period where you were living independently at your own pace, and that made your mental health better; coming back and living under your parents' roof after such a thing is always hard. I know I struggled a lot, even with minor things like where I wanted certain things to be kept in the kitchen. They find it really hard to give up control and we're forced to regress to being the child we were growing up, where we are now fully grown adults who know how we want to live our own lives. The only real solution I see to this is clear communication and establishment of boundaries. You have a mostly healthy relationship with them; so I think you can tell them in a calm and reasonable manner that their nitpicking and constant criticism is not at all helpful and is in fact, making your mental health even worse, and thus you are going to be enforcing boundaries from now on. Get up and walk away when the conversation is aggravating you. You're an adult now, so they're not going to be able to force you to stay in the room and listen. Just remove yourself from the situation. If they're reasonable people, they'll understand after the first few instances that their lecturing serves no purpose and will cease doing it when it gets them a negative response.

Good job on continuing with the therapy. A professional will be able to help you far more than I can. All I can say is, please don't beat yourself up for getting worse after a period of being okay. Healing in a mental illness is never linear - it's always hills and valleys. It's like with any other chronic illness; like diabetes or cancer. We do well for a certain time while the treatment is working, and then something (often outside our control) can derail it again. And when we find ourselves at such a stage, there's nothing shameful about having to go get professional help. It needs continuous monitoring and checks and adjustments.

Coming back to the parents thing; like I said, it's hard for them at their big old age now to confront their mistakes and change. It requires a lot of reflection and realization on their part. You cannot do this for them. That's their path to walk themselves. On your side all you can do is try and understand where they're coming from (but that absolutely does not mean that you have to do what they're saying. Understand their intentions, but you do what's best for you.) One of the things that really blew my mind and made me see my relationship with my parents in a whole new light was a line from the show Ted Lasso:

I try and extend the compassion and understanding that they didn't receive when they needed it. It doesn't change them or anything, but gives US a sense of healing. I hope you can discuss this with your therapist and they can give you the tools on how to cultivate the mindset and move forward.

Sending you lots of love and hugs and good wishes for your future. 🤗🤗🤗🤗✨✨✨✨

#big sister tt gives life advice #tt answers

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your-mom-friend · 2 years

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I used to think that Western people were too obsessed with relations among family aka "second cousin once removed" or "fourth cousin thrice removed" and that the Desi system was better (if they're in your parent's generation they're your aunt/uncle and if they're in yours then they're a cousin)

but then I realized ours is just as, if not more complicated so allow me to give your the bare bones of the Desi Family Naming System:

Dada/Dadi- Dada is grandfather and Dadi is grandmother. However you can also use this term for your great aunts/uncles or just people in your grandparents generation. It's exclusively for your dad's side of the family. Your paternal grandpa is Dada and his brother is also Dada (ususally with some variation).

Nana/Nani- Similar to the above, Nana is grandfather while Nani is grandmother. This is exclusively for your mother's side of the family. could be your direct grandparents, their siblings, cousins, or friends. Same goes with Dada/dadi.

Khala- Your Khala is your mother's sister or female cousin. Specifically someone your mother is related to

Khalu- Your Khalu is your Khala's husband. He'd be your maternal uncle by marriage, rather than relation

Mama- Mama is your maternal uncle by relation

Mami- Mami is your maternal aunt by marriage

Chachu- Your Chachu is your paternal uncle by relation. He'd be your dad's brother or cousin

Chachi- She'd be your chachu's wife, aka paternal aunt by marriage

Phuppi- She's your dad's sister/cousin, aka paternal aunt by relation

Phuppa- He's your Phuppi's husband, paternal uncle by marriage

While there are different terms for paternal/maternal cousins, but they're not particularly used unless you're telling someone else about your cousins. Amongst yourselves, you're just cousins. However older brothers/male cousins are called Bhai/Bhaiyya and older sisters/female cousins are Didi/Appi/Appa (Didi is very common, but as someone who speaks Urdu, I've grown up calling my older sisters Appi. And if you're Malayali shut up I already know what it means in Malayalam)

It takes some getting used to, but honestly it's way more helpful for me since it helps trace how exactly I know my relatives. Desi families are typically very extended and close-knit, so I've grown up just meeting random aunts and uncles not knowing who they were and only later finding out they're a relative.

