#diwali break gave me a bit more time for that!

[khufiya-khaufnak-antariksh]

WIP

[roger-that-cap]

brand new eyes

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: having a penpal in the sixth grade was overdone, in your opinion. and handwritten letters just weren’t convenient. you weren’t happy at all to start talking to some random girl your age across the sea, but once you started, neither of you could find it in you to stop.

warnings: fluff!!!! mutual pining. badly written letters (actually the whole one shot). brief battle with sexuality. a seriously strong connection between two characters (almost soulmate territory here tbh). every single mistake here is 100% mine!

word count: 8.7k!

At first, you were sure that the pen pal letter suggestion for extra credit was stupid. Why would you handwrite a letter when you could send an email? Why would you send a letter by mail that would take much longer? It took two weeks for a handwritten letter to arrive, and only seconds for an email. It didn’t make any sense.

And then you got your first letter.

You realized very quickly why handwriting was what your teachers asked for. You never knew that handwriting could be so vulnerable, so open. You had never seen letters that were so loopy, so delicate. That letter was written so neatly and so personally even if the girl who had written it hadn’t meant it to be that way, and you knew that a computer even with all of its special fonts wouldn’t be able to do that.

You understood why the handwritten rule was there.

But you didn’t like it when it was your turn to craft something so beautiful.

It wasn’t a competition by any means, but you didn’t want your letter to look anything like the words you scratched down into your notebooks. You wanted them to be neat and pretty and most of all understandable for the girl behind the pen and across the sea, because she had done the same for you.

By the time you stopped ogling over the letters and started actually reading the words that the girl had written, you learned her name. You learned it within the first line, actually.

Wanda Maximoff.

She was obviously from Sokovia, she spoke English as her second language, and she had an older twin brother that she both adored and was annoyed by. She was in the equivalent of your grade in her country, and she liked to cook with her parents. The letter was basic and slightly elementary, just an introduction to what she was willing to share with a stranger that lived thousands of miles away.

But that didn’t make it any less special.

You started on your return letter minutes after you let her pretty words sink in.

You drafted your letter and let it sit for an hour without you looking at it, and then came back to it only to cross things out and revise it, and then put it on the expensive paper that your mother had bought for you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. It started with a greeting, your name, and then into the same sort of things that she spoke about in her own letter, the things that people that went to school with you had learned in passing over the years.

It felt like giving someone the rundown of your uneventful life so far in the simplest of ways. It felt like someone getting to know you as you wanted them to, because you were telling your story. There was no other side, or truth, or lie, just what your pen and your brain decided to write. It was controlled chaos. And you adored it.

Your print was easy to read. It wasn’t loopy like hers or as “girlish”, as one of your classmates said when you brought both letters to school to get an extra one hundred. It wasn’t fancy and alluring like hers, but there was still something magical on the pseudo-aged parchment.

You sent it off to the post office the next day, and you put her letter on your desk. 

§§§

By the time that your third letter from her came, you already were drafting your own. It came straight to your mailbox and when you checked the mail that morning, you were ecstatic to see it waiting for you, like a pet waiting for it’s person to come home. As usual, it started off with the gentle scrawl of your name, just a bit larger than all of the rest of the words that were on the page.

I can’t believe that it’s already been weeks of us writing. We started in August, and it’s nearing the end of October. Speaking of, is it starting to get cold there for you? It’s already cold for us. Our grandmother always makes us the best tea and soup when it gets cold outside, and I could send you the recipe if you wanted!

My brother and I are curious about one thing, and we hope that we get your answer in time, but, is Halloween really a thing? We have both heard of it, but we’ve never done it here. It sounds magical. I’ve always wanted to dress up however I wanted and get candy for it. If I were to do it, I would probably be a Disney Princess, maybe Merida. Sadly, we don’t do that here. Does it really happen in the United States, or is that a movie thing?

Hopefully you don’t mind my questions much, or my short letter. Pietro likes to read over my shoulder while I write and receive the letters, and I like to write at the kitchen table. There’s no escaping him. You’ve never talked about siblings, do you have them?

The rest of the letter was like that, aloof yet curious and bouncing around all the same, and then signed with her always rushed conclusion, which was nearly the same every time.

You read it and put the letter in the box that you had bought from a thrift store, a box just big enough for the size of the neatly folded and tied off letters that she gave you. You clipped the box shut and put it back under your desk, and then started working on your response.

Instead of just a letter, you sent her a letter in a small box that had the candy that you had gotten on Halloween night, and the mask that went with the rest of your costume. It wasn’t the Disney Princess that Wanda wanted to dress up as, but it was something. It was your something.

§§§

As the December portion of your letter writing, you and your penpal were supposed to learn of the other’s traditions during the Holidays, whether you or them celebrated or not. A huge slide show about the culture of your Sokovian friend was supposed to be shown, and you knew that there would be a lot of the same PowerPoints, a lot of the same pictures and sayings and explanations. You wanted something different. You also had no idea if Wanda did Christmas, but you had to ask.

Wanda,

I’m sure that you know that our assignment now is to present a slide show about what our penpal does during the Holiday season, but because I don’t know whether you celebrate Diwali or Christmas or Hanukkah, I’ll start with asking you about New Years, because I’ve never met a person who didn’t celebrate New Years.

What do you do on New Years Eve? I’ll start by telling you that I watch the ball drop with my family, eat food, and drink cider after it hits midnight. It’s a big deal here for us, because the new year is a time for self revolution, apparently. I’ve never done a New Years resolution, but maybe I’ll do one this year. Have you ever done one?

I know that food is very big over in Sokovia, so what kind of food do you traditionally have when you’re celebrating? Do you like it? Can you cook it yourself? Because I know that you have the same questions for me that you have to put in before you leave for Winter Break, I’ll answer my own questions.

And you did. You were thorough, partly because you thought that it was kind of you to do so because she should get a good grade, and also because she had written that she was thankful for your descriptions on multiple occasions. You had noticed that she was the more whimsical writer and that you came off as the more grounded one, and it intrigued you.

