#bless the artists on this platform

[webscarlet]

Unlocking Artistic Success: Sculpture Commission Opportunities with Statues

Unlocking Artistic Success: Sculpture Commission Opportunities with Statues

In the charming international of artwork, sculptors locate their muse not simply in personal projects but through accomplishing sculpture commissions. This guide is your key to understanding and seizing sculpture commission opportunities, emphasizing how they act as a gateway to unparalleled artistic success. Let’s delve into the intricacies of the commission system, the blessings it gives, and the transformative effect it may have on an artist’s career, with a special focus on the expertise provided through Statues, your ultimate associate on this artistic journey.

What is Sculpture Commission?

Sculpture commission is a collaborative endeavor wherein a patron commissions a sculptor to craft a one of a kind piece of artwork tailor-made to precise choices, themes, or requirements. This inventive collaboration frequently results within the advent of bespoke sculptures that resonate with the patron's unique vision.

The Rising Trend in Sculpture Commissions

Recent years have witnessed a surge in the call for for commissioned sculptures, reflecting a shift in art intake. Individuals and communities now seek personalised, significant works of art that inform specific testimonies or mirror distinct identities. Sculpture commissions have turn out to be the preferred avenue for acquiring one-of-a-kind portions with sentimental price.

Significance of Sculpture Commission Opportunities

For artists, taking part in sculpture commissions goes beyond growing art; it opens doors to multifaceted possibilities. Besides financial gains, sculptors discover that commissioned initiatives provide a unique platform for creative growth. Interacting with customers, knowledge their narratives, and translating the ones testimonies into tangible sculptures extensively make contributions to an artist's improvement. Establishing long-time period relationships with customers can result in a sustainable and gratifying profession within the artwork international.

Navigating the Art of Sculpture Commission

Understanding the Sculpture Commission Process

Successfully navigating the sculpture fee method calls for a deep information of the client's imaginative and prescient and expectations. This entails preliminary consultations, where the sculptor and customer discuss issues, concepts, and favored consequences. Sculptors should adeptly interpret the purchaser's thoughts to make certain a shared vision earlier than advancing to the advent segment.

Tailoring Artistic Vision to Exceed Expectations

A pivotal aspect of a successful sculpture commission is the sculptor's potential to tailor the inventive imaginative and prescient to satisfy and exceed customer expectations. This requires a delicate stability among retaining the sculptor's precise style and seamlessly integrating elements that resonate with the client. Accomplished sculptors adeptly seize the essence of the patron's vision while infusing their distinct artistic flair into the final piece.

Balancing Artistic Freedom and Client Requirements

The sculptor-client dating prospers on placing a sensitive balance among artistic freedom and meeting customer requirements. Successful sculptors discern when to claim their innovative independence and when to make changes based totally on client feedback. This sensitive dance guarantees that the final sculpture isn't always best a testament to the artist's talent but also a loved piece that aligns seamlessly with the customer's vision.

[checkeredflagggs]

Glazed and Confused

Pairing: Lando Norris x Potter!Youtuber!reader

Summary: when lando fails to make a simple mug, fans direct him towards your YouTube channel

a/n: I took 1 hr long class on pottery and quit. Don’t like the feel of it, have mostly forgot literally everything about it so…🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n 2: I really struggled to get lando’s voice down and don’t really think I did. Oops 😬 will work on that for next time (also plz ignore that changing of the handles. I try to keep them accurate but again I’m not on those social media platforms so…)

a/n 3: I tried to make sure that this reader was never gendered or given a race — there’s one photo near the end that depicts 2 white smaller hands but I think that is the only time. Please let me know how I did, if you could

Pottery Made Easy has posted

potterymadeeasy

liked by user1, user2, and 2316 others

pottermadeeasy: my newest video (mugs and bowls, pt 2) is now up! In it I show you ways to add a little flourish and decorations to the pieces you made from part 1!

view all comments

user1: thank you your majesty! Easy to understand and so so easy to follow!! (unlike my professor 🙄😬)

user2: right? If they either stopped mumbling or spoke up…

user1: might be asking too much of someone born in the 1800s 😭🙄

user2: unfortunately

user3: god your work is so gorgeous. Do you sell anything?

potterynadeeasy: occasionally! I’m based in Monaco rn and a friend owns a shop and sometimes they let me use a shelf or 2

user4: ohh! I’m in France. Plz plz plz make an announcement when you will next have some ready! I’d love to own a piece

potterynadeeasy: of course lovely 😊 vague plans are to have some ready in the next week or 2!

user4: seriously?!? Marking the calendar right now!

user3: you have no idea how jealous I am right now…

potterynadeeasy: dm me! I might be able to ship it to you depending on where you are!

user3: faints bless you

user5: landonorris here! They might be able to help you

user6: be so for real right now. It’ll take a miracle to help landonorris

user7: I hate to be a negative nancy but…yeah. That latest stream was bad bad landonorris

user8: I dont even know…that clay flew… landonorris

user9: would hate to be his cleaner…

lnupdates

liked by user5, user6, user7, and 1,897,455 others

lnupdates: some of our favorite moments from Lando’s latest stream where he was attempting to make a ceramic mug…bowl? It was certainly an interesting one to watch

view all comments

user5: interesting is one way to put it. Tragic is another

user6: no but really…that was. I legit have no words

user7: he needs to watch potterymadeeasy! I love their videos

user8: oh? I haven’t heard of them

user7: they’re a Monaco based potter that has a lot of simple how to videos!

user8: just watched one of them! And god their voice…🥵

user7: oh my god right?!?

user5: but are they gonna be enough to help lando?

user7: well they certainly couldn’t make it any worse tbh

user9: you got this lando! Pottery isn’t something easy to pick up - you just gotta keep trying!

user10: yeah! There was definitely some improvement by the end

Twitter

Private DMs

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 2,790,469 others

landonorris: progress! these ones were mostly standing. I’m not done yet though - catch me tomorrow night giving it another go

view all comments

user11: those looked good! Most definitely an improvement!

user12: he’s almost there! It’s literally just the little things now

user13: oh how far we’ve come! In less then a year he’s gone from flying clay to something that could generously be called a bowl

user14: and an “artistic” vase!

oscarpiastri: definitely better then last time

landonorris: mate…

oscarpiastri: you don’t pay your cleaner enough

landonorris: mate!! get out of my comments

charles_leclerc: keep trying! Maybe one day you’ll get there

landonorris: yeah say goodbye to your Christmas present

charles_leclerc: 👎🏻

alex_albon: will be there! And will definitely be recording - gotta have proof 😂

landonorris: is it national bully lando day here or something?

user15: yes

user16: yes

oscarpiastri: yes

charles_leclerc: yes 👍🏻

georgerussell63: yes

alex_albon: yes!!

maxverstappen1: yes

danielricciardo: yes!

carlossainz55: yes!

landonorris: you freaking muppets!

user17: ok but am I the only one who noticed he kept looking to the side and like beaming?

user18: no but I thought I was going insane? Like he was so soft?

user17: yeah! definitely getting the feeling he wasn’t the only one there. Just who are you looking at?

user18: dare we say little lando norris has a partner now?

landonorris

liked by potterymadeeasy, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, and 2,723,944 others

landonorris: haha! I did kt! A mug a vase and a bowl!! On to the next step - glazing! And you muppets didn’t think I could do it

view all comments

user19: woohoo! Congrats lando! Those look so so good!

user20: and those glazes are gonna be fire when they’re done. I use the same brand and colors he did and they turn out AMAZING

user19: ok don’t be shy drop the names plz

potterymadeeasy: those look great!

landonorris: thank you! Had a great teacher 😉

user21: ariana (potterymadeeasy) what are you doing here?

user22: thoughts are being thunk

user23: unthunk those thoughts right now

user22: sorry…thots are being thunk rn

user23: nurse she’s out again!

user21: really? Under my comment thread?

user24: I’ve connected the dots.

user25: you’ve connected shit

user24: no I’ve connected them

user25: god get a life

charles_leclerc: congrats!

carlossainz55: it only took a few months…

alex_albon: a couple of different throwing wheels

georgerussell63: and 3 different cleaning companies

landonorris: I’m gonna run you all over with my car

mclaren: legally this is a joke

landonorris

liked by potterymadeeasy, danielricciardo, carlossainz55, and 2,922,713 others

landonorris: first round of my ceramics are currently cooking in the kiln. Starting a new batch and stretching my creative skills

view all comments

user26: holy shit those look INCREDIBLE

user27: I’m so shocked! I just started watching the old streams so like in the course of a day he went from wet clay lumps to these masterpieces

user28: I’m so so proud of him - I’m currently trying to get into pottery and ceramics and watching him keep at it is so inspiring

user26: user28 you can do it! Persistence is key

oscarpiastri: man thinks he’s Picasso now…but for real congrats lando. Those look good! And functional too

landonorris: I’m only gonna give you the lumpy ones actually

oscarpiastri: I’m good thanks

landonorris: 🙃

oscarpiastri: honestly proud of you. You’ve come a long way

landonorris: thanks mate!

oscarpiastri: I’m also glad you can stop calling me crying about your latest fuck up

landonorris: you muppet!

danielricciardo: too soon to call dibs on that dragonfly mug?

landonorris: after the way you continuously kept laughing at me?

danielricciardo: in encouragement?

landonorris: 😑

danielricciardo: 🥹🧡?

landonorris: fine 🙄

user29: ok yeah good job on those designs and whatever but are we gonna mention those HEART MUGS?!

landonorris: 😂🧡😉

user29: get back here and answer some questions! What? Does? That? Mean?

landonorris: 🏃🏻‍♂️💨

user29: SIR!

maxverstappen1: i see you’re finished making my present but really? Matching heart mugs?

landonorris: not actually for you!

maxverstappen1: heart❤️ been broke💔🤕 so many times⏰ i don’t know❌🤷‍♀️ what to believe 🍃🙏

landonorris: …who are you and where is max?

maxverstappen1: I thought what we had was special

landonorris: not my favorite relationship anymore! Sorry 🧡

maxverstappen1: 💔

potterymadeeasy: those look good!

landonorris: I had a good teacher 🧡

potterymadeeasy: flatterer

landonorris: always 😉

User22: !!!

User23: shut up shut up shut up

landonorris

liked by yourpriv, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 3,123,321 others

landonorris: kiln unveiling and some upcoming projects!

listen. when I randomly decided that I wanted to learn how to make ceramic dishes, it was mostly because I wanted to make something with my own 2 hands — and when I wasn’t immediately good at it, I decided that I wouldn’t stop until I was.

Its been a long couple of months with a lot of struggles but I can finally say that I’m proud of how far I’ve come. It hasn’t been easy but the journey and the process has been fun and i genuinely can’t wait to see what comes next!

view all comments

user30: I’m? Crying? 😭

user31: omg same!!! To see how far he’s come and to hear that he’s finally proud of himself too…

user32: we’re excited for you too!

user33: excited? For what? Some more mediocre “Art” by some mediocre man?

user32: go fuck yourself. And get out of my comments. And off lando’s page

used34: user33 how about you go get some sun and maybe shove some kindness up yours! 🖕

oscarpiastri: seriously, congratulations. Those look incredible

landonorris: thanks mate! I do appreciate your support

oscarpiastri: and my cupboards appreciate your work

user34: 🩵🩵 ahhh he’s giving away his pieces

alex_albon: it’s been a fun ride watching you!

landonorris: thanks i think

alex_albon: no problem!

alex_albon: and could you send me the name of your newest cleaning crew? They most be ungodly good

landonorris: and there it is… cleaningcrew

alex_albon: anyway i could get a series of mugs inspired by albon_pets?

landonorris: I’ll need a lot of pretty good pictures

alex_albon: on it 🫡

landonorris: in fact I might need to visit in person

albon_pets: yay! We love ❤️ getting visitors

user35: UMMM?!? That 5th photo?!?

user36: IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH? DOES LITTLE LANDO NORRIS FINALLY HAVE A PARTNER AGAIN?!?

landonorris: 🫢🤫

user36: YOU CANT KEEP GETTJNG AWAY WITH THIS

landonorris: 😂🏃🏻‍♂️💨

yourpriv: my love, I’m so proud of you! Putting yourself out there in the world to learn something new is never easy but you have done it with amazing persistence and talent.

landopriv: babe… you know I couldn’t do it without you

yourpriv: oh I have no doubt you would have gotten here on your own

landopriv: no. No i don’t think I would have. I’m a fast guy and I’m used to fast results. When I reached out to you, it was a last resort last string. If it didn’t work out with your help, I was honestly going to quit. You pushed me to get better, to stick with it till I made it.

yourpriv: 🥹🥹🥹

landopriv: I’m serious. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me — i love you 🧡

yourpriv: 🥹🥰🧡 I love you too hun

maxverstappen1: can’t lie — it was a fun ride watching you fail but I also can’t wait to see what you make next

landonorris: …thanks for your support 😑🙄😅

maxverstappen1: you know it!

landonorris

liked by yourpriv, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 2,997,245 others

tagged: yourpriv, potterymadeeasy

landonorris: no time for a soft launch. Thank you honey for teaching me pottery and for designing such a bomb ass helmet!

comments have been limited on this post

potterymadeeasy: Lando! We had a plan!

landonorris: 🤷🏻‍♂️

landonorris: love ya!

potterymadeeasy:…love you too!