Honestly I also think it's pretty cool. The language really reflects how families work in my culture, and just how people are viewed. Any elderly person can be called Dadi/dada as a sign of respect and affection, while within the family you don't differentiate between your siblings and your cousins

#rem rambles #family stuff #desi culture #indian culture

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maddipoof · 1 year

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living in the past, it's a new generation - tell me as much as you want to about yourself and I'll make a mood board of what i imagine your past life would be (i'm obsessed with historical fashion, let me indulge myself)

oooo okay i feel like i’ve told u i sing n play piano?? i also really wanna learn to crochet but i never find time. i want a butterfly tattoo on my ribs soon <3 i also really really love stuffed animals like they are so <3

So I really hope I did you justice but here's your pinterest board <3

And now let me explain it, I think I already knew what I was going to say for you before you even sent it in but I really think very like,,,late victorian-early edwardian Paris, let me explain.

(I felt really bad because I don't know enough about Indian history or fashion but I really did try to do my research but it was still a weird fork in the road of "What if i give her a picture of the wrong culture if I do add them" and then "what if she thinks i'm removing it if I don't" so there's a few pictures I found of Desi actresses from the silent film era) I really feel like you have such a strong personality, like you know what you want and you're confident in your work even if you don't think it's 100% the best but who ever does.

So I think you'd be in Paris around the time of the 'Bohemian Revolution', very different from the Coachella BoHo whatever, have you seen Moulin Rouge? Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman? If not, you really should. Yes so it was all about and beauty and loving and just all of that. BUT ALSO! Colette, there was a movie about her 2018, Keira Knightley, author, actress, dancer, maybe singer I don't remember, very gay

So I think you would start as like, definitely a piano prodigy when you were younger, like all the tutors, all the lessons, everytime your parents had a party for all their friends, you were playing and singing. Then you're older and you're writing your own compositions and everyone's like oh what a catch, you'll do great getting a husband BUT NO! You strike off on your own, run away to Paris, something like Le Monocle (a bar where all the lesbians went) becomes your main haunt. And you just write and sing and experience everything you want to

#i hope you like it #because I'm so afraid you wont #🕰living in the past it's a new generation 🕰#ivy my sweetheart🍀#even if ive been working on this for 2 days to get it right #✨della's birthday✨#dell's moots

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budugu · 2 years

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im super fucking curious, just that, im desi, gay and telugu too, just like, if i ever come out to my parents, and to the society, do you think they would accept me as a whole? Like you are an indian teen? Probably ig? Like would they? I mean would you accept it? and not bat at eye at me or my preferences?

I cannot say anything on behalf of the society. But speaking of me. I would totally accept it. No questions asked. No eyebrows raised. If you are comfortable enough to come out to a particular person or a particular group of friends you should. If you are not sure how they would accept or react you could try to generally bring up the topic without telling them about yourself and get to know their opinions which would give you knowledge if they would accept you or not. And one more thing. If you come out to someone and they don't accept you. The fault is on them not you. You should be proud of yourself and not determine your self-worth based on others opinions. That's all I can say. Just know that if you were my friend I would be proud of you and love you without any conditions regarding how you identify yourself :)

#hope that helped answer your question #siv.asks #siv.anon

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its-a-hil · 1 year

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k time for our regularly scheduled sleepy oversharing time (answering all the questions from this ask game)

(1) Do you have freckles? nope ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(2) Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it? sometimes i drink tea if im sick or chai socially but thats basically it. chocolate is the closest thing i have to a regular stimulant

(3) What was the last song you listened to? this lagtrain edit idk i really like just. semi-chaotic noise that sounds out of place and a bit incongruent. probably why i like pokeloid