You wondered if you two would come off that way in person to other people, if you ever got the chance to meet.

When her letter came two weeks later, wrapped in aged string as always, you skipped to your bedroom, already pulling the box out from under the table and starting to read it. You smiled through the whole thing.

In her own way, not as precise or even in order as you, she had told you everything you needed to do a good slide show about Sokovia during the Holidays.

§§§

You were emotional at the end of the year. Not because you were leaving the sixth grade and going to a new building in the school and leaving behind your kind teachers, but because the pen pal assignment was over.

No other assignment had been so important to you, or eye opening. You were only twelve years old, but you were old enough to know that you had never found a friend like you had in Wanda, who was still thousands of miles away. No one else, not even the people that stood feet apart from you, offered you friendship like Wanda Maximoff did.

You couldn’t stop writing to her.

It was your turn to send a letter, the final letter that you were supposed to send, and then her closing letter was supposed to come two weeks later. You couldn’t just close it. Your entire mind was screaming at you to not close the book that you had hardly started yet.

So, as your pen rested on the parchment paper (without drafting first), you lifted it up, and changed your mentality from a “goodbye” to a hopeful and questioning one, as you hoped that she felt the same and wanted to talk just as much as you did.

Wanda,

It’s the end of the year. Technically, we should be done with our letters because it’s the end of the year, and the assignment is graded. This should be a closing letter, but I don’t think that our friendship was ever dictated by the grades that we got. We were always closer than all of the other pen pals at school that I knew, and I was hoping that you would want to continue writing.

You couldn’t write much more after that, because your pen was shaking and you were starting to get in the danger zone of dropping tears on the paper. If this was your last letter to Wanda, you wanted it to be pretty. Just half as pretty as she always made hers, if you could manage it.

You sent it off the next morning after finding an old string that was nearly the same colors as hers and getting your friend across the street to hold it down and color the outside of it for you.

§§

A part of you wanted to say that you wouldn’t have been expecting to still write handwritten letters to a girl in Sokovia in the ninth grade, but you certainly were. While everyone else in your class had lost contact after the assignments were done or tried and failed to keep contact afterwards, you and Wanda continued talking all through the years.

It astounded your parents, who were sure that in the beginning, you were just obsessed with someone who was your age and who wasn’t exactly like you. They thought for sure that you would have lost interest in talking to Wanda, but after three straight years, gas spent taking you to the post office, and money spent on special stamps and the same paper, they were starting to finally get the hint.

Because you were so close with Wanda, you hardly had close friends in your neighborhood, and maybe two or three at school. There was no one that knew you like Wanda did, and no one that knew Wanda like you did. One particular letter where you confessed probably the worst thing you had ever done to her that no one else knew was what finally let you know that she was the most judgement-free person in the world, and that you would do anything to keep her. You would never forget how the letter went, and how her response sounded. 

Wands, 

I’ve done something terrible. I may have accidentally gotten involved with a boy who already had a girlfriend, and I had no idea. I had literally no idea, and today she just called me out of nowhere and started crying over the phone to me, and I had no idea that he was with her. At all. It was so pitiful, and she’s not mad, and she says that she won’t tell anyone it was me, but still. She seemed to really like him, and I think I may have just ruined a relationship. I have no idea what to do, and all I feel is guilt. Nothing more or less. Should I send her something? Give her a gift card? I feel terrible because she was just so sweet about it.

The letter went on and on with your scripted rambling, so repetitive and panicked that you were shocked to know that Wanda had, in fact, read the entire thing. She got a message back to you rather quickly, and that made you both nervous about her verdict and glad, because you felt like with an answer so quick, she must not have judged you too harshly. You remembered opening it with shaky hands, and inhaling and exhaling when her first words after your nickname were “breath in” and “breathe out”. 

Wanda once said that writing to you was like writing to a diary who always wrote back, and you couldn’t agree more. She knew everything, and she never judged. And, when the time came for her to put all of her eggs in your basket of trust, you did the same for her. 

You distinctly remembered getting the few letters that you kept at the bottom of your letter stack, even though you liked to have them in chronological order. In the eighth grade, Wanda was having a crisis over her sexuality. Being anything but straight in Sokovia wasn’t the best thing to be, and you knew that. The first letter she ever sent you about her sexuality had dried spots on it, where she had obviously cried. Her handwriting wasn’t anywhere as neat as it usually was, and it sent you into a state of panic. 

We talk to each other about everything, so here I am asking for your advice because I won’t be getting anything here. I know that usually we keep our letters formal for aesthetic purposes, but I can’t this time. Also, no one other than you can read this. 

From there, she told you that she was sure that she liked women, and that she was even more sure that her parents would be upset at her. She told you that she had been dwelling on it for a while, thinking about it and having it weigh heavily on her mind. She was all over the board with it, from her parents being upset to her being afraid that you were going to be opposed to it as well, or tell her that she was “too young to think that way”. She ended the letter by telling you that you were the first person that she had ever told. 

You started your letter with your own confession, and Wanda Maximoff was the first one you ever told, too. You were past having your crisis, though, and you helped her through hers without a second of complaints. You always wished that you had someone to help you when you were down and questioning yourself, so you knew that you would be that for Wanda without hesitation. 

You two grew together even more, and by the ninth grade, you both knew that there wasn’t going to be anything in the world that could stop your letters. 

You came home one day after a long day and checked your mailbox out of habit, knowing that a letter wasn’t due for a few more days. But there it was, wrapped and sitting pretty for you. Your name was scrawled beautifully on the front in the handwriting that got better and better with every year, but you would recognize it anywhere. A smile grew onto your face as you walked to your front door, unlocking it and rushing inside to get to your desk. Of course, your name came first in the loopy letters.