[santaeofficial]

✨We encourage you to keep an eye on our Official Santae Discord announcements and to follow us on our social media platforms if you would like to be a Beta Tester!✨

✨ Bestowed with the combined blessings of all nine deities, Radiant pets are the chosen champions of the divine pantheon. The enigmatic and alluring radiant pets shine with unparalleled brilliance and majesty, symbolizing the ultimate pinnacle of divine blessing and pet rarity on Santae. Additional opportunities to add these species to your adventuring party will be announced at a later date!✨

Staff Applications are OPEN!!

*  Positions are currently open, although at the moment we are currently searching for Moderators with previous experience, or a strong desire to learn and grow with our dynamic staff team! 

* Staff are paid in Cash Points, or in the instance of artists, the option of Cash Points or USD$.

* To maintain fairness, please refrain from discussing your application status, as all submissions are reviewed anonymously.

~ CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFO ~

STAY CONNECTED

* In the meantime, be sure to join our Discord server for updates, engaging community discussions and all things Santae!

[intersectionalpraxis]

Someone made an extensive google spreadsheet I've attached below (bless their hearts my gosh) -also don't forget to block Charlie Puth too and any other artist or actor you can think of. 'Influencers' are also NOT excluded from this. If I find a list with them I will post it but this includes every single one of them with a platform who have been silent. That includes the "let them eat cake" Haley Baylee who gushed about having 10 million followers after attending the Met Gala -all while Rafah was being bombed.

Also, on contrary to what was said above -I'm well past the point of caring about the feelings of celebrities and influencers. They should be publicly shamed because their priorities and moral compasses are broken -clearly. The ones who have spoken up, especially over the past 9 months, are the one's who deserve to be supported.

Also, I'd like this blockout to continue. This isn't something that happens for a week and then goes away if 'they do talk,' (Lizzo is the most recent example I can give when she said celebrities have no power then pulled a Rock and Oprah moment by asking her fans to help send funds to someone in Gaza instead of donating herself which she could very well have done -major side eye).

I also recently posted about another strategy -cart abandonment you can view here:

We have the power folks, and if you haven't already done so please mass block them on all platforms. I already started doing more the other night and will commence.

[dont-diy-zine]

"Don't Repeat This at Home" Zine is a fan project born out of love for Chinese novels and dramas. We brought more than 100 artists and writers together to create our magnum opus and now YOU ARE WELCOME TO JOIN US! The fandom: ➜ "The Scum Villain's [Self-Saving] System" Mo Xiang Tong Xiu ➜ "Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation" Mo Xiang Tong Xiu ➜ "Heaven Official's Blessing" Mo Xiang Tong Xiu ➜ "Thousand Autumns" Meng Xi Shi ➜ "The Husky and His White Cat Shizun" / "Erha" Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou (Meatbun) ➜ "Faraway Wanderers" Priest ("Word of Honour" is canon too)

The key theme: 百感交集 (bǎi gǎn jiāo jí) — all sorts of feelings well up in one's heart — fluff, drama, humour and beyond ❗ 18+. No minors, please Some arts and texts may make you cry, beware, triggers may be found (or not) The book: ➜ ~300 pages ➜ 106 double-page spreads with arts including: • 12 comic strips • 13 illustrated poems ➜ 8 fanfiction stories with • cover arts • internal b/w illustrations

[All 6 fandoms in one book] ❗ All texts are in Russian

➜ Physical copy (hard-back) — 3 200 roubles (it's around 37.4$ or 34.7€) ➜ Digital copy (.pdf) — 700 roubles (it's around 8.2$ or 7.6€)

The merch: ➜ 6 fandoms ➜ 3 sets for EACH fandom: • Aperitif — very small (1 postcard, 1 sticker pack, 1 key fob) — 1 500 roubles (it's around 17.5$ or 16.3€) • Half Portion — small (Aperitif + 1 acrylic stand with the main pairing, 1 plastic bookmark, 2 more postcards, 1 mini card) — 2 600 roubles (it's around 30.4$ or 28.2€) • Portion — large (Half Portion + 1 acrylic stand with secondary characters, 2 acrylic earrings, 1 more sticker pack, 1 bank card sticker, 1 round plastic badge, 1 more postcard) — 4 000 roubles (it's around 46.8$ or 43.4€)

[1 set = 1 fandom] ❗ You can get the merch only as the sets and only WITH the book (physical OR digital copy)

• Full 6 fandoms set — 22 000 roubles (it's around 257,3$ or 238,4€)

The plan: ➜ Right now till September 7, 2024 we collect funds ➜ September — production and manufacturing ➜ October — shipping starts ❗ We send digital copies AFTER shipping the physical ones We ship from Saint-Petersburg, Russia International shipping is available, but you can pre-check it via postcrossing.com/postal-monitor/RU

How to get the book or merch: ➜ go to Google Forms and follow the instructions: forms.gle/CdTis5wdYPmg2U6p8 ❗ We collect funds via Boosty; all prices are in Russian Roubles and include the comission of the platform You can use the currency of your country for the purchase, Boosty automatically converts it Shipping is charged separately

The project is not for profit [just for lulz] All money we make will go to production and manufacturing If we hit a breakeven, the authors are going to receive a free book. Any surplus funds will then be used to make extra merch FOR YOU

English is a foreign language for us, so sorry for inaccurate wording, we tried. We tried hard. We keep trying

More info: vk.com/dont_diy (in Russian)

[bludragongal]

Once again I am asking you to support artists by:

Checking their policy on reposting their art to other websites,

After checking if they are not already on the platform themselves, and

Providing a LIVE HYPERLINK to their website if you have their blessing to repost.

I don't post my work to Twitter any more for a reason, and if this person had taken a moment to look at my bio they would have known not to do this. Half a million views were given to someone who was not me, to people who do not know how to find more of my work nor have context for the original comic.

My screenname is in the original post, so I guess that's something.

[cosmicpoutine]

i saw someone on tiktok say that tumblr doesn't have engagement, that's why no artist wants to be here... you can tell when someone was blessed with tiktok/instagram algorithm bc that shit is random and never works for MOST artists. my art never got as far on any other platform as it did on tumblr.

you're more likely to find people who actually want to support artists on tumblr than on tiktok and ig, bc these platforms were made for fast consumption, people don't care about the art they care about endless content. that's why repost accounts are so popular on tiktok and ig, but that shit never gets far on tumblr bc you can just reblog from the original artist

[tonixe]

FAME

A/N: Ideas are blooming out of nowhere, low-key this is a lot to unpack, make sure to read the warning and if your uncomfortable, don't read it, I hope you guys having a blessed day today, xoxo, there might be a part two.

WARNING: p in the v, penetration, unprotected sex, coercion, abuse of power, cheating, objectification, misogyny, reader being a sex symbol, abuse drugs, mentions of alcohol/drinking, abuse, non-con to dub-con, drugging, usage of cigarettes, Viewer discretion is advised...

PAIRING: President!coriolanus x singer!reader

WORD COUNTER: 4.0k

Fame is a word that represents many things: dream coming true,, all-the-world luxury opening up, money funneling up, and all the reasons to climb up to the top of the food chain. Becoming the apex predator, a name..NOBODY can wipe off, you're initially written on a golden star, your name carved into history, your identity being remembered.

The recognition of your voice, your face, your personality being known to a single name, all of your greatness tied together into one body, one soul, something that doesn't grow on trees. It was fame you desired, that your heart yearned for putting all your time, and energy into a puzzle that fits into the right corner of your life. You wanted to live forever, you wanted to fly up join the ones who inspired and gave you the drive to work, you wanted to make it, make it to that heaven.

People looking at you, you wanted them to cry in desperation to get your attention, you wanted them to remember your name for history, into textbooks something that can never go away so easily, carved into people's brains...that what you dreamed of, lights flashing in your eyes, the glaring hurting you bit of bit, but this what you worked for to be recognize by the ones above, holding onto a golden trophy you won by yourself, you felt like you made it. On a stage, a platform, where the camera flashed you. Your image being printed on the news, your appearance being broadcasted to the media, fans screaming your name from the outside, important people looking at you, impressed. This was your moment, you learned how to fly, and you worked for it. Your identity being secured into history...they have to remember, but...why weren't you not happy, not secure.

Growing out of the district scum, becoming a household name, rising up to the Capitol, and earning identity there...now you sat at the vanity looking at the mirror before one of your shows, one of the makeup artists painting your lips in a rouge color, your e/c eyes looking into the mirror. You would always dream of this moment coming to life, your mother braiding your hair, humming one of your childhood songs. She, herself wanted to be a singer but couldn't because of her status and pregnancy, though living in the district..you had a wonderful home, one that wasn't broken, but one in a broken society, where people in the district were given the name of disgust by the highly 'elevated' individuals in the Capitol.

You wanted to leave, bring your family, and give them a home they deserved as much as you. You hated the district and hated you had an up-bringing there.

A flash of nostalgia ran through your mind being interrupted by a tech, "Y/N, 30 minutes before showtime" You listened to the announcement, flickering your eyes away from the staffer, and you raised your hands up, stopping the makeup artist from moving her brush. "Could you leave the room?" you said, listening to the footsteps receding away from you.

You took out a flask, screwed the lid open, and taking a swig of the bitter liquid, the burning and painful sensation coursing down your throat. Your chest heaving, putting your hands on the vanity table gripping the table, closing your eyes, biting down on your lip. Anxiety bubbling in your chest, looking up at yourself in the mirror, it felt like a million things running through your mind. You manage to slip away from the thought by the knocks on the door, turning your head at the sound, the door clicking open..."Y/N, 5 minutes to Showtime" One of the staffers said, giving yourself one last look, getting up from the vanity, fixing up your hair. The clicks of your heels on the porcelain tiles, tech staffers giving you a mic, and earpiece, as your makeup team fixes up your face and hair, finish up the last touches.

You were ridden with anxiety, butterflies flying in your stomach with every step you took, each leading you closer to the stage, where important people stood, you were going to sing to for celebration of the 15th hunger games, you took breaths in between your steps, fuck..you really need a cigarette.

Listening to your cue, smoothing your off-the-shoulder red velvet dress. "You're up," one of the techs said, tapping your shoulder, slipping you away from your head, as you nodded and cleared your throat. Walking onto the stage, you felt eyes on you..everywhere, setting yourself behind the microphone stand, closing your eyes, as the music started playing, the melody of the piano, the keys bringing in the familiar tune, as the band began to play following the notes of the leading piano.

Your hands on the microphone. Feeling the heat of the stage light hitting your form, making you wince.

Formation of words slipping from your lips as it became a symphony into the song, your voice dancing with the delicate notes of the piano.

The angelic voice coming from your lips, the words slipping out of your mouth, enchanting the audience. The feeling of anxiety leaving your system, as you pour your heart into the piece, every note you hit brings you relax, flickering your eyes open, glancing to the audience staring at your elevated form. The orchestra of people, filled with important and big shots in the Capitol, staring at you, enchanted with your voice, your eyes following up.

To the balcony, as you felt the end of the song, your eyes looking at the familiar figure on the balcony boxes, your eyes slightly widen as you made eye contact with the gentleman...Coriolanus Snow, the president of Panem. You felt your heart drop at the figure, feeling your vocal cords stretching as you hit a high note finishing the song, you maintained eye contact. as the band played the outro, with your voice leading off,

Finally notes ending it off, as you heard a rain of applause ringing to your ears, looking at the President of Panem raising his hands and clapping for you..you bowed down, your head turning up, giving a glance up at the President.