(4) Do you sleep on your back, stomach or side? diagonalish but mostly on my side. i alternate sides though in fact i used to sleep on my stomach until i read a newspaper article that said a plurality of ppl sleep on their side and then i got scared and completely changed the way i sleep in like 6th grade in case you somehow needed more evidence im autistic

(5) Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? blåhaj!! !!! !!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love her need to clean her though also i stream with my hello kitty velvet and i think that's kinda relevant

(6) Do you prefer drawing or writing? i like both but i am so so so much less bad at writing so that's more fulfilling i need to do both a lot more though ive been procrastinating a lot of tales of luminaria writing and art that i feel a compulsive need to make since the game was shuttered

(7) What’s your ideal number of blankets to sleep with? currently i sleep with blanket/comforter/blanket but i am still so so cold so i either need another blanket or one of them to be heated

(8) What’s your favorite band/artist? i mean there are a bunch that are all kinda at the same tier but i think inabakumori is at the top their vocaloids are just so. emotions

(9) When is your birthday? not gonna answer this but if you wanna check my bio every day for the next year until you see it flip to 23 i guess thats a thing you can do

(10) How tall are you? 178 cm (5'10") aka too tall please someone let me give you my height i dont fucking want it except in rock climbing it's useful for that but other than that the dysphoria is just not worth it hate hate hate

(11) What color are your eyes? brown, a bit darker than my skin but ive been complimented on my eyes by strangers more than like any part of my appearance combined so i am always confused like. theyre just my eyes! theyre pretty but only in the way that ppl eyes generally are idgi

(12) Who are five (or more) people you want to hug right now? i dont really want to hug anyone tbh like id be happy to hug a friend if they needed it but im just not feeling touch atm

(13) Fears? that samsara isnt real enough for me to defer all the experiences i dont want to miss out on to a different life also climate change also being at parties where im not super close with most of the people

(14) What’s your favorite color? the sky! i know everyone is probably tired of me saying it but i dont like the idea of picking one 'color' since that allows for so much variation, so i instead choose something that is constantly varying and always beautiful at every instant ive ever gazed upon it

(15) What’s your favorite season? summer summer summer summer summer summer summer summer summer summer summer summer summer summer summer summer summer summer please it's so cold i want to be able to feel warm when i go outside and not feel like im killing the planet when i consider turning the thermostat up a degree

(16) Want any tattoos? What of? oh i absolutely want tattoos definitely one for outer wilds (the hourglass twins), and id be open to the berseria title card with velvet's hair flowing into the letters i just think that game is neat

(17) Want any piercings? Where? im happy with my recent earlobe piercings but it would be desi as fuck to get a nose ring so that also sounds pretty cool

(18) Who is the last person you texted? my parents telling them im coming home from work

(19) Do you have a best friend? How long have you been friends? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ closest thing is probably my college roommate for 3 years but he went to grad school in a different state so ive barely seen him since

(20) What/who do you miss? oh well that's a question and a half i miss my ability to just get a crush and imagine cute and unrealistic fantasy stories where i went out with them now a combination of adult™ realism and the couple years i spent beating myself up for ever feeling romantic attraction have made doing both of those things so much harder so i just stick to projecting myself in established plots i mean its better than it was near the end of high school but. not as good as middle school when i actively loved going to bed just so i could imagine whatever i wanted in the hourish before i fell asleep

(21) How was your day today? tired. slept too early last night and thus the day had no sense of urgency and my head felt very bleh the entire time

(22) How much sleep did you get last night? 8 hours which is kinda the problem i function best with having had 9-10 hours two nights ago and 4-6 hours the night of and whenever i try to get a regular person sleep schedule™ it just makes me feel bad

(23) Do you believe in aliens? not like conspiracy theories or anything like that but. the universe is so BIG and we're finding so many planets that it feels impossible for there to not be life elsewhere also $20 europa has whales in it

(24) When was the last time you cried? Why? idk crying is hard and has barely ever happened since i felt bad about crying at a book in 6th grade and hammered it out of my brain. clearly my masking behaviors have never once been self destructive and i am an extraordinarily well adjusted girlie more recently my parents probably said something that made me feel bad and i semi-succeeded at crying in the shower and forgot about it the day after