I hope you’re doing alright! Things have been busy over here on my side of things, but never busy enough to not write you back. I just wondered, have been wondering for a while, really, if we were ever going to meet. We’ve been writing to each other for years, but I’ve never seen a picture of you. I know everything about you, but I’ve never met you. You are my best friend in the entire world, but I’ve never heard your voice. One day I would love to finally meet you. Would you be open to thinking about one of us flying out? Maybe after school is over for the both of us, we could make it happen. Number  

It was much longer than that, but that was what caught your attention, more than her description of her busy week did. You read the letter three times. And then again. Your heart thumped in your chest as you tried to get a grip on yourself, irrational nervousness gripping your throat like an iron fist.

You knew the day was coming. You knew that it was. You two didn’t know what the other looked like at all, and neither of you had ever asked. Sometimes, you thought about it, but other times you found that it really didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what she looked like because she was the best friend you had ever had, so you forgot about it. But that wasn’t what worried you.

The thought of meeting her nearly put you in cardiac arrest. You couldn’t meet her. What if you met and you two were totally bored of each other? What if how close you were on paper didn’t reflect at all in real life? What if you two found roadblocks in conversation that you never saw before? You didn’t want to meet her, not at all. You were terrified of it.

Because if you didn’t connect with Wanda on sight, then you doubted that you would ever be able to connect with anyone else. If you were wrong about Wanda being your person and her being yours, you would be crushed. If you figured out that the person who you gave your all for didn’t like you anymore after meeting you, you would die on the spot. You couldn’t afford to find it out.

You sat at your desk for an hour after reading her letter, smoothing your hand over the paper like you always did before you wrote your response. You knew what you needed to say, you just didn’t know how to say it.

What she had already written helped you, too. She was implying that they met up after graduation, which was still years away. You had time to hold off on it, to not talk about it for a while. You had some stall time in the bank, for sure. And you were going to use it.

§§§

You made the mistake of not putting the letter in your box.

Your mother came into your room, and she saw the letter. Your desk was typically off limits, so you were upset that she read it anyway, but what she said led all anger out of your body and made way for fear.

“You should totally go see your friend, sweetie!”

“What?”

“I’d pay for you to fly out,” your mom said. “I’d come with you, but I would pay for you to fly out and see your friend. You’ve been writing each other for three years now, and you’ve never seen each other. You guys should do it.”

“You’d fly me out to Sokovia?”

“You’re a great kid, of course I would.” You took the letter from her hands gently and put it in the box, and she gave you a look. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

You didn’t answer.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared to meet her,” you admitted plainly, and then your mother gave you a look.

“She seems so excited to, after all these years. She’s such a sweet girl, what are you worried about?”

You couldn’t answer that. Your fears were your own, and they sounded ridiculous out loud. They made no sense to everyone else, and sometimes not even to you. Wanda Maximoff was nothing but sweet and kind and a good friend, and there you were, trying to blow her off because you were scared of a possible lack of face to face connection.

“Can we just drop it?”

And you did. In fact, all four of you did, until later.

§§§

By the end of your junior year, you were done for. Not because of tests or applications or any of that, it was because you realized that you were in deep for Wanda Maximoff.

It all made sense. The need to keep writing to her, the excitement you had felt getting a letter since sixth grade, the way you marveled over her penmanship and loved everything that she said and did. You were so in love with her, and it was irreversible. You were in love with her and what the two of you created together. 

And you couldn’t lose that because of a bad meeting. 

You avoided the topic of going there or Wanda coming to you, and you finally got each other’s numbers so that you could text on some international texting app, but primarily, it was still the heartfelt letters with the occasional heart stamps and constant string coming your way. And you wouldn't haven’t wanted anything different. 

 You sat at your desk on the last day of school as you wrote to her, writing about how you were about to watch some of your slightly older friends graduate in a few days. You also mentioned how you were excited to be a senior and get through your last year of high school just so that you could go and do whatever it was that you wanted to do, because you were only seventeen, and you didn’t know anything. 

 Sunshine, 

I can’t wait to get out of high school. It’s not bad, just boring. I wish the people here were like you, and then maybe I could actually carry a conversation with them. Have you told your family yet? I told mine. My mom was… shocked to say the least, but she was fine with it. I think she might have suspicions about us writing to each other now, but who cares? I want to know if you’re alright. 

How’s your new job going? I know you were excited to get one, so I hope it’s treating you well. It’s funny that you and Piet work across the mall from each other. I knew it was gonna be like that, even though you said it wouldn’t be! You two are inseparable, it’s so cute. Does he have any idea what he wants to do after we get out of school? 

 I kind of think that I want to start my own business. A flower shop, maybe. You know how I sort of have a green thumb. I think it would be good for me to own something. What do you think? 

You wrote for about thirty minutes more, answering the questions she had asked you in a previous letter and signing your name at the bottom, a small smile on your face as you thought about her and her brother making food together like they always did. 

You loved her. You really did. 

§§§

 It was in the middle of your senior year when you realized what the problem with her coming was. You had been keeping it so far in the back of your mind that you didn’t even realize that the alarms were blaring in the back of your head. 

  You knew that if you saw Wanda in person once that you would never be able to let her go. You would have to pick up and move to her country or she would come to yours, and it would kill your mother for you to move. So, that would mean that you would be asking for Wanda to leave her own family to be with you, and you couldn’t be selfish.  

 So, you would be selfish in a way that was also selfless by holding off on seeing her. 

 You hadn’t told her that you loved her, and you planned on never admitting it. You were sure she kind of knew, even just a little, but she never said anything. The way that you were holding onto the idea of her probably said enough for her to know. You just hoped that she knew that you were in love with her as a friend, at least. Wanda was the type who needed to know that they were loved, and she so was. 

 You loved her without even knowing what she looked like. You loved her without knowing whether she had a nasty habit or if she was a neat freak. You loved her without seeing her in a dress or in your favorite color or even looking into her eyes. You had never even heard her voice before, but that didn’t matter at all. You fell in love with her hand writing, then the way that she wrapped her letters, and then her words themselves. And then, you just were in love with Wanda Maximoff. All of her. All that you knew. And the things that you didn’t.  

 You thought about a confession letter for a long time. You were terrified of it, to say the least, because what if it backfired? What if she thought that you were only interested because she came out to you? What if she thought that you didn’t mean it at all? 