Walking off the stage backstage, "Fuck, give me a cigarette, now!" you exclaimed, as one of the assistants gave you a box, putting a stick on your lips, as she gives you a lighter, igniting up the end of the cigarette. Blowing a cloud of smoke through your nose, walking down to your stage room combing your hair, trying to relieve your stress, sitting down on the vanity chair. Placing the cancer stick between your lips, leaning in the seat..."You were breathtaking out there" You immediately turned your head to the voice, Coriolanus walked in, closing the door, his hands in his pockets.

"Mr. President" You stood up from the chair, pushing your dress, and smashing the burning cigarette in the ashtray. "You don't need to stand up," He stated, you felt butterflies in your stomach. You didn't want to sit back down since you were afraid to disrespect the leader of the nation. You heard his footsteps inching closer to you, "Where did you learn to sing like that?" He asked, circling around your figure. You would have never dreamt for this to happen to you, "My mother taught me" You answered shortly, your eyes lingering on your hand. "I bet your mother was a gorgeous singer as you" He responded, glancing at you, you giggled at the comment, "She was.." you responded,

He watches your facial expression saddened, "Looks like you and me have something in common...already" he lightly chuckles, walking to the bar cart, your eyes following him hesitantly, glancing at your hands. "Drink?" He offers, you nod. His fingers circled the opening of the cup, taking out two cups and placing in on the counter of the table, pouring the mahogany liquid into the cups. Taking the liquid-filled cups and offering the cup to you, as you took the glass.

The cool cup touched your palm, "Cheers" He said, lifting the cup towards you, gesturing a cheer. Lifting your glass slightly before taking a sip of the mahogany liquid.

Smiling to yourself as you drank, glancing up at the gentleman. "If I can ask..why are you visiting me, President" You held the cup slightly tighter, "I wanted to offer you something," He said, his body moving closer to you. He saw as your eyes lit up in excitement, making him chuckle at the sight, his hands lifting your chin up slightly, his fingers caressing your cheek, your lips parting looking up at his crystal blue eyes.

"I need you to use that pretty voice of yours at a ceremony I'm hosting" He tilts your head to the side, admiring your face your eyes to your nose and lips, "You'll be of course paid in full, and suitable one indeed..so you won't have to use that pretty head" he brushes a strand of hair over your ear, "So..what do you think?" He said, withdrawing his hands away from you. You felt your heart pumping, as you thought about it, not wanting to take too long, but you nodded at his words, "Good, I'll send letters and updates on it" He finishes, before he finishes the whiskey in his cup till it was gone, putting the glass down. Taking your hand and leaving a kiss on the back of your hand, "But for now..I'll have to take my leave" He said, you took your hand away from him. Your eyes followed him, you couldn't formulate any words to him but nodded as he gave you a final look goodbye. The click of the door leads you into reality.

Putting your hand on your heart, feeling it beating against your chest.

Time slipped by..days to months

You got the letters, reading them in your penthouse resigning in Capitol. Some of them weren't just business but Coriolanus writing to you. His words made you smile, though from the short time you met him, but you were grateful he came to you.

Under his influence made you thrive, your fame, and notoriety spreading...

Playing with your hair as you read every single word on the page. You did follow out with his words, performing once again at one of his parties.. fixing up your hair, puffing your hair up, and turning yourself in the mirror, at the red satin dress Coriolanus gifted you. Smoothing the fabric out near your stomach, looking at yourself in the mirror. Hearing footsteps coming into the room, as you turned, relaxing at the sight of Coriolanus.

He was wearing his signature suit, a bloody red suit with a white tucked-in shirt. In his hand was a bouquet of red roses, "For you" He gave you the bouquet of roses, holding them to your chest. "Thank you" you smiled at him, as you smelt the roses, glancing at him. A smirk painted on his lips, his hands lifting your head, "Make sure you use that pretty voice of yours, my dove..." He whispered as you felt his hands on your waist, making your cheeks flushed.

Though you never had the time to learn more about Coriolanus, your heart yearned for him, the more he talked and sent letters to you. You never really thought about how he was touchy with you, though you enjoyed it...you always felt anxious when your with him.

You hear your name being called, as you place the bouquet of roses in one of the staffer's arms, telling them to put them in a vase for you, glancing at Coriolanus form, as you smile at him. Your heels clicking onto the tile, walking down to the stage, your ears listening to the rain of applause as you walk to the mic. Your stomach was filled with butterflies but you looked to the side, and your eyes caught the sight of Coriolanus smiling at you. Your eyes flickered from him, as you smiled.

You opened your lips, familiar angelic notes coming out of your lips. Singing your emotion out as it sympathizes with the melody, holding the mic as your voice leads to the chorus. Your eyes sparkle in the spotlight, singing your heart out into a simple melody, enchanting as it was, given by the audience's eyes staring at you. Something that you made you sweat and have butterflies swirling in your stomach, anxious assume you bit by bit, but it was always washed away when you thought of the rewarding end you were going to get.

Word slipping from you, pouring your soul and heart out to the listening audience, as they watched you, leading into the interlude and to the climax, your voice projecting to the audience as you sang the last parts as the piano lead off with your voice. The rain of applauses, the sound of clapping made you smile as you bow down, the spotlight never leaving you. Your heart was still pounding but you smile through it. Walking from the stage to the backstage, being greeted by Coriolanus, "You were heavenly" He whispered to you, you relaxed, smiling at him. "Thank you" you felt your cheeks warming up at his praise.

His hands dancing on your waist, leaning towards you, "Let's get out of here" He whispers to you, taking your hand into his, "W-wait, don't you have to stay here, President.." You stuttered, "I have a more important thing to do" He whispered in your ear, hearing a smirk in his voice as he took your hand.

Leading you out of the theatre, feeling the wind through your hair, parting your lips at the night sky, the stars sparkling in the dark sky. As he led you to the chauffeur, opening the car door for as you enter, the door clicking besides you as he got onto the left side of the car. He said the chauffeur something that you couldn't decipher. You felt yourself sweating and your heart quicken the slight tension in the air, as you felt the car moving. You didn't know how to react or what to do, your eyes darting everywhere expect him, glancing at him, his eyes glance at you, you looked away from him. You felt his hand touching your thigh, feeling him slightly gripping it. "Are you scared?" You felt your throat getting dry, your eyes looking everywhere expect his, his fingers grazing underneath your upper thigh, your eyes darting to his hand, before him. "No.." you respond.

"If your aren't..why are you afraid of me?" He mutter, "I-i just never been in this situation before" You cleared your throat, a awkward giggles leaving your throat, putting your hand over his hand.

"So...your a virgin?" He said, you are frozen in your seat, words unable to leave your lips, hesitantly nodding at him, giggling at his comment. "So, you still have your thorns...untouched, innocent, unripe " His body inching closer to you, "Funny how Panem sex symbol, is a virgin isn't it?" He chuckled, and you reluctantly laughed with him, naive as you were, you did know what would happen if you followed him. Needless to say, your heart was thumping, feeling the car stopping as the chauffeur said something. "We're here" He muttered, you felt thankful for that moment in time, his hands withdrawing from you, as you both got out of the car.

Your eyes looked at the new environment you were in, the manor was huge, something that only existed with old money, and it was beautiful with the pillar adoring the house. He chuckled with your eyes exploring the house, "Follow" He ordered, as you obeyed, following him inside. The Peacekeepers guarding the manor opened the big door and you both walked into a more beautiful interior.

"It's gorgeous" Your looked up at the chandelier glittering in the lights, "I'm glad you like it" He smiled at you, his footsteps receding from you, as you followed him further into the manor, everything was captivating, something you would only find at the capitol. You were taken from your thought by his words, as he spoke out to you...you realized where he took you, the parlor. You immediately sat on the sofa, it was comfortable and soft, "Drink?" he offered, his luxurious leather shoes on the delicate tile, "Sure" you nodded, your eyes lingering on your hands in your lap, "What type?" He asked, "Anything" You quickly answered, and you deep inhaled and exhaled through your nose. "Have you tried Bourbon?" He asked you heard the glass on the wooden counter.

"No, never bourbon..I'm more of a Jack Daniels girl" You awkwardly giggled, and he poured the caramel liquid into the short glasses, your eyes dawdling on your hands. Before you heard his footstep coming closer to you, offering you a glass, you took it. "Thank you" you smiled, the cool caramel liquid swishing in the glass, looking at him, gesturing a 'cheers', you nodded, looking at the liquid before consuming the liquid till nothing was in the glass. The liquid was sweet, and bitter due the its alcoholic nature but was satisfying. "It's really good" You put your hand on your lip, smiling, a smirk on his lips, "I told you," He said, as he sipped the liquid.

"It's sweet, like vanilla" You beamed, he nodded at your words, your angelic voice dripping from your lips, feeling a buzzing noise in your ear, everything moving slowly around you. Your vision blurring, "Y-yeah" your words slurred, your eyes getting heavy. Blinking, before closing your eyes as you felt everything go black,

Your eyes fluttered open, your body was frozen.. you couldn't feel your legs, fingers, or moving your head. You felt cold, bare...lewd sounds engulfing your ears. Your eyes darted to the ceiling, parting your lips, you heard grunts coming near you.

Your irises slowly look forth, you felt cold, ice cold... your heart dropping at the scene. A half-naked Coriolanus on you, his hands groping every part of exposed skin. Your dress was ripped, the one he gifted you. Your boob spilled out, displayed for him, his dick dragging into you. You were frozen still.

You wanted to scream, cry, but only hoarse noises escaping your throat, tears escaping your eyes slipping away staining your cheek. Your awakening wasn't unnoticed by Coriolanus, "You awake" Your eyes stared at his form, forcing himself inside of you. Sweat dripped off his forehead as his hands touched your skin, it felt like stabs everywhere. Betrayal settled in, it was quite naive of you, letting a man you never had the chance for yourself to know, allowing the intimate touches on your body.

You got the hint, but you ignored them purposely, maybe it was a warning for him to stop or continue..you didn't know what to think. The act of being vulnerable in front of him was a mistake, his moans and groans snapping you out of thought. You felt bile rising in your throat, you wanted to vomit, throw up, cry...but you could merely just listen and stare at the atrocities being committed. It hurt everywhere hurts, "Fuck, you feel so good around me" he groans, a sickening smirk on his lips..." please" you manage to force out from your throat, you felt tears pricking up on your waterline.

He laughed at your simple words, "please what?" he sneered, "stop" You had some type of hope in you... your lack of formulating sentence made him laugh pitifully, "Sorry my dove, it's just an exchange, company policy" his fingers caressing your cheek, as you stared in disbelief at his words. Whether you were angry, shocked, or sad, you didn't know what to believe or to know or to do. You just laid there taking the bit of pain, of his assault. "Why... I-I never asked for anything,, Corio" you sniffled, you purposely let the nickname slip, hoping it made him have a little humanity still left inside of him to stop, his hands gripping onto your waist, making you groan in pain, "I gave you everything, without my influence, your just be a lowly singer in Capitol born to be overshadowed by other more talented people, more younger, more pretty.., better than that lowly voice you from with..." He reduced you to tears, the more he talked, wet tears dripping from your eyes, he laughed.

He was mocking you.

"Did you just think, people just liked your voice... I thought you knew better than that...your looks pays off for your lack of personality" He kept on talking, and you hoped he would just stop and shut up, but the little words coming from him, made you cry.

"Besides...just be a good girl, and take it, will you..." He murmured.

His haunting groans and moans left his lips, staring into blankness. You wanted to hate the assault, but the agonizing pain turns into pleasure due to your discontent. The blooming sensation made you moan, and you arched your back in bliss, "I told you...you would bend into my touch" he whispered, nestling his head in the curve of your neck, his lips marking kisses from your neck to your collarbone, "Your take me so well" He smirks...

Time drifted away from you, you wanted to forget what happened between you and Coriolanus, but he wouldn't allow it, he still sent letters and gifts to your home... every time you looked at the address you felt like vomiting, crying, screaming. You still performed, you couldn't allow some fling to prevent you from maintaining what is important to you, your career. But months passed, and you stared at yourself in the mirror, you were visibly getting bigger, around your abdomen area. When Coriolanus demanded your presence you would obey and go, and it would always lead to intimacy...but now you are in his bed once again, stripped bare. His hands danced around your collarbone as you sat in his lap, his fingers playing with your hair, leaving kisses against your skin.