(25) What’s your favorite decade? is it really possible for me to answer anything but the present? theres only been one decade where ive been a girl for part of it theres only been one decade where i fell in love with the sound of my voice theres only been one decade where i lived for myself and not for who i expected myself to be

(26) What are some seemingly childish things you like? i mean. i watch cartoons and eat sweets and enjoy going outside and getting distracted by everything i see there not sure what it means for something to be 'childish' tbh

(27) What’s your favorite book? Or just one you’ve read a few times? favorite book is the raven tower by ann leckie it's just. such a wonderful story in such a beautiful world that i feel like i was made for book ive read the most is probably son of neptune though, i know i spent a few months just kinda picking it up at a random page and rereading a few chapters every couple of days

(28) How are you, really? not answering this it's cliche and boring

(29) Does it take you a long time to make decisions? yes and no if a decision is right in front of me i'll make it fairly quickly if a decision is far away then i will procrastinate it to the point of absurdity ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(30) What are you looking forward to in the near future? getting on injections! estrogen time :d

(31) What are you looking forward to in the distant future? 2024 eclipse!!!! !!!! !!!!!! !!!!!!!!! i know with how much im hyping it in my head it'll definitely be covered with clouds at the place i go to but i! do! not! care! the 2017 eclipse is the most beautiful thing i have ever seen in the entire world and i need to see it again

(32) If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go? i want to see the aurorae other than things like that im pretty comfortable sitting in my room, but the idea of viewing something so magical is just incredibly appealing

(33) Do you sleep with your door open or closed? closed otherwise my parents would see how messy my room is and the airflow would be wrong and its brighter in the hallway and just. no

(34) What’s your favorite flower? is it too cliche to say cherry blossom? i grew up near washington dc like going to see the cherry blossom festival is a part of my core identity

(35) Do you currently have a squish? not really but also my brain has a taboo against verbalizing any kind of attractive feelings so it's difficult to overcome that enough to process my thoughts without hating myself so i dont try

(36) Do you like your middle name? no it's just my dad's name, which already feels old-fashioned in indian terms let alone the fact that it sounds vaguely like a mildly off-putting (to me) phrase in english

(37) Do you prefer dogs or cats? i love seeing them both outside or in friends' homes and i am unlikely to ever adopt one so that's the extent of it

(38) Do you have any phobias? i dont think so

(39) Do you stay up late? not late enough

(40) Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy? a not-sunny beach is definitely cold so. yeah. the last beach ive been to was in gdynia though so i might be unfairly projecting how cold the baltic sea is onto other beaches that are reasonable temperatures

(41) What’s your favorite cartoon? if we're counting anime: bna if we're not: amphibia actually now that i think about it i need to rewatch kipo and the age of wonderbeasts that was good

(42) Tag 5 of your favorite blogs no

(43) Do you have siblings? How many? one older sister

(44) Who was the last person you said “I love you” to? probably my parents

(45) Is there anyone you would die for? oh absolutely. loads. the more interesting question would be 'is there anyone you would kill for' and that is far far more difficult to answer

(46) What do you need when you’re sad? patience

(47) Have you memorized your phone number? ofc i have it has interesting math properties associated with it that i sadly cant say here bc saying all the properties, even in a relatively cryptic form, would narrow it down to like 10 options if someone knew my area code

(48) Who’s someone you can trust with your life? this question is ridiculous when cars exist. i have to trust pretty much every driver near me with my life whether im in a car or walking near a road so i dont view it as a particularly meaningful level of trust nor do i view my life as something particularly worth guarding so like. whatever, yknow? (note: this isnt a mental health thing it's a samsara thing dw) if this body dies it dies and i wouldnt want anyone i care about to feel responsible no matter what

(49) What does your last text say? already said it

(50) Wild Card. Any question, ask away. my favorite font is alegreya sc

#lifeblogging #or at least close enough to it

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