Or worse, what if she just completely didn’t feel that way at all? What if the feeling she got when she wrote to you was nothing but platonic? That would be the biggest nightmare of all, and you had no idea how you were ever going to be able to pick up your fancy pen and put it to your special parchment after reading that. 

By the time that you finally stopped wrestling with yourself about whether you were going to tell her that you were in love with her, you got a letter in the mail. A heart stamp was on the outside and it was tied with the string it always was, and the familiarity calmed your racing heart. You opened it gently, like you did with all of the letters you got, and then you saw her familiar scrawl. 

How could someone’s handwriting feel like home? 

Moonlight, 

I would love to tell you about everything that’s been happening here, but I believe that it’s rather boring compared to what’s been bursting at the seams in my own mind. With every letter that I’ve ever written to you since we were thirteen, I’ve hesitated with my pen over telling you what I know has been true for years. I think that, finally, I know that I have something to say to you. I’ve always wanted to admit this to you, ever since the seventh grade. 

 I think that I fell in love with you, a long, long, time ago. I think that I know I did. I haven’t told you, and I never intended to tell you, because I was scared. I’m still scared here, as I write this letter, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore. 

  Pietro already knows, but he knew before I even did. I’m sure it has something to do with us being so in sync, that he knew where my heart, love, and loyalties were before I even knew myself. I tell you everything, and something as monumental as falling in love with someone, I believe that you should know. But I couldn’t tell you. Not in the beginning, and apparently, not even after a year or two. 

  I’ve never seen you or heard your voice or held your hand, but I don’t need that to know that I truly have fallen in love with the person that you are. You are a beautiful person with the most gorgeous soul I have ever had the privilege of talking to, and I think that we have stumbled upon a connection that we may never see again, if you feel the same way. 

 If this made you uncomfortable in any way, please tell me. I’m sorry if this came on too strong, or too up front. I never want to make you upset. 

 It’s okay if you don’t want to carry on writing to me after this letter. I just thought that I needed to tell you after all this time. We never lie to each other, and I think that this lie to save me from possible embarrassment or losing the greatest friend I have ever had has expired. Thank you as always for reading, Moonlight. 

 Your Sunshine, Wanda. 

Your jaw was slacked, and your mouth was open. Your heart was beating so quickly, but it wasn’t frantic. Your mind was going at a thousand miles a minute, but you were calm. You were supposed, but you weren’t. It simply felt… right. It felt like you had secretly been expecting it all along, like your soul had known the whole time, or maybe even like it had known that you felt the exact same way. It felt like you were receiving news that you had already heard about. 

But that didn’t take away any from the pure elation that you felt. You set the letter down so that you didn’t accidentally wrinkle it, and then put your head in your hands to hide your smile and think, like they would help you any. 

  She loves me. Wanda loves me. And not in the way that friends loved each other, that’s not how she loved you. She felt what you had been feeling, a bond so strong that it could be felt on paper. 

  Your hands shook as you reread the letter. You scanned over it for a second time, a third time, and you were tearing up by the fifth, finally setting it down again and leaving it on your desk. It didn’t deserve the beautiful darkness of the box where it’s predecessors went, not yet. Probably not ever. You would have framed it in the moment, if you could have. 

  Part of you was glad that she admitted it first. You were going to, one day, maybe. But the worst part was the hypothetical wait for the letter to cross the pond. Whoever sent the confession letter would have to wait about two weeks for a response, and that felt like forever. You knew that just as much as she did, and she still took the chance to do it. 

So, with the most fond and gentle smile on your face, you took out your special pen, wrote Sunshine as the entrance, and then professed your own love right back at her, trying as hard as you possibly could to make it as beautiful and raw for her as you felt on the inside, and as the one that she gave you. But, all you could think of were the first two sentences, but you knew that you were going to go for much longer than that. 

  Sunshine, 

Oh, Wanda. How I wish we were both brave enough to do this earlier. 

§§§

 By the end of your senior year, you two were dancing around each other, taking it slow, as if you both hadn’t professed your love for each other. You kept writing your steady letters to each other, the same nicknames, the same doting words and pretty scratched across the paper with dark ink. 

For the most part, nothing changed. But neither of you could deny the way that you wanted to see each other. And so, your time was up. You had to stop messing around. 

  The first time the two of you planned to see each other, it was supposed to happen over that summer break. It was supposed to be a nice experience for everyone, at a time that was actually pretty convenient. 

  And then, right during the week she was supposed to come, her aunt passed away, right in her sleep. It didn’t even come to your mind to think about rescheduling so fast, and that was the first time you had ever gotten an email from Wanda. She emailed you the morning that she found out, saying that she would rather send the first email than have you show up at the airport upset because you didn’t know she wasn’t coming. She was able to resell her ticket and you assured her that it was totally okay for her to not be coming, and you gave her condolences, as well. Wanda was very close to her family, and you knew that she felt that loss. 

  The next time the plans fell through, it was because you were going to surprise her. Your mom paid for your ticket, and you had finally grown out of your own mind and realized that it was going to be what it was regarding meeting Wanda. But, when you emailed her two nights before, spilling the beans because you didn’t want to just go to the airport without knowing how the hell to get around, you got a quick response. Turns out, she wasn’t anywhere near her house, or the airport. She was on a marine biology trip in some waters off the coast of Romania, and she hadn’t gotten the chance to write you all about it yet. You begrudgingly canceled the trip and told her that of course, it was alright. That night, your mom assured you that the two of you would just try again later.

 But then life happened. You went off to culinary school, a last minute yet sure decision after Wanda had taught you that there was so much more to love about food other than the taste. She had your new address and you had hers, because she moved from Sokovia to Italy for her marine biology major. The letters came and went faster, with the smaller amount of mileage. 

   Long story short, neither of you had enough money to go and spend thousands on a trip, and not even one helping the other out or splitting the cost helped much. Wanda was getting increasingly nervous about whether it was ever going to happen, and though she never stated it directly, it was very obvious. You were getting there, too. 