You felt like you were caged, with only yourself to talk to, though you already knew, beforehand. But you never felt so alone when your accompanied by Coriolanus, you debated on telling him the news, or keeping it to yourself but he was bound to know. He has eyes and ears around the Capitol, the districts, and all over Panem, you had no safe opinion left.

"Coriolanus.." He stopped mid-way, his eyes staring at you, yours forward. "I'm pregnant" the words slipped out of your throat, "It's yours" you finished, finally looking him in the eye...he didn't move or react, it made you scared, before he smiled, marking a kiss on your shoulder. "You would be a good mother" His hands shifted from your collarbone to your stomach, rubbing it gently. You didn't know how to feel, part of you didn't want any of it, forced by the pregnancy and burden of having a child you didn't want.

You were scared of confessing to him, leaning to his touch, you felt yourself being vulnerable around him, "Will, we marry?" Your eyes flickered to his, before he took your hand into his palm, rubbing your ring finger, "What would you prefer, a ruby or diamond" He said playfully, "Whatever you think is perfect for me" You replied, your eyes shifting from him to the color stained window, it was snowing. You felt his lips on your neck, nuzzling his head in the crevice of your neck.

TIME

It passed, the ring on your finger...your eyes hazy, looking at yourself in the mirror, you felt humiliated in yourself. White dust stained on your nose, feeling the light of your feet, pleased with the drug taking its effect. You were wearing your wedding dress, it was white, lacy, and poofy. Dried tears smudging your cheeks, you really hated yourself, a white veil hiding from the mirror...you desired to drink yourself away in alcohol, the only thing you could do, but due to Coriolanus surveillance he wouldn't allow it, not the mother of his child to harm herself or the baby, he made sure to hide everything that could possibly harm you or the child. Sending you away in your shared chambers, where you sulked and waited for him.

Your legs moving under your weight, a random man who was supposed to be your father, holding your arm. Leading down the aisle, superficial people around you, examining you, staring... judgment on their faces.

You're used to it, as the gentleman left you before your future husband, Coriolanus. You strolled up the stairs, your eyes locking with Coriolanus, who gave you a smile. His hands taking yours, your eyes lifted to his, before the priest said some words that you blurred out, staring at Coriolanus. The only one that stuck with you was, "You may kiss the bride" He said, Coriolanus flipping the veil, revealing your face, as he kissed you, you closed your eyes.

Hearing applause from the audience withdraws from his lips. "You'll be a wonderful wife" He fixed your veil, rubbing your hands.

You just nodded and smiled, knowingly signing yourself to him, throwing the key, and selling yourself, your soul, your rights, and your body to him alone..you wished to just rewind time and never lock eyes with him in the theatre.

The mere thought made you tear up, as tears managed to escape..and Coriolanus came to your rescue and wiped them away.

© 2023 tonixe, do not repost, copy, translate, or sell my work.

[srbachchan]

DAY 5979

Jalsa, Mumbai July 1/July 2, 2024 Mon/Tue 4:00 pm

🪔 ,

July 02 .. birthday greetings to : Ef Madhuri Dharanipragada .. Ef Sanjay Patodia from Kolkata .. and .. Ef Jayesh Brahmbhatt from Gujarat .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

This is simply not acceptable .. to be writing the Blog of yesterday , today and that at an a hour which is just not in agreement with me , and I am sure with many other Ef .. !

So I shall express my apologies deeply and wish and hope I do not repeat the mistakes ..

But then you never know .. 🥹

It's in the middle of the day here and there has been a miss on the morning routine because of a late rising .. late rising because the EURO starts late and finishes late too .. after all it is the Euro's , played in Germany and hence the time adjustment ..

And .. 🤣

🤣

🤣

I just love the creativity of words .. simply beyond encyclopedic dictionaried words ..

"Creativity is the essence of human innovation and expression. It is the ability to transcend traditional ideas, rules, patterns, and relationships to create meaningful new ideas, forms, methods, and interpretations. Creativity manifests in various domains, from the arts and sciences to everyday problem-solving and interpersonal communication.

In the arts, creativity is the driving force behind the evolution of styles and genres. Artists draw from their imagination and experiences to produce works that resonate emotionally and intellectually. In science and technology, creativity leads to breakthroughs and novel solutions, pushing the boundaries of what is known and possible.

At its core, creativity involves divergent thinking—the process of generating multiple, unique solutions to a problem. This contrasts with convergent thinking, which seeks a single, correct answer. By embracing uncertainty and exploring multiple perspectives, creative individuals can discover innovative paths that others might overlook.

Creativity is not limited to a select few; it is a universal human trait. Encouraging a creative mindset involves fostering curiosity, open-mindedness, and a willingness to take risks. Environments that support experimentation and tolerate failure are crucial in nurturing creativity.

Ultimately, creativity enriches our lives by allowing us to express our individuality, solve complex problems, and connect with others in profound ways. It is a fundamental component of human progress and cultural development. "

Extraordinary the voluminous expression on the creative world , inhabited .. and some do it so well .. their perception and context is the reason for the forming of ideas and thoughts and interpretation ..

Aah .. just love this worldly word hemisphere ..

I should have studied the Arts rather than get admitted to a course of Science, which did not give me the opportunity to express myself better here on this endearing platform ..

But , one does not get all one wants .. does one ?

Be grateful for what you have .. that is the blessing ..

Love ❤️

Amitabh Bachchan

[charlottelie]

oh, lucifer?

chapter i. (or, selkie sees a snake) ✧･ﾟ

tags: reader uses she/her pronouns, fem!reader, reader is a trapeze artist, sinner!reader, reader works at lu lu world, no use of y/n, ducks galore

.

You hadn’t meant to. Your guiding philosophy in life and afterlife had always been ‘Ask for forgiveness, not permission’, and it seemed so sound a maxim that you were usually slightly bemused when you found yourself in the unfortunate position of actually having to ask for forgiveness. Upon your arrival in Hell you had thought, Well, I certainly didn’t mean to end up here. Upon your arrival in Lu Lu World you had thought, Well, I wouldn’t say I exactly intended to join a Hadean circus. You hadn’t meant for either of these moral catastrophes to come about—that is, your sending yourself to the Other Place and your working at a fairground—but, despite all your good intentions, here you were. Rotten luck. 

You also hadn’t meant to be late for your act again, but here you were, late as always. You dusted your hands with chalk, briskly clapping them more out of habit than anything else as you examined your makeup in a misty mirror someone had propped up outside the dressing rooms. A poster on the wall, framed by peeling paint, announced your act in proud block capitals: Selkie, the Flying Seal! They had put you right before the interval. Did that make you the star performer? Third-best, at any rate: best were the acrobats, Belladonna and the Bedbugs, the grand finale, and second-best was Sunny’s balancing act, which opened the show. You could hear someone approaching, and fast. Your boss, no doubt, come to gently encourage you to get the fuck onto the stage. 

You looked at him mildly: Didier, who insisted it was pronounced ‘Didi-AIR’, tall, half-imposing, mostly composed, rarely generous, currently furious beyond belief. 

“Selkie! Where the fuck have you been? You’re on in thirty seconds! Ten, nine, eight—” 

You liked to think of him as sort of a lost soul, someone you’d taken under your wing, although, of course, he had been the one to take pity on you and hire you in the first place, and, of course, it was your soul that was on the line. “I’m sorry, Didi-yur,” you said quietly, and he scoffed. As you watched him thoughtfully, compassionately, he grabbed you by the shoulders and half-pushed, half-led you onto the platform—surely a textbook case of abuse in the workplace, if you weren’t in Hell—and you gave him a final glance of serene benevolence before, at his command, you whipped around, stepped into the blazing golden lights of the great circus tent, waved to the crowd, flashed a smile, and leapt from the platform into the open space before you. 

The breathless silence. The hot dusty air. The rush in your stomach like an oncoming wave before you lightly caught the bar another performer had flung towards you, adjusted your grip, and neatly somersaulted to another swing. Here a half-turn, here a straddle whip, and here, at the very peak of the motion of the trapeze, you let go, and hung impossibly in the air for a second before you plummeted, as you were wont to do, and were caught by another trapeze artist. Of course the dizzying leaps and the melodramatic plunges were part of the act. You knew the movements, the swings and the sways and the somersaults; you were, admittedly, at home here. The onlookers roared in delight; your heart, admittedly, soared. But as you spun, leant back, shifted your weight, glanced at the audience, you noticed, about three rows from the front, an unprecedented, unsolicited, indeed undesirable arrival: the strangest demon you had ever met. Or, at least, the strangest demon in the past three days. 

The fine kettle of fish was this. Belladonna, Sunny, Pell-Mell, the clowns, the knife-throwers, the knife-throwees, even the Bedbugs, bless their hearts, had all signed their souls over to Didier. He had expected the same of you when you had been given the job. But you, unused to asking, used to getting, were not prepared to quite merrily hand over the one thing that had guaranteed your continued existence to a man in a slim red tie. And so you had taken on a different sort of contract—which could have been hot, but, regrettably, Didier was not inclined to make such exchanges. You were simply paid far less than what you needed. That was all. The prosaic truth. He had you under contract, but nothing so poetic as a soul-binding one. You simply sewed your own costumes, went without breakfast. You scrounged around for whatever you could whenever you could. You had taken up residence in a formerly-disused caravan with the structural integrity of a multivitamin capsule. 

You had found there was little glory in starving, little romance. It was the banality of it that struck you, when you sighed weakly after your taps wouldn’t turn on, or Didi cut off your electricity, or you found you would have to choose between food and heating. It was the endless rolling of the cold and empty days that you suspected would grind you down in the end. But of course they were punctuated by your dazzling nights, your whirling wheeling flights through the grandly lit top tent that drew so many to Lu Lu World. And of course you were resourceful. 

In your life you had always been willing to bend the rules. In your death you were no different. You had the right kind of mind for business, and your business was, up there and down here, remarkably effective. Any con, put-on, cutup, cantrip, flimflam, ramp or scam anyone could think of, you’d done it. You once stole a woman’s shoes and sold them to her husband’s mistress for twice the retail price. Double-joke was on her, because purple was not her color. Only yesterday you had sold a sweet-looking sinner an ‘astral lightning rod’ meant to attract ‘negative interdimensional frequencies’ and channel them into their neighbors’ houses. The lightning rod in question was a refashioned rake you had found in the bins outside the gift shop. To put it plainly, as it were, if it had to be said, you were a, quote-unquote, ‘scammer’, though you and yours would never call it that. You hadn’t meant to end up in this trade, after all. You would like to think you had an entrepreneurial mindset. 

This entrepreneurial mindset had landed you in a stall (without a permit, obviously) in the Lu Lu World food court, having donned a wig and taken on the persona of a charming Texan aunt. Here you sold separately heart-shaped chocolates you had bought in bulk, meticulously unwrapped, and meticulously re-wrapped in shiny pink paper, to whichever passing demons or sinners appeared lonely or gullible or both. You told them all these chocolates, if consumed, would make anyone fall in love with them. To a pale imp in a band T-shirt you had sold three for five times what you’d paid for a box of eight; to a fishlike sinner whose disinterested girlfriend had abandoned him for the fairyfloss stall you sold five at, you told him, fifty percent off (which was three times the usual price). They had told their friends; their friends had flocked to your stall; soon afterwards, your original buyers had come back for more. But now there was a lull in business, as there usually was at this time of the afternoon. So when you noticed a duck demon – literally, a demon the size and shape of a duck, albeit a cartoonishly cute one – with an odd gait and a faraway look in his eyes, you were thrilled to have once again hit the jackpot.

You called him over excitedly. “Hey there, friend, what’s got you looking so glum?” That caught his attention. Hook. “You know, I see all sorts of people come through here. But ain’t none of them got such a positively chap-fallen look on their faces—not to insult you, gorgeous.” He was watching you with wary curiosity. Line. “Come on. Don’t you wanna tell old Mrs. Appleby all about it?” Sinker. 

“You’re not married,” he said. Sinker? That was strange. 

“What?”

“You’re not married. You’re not wearing a wedding ring.” Was he one of those? A flirt? Read: creep? Those were often easier to sell to. 

You pointed at your sign. Mrs. Appleby’s Apple-licious Treats. “Mrs. Appleby. That all that ambiguous?” you said, which won you a small smile from this bizarrely fluffy, bizarrely yellow duck. He flew surprisingly gracefully (you, the Flying Seal, knew what made a graceful flight) towards your stall, perching on the countertop just in front of your merchandise. And as he did so, you felt a dull crackle of power in the air, but, habitually incautious, you ignored it. Perhaps an Overlord-adjacent was taking a piss behind the neighboring food truck. Something like that. 

“It’s just heart-shaped candy,” he said. Usually demons looked like they’d just crawled out of a monsoon drain. Not this duck. He looked like a dapper gift-shop-plushie, the kind that comes with a sweet tag with their inevitably adorable name, written beneath it, Please look after this [relevant animal]! 

“Just heart-shaped candy? Why, this is the best heart-shaped candy you’ve ever had the good fortune to feast your eyes upon! ‘Why is that, Mrs. Appleby?’ Why, I’ll tell ya!” He seemed to be enjoying himself, not least because he hadn’t left. “This chocolate is magic!” That earned you another smile. 

“Really? Is that so?”

“Sure is. Straight from my distant uncle Asmodeus. Just eat one, wait three hours, and you’ll be feeling sprightly as a spring lamb. Two’ll have all the hens—or the men, don’t look so dejected, whatever you prefer—running after you like you’re catnip and they’re a litter of kittens.”

“Hold on now. You’re trying to sell me chocolate…chocolate-ified love potions? Love potion-ified chocolate? Love-ified—” 

You waved a hand at him in pleasant dismissal. “Now, don’t you overthink it, honey. I just saw you needed a helping hand and Auntie Appleby thought she’d take a”—you surprised even yourself with this one—“quack at it.” For a glorious moment he struggled between delight and disappointment. Then he laughed, genuinely, and smiled at you with something like satisfaction.

“Two’ll make me catnip. What’ll three do?”

You paused, then shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I ate three, and look at me now.” 

And after that it really had been sinker, and you’d sold him a box of ten and wrapped it up in pink parchment and given it to him in a pretty heart-shaped bag with added glitter. You wondered if he’d realized he was being fleeced. There was an air of irony about the way he treated you, but you were pleased to play along. A sale was a sale.

Naturally, though, you tried not to encounter people you’d sold something to after you’d sold it to them. You’d been a little careless today, telling them to wait only three hours. You’d thought that’d be enough to get them out of the grounds, but this duck was persistent. As usual, you hadn’t meant for this to happen. He still had his heart-shaped bag. He was sitting smugly in a seat far too large for him. Did he recognise you? Could he recognise you? The Flying Seal was a far cry from homely Mrs. Appleby. It could have been a coincidence. Perhaps he just liked the circus. It wasn’t strictly unusual to re-encounter your customers. But he was watching you intently, you realized, before you had to maneuver yourself into the arms of your closest friend in the circus, your counterpart, Pell-Mell, the Soaring Fiddler. And then, still incautious, you let the strange duck slip from your mind, and flung yourself from the catchbar again. 

Lucifer had decided to visit Lu Lu World less out of curiosity and more out of boredom and a vague sense of duty. It was, after all, his theme park. He’d been reckless, coming as a duck, but who’d guess this out-of-place, out-of-sorts waterfowl was the Lightbringer himself? Besides, he’d wanted to watch the circus. He hadn’t quite known what to expect. Perhaps he’d expected to be disappointed. 

But now he watched you in what seemed your most natural state. Flying, entertaining. Even without the wig and the bizarre Texan accent he recognised you (he, of all people, knew what made a good trick, a good show). He saw how you fed on the crowd’s cheers like they kept you alive. It was miraculously complex and miraculously simple. You were happy they were happy. He watched you as you rose and dove through the air as your namesake might through water—easily, happily, unembarrassed—and the lights, your smile, the spectacle, recalled to him, dimly, as if seen through rain, something he had felt a long time ago. 

You landed delicately on the platform opposite the one you had arrived from. “Selkie, the Flying Seal!” the ringmaster declared triumphantly. You winked mischievously at the audience. Did you realize they were thrilled with you? Could you realize it? Did the whole performance require a level of obliviousness? You caught the outstretched hand of your fellow performer, a small, slender girl sporting a glossy bob, and lifted her onto the platform. The two of you gave a final bow, and you, beaming, looked not down at the audience but up at the distant lights. 

Lucifer decided half-consciously that he ought to come back.

[krishna-sangini]

That Midnight (Part 1)

“Garima! Where did you stash the puja thalis?” Samridhi’s voice rang out, laced with urgency, as she burst out of the kitchen, a temporary tent they had set up. “We’re so behind schedule, yaar! I need to set them up now!”

Arched over while carefully crafting an intricate rangoli, Garima didn’t even look up. “Bro, you kept them in that room yourself,” she shot back, her tone equally amused and exasperated.

Samridhi froze, her mind racing as the realisation hit her. She slapped her forehead in disbelief, then took off towards the temple complex’s only room with its roof still standing.

The once-forgotten, crumbling temple was alive with laughter and chatter as the ten girls filled the space with their vibrant energy. They had gathered to celebrate the birthday of their beloved Krishna, transforming the desolate place into a lively haven. The temple’s raised platform was framed by four broken pillars, each adorned with intricate carvings that told stories of nature in delicate detail.

At one end of the platform stood a life-sized idol of the Murlidhar, commanding awe with His serene presence. With a flute poised gracefully in His hands, He stood in the classic tribhanga posture—one leg elegantly crossed in front of the other, His upper body gently bent forward. His eyes were closed, lost in the divine music only He could hear, as if the ancient walls were waiting to resonate with His melody again.

The girls had stumbled upon the temple by pure chance. A month earlier, during a carefree picnic, their curiosity led them to wander into the dense forest. What they found was nothing short of a hidden gem—a forgotten temple, its artistic brilliance masked by years of neglect. The moment they laid eyes on the Krishna idol, something deep within them stirred. It was as if they had been here before, in another time, in another life. The idol seemed to beckon them, drawing them closer until they were seated before it, mesmerised. As they sat in its presence, they could almost hear the soft, enchanting notes of Banwari’s flute filling the air, wrapping them in a cocoon of pure bliss.

When Janmashtami approached, the girls knew no other place could capture the spirit of the occasion as perfectly as this temple. It wasn’t just a celebration—it was a homecoming.

In the present, the girls were a whirlwind of activity, transforming the dilapidated temple complex into a vibrant setting for their grand celebration. Dressed in elegant lehengas, they adorned themselves with the thought that their beloved Manmohan was watching. Every detail of their shringar was carefully chosen—each bangle, each jhumka, and each anklet was selected with love. The soft chimes of their bangles and the jingling of their anklets mingled with the gentle rustling of the night breeze, creating a symphony that breathed life into the stillness of the old temple.

They had lovingly prepared a brand-new outfit and intricate jewellery for their Keshav, crafting His favourite makhan the traditional way, just as He would have liked. As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of reddish-orange, the girls began lighting small diyas, their ornamented hands moving with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly. The diyas, lined up along the platform’s edge, flickered to life, casting a warm, golden glow.

The sunset's orange hues slowly surrendered to a deep, serene bluish-black, and the dark sky stretched overhead, adorned with a waning moon. Yet the night seemed unusually bright as if the heavens had blessed their celebration with a luminous full moon, lighting up the temple and the hearts within it.

“Bro, someone give me a lift! I can’t reach this stupid pillar. If it’s this tall even after being broken, it must have been massive back in the day!” Baanhi huffed, holding up an exquisite garland of lotuses, frustration evident in her voice.

The tallest of the group, Manyataa, couldn’t help but giggle as she sauntered over, her pink lehenga swishing with every step, bangles chiming softly. “Short-arse,” she teased, rolling her eyes as she effortlessly bent down and hoisted Baanhi by the waist.

In one swift move, Baanhi hooked the garland onto the pillar, her expression triumphant as she was gently set back down. Without missing a beat, she playfully swatted Manyataa on the shoulder. “Shut it, beech!” she shot back with a grin.

“Ayo, not in the temple, Baanhi!” Kesar scolded, giving her a light tap on the shoulder, her tone half-serious, half-amused. Baanhi’s bravado vanished as she scratched her head sheepishly, her eyes darting to the Krishna idol. “Sorry,” she muttered, as if apologising directly to Him.

“Manyataa, light up those mashaals, will you?” Dhruvi called out, tossing her a matchbox with a grin.

“Why me?” Manyataa groaned, glancing down at her friend with mock annoyance.

“Blame your height,” Dhruvi chuckled, already turning to join Saanjh, who was meticulously arranging the prasad they had prepared on an ornate plate.

With an exaggerated sigh, Manyataa made her way to the four pillars, each adorned with a fire torch. Striking a match, she lit them one by one, watching the flames dance to life, casting a warm, golden glow over the temple’s worn stone walls. The once-shadowed corners of the temple were now bathed in flickering light, the mashaals bringing a vibrant warmth to the sacred space.

The fragrance of fresh flowers filled the air, mingling with the soft glow of the firelight, creating an atmosphere of tranquillity that enveloped the temple. Once abandoned and forgotten, the ancient structure now felt alive, each corner brimming with the girls’ joyful energy and the quiet reverence of their preparations.

In one corner of the temple, Saanjh and Dhruvi carefully ladled creamy makhan from a large pot into smaller silver containers. Saanjh, focused on filling the last one, was startled by a deep voice behind her. “Wow! All these for me?”

Without thinking, she replied, “Who else do you think they’re for?”

“What?” Dhruvi asked, frowning at her friend, puzzled by the random remark.

Saanjh blinked, finally looking up from the container in her hand. “What did you just say?” Dhruvi repeated, covering the large pot with a lid.

“I…” Saanjh’s voice trailed off as the realisation dawned on her. She glanced around, but there was no one nearby except her friends, all busy with their tasks. She shook her head and dismissed it as her mind playing tricks on her. She shrugged it off and began arranging the filled containers on a large silver tray while Dhruvi moved on to help Soni sweep the temple floor.

But before she could fully refocus, Saanjh felt a gentle tug on her braid. The same deep voice teased her, “I can braid your hair better than you, sakhi. Want to give me a shot?”

Her heart skipped a beat as she spun around, just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of a teenage boy dressed in yellow garments disappearing behind one of the pillars, his playful giggle echoing through the temple. Saanjh’s pulse quickened, and she jumped to her feet, clutching her lehenga as she rushed to the pillar, hoping to catch another glimpse of him.

But when she rounded the corner, no one was there. The temple was silent, save for the distant chatter of her friends. The girl sighed, a mix of relief and disappointment washing over her. She shook her head and muttered, “What was I even thinking?”

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

Dhruvi and Soni had just finished sweeping the temple floor and were now at the small pond nearby, washing their hands and resting before the grand puja. The pond’s surface mirrored the waning moon, which hung gracefully in the sky, accompanied by a scattering of stars that twinkled like jewels in the night. Lotuses floated serenely on the water, their soft petals creating a tranquil scene. The girls sighed in contentment, the peace of the moment sinking into their bones as they gazed down at their reflections. The gentle breeze stirred the water, causing their mirrored images to shimmer and dance.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, Dhruvi noticed something—or rather, someone—beside her reflection. Her breath caught in her throat. There, in the rippling water, was the image of a man. Tall and majestic, he was clad in royal yellow attire, a peacock feather adorning his magnificent crown. Exquisite jewellery glimmered against his skin, but it was his face that held her captive—his celestial smile, so full of warmth and serenity, made her heart skip a beat. He looked like a vision of paradise come to life.

In a trance, Dhruvi reached out to touch the reflection as if she could connect with this divine presence by some miracle. But as her fingers grazed the water, the image dissolved into the ripples she had set off. She closed her eyes, letting a single tear escape. A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she wiped away another stray tear, feeling both the loss and the inexplicable joy of the moment.

She turned to Soni, who was staring at her reflection in the pond, her face flushed with emotion, a streak of tears on her cheek. “I must be dreaming, sakhi…” Dhruvi began, her voice trailing off when she saw Soni’s expression mirroring her own—a mix of awe, joy, and disbelief.

“Bro, don’t tell me…” Dhruvi’s heart raced as she searched her friend’s eyes for confirmation. Soni nodded, a joyful laugh bubbling up as she said, “Looks like we’re both dreaming now.”