 The thing that kept you going was the letters. The same as they had always been on her end and yours, they were the one constant in your life. Wherever you went, you knew that her letters would follow you, and that you would still write from your heart and send your own across the sea over to some place in Europe. You knew that as long as her letters were lengthy and detailed and that if she took the time to wrap them as gently as she had been, that you two were strong. And as long as you kept giving advice and writing her entire short stories about you week, she knew that you were still hers. 

  You would be hers until your heart stopped beating, and long after that. You were there for her for as long as she wanted you to be, and that was widely known. 

§§§

It took four years for you to get back home and in a place where you could afford a ticket in or out. Wanda took a little longer, but that didn’t matter. It only gave you even more time to save and plan for when she came, and the date came. 

You were both twenty two when you bought her the winning ticket. You were flying her out to Florida for a week and a half. The Keys, to be exact. You knew that she was going to love it and the beautiful waters that came with it, and it was away from the meddling eyes and mouths of your family, the ones who had been routing for you from afar (and in the beginning, behind your back). It was just going to be the two of you in a condo, and you knew that it was going to be heaven on earth. 

 Now, hell on earth was the anticipation of waiting at the airport. You had no idea what Wanda Maximoff looked like, partially because it didn’t matter while you two wrote, and also because you wanted to see her for the first time in person. You two had a flare for dramatic romantics, another reason that you two clicked so well. 

  You stood with a sign that you had made the night before with paint that you had mixed yourself into her favorite shade of red, a scarlet, almost pink color. You were in a sundress because it was sweltering outside, and you were almost nervous about how she would take the heat after being somewhere so cold all of her life. You were rocking back and forth on your feet without even noticing, and your stomach growling was the last of your worries. Your heart was racing and your hands were shaking, but you willed them to stay still so that she could at least have a chance of reading it. 

  You were sure that you were about to pass out. It seemed like it had been millennia and a day all the same with her in your life. Everything that you had written each other was really about to come to life, after ten long years. You felt almost like it wasn’t real at all, like you were about to be woken up by your alarm back in your apartment over at your old school. But it was very, very real, and all the receipts and your racing heart advocated for the truth in it all. 

The gates opened, and all of a sudden, people were lazily walking out, as one would do after a long flight. You were certain that the woman who was standing next to you could hear you start to slightly hyperventilate, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to you in that moment was Wanda. 

  A man came up from behind you and bumped you, and he said his apologies while you bent down to pick up the sign. Despite your nervousness, you stopped to tell him that it was okay, sign still face down on the floor. He grinned at you and then frowned when he looked up, causing you to mirror his expression. 

 Your name. It was clear as day, accented, close, and sounded like a sigh of relief and wonder floating in the wind. It came from a woman you didn’t know the voice of, and just like that, you remembered what you were doing. You left the sign on the floor, stood up, and turned around as fast as you could, eyes slightly wild as they soaked in everything about the woman standing in front of you. 

  Her hair was almost a cross between light brown and light red, even in the fake lights of the airport. She had light makeup on and she looked a little tired from the flight, but the look of elation on her face wiped it all away. Her pink lips were curved into an open mouthed smile, like she had forgotten the words while they were already halfway to her tongue. Your heart raced as you looked at her, and you didn’t even need to question who she was. Or who she was to you. You couldn’t look at anything but her face, the face you had been missing so achingly without ever seeing it before, the face that you knew was bound to give you comfort that you had never felt one in your life, until the end of your days. Her eyes were wide and a clear blue as they stared back at you, reflecting your exact expression, and you sensed that the two of you had already synced up and gotten on the same page, just like you had both predicted.

 “O-oh my god,” you breathed out, just inches away from her. “Wanda!” You went in for an embrace at the same time, both of you somehow knowing which way to lean your head to avoid collision, and just where to put your arms. You fought shaking when you held her, your nerves completely shot at it finally happening. You were actually with Wanda, in an airport, hugging her like there was all the time to spend in the world. “Oh my god,” you repeated, and you felt her squeeze you a little closer to her. You could have cried in that moment. 

 “You,” she pulled back from you to take your face in her hands, her blue eyes scanning over your face like she was studying priceless art. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it was the way she looked when she watched the animals underwater. She shook her head slowly, eyes welling up with the thinnest layer of tears as her lips turned up into a smile. “You are beautiful.”

  Your heart skipped a beat as you looked downwards, feeling yourself get hot at the bold and sincere compliment. You knew that anything more than about three words was going to smoke you stutter “Wanda, have you seen yourself?” She laughed, a soft sound that you had imagined hearing so many times that you almost thought you had made it up, until you saw the upturn of her mouth and the mirth in her eyes.

 “I’m- I can’t believe I’m actually here,” Wanda breathed out, and you felt the same exact way. How had you pulled it off? After nearly a decade of pining that was mutual and writing to each other about every little detail in your lives, she was finally right in front of you, where you could see her and touch her. 

  “How’d you know it was me?” You asked after a second of grappling for something to say. “I didn’t have my sign up when you came.” 

 The smile that was on her face went from being flat out joyful to content, almost peaceful. It rubbed off on you immediately as you leaned back into her touch, ignoring all of the people bustling around in the busy airport. “I just knew that it was you.” 

§§§

For the entirety of the day Wanda arrived, all the two of you did was stare at each other and hold onto each other, like you were both equally terrified that the gods were going to come down from wherever they resided to split you up again. There was hardly even any talking when you arrived at the condo, and it felt natural. The two of you had already spoken so much, and now you needed to catch up on just seeing her. You’ve seen her soul, her mind, her heart, and now you were seeing her face. It felt like you had always known it. 

 But you were the first one to speak as you held hands on the deck, her thumb drawing subconscious hearts on the back of your palm. “You have a way with words, sunshine.” The name contrasted to the sky, which was dark but illuminated with an almost full moon and stars. The city was mostly behind you, so the natural light was what you got. It was all that you needed. 

 You felt her content fade into joy. “Really?” 