Dhruvi laughed with her, but curiosity got the better of her. “What did you see?”

Soni’s voice softened as she recounted her experience. While they were admiring the pond’s reflections, she had felt a gentle tug at her dupatta. Turning around, she had seen a boy, no older than seventeen, sitting cross-legged with his chin resting on his hand. His simple yet striking yellow garments, the peacock feather tucked into his headband, and the flute at his waist made him seem like a figure from a dream. But it was his gaze—those fond, adoring eyes that had made her heart melt and her cheeks burn with a mix of shyness and happiness. In a deep, soothing voice, he had said, “You are so beautiful, sakhi.”

Soni had closed her eyes, wanting to capture the moment forever. But when she opened them, he was gone, leaving her both elated and longing for more.

“Our minds are just playing tricks on us, aren’t they?” Soni whispered, a sad smile tugging at her lips.

“Mmhmm,” Dhruvi nodded, though her heart wasn’t fully convinced. She stood up, brushing away the last traces of her tears. “Shall we get going now? Midnight is almost here.”

“Oh, definitely,” Soni agreed, following Dhruvi’s lead as they made their way back, a sense of wonder still lingering in the air between them.

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

Manyataa and Baanhi left the temple with two large, decorated earthen pots. Their mission was to collect water from the pond for bathing and preparing the Krishna idol for the upcoming puja. The path to the pond was filled with light-hearted banter and infectious giggles, the night air carrying their laughter. Manyataa was the first to fill her pot, but Agrata called her from a distance just as she finished. She signalled to Baanhi and, with the filled vessel balanced on her hip, made her way back to the temple.

Baanhi, now alone by the pond, went down on one knee, lifting the hem of her lehenga and tucking it securely at her waist. She reached for her pot, ready to dip it into the water, when she suddenly felt a forceful push. Her eyes widened in shock as she lost her balance, her heart leaping into her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the cold plunge into the water, and uttered a loud curse, expecting to be submerged any second.

But instead of the icy splash, she felt a strong hand gripping hers, halting her fall. Baanhi’s anger flared as she whipped around, ready to scold Manyataa for what she thought was a prank. “You think this is funny, Manyat—”

Her words froze on her lips. It wasn’t Manyataa standing behind her. Instead, a young man in his early twenties towered over her, his grip firm yet gentle. His skin was a deep, rich shade, glowing softly under the moonlight, and his deep brown eyes sparkled with a mischievous yet loving glint. A peacock feather adorned his headband, fluttering in the gentle breeze alongside his luscious curls. His divine yellow garments shimmered as if woven from the very light of the moon. Baanhi’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at his ethereal face, her anger melting away into awe.

With a playful wink, the man effortlessly pulled Baanhi to her feet. Her heart raced as she tried to process what was happening, but before she could speak, the man leaned in closer, his voice a soft murmur, “You curse a hell of a lot, huh, sakhi?”

Baanhi’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief as a wave of bliss washed over her. The man chuckled, a deep, melodic sound that sent shivers down her spine. He gently took her hand from her mouth and, with a graceful motion, twirled her around. As Baanhi spun, tears streamed down her face, her emotions overwhelming her as she clutched her dupatta to her chest. But when she completed the twirl and faced him again, he was gone.

Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, her heart a tumultuous mix of grief and euphoria. The pond, the night, and the very air around her seemed to hold the echoes of what had just transpired, leaving Baanhi to wonder if she had truly seen the divine or if her heart had merely conjured a dream too beautiful to be real.

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

Garima sat cross-legged before the Krishna idol, her fingers deftly working on the intricate rangoli. She was almost done, the delicate peacock feather design slowly coming to life under her hands. Just as she was adding the finishing touches, disaster struck. A sweeping rustle of fabric brushed across the floor, distorting the intricate pattern she had so carefully crafted. Her heart plummeted, and she froze, her hand suspended in mid-air. Angry tears welled in her eyes as she glared up, ready to lash out at the culprit.

But her fury dissolved the moment she saw him. Seated before her was a tall, dark-skinned young man, his luminous yellow garments shimmering in the soft light. His playful smile was as disarming as it was divine. “Oops! That’s on me,” he said, his voice teasing yet warm. “But don’t worry, sakhi. Use this as a reference, and you’ll complete it in no time.”

Before she could respond, he reached up and gently removed the delicate peacock feather from his headband. With a tender touch, he placed the feather in Garima’s hand. She stared at him, her breath catching in her throat, tears of disbelief and pure bliss filling her eyes. Her gaze shifted to the exquisite feather in her palm, so vibrant and real that it felt like a dream. But when she looked up again, he was gone.

The sudden emptiness hit her like a wave, and a soft sob escaped her lips. “What just happened…” she whispered, her voice trembling as she tried to make sense of the ethereal encounter. She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, her heart still racing, and resumed working on the rangoli. But the image of that divine face lingered in her mind, as vivid as the colours she used. “I must be going mad for real,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Need some help with the rangoli, sakhi?” The voice startled her out of her thoughts. Madanmohini stood in front of her with a plate of fragrant jasmines.

“No, I’m good,” Garima replied, quickly composing herself and ensuring her voice didn’t betray the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

“Cool then,” Madanmohini said, flashing a smile before heading towards the Krishna idol, leaving Garima with her thoughts and the delicate peacock feather still clutched.

Madanmohini placed the plate of flowers on the idol's ornate dais. As she began to decorate the steps with delicate jasmine blossoms, the temple filled with a sweet, intoxicating fragrance that wrapped around her like a comforting embrace. The soft glow of the oil lamps cast a warm, golden hue upon her purple lehenga, making the fabric shimmer. Her dupatta, a cascade of silk, trailed behind her like a peacock's tail.

Suddenly, a gentle tug on her dupatta startled her. She turned to find Agrata, her friend, fumbling with her own dupatta. "Bro, cut it out," Madanmohini muttered, her voice low with irritation.

Agrata blinked, taken aback. "Huh? What did I do?"

"Don't test me right now," Madanmohini replied, her tone sharpening as she returned to her task.

Agrata, still puzzled, quickly retreated, mumbling under her breath, and busied herself elsewhere.

But peace was fleeting. As Madanmohini reached the final step of the dais, a shower of jasmine petals fell upon her as if from an unseen hand. She paused, a sigh escaping her lips. "Agrata, I told you not to bother me," she muttered, her voice tinged with warning. Yet another flurry of petals rained down on her before she could finish.

Her patience snapped. Madanmohini spun around, her eyes blazing with anger. But before she could confront the culprit, a gentle cascade of flowers hit her face. She let out an exasperated yell, ready to unleash her fury on Agrata.

But then she froze. Her eyes locked onto a figure she had only dreamt of—a figure draped in blue and yellow, a peacock feather swaying gently atop his head. His mischievous smile was playful and tender, and he held a small basket filled with lotuses in his hand.

He stepped closer, his presence as overwhelming as it was serene. He plucked a jasmine from her plate and, with a teasing smile, tucked it behind her right ear. "You're so easy to rile up," he chuckled, his voice a melodic lilt.

Madanmohini stood in stunned silence, her breath caught in her throat. He then extended a divinely delicate lotus towards her, his gaze shifting to the idol behind her. "Here," he said softly, "place this on my flute, hmm?"

Her hands trembled as she reached out. His warm touch, lingering a moment longer than necessary, sent a shiver through her. He blew gently on her face as she grasped the lotus, causing her to close her eyes.

When she opened them again, he was gone.

Madanmohini’s heart raced, her mind reeling. She glanced down at the lotus still resting in her palm, its petals impossibly real. With a disbelieving laugh, she approached the idol and carefully placed the flower on its flute, ensuring it would not fall.

"That couldn’t have been real..." she whispered, her heart pounding, her cheeks flushed with a mix of awe and disbelief.

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

Manyataa and Agrata stood before the Krishna idol, each holding an earthen pot, their fingers deftly clearing away some of the flower petals scattered at their feet. “Who placed this lotus here? We haven’t even finished bathing Him yet,” Manyataa murmured as she gently removed the flower from the flute. She held it in her palms, her eyes widening in awe. “Dayum…”

Agrata glanced up, her hands busy dipping a clean fabric into the pot. “What is it?” she asked as she began wiping the idol’s feet with careful strokes.

“This… This flower’s…” Manyataa’s voice trailed off, her gaze locked onto the lotus as though it held some unspoken mystery.

“Girl, you can admire that later. Help me get Him ready! It’s almost midnight!” Agrata’s voice was firm, breaking Manyataa’s trance.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Manyataa placed the lotus aside, her fingers lingering on its petals before picking up another clean cloth. Together, they worked in quiet rhythm, Agrata pouring water over the idol’s gleaming form while Manyataa dabbed away the excess, careful not to disturb the delicate floral arrangements beneath.

“Ow! Cold, cold, cold!” A deep masculine voice rang out behind them, startling both girls. They spun around, eyes wide with shock, but the temple only housed their other friends like before.

Their gazes met, filled with bewilderment. “Did you hear that too?” Manyataa asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Agrata nodded though uncertainty clouded her features. “Apparently, we both hallucinated.”

“That’s the only plausible explanation…” Manyataa muttered as she resumed patting the idol dry, her hands trembling ever so slightly.

The girls moved on to dressing Him in garments of blue and yellow, colors that seemed to make the black stone of the idol come alive. Samridhi, rushing into their makeshift kitchen tent, froze at the sight. Her eyes gleamed with wonder. “He looks gorgeous…” she breathed, clutching her heart.

“Right?” Agrata echoed, stepping back to admire their work from a distance.

Samridhi shook herself from her reverie, her feet moving again as she called out, “Make Him more than gorgeous! The puja’s about to start!”

“Yeeees!” Manyataa called after her retreating figure, exchanging a grin with Agrata before they turned back to their task. They adorned the idol with dazzling ornaments, each piece carefully placed to enhance the divine form before them. Agrata finished by sticking a peacock feather into the fresh yellow headband, smoothing out the dark locks beneath it.

After a few minutes of final touches, the girls stepped back, their hearts swelling with emotion. The idol looked absolutely divine, every feature radiating a perfection that seemed beyond mortal comprehension. The blue and yellow garments, paired with the sparkling jewellery, cast a spell over them both, drawing tears to their eyes.

Just then, the same deep voice broke through the silence. “Damn, I look gorgeous!”

The girls whipped their heads to the right, and the sight that greeted them left them breathless. Standing beside them was a man, tall and dark-skinned, clad in the exact same attire as the idol. The ornaments that adorned his slender yet muscular frame gleamed in the soft light, but it was his presence—living, breathing, more real and bewitching than anything they had ever seen—that overwhelmed them. A smug smile curved his lips as he admired his outfit before turning his gaze to the two girls.

“Thank you for these, sakhis! You both look magnificent, just like me,” he said with a playful wink, his voice rich with mirth.

The girls were paralyzed, tears streaming down their faces as they struggled to comprehend what they were seeing. “This… this can’t be happening… It’s just a hallucination…” Agrata whispered, her knees trembling beneath her.

Manyataa took an involuntary step towards the man, her eyes wide with awe and disbelief. The man chuckled softly. “Well, we’ll see about that in a while. Gotta go get prettier!”

And with that, he vanished, dissolving into thin air. The two girls stared at each other in disbelief, one clutching her heart and the other covering her mouth. Their quiet sobs mingled with whispered reassurances that what they had just witnessed was nothing more than a figment of their wild imagination.

 -----------------------------------

“Sakhi! I can’t find the pedas! I’m going to throw up from panicking—please HELP!” Samridhi’s desperate voice rang out from inside the makeshift tent. Kesar, hunched over a dozen containers, shot back, “Sakhi if you panic, you’ll make me panic too! Take a deep breath; they have to be here somewhere! Just keep looking.”

The two girls frantically shuffled around the cramped tent, their anxiety thick in the air. Containers clattered, and lids were thrown aside, but the pedas remained elusive.

“Samridhi! Kesar! The rest of the offerings are set. We’re just waiting on the pedas. Hurry up! We’ve got ten minutes!” Dhruvi’s voice echoed urgently from the temple.

Samridhi’s panic escalated. “I know I packed them!” she wailed, lifting the lid of a handi only to find it empty. Kesar continued her search; her brows knit in distress. Just then, they heard a faint shuffling noise outside the back of the tent.

Their heads snapped up, and they exchanged a wary glance. “Who’s there?” they yelled in unison, their voices tinged with suspicion. But Baanhi’s voice sliced through the tension before they could investigate, “SAMRIDHI! KESAR! BRO, I SWEAR TO GOD!”

Flustered and frazzled, the girls resumed their frantic search, the earlier noise forgotten. But it wasn’t long before the same shuffling sound returned, followed by the clatter of an earthen utensil hitting the ground. Their heads shot up again; this time, they bolted out of the tent, circling around to the back.

To their utter bewilderment, they found a young lad hunched over the missing handi, his mouth stuffed with pedas, and two more clutched in his hands. The moment he noticed the girls, his dark face froze in mid-chew, his eyes wide with guilt, like a deer caught in headlights. The peacock feather in his headband fluttered in the breeze, and the golden flute beside him gleamed under the moonlight.

Samridhi and Kesar stood rooted in place, their eyes wide with shock, their hands covering their mouths as if to stifle their disbelief.

The boy slowly, almost sheepishly, placed the two pedas back into the handi, his movements careful and deliberate. “Don’t kill me, please, sakhis. I couldn’t resist. I just had two, I promise!” he said, his voice muffled by the pedas still in his mouth. He picked up his flute with the same slow movements, his eyes never leaving the two girls. “Uhh… See you in a while…? And, oh, I broke the lid,” he added before darting off towards the temple.

Samridhi and Kesar stared at each other in stunned silence. Then, without a word, Samridhi scooped up the handi, and the two of them broke into a sprint back towards the temple.

As they burst into the temple, their eyes scanned the area where their other sakhis sat waiting for them, searching wildly for the peda thief they had known all their lives yet never expected to see in the flesh. Dhruvi’s voice cut through their frantic search, “Took you guys long enough.”

Baanhi approached the duo, her brow furrowed as she carefully took the handi from Samridhi. “Who are you two looking for?” she questioned. But before they could respond, she turned and made her way to the idol, where an empty ornate plate awaited. She carefully plated the pedas and then clapped her hands in satisfaction. “Finally done! What’s the time?”

“11:55,” Garima replied, glancing at her watch.

“Dear GOD, I’m so excited!” squealed Soni, hugging her knees to her chest, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“I know, right!” Saanjh added, as Samridhi and Kesar quietly joined the others on the floor, exchanging confused glances that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the group.

Agrata broke the momentary silence. “So, who’s taking the lead?” Her question hung in the air, charged with excitement. The girls exchanged eager looks before Madanmohini spoke up. “I think Manyataa should. She’s the oldest, after all.”

“And the giant-est!” Soni giggled, unable to resist teasing.

“Please don’t butcher English in my presence,” Baanhi interjected dramatically.

“Okay, Miss English Honours,” Soni shot back, grinning mischievously.

Manyataa stood up. “You guys! Enough with the banter,” she scolded gently, though a smile tugged at her lips. She approached the idol and knelt before it, pulling the beautifully decorated puja thali closer. With a steady hand, she lit the diya, the flame flickering to life, casting a warm, golden glow over the idol.

The air was filled with squeals and giggles as the other girls rose to their feet, their excitement almost palpable. The flickering light danced in their eyes as they waited for Garima’s watch to strike midnight.

“Uhhh… Sakhis?” Samridhi’s voice wavered as she called out to the group. The room fell quiet as all eyes turned to her. Fidgeting with her dupatta, she hesitated, her nerves getting the better of her. “Did… did you guys, by any chance, witness anything… unusual? Like… did you…”

She faltered, unable to finish her sentence, but Kesar quickly picked up the thread. “...see Him?” she completed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The room froze as the girls exchanged wide-eyed glances, each mirroring the other’s stunned expression.

“Don’t tell me—”

“Wait, you saw Him too?”

“No way!”

“But there’s no way we all hallucinated the same thing!”

The temple complex buzzed with the disbelieving exclamations of the young lasses, their minds racing to make sense of the impossible. The air was thick with the thrill of shared wonder and disbelief, their voices overlapping as they tried to piece together what they had all experienced.

Before they could delve deeper into the mystery, Garima’s watch chimed, breaking the spell.

“It’s time!” she squealed, her excitement overshadowing the previous tension.

@saanjh-ki-dulhan @krsnaradhika @chaliyaaa @saanjhghafa @krishnaaradhika @ramayantika @tumharisakhi @sumiyxx @harinishivaa @rantingabtmyman

Here's Part 1 of the Janmashtami fic. I hope y'all like it!!! Part 2 will be out in a couple days, I promise💗

[luminarystarfall]

💛✨💫

Hey, Tumblr! Long time no see!

Allow me to reintroduce myself!

My name is Lumi, or Star! Either or is fine!

I’m a digital artist that loves Friday Night Funkin’, Sonic, and the creator of Sunny (most known as sunnythepicofangirl) on TikTok!

I’ll be using this page for it’s QNA and just posting my art in general for more tumblers to see! Thank you for reading, have a blessed day!

Here are my other platforms for those interested!

Tiktok | Instagram | YouTube

💛✨💫

[spliffymae]

musicproducer!connie…

kio’s notes - some sfw headcanons inspired by this connie fic i read on wp a while back. it was my first connie fic and the start of this connie brain rot. i wish it was still up 🤧 shit was soooo good!

also inspired by @chrollohearttags rockstar!eren series and @privateparty3 rapper!connie

also check this

⊱ ──────── {.⋅ ✺ ⋅.}──────── ⊰

now let me say this,

connie mfn springer had a golden ear!

he could make a song out of anything, truth be told. his abuela used to tell him he was blessed with “god’s gift.” yeah, he had a voice as soothing and smooth as velvet. but put it over a track with a piano medley and some soft beats, oh baby! the man had a voice that made the greek muses swoon.

musicproducer!connie had a couple of his own songs out on streaming platforms. he mostly used spotify and apple music for his official music, and soundcloud for official music or for quick ideas he wanted his followers to hear. he loved singing, but not as much as he loved to create. producing was where connie truly felt he belonged. he couldn’t count the number of times he’s fallen asleep at his desk, drooling on his piano keys because he pulled an all nighter to finish a song because he got a sound stuck in his head and just needed to bring it to life.

(honorable mentions to the times he hears songs not by him and thinks “i can make this better” and just completely changed the entire vibe of the song)

but musicproducer!connie loved sounds. everything and anything had potential to be a song. whether it be the crunching of the fall leaves under his boot, or the bounce of the basketball he dribbled in his backyard court, or even the sound of his car’s indicator—connie found music in any sound.

if you asked musicproducer!connie what he couldn’t live without, he would describe to you in detail his music setup. his laptop, the hard drive with all his songs, his drum pad, his bass guitar, his red beats headphones, the software he uses…he would go on forever!

musicproducer!connie would be the genius behind his friends’ music as well. they would come to him either with a chopped up idea of what they wanted or sometimes come to him empty handed with nothing but a hope. either way, connie would be sitting in his home studio with his friends, working on a song. he loved helping them, so he looked at it as great bonding time too.

musicproducer!connie was also quite big on social media. he had a following of 700k on instagram and over a million listeners across his streaming services. he also had a twitch, where he would post at least twice a week, one of those times being him making instrumentals from scratch with his viewers watching and helping. he loved to interact with his followers. knowing there were people out there who connected with his music on a deep level made him so happy. hell, the first single he dropped he was kicking his feet at all the supportive feedback he was getting.

musicproducer!connie even did shows here and there! they would be house shows, with maybe 1000 people at least. he would sing some of his hits, but would mainly be the dj, working the booth for his friends. he always and only performed with his friends.

honestly, music was everything to connie and then some. it was his passion. it was what made him who he is. but most of all, it was something he always did with you.

yessir! musicproducer!connie would be telling a lie if he said he became the artist he is today on his own. if it weren’t for you, he probably would’ve quit a long time ago, when his sophomore project didn’t receive as much hype/attention as his debut.

you were always his biggest fan, though. you would use your social media following to promote his work, much to connie’s joy. what he loved more than sharing his music was you sharing it, because in turn you would be showcasing the relationship between you and connie to your hundreds of thousands of followers.

like those times he would be sitting on the floor of his living room, creating a song on his laptop. you would be behind him, sitting between the couch and him with the side of your face pressed against his back. he would be in his own world with his headphones on, you would be busy on your phone, and yet connie felt it was one of the best ways to spend time with you.

your glossy lips would be in a faint pout as you recorded yourself, stretching your arm up and out to show connie’s entire back, this tan freckled skin showcasing the tense of his muscles whenever he would reach for his pen to scribble away notes in his notebook.

you would simply post the video to your snapchat, captioning it “1/2 of us is in their creative bag rn”. you would follow up that snap with another short video, this time it being you leaving small kisses along the expanse of connie’s back. because of your gloss the lip prints were visible and you would smile mischievously.

musicproducer!connie loved you. he loved to have you near him. so when he would go on these red carpet events with his friends, you would be at his side, the two of you dressed beautifully as you smiled for the cameras. connie would make it his mission to have you flustered the whole night, giving you soft neck kisses and whispering both sweet and naughty things in your ear while he held you close. like,

“you look so beautiful tonight, i’m so lucky to have you, mi cielita.”

“i can’t wait to take this off of you, baby.. give you the proper attention you deserve.”

“been missing my lil’ songbird so much.” he would just miss the shell of your ear with his teeth, looking down at you with his eyes droopy with lust. “have you missed me, baby?”

“of course, baby. but the show ain’t even start yet.” you said with a squeal, already feeling the blood rush straight to your cheeks. there was no doubt the cameras caught that. if they somehow didn’t, then they sure must’ve captured the lovestruck look connie gave you whenever his eyes would fall on you.

“i can’t help it, mami. just love having you.” he would mumble, giving you the softest of pecks as to not mess up your lipstick.

musicproducer!connie was in deep when it came to you. and if it wasn’t obvious by the way he showered you with physical affection, then it must be from the way he had you as his producer tag, the five second audio starting with you giggling, then in your best ‘smooth r&b’ voice, saying “issa connie springer production.” connie remembers the first project he used that on—a joint lover’s ep onyankopon wanted him on. til this day, how many years later, every time a song from the ep comes on, your cheeks get hot and body all tingly at the flustered feeling that overwhelms you. it was your first time ever being on a record

musicproducer!connie used you for a lot of his songs, it was mainly on the background vocals of different projects he would do. but he also used you as inspiration. he moonlighted as a songwriter, mainly helping other artists with filler lyrics or strengthening what they already have. it would be rare connie was asked to write a song start to finish, but whenever he did, he found he was thinking back to your relationship. both good and bad times, just thinking of you filled him with enough inspiration to create several masterpieces.

yeah, musicproducer!connie loves you. he has what seems to be an endless amount of ways to express his love to you. but if all else fails, he knows his music will do it’s job every. damn. time.