You knew that she was nervous about her English, but to you, it was perfect. From her accent to the way that she sometimes missed connotations that were specific to the language to the idioms that accidentally slipped into your letters, you loved it. “Mhm,” you hummed, leaning your head on her shoulder. “And I never would have imagined that you sounded so… sweet.” 

 “Sweet?” She parroted, and you smiled even though she couldn’t see it. Somehow, you knew that she could feel it, in some strange way. “Can I ask you something?” The answer was yes. It was yes, and it always would be yes. So, you said that. She cleared her throat, a quiet sound that you stored in your memory to keep, simply because she made it. “Did you… did you mean what you wrote?” 

 You were stumped. There had to be hundreds of letters between the two of you, and thousands upon thousands of topics. But you couldn’t question yourself for long, because then you knew exactly what she was talking about. 

  Did you truly love Wanda? The question came up a few times between you and your mother when you were in your first year of culinary school. Were you in love with Wanda Maximoff, or were you in love with the idea of Wanda and the mystery she brought? The question had been brought up, many times by your mother, who was only just making sure that you were being smart, and the answer never once varied. Yes. You loved Wanda Maximoff with every breath you took, every stroke of your pen, every glance at her pretty script. You knew that Wanda was it for you, and seeing her only solidified it. The way your hand fit together like they were the missing parts of a lost artifact made it concrete. The way she gave you everything back and the way you did the same told you everything you needed to know. 

  You leaned off of her shoulder and turned to face her, a soft smile on your face as the moon came out from behind the singular patch of clouds in the night, illuminating her features. You saw her face and her spirit through brand new eyes, and it was wonderful. It was all you could ever ask for. “Wanda,” you started, your voice quiet enough to not disturb the moment, and the sound of waves crashing not too far away. “I’ve loved you since I knew what love was, and I have been in love with you for as long as I knew what the difference between the two really was. Everything that I have ever sent to you, every word, I meant it all. And I’ll mean it for the rest of my life.” 

 She was staring at you blankly, with only a bit of something lingering in her gaze. Then, as soft as a breeze, she was muttering something under her breath in her mother tongue and putting her hand on your face. “Can I kiss you?” 

You ignored the way that your heart surged in your chest. The moon was still out and bright, shining down on the two of you like you had paid for it to be a spotlight. “You never have to ask,” you said, and then, as fluidly and gently as humanly possible, she tilted her head and leaned forward, and you met her halfway. 

§§

You had never been scuba diving before, but Wanda was in her element. She helped you suit up after she told the instructor that she was certified, and then rolled her eyes playfully when he checked behind her work. You cracked a smile. The entire time he was instructing, she was nearly bursting at the seams to get into the water, and the second he said that the two of you were allowed to go, she was holding your hand and asking if you were ready. 

 You never thought that Wanda could look more beautiful than she already had, but in and near the water, she was something else. She was in a state of grace and peace all the same, and you wanted nothing more than for her to be so tranquil, for the rest of her life. All you wanted in return was to be privileged to see it. 

The gods that made you fear a bad trip were actually on your side, because Wanda excitedly pointed out a group of migrating sea turtles, not even paying either of you any mind at all, carrying about through nature. You smiled at them and at her, unable to decide which one was going to be the apple of your eye at the moment. You chose her. 

§§§

You got out of the shower, your skin still slightly damp and the air humid from the heat of the water. You smiled at Wanda when you caught her looking at you, giving you that same blank stare that she had the first night the two of you got there. You stopped in your tracks, giving her the encouraging look that you knew she needed. “You okay, Wands?” 

 “I love you.” 

Your breath hitched. It was the first time she had spoken the words aloud, and you both knew it. The weight of the words and the confession felt so true, so genuine, that it went straight to your heart and made it swell with warmth. A small yet generous smile stretched onto your face as you felt everything fall into place. “I love you, Wands.” 

  “More than I’ve ever loved anything,” she continued, like she hadn’t even heard you, and you looked back at her with a doting expression. “And, I’ve been holding off because I don’t know how to say that,” she paused, and then she fell into deep thought. 

 You took a step closer, assuming that the small language barrier had come up. When it took her more than a few seconds and you saw the little scrunch of confusion between her brows appear, you spoke up. “There’s no rush,” you said gently. 

“If other people were to look at us, they would say that we have only known each other for three days,” she said, and you nodded. “But, I feel that we’ve known each other for thousands of years. I feel that we were made to meet, and that we were always going to no matter what came up. Why else would we both be so focused on talking to each other? I have always seen you as someone special to me, always, but now that we have finally seen each other face to face, I think that my… heart is recognizing you as it’s other part.” 

 You had no words in your mind at that moment, because they were all in your heart. You couldn’t open your mouth to convey the pure shock and relief that you felt at her admitting something that you had been feeling the whole time. You swallowed and felt your eyes burn with tears, but before they could fall past your cheeks, Wanda stood up and wiped them from your face before pulling you close. 

  Nothing mattered. Not the fact that you were still wet and she was in her pajamas, not the fact that you were in a towel, not the fact that the pizza man was knocking at the door. It was you and her, like it always had been in your mind, and Wanda’s too. 

  You were it for her, and she was it for you. And while you hugged it out in that beautiful condo in Florida, you silently thanked your sixth grade English teacher for making you write to a random girl your age all the way across the Atlantic, and you thanked Wanda for being the one who wrote her way right into your life. 

so. uh! hiiii! i hope y’all liked it! i loved writing it, even though she was a lil bit of a challenge, not gonna lie. feedback is always appreciated!!

[limjaeseven]

You’re My Light

Pairing: Hoseok X Reader

Word Count: 5,336

Genres: Smut, Fluff

Summary: A call from your best friend inviting you to the yearly Diwali celebration has you and your boyfriend really excited but what would happen when you stumble across your troublesome ex on such a good day?

Warnings: oral sex (m&f receiving) sub!reader, dom!Hoseok, Sir kink, ass spanking, sex toys, bondage, overstimulation, creampie, dirty talk

[A/n]: I’ve been working on this for so long and I’m so glad to finally post it. Thanks to @uwugalore for giving me the honour of starting this project off. Shout out to @jamaisjoons for writing that last part and all the other people in the collab who helped out every step of the way

25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Anthology Masterlist

You had just finished an important business meeting when you got a call from your childhood best friend and partner in crime, Dhiraj. 

“Hey D, what’s up,” you asked as you jammed the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you pressed the button on the lift. 

“Nothing much, kiddo. Just called to invite you to the Diwali function next weekend. Knowing how busy you were, I knew it wasn’t likely you’d see my email. And when I didn’t get a response, I decided I had to call you. So, please check your emails more often,” he scolded. 

Working at KM Entertainment was hard work and it left you little time for yourself. You were pretty sure half your friends were going to leave you for not responding to their texts for weeks. The only person you had time for was your boyfriend, Jung Hoseok. 

“I’m sorry, D. You know how busy I am. I’ll check the mail and I’ll come for sure. See you there, bye,” You said before cutting the call. 

Now, to convince your boyfriend to come along with you.

It’s not that Hoseok didn’t like your family, he loved them. He just didn’t enjoy the questions of ‘when are you getting married’ that all the uncles and aunties asked. That’s why he didn’t like to come along with you when you went home. He loved meeting your parents as long as it was either at your guys’ place or a restaurant. 

You had grown up in a small Indian community in Seoul, full of people who mainly worked at the tech companies or hospitals in the city, i.e. it was a typical Indian society. Everyone was a doctor or engineer. That’s why when you sought out to become a music producer, the uncles and aunties weren’t happy. Your parents on the other hand were very supportive and encouraging.

That’s how you met Hoseok. He was a choreographer at KM Entertainment, the record label you worked for. One of your co-workers told you about him and basically got you to go on a blind date with him. You guys had instantly hit it off and became the most loved couple in the office. 

So, coming back to the Diwali celebration, you really wanted to go. Diwali was your absolute favourite festival of all time. Where as everyone was excited for Halloween and Christmas, you were the only person who cared about Diwali. You loved the festival because it was a night full of adrenaline, fire crackers, and sweets. It was six hours of good, pure, unadulterated fun. Especially, when it was with your friends.

You had four best friends growing up: Arshad, Rajveer, Dhiraj, Alex. The five of you were truly the best of friends. All of you lived in the same building and went to the same small public school together. You guys lived by the ‘one for all, all for one’ philosophy. If you got a new boyfriend, they would have to approve him first before he was allowed to date you. Being the only girl in the group, they were quite protective of you.

So, the fact that your friends hadn’t met your boyfriend i.e. Hoseok, was driving them crazy. That’s why they had Dhiraj personally call you, cause they knew you wouldn’t turn him down. You had always had a soft spot for him. You were just hoping Hoseok would say yes because you yourself hadn’t seen the boys in a while.

“Hey, babe,” you said as you entered the house, calling out to your boyfriend, who was sitting on the couch watching TV. 

“Hey love! How was your day,” Hoseok asked as you sat down on the couch next to him. 

“It was alright. I do have some news to share though." 

Seeing your nervous expression, Hoseok got a bit worried too and sat up straight, looking concerned.

"Don’t tell me you’re breaking up with me,” Hoseok said and you burst out laughing. 

“Of course not, babe. I’m not breaking up with you. I wanted to ask you if you’d accompany me to the Diwali celebration this weekend with my family and friends,” you said. Hoseok had known you enough to tell that you were hiding something, so he raised an eyebrow at you.

“The catch is it’s at my home,” you said and Hoseok immediately refused. 

“No way.”

“Please baby, I really want to go,” you pouted and managed the best puppy eyes you could.

“Alright fine!" 

Hoseok sighed and you hugged him, thanking him continuously. Smothering his face with kisses, you told him how much you loved him. 

"Babe, what is Diwali,” Hoseok asked out of nowhere and you facepalmed. You had completely forgotten that your boyfriend didn’t know about this famous festival.

“It’s a long story, so brace yourself,” you said. “There are two major epics in Hindu culture, the Ramayan and the Mahabharat. Diwali is based on the former. Dasharath is the King of Ayodha and has three wives, Kausalya, Kaikeyi, and Sumitra. They bear him four sons, Ram, Laxman, Bharath, and Shatrughan. Ram is the perfect son and the heir to the throne. Kaikeyi, Bharath’s mother loves Ram just like her own son. But she is manipulated and convinced that it is her son that should be the ruler of Ayodha and so, she approaches King Dasharath.

“She brings up an old debt he owes her and tells him to exile Ram to the forest for 14 years and to make Bharath the crown prince. The king is devastated but has no choice and so Ram, along with his wife, Sita and brother, Laxman, leave for the forest. While living there, Shurpanakha, a demoness becomes infatuated with Ram and tries to kill Sita. Laxman ends up wounding her and she runs to her brother, Ravan and asks him to avenge her. Ravan had heard of the beautiful Sita and decides to abduct her as revenge. 

“Ravan is able to trick both Ram and Laxman into leaving their house in the forest, leaving Sita behind. While they are away, he manages to abduct her and take her away to the island of Lanka. Ram and Laxman travel far and wide to find Sita, but to no avail. They finally come across a band of vanaras, or monkey-men, who pledge to help him. One of the warriors of the vanaras, Hanuman, becomes Ram’s devotee. The vanaras seek out traces of Sita and find she has been taken to Lanka. Hanuman flies to Lanka and contacts Sita and informs her of Ram’s whereabouts, promising that they will be back to rescue her. Before returning to the mainland, Hanuman sets fire to the whole city of Lanka.

“Ram, Lakshman, and the vanaras army build a causeway from the tip of India to Lanka. They travel to Lanka, where an epic battle follows between the armies. Ravana is finally killed by Ram, and Sita is freed. The day Ram returns to Ayodha with Sita and Lakhman after his 14 year exile, and after having slayed Ravan, is celebrated as Diwali.”