[azaliyas]

summary : after studying the guitar since you were a kid, you were now ready to start a band and let your music be known to the big public. thanks to an online announcement you posted, you found him as your bandmate.

word count : [ to be added later ]

genre : modern au, fluff.

cw / tw : mentions of drinking.

characters : 6reeze boys.

note : had to change the order because of the way i keep my posts in order, sorry for the inconvenience ^^;

aether — the keyboardist

if you had to describe aether in one word, it would have been "puppy", always so cheerful and easy-going. it was easy to befriend him after you guys met for the first time for a trial rehearsal and see if you two could work well together. his friendly and kind personality had you, too, smile brightly at him. and that pulled his heartstrings in a way he had never experienced before.

his slender fingers, you were sure of that, were blessed with a talent and a discipline you have seen in such a few people it was more unique than rare. the keyboard really came to life whenever he played, each note an arrow going straight to your fans' hearts. he had this natural charm that draw people to him to watch closer, and staying to have more.

aether was kind with everyone, but with you, he was such a gentleman, always ready to come to your aid even outside your music business. he was your dearest friend, the person you held in high regard, and the same was for him. he couldn't help the fondness in his voice when talking about you, be it with his friends or fans he met in the streets, a special kindness enveloped your name every time it left his lips.

of course, fans were quick to catch up on it and start spreading the "y/n x aether" agenda, heart-shaped eyes looking at every little interaction between you and the blonde guy, be it off stage or, more often, on stage, when his golden eyes were glued on your form, following you around, his voice soft and tender while singing his parts.

ah, but it was such a shame you didn't notice any of this. how wonderful would it have been, dating you, call you his significant other, his lover, the one he oh so tenderly loved and cherished... but that had to wait. he had to make you aware of his feelings in a less direct way first in order to see if you too felt the same way as him. but until then, he was happy even with just holding you close to his chest after another night of successful concerts, sleeping soundly on his lap.

just wait a little longer for him, will you?

heizou — the dj

you weren't exactly a fan of electronic music or whatever kind they played in nightclubs and similar places, but after meeting heizou, you had a change of heart.

the maroon-haired guy was like a tornado, strong and passionate and unstoppable when his mind was set on something. and that something was forming a duo with you and have your music climbing the charts. he surely was ambitious, but you didn't mind, he got the spirits and that was what was important to you.

with heizou's influence your music grew artistically and in terms of listeners on the major streaming platforms, thanks to his fame as an already well-known dj and a few semi-important collabs he had. from covers to mix-ups to original music, your virtual library grew exponentially. you two featured in many playlists, sometimes even those ai-generated, or the most mainstream ones along with much more famous artists. and you were the center of it.

heizou did whatever was in his power to have you in the spotlight, always talking so fondly of you fans couldn't help it but start shipping you two. and how could they not, when every single damn occasion was as good for him to mention your name.

but you were pretty dense, weren't you? thinking it was just for advertising purposes, his shameless flirting for you, but if he did that only with you, then why weren't you catching on his attempts?

a shame, truly, because you two looked so good together, have it in real life or in the numerous pics of you guys circulating on the internet. but fret not, heizou was confident you would eventually fall for him one day, he could have you in his arms even in a romantic sense, and not only literally, like right now, while he was carrying you in your bedroom after he found you asleep on the couch of your shared apartment.

working late into the night wasn't for you, you know?

kazuha — the bassist

the first time you met kazuha, the impression he left you was quite strong despite his calm, comforting aura. maybe it was right because of that aura of his, such an opposite to his on-stage self, wild and crazy, a side of him only during concerts you were able to see. his fingers were rough on the bass chords, plucking them with harsh strength to keep up with the exciting and fast music you composed together, going so far he had to wear bandages to avoid hurting his fingers.

off-stage, on the other hand, kazuha usually kept to himself, notebook and pen by his side, writing poetry and lyrics. having him around you was like walking on the clouds, feeling so warm and comfortable. and he felt the same with you, so of course your relationship bloomed outside of music, becoming friends.

the white-haired boy was such a softie he had you cooing over him like most of your fans, although they did so both for him and for the romantic relationship they thought you guys were in. and no one could blame them to think so, with how kazuha seemed to have eyes for you only, or with how he was glued to your hip when on stage, foreheads pressed together while playing, lips inches away with only a microphone stopping him from kissing you — the crowd surely wouldn't have complained.

kazuha didn't hide the bluntness of his feelings, but he never explicitly said he was in love with you either. it was in the loving embrace you were always welcomed in, the gentle touches of his fingers littering on your skin, in the quiet voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear while asleep, hoping to give you pleasant dreams.

one day, kazuha told himself, he would have been able to tell you such words while you were awake, not sleeping clinging to his side, hands around his waist and one of his was in your soft hair.

one day, his muse shall know the truth.

venti — the singer

although venti wasn't exactly your usual rock singer, he quickly adapted to your style, but so you did to his. this perfect molding brought you two leaning towards a kind of rock music with classical and ballad influences, creating quite the sub-genre per se. and your growing fans seemed to particularly appreciate such fresh and new stuff.

over the years venti grew quite fond of you and viceversa, so much you two became each other's closest friend. your chemistry was something you didn't get to experience every day, and whoever got to know you and him knew that at first glance.

he was a playful and flirty friend, bringing that same behaviour on stage, knowing way too well it had your fans swooning over him — or maybe on you two, since this flirty behaviour of his was mostly directed at you. arm snaking around you, or cheeks pressed together, or foreheads resting on each other, the boy always managed to have contact with you while his sweet voice echoed in the hall along your guitar. touchy, but you didn't mind, that was his persona after all.

or wasn't it?

off stage venti was calmer, but still always seeking your companionship, almost as if you were his cuddly teddy bear. what you didn't know was that it was his way to have you close, to push away those who tried to flirt with you, to satiate the love he had for you.

yes, venti loved you, dearly, deeply, but most of all quietly. he knew you saw him as a friend only, a dear one, but a friend nonetheless. this knowledge had his heart ache, but he was resolute in not letting you know about his feelings, ever. otherwise, he feared he wouldn't have been able to hold you like this, your head in the crook of his neck and his arms around your waist as you slept, ever again.

you were everything, he couldn't possibly let you go.

wanderer — the drummer

kunikuzushi, known as "scaramouche" (from his previous membership in another band) or "wanderer" (adopted for his solo career), wasn't actually the bandmate you would normally expect. sure, he was one hella good of a drummer and his previous fame helped yours skyrocketing, but except for this he wasn't particularly inclined in dealing with you outside music business.

of course, you weren't expecting to become best friend with the indigo-haired boy, but at least a relationship of close acquaintances was the least, in your opinion. you thought that his "bad boy" persona was just a facade for the fans, but his coldness toward you sometimes had you second guessing.

all of this changed whenever you two were inside the studio or, more often, on the stage. there, kunikuzushi seemed to turn into a totally different person. his deep and raw voice would draw your attention to him, eyes locked together singing at the top of your lungs, music blasting all around you.

what you didn't know, however, was that kuni held such contrasting behaviours toward you for a single, simple, yet stupid reason: he was in love with you. a deep, warming love that swelled in the depths of his heart, away from your knowledge.

loving you inspired him to write those tooth-rooting kind of songs you seemed to like, but they were too obvious regarding your persona to be sang in front of a crowd. he poured his heart in those lyrics, they were personal, for him only — no, not even you.

all the years he spent wearing that stupid "bad boy" mask convinced him he was, indeed, not good enough for a serious relationship so, how could he enter one with you?it was better to leave you alone, but your figure sleeping soundly by his side after another night of concerts, snuggling against him for warmth in that cool night, was giving him a hard time doing so.

you were such a temptation.

xiao — the guitarist

when posting that announcement for a band member, surely you didn't think you'd meet "alatus", a guitarist with a well-known reputation on the underground scene.

xiao was a guy around your age, not particularly expressive but with an impressive knack for music. all of his emotions and feelings were poured into the lyrics he wrote for your band. yours to write was the melody for his words.

this partnership of yours was quite fruitful as, even with you two leaning more onto the underground scene, the virality of your music earned you guys quite the fame even on the mainstream side. and not only because of the excellent and expressive music you and xiao produced.

many of your fans actually shipped you guys really hard because, according to them, the chemistry between you and xiao was one of a kind, more unique than rare. whenever there was a short video of you two back to back, playing the shit out of your guitars, heads leaning on each other's shoulder as the music took over you, your fans would be squirming in place, giggling and kicking their feet.

you, on the other hand, didn't quite understand their excitement. sure, over the years you and xiao spent together had become friends and got to know each other pretty well, not only to find a chemistry to be able to work together, but also because you really enjoyed having the black-and-teal-haired boy by your side. you considered xiao a dear friend, too dense to notice his eyes softening whenever they were on you.

how could you not notice his eyes sparkling when smiling for you, those tiny but genuine smiles only you could pull out of him? or his thoughtfulness about you even outside work, well behind the care a normal friend would have for you?

he sighed to himself, thinking that, one day, he will confess to you and have you two being a couple even outside the band. but for now he was happy like this, your head resting on his lap, knocked out cold after your usual post-show drinks.

what a lightweight you were.

© azaliyas 2023 do not copy repost translate or feed to ai

[jayrockin]

Do you ever plan on uploading the replays of your livestreams to YouTube? Get it if not since it would probably take a lot of space and time to download and upload. Just wondering since I’d love to watch them but twitch is a nightmare for me

No because frankly I'm glad they get deleted after 2 weeks. I don't want to hoard weeks of footage of my cringe nerd ass telling chat to stop asking what aliens taste like for the 50th time. I appreciate that people are interested in the streams and will come by to say hi and watch me get work done, it helps me stay focused when I'm accountable to an audience, but streams/videos are never going to be my main gig as an artist. Sorry for the disappointing answer.

That being said if you can find a way to block ads on Twitch you have my full and complete blessing to do so, I don't really care about monetization on that platform, and they literally won't let me turn them off

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

02/27/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast&Crew; SambaSchutte;VicoOrtiz;RhysDarby; Fan Spotlight; More Polls; Repo News; Rotton Tomatos; Watch Party Reminders; Articles; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika;

= Cast & Crew Sightings =

= Samba Schutte =

Samba posted so much BTS I couldn't fit it on one recap! I I posted some highlights, and you can see all the pictures + merstede video over here.

Obviously if you have instagram please visit Samba's IG Post/Stories

= Vico ortiz =

Vico decided to bless us with "Soft Boi" vibes today.

"💙💚✨Soft Boi✨💚💙 📸: @transnormativity"

Also, Vico is a member of the Public Assembly free theatre in South Pasadena California and "wrote something" for the next assembly! If you're in the area, consider checking it out, it's free!

= Rhys Darby =

Cameo - Reconnecting with Art / Writing!

The cameo today is about Reconnecting with Art / Writing! Thank you to the anonymous sharer who allowed us to partake in this lovely and inspiring cameo!

Cameo Src

== Fan Spotlight ==

Last couple days of February Love Collage Fest! @wndrngnomad even gave us a bonus for #TaikaTuesday! And that catches us up! Just two more days! Want to see the collages anytime, check them out in our Fan Spotlight Section on the repo!

Day 27: Season 1 Costumes

#TaikaTuesday

Day 13: Matthew Maher!

Day 14: February Love!

Day 15: Taika Waititi

PS: Lots more fan spotlights to come, today got away from me and I had a couple more people to check with.

== More Polls to Participate In =

Looks like Ranker is doing a pole on the best HBO Max shows! You can click the up arrow for OFMD, and the down arrow for other shows if you'd like as well to move the rankings around. Thanks @JackieNoses on twitter for recommending it!

== WATCH PARTY REMINDERS! ==

= People of Earth S2 =

People of Earth S2 continues tomorrow Feb 27 at 9 pm GMT / 4pm EST / 3pm CST / 1pm PST. Need access? Reach out to @iamadequate1!

#PiratesOfEarth

= Uncle Season 2 Watch Party! =

Wed 28th + Thurs 29th GMT - 8pm / ET - 3pm / PST - 12 pm Streaming on I-player! Outside the UK? Follow this VPN tutorial to learn more. 

#ForTheNewUncle

== Rotten Tomatoes! ==

Just wanted to give a huge shout out to everyone out there doing ratings! We finally made it to 1000+ ratings on Season 2 for Rotten Tomatoes! What an excellent job everyone!!!

== Repo News ==

I am putting this in the recap so that in case someone missed it on my blog I can still try to fix any damage that was done. This is the first para, but please read the whole thing here. "It has come to my attention that a google drive that was linked in my Repo contained art, gifs, images, videos etc that had not been shared with permission of the original artists. I want to sincerely apologize to anyone who this affected." The situation has been rectified, but please, if you were one of the folks affected, please reach out to me and I will see what I can do to help.

== Articles ==

10 Streaming Shows That Were Cancelled Too Soon

== Love Notes ==

Today I would like to take a moment to thank the folks who checked in on me or sent kind words today while I was having a rough time (whether you knew it or not). You all really amaze and humble me with all your kindness and caring. I wanna give a few shoutouts to some folks who kept me sane today @spirker @ofmd-ann @scorpiostarseed @xoxoemynn @catbells-and-summerlinens @brainfugk @hoshiforever @roximonoxide @aliragsandmuffins @melvisik if I missed anyone I promise it's not on purpose but because I am about 3 minutes away from passing out on this couch or I thought you wanted to remain anonymous.

Love Note: From DoodleGems--

You really do deserve to take up space. When you do, you work miracles and you move mountains and you give this tired lady hope. So remember you are worth taking up space and fill it with all your goofy unique wonderful soul <3 Love you lovelies, get some rest tonight.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Okay so I can't stop looking at this post by @ofmd-ann so yes these two are tonight's, even though I'm sure I've posted them individually before (but they go so well together so here we are)