“Wow,” Hoseok said, overwhelmed. 

“I know it’s a lot, but I’m so happy that we’re going. Let me call Jiwoo, we need new clothes to wear,” you said before getting up to call your best friend. You met up and she helped you design the outfits. 

“We’re here,” you said excitedly as you stepped out of the car. You picked up the box of sweets and headed towards your building. Hoseok knocked on the door and your dad opened it. “Y/n, Hoseok! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Come inside,” he said. You both stepped inside and were greeted by your mom. The four of you had a chat over chai and sweets.

“You both look so good. Where did you get these clothes from?” Your mother asked and you told her how Hoseok’s sister was a designer and you both designed them together. It was your idea and her expertise made them perfect. 

A navy blue lehenga comprising of a short blouse and a full length skirt for you and a sherwani that fell till Hoseok’s knees for him. Detailed with gold embroidery, Jiwoo had gotten in touch with a woman who specialised in that type of work. Small mandalas that you designed decorated the dresses.

“It’s time for puja. The three of you, come with me." 

You and Hoseok followed your mom and headed to your prayer room. She taught Hoseok how to do the prayer and he happily helped. You father smiled at you as you both watched your mom bonding with your boyfriend. After you finished praying, you gave your boyfriend a kiss on the cheek and complimented him for doing the puja.

"It’s time to go,” your mom said. You nodded and the four of you got up to leave. 

“Where are we going,” Hoseok questioned. You just smiled at him as you guys walked towards the local school. As soon as you reached the school grounds, Hoseok’s eyes widened. 

“Welcome to our yearly Diwali Mela,” you exclaimed as you gave him a tour. There were multi coloured tents that sold everything from snacks to jewellery. The scent of cardamom and cinnamon flooded the air as you crossed the stall selling biryani. There were a good selection of rides as well, all of them bringing back memories from your childhood.

You were about to buy yourself and your boyfriend some Pani Puri when someone hugged you from behind. Just the scent of his perfume could tell you who it was. In the 15 years that you knew him, he never wore any other perfume. 

“D! It’s so nice to see you again,” you shouted, turning around to hug him properly. 

“Hey, y/n! Hey, Hoseok! I’m glad you guys could make it. The guys have been waiting for you,” Dhiraj said before dragging your away.

“Look who’s here,” Arshad said when he saw you. Individually hugging each one of your friends, you introduced them to Hoseok. 

“This is Arshad, Rajveer, and Alex. Don’t take anything they say seriously,” you warned Hoseok but your friends just laughed. 

“Y/n, Seema has some work for you, why don’t you let us have a friendly chat with your boyfriend over here,” Alex said.

“Okay, fine. Don’t you dare trouble him,” you warned before turning to leave. On your way, you gave Hoseok a chaste kiss on his cheek and whispered, “They’re harmless, don’t worry." 

You went to find Seema when you saw her standing by the stage in the middle of the ground. 

"You needed me?" 

She turned around and gave you a hug before asking you a couple of questions. You agreed to what she said and followed her backstage.

"So, Hoseok, how long have you two been dating,” Rajveer asked. They were sitting in the back row on some plastic chairs that were arranged in front of the stage. 

“Our second anniversary is next month,” Hoseok replied. The boys seemed pretty nice. They knew you inside out and really cared for you.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t going to ask you when you’re getting married,” Arshad laughed. Hoseok looked mortified. He thought you told them about him. 

“Did y/n tell you that,” Hoseok asked. All four of them burst out laughing. 

“No, she didn’t but we were sure you would have been asked that question a million times cause y/n is our community’s sweetheart. She has always been the perfect friend, daughter, niece, student, you name it. She was really popular in school for being the best dancer. All of the people here want her married off to a good guy,” Dhiraj explained.

Hoseok took a sip of the beer they gave him when he realised something. “Wait a minute, did you say dancer?" 

They nodded. Hoseok was confused. He never knew you danced. You had never mentioned it before. Just when he was about to ask the boys another question, the lights on the stage turned on and the music started playing. It was a peppy Bollywood song. The dancers danced gracefully on the stage. But what shocked Hoseok was the person standing center stage.

You, in all your glory, were standing in the middle of the stage, dancing to the beat. Your movements were fluid and flawless. Hoseok’s jaw dropped as he watched you go through the choreography. Being a dancer himself, he could see the technique as well as the grace in your dancing. Your skirt swirled beautifully, complementing your each movement.

Hoseok stood there, mesmerized as you finished performing and stepped off the stage. The crowd clapped loudly and you folded your hands together and bowed. When your eyes met Hoseok’s, you were quick to look away.

Dhiraj gave you a tight hug and complemented your dancing. Hoseok was still with the rest of the boys when someone called for you and you disappeared. 

"She’s a wonderful dancer, isn’t she,” Alex asked and Hoseok agreed. He told your friends that he needed a drink and went to look for you. 

You were speaking to one of your childhood friends when you noticed something. It was an old dirt path that went behind your school. The memories came back to you. You walked along the path and reached your hideout from when you were young. It was a small patch of grass atop a small hill. You sat down and looked up at the sky, reminiscing about the good times you had had in that very place.

Someone sat down behind you, but you were too lost in your own thoughts to notice them. They cleared their throat and you turned around and gasped. Your ex smiled at you and you quickly stood up. 

“I’m leaving,” you said as you walked away. He grabbed a hold of your wrist and pulled you to him. 

“Where are you going, love,” he cooed.

“Leave me alone, Jimin,” you said. 

Jimin was the only non-Indian kid in your school and you helped him around and ended up falling for him. It was you, who introduced him to your community. They absolutely loved him and he ended up moving in when he graduated. The both of you dated for about three years before you found out that he had cheated on you with your best friend. He begged you to forgive him and you eventually did.

But then, the day before your fourth anniversary, you walked in on him fucking the same best friend. It was only when he realised that you were absolutely ready to leave that he confessed that he had been with her off and on for almost a year. That day, you applied for a college far from your home and made sure not to come back often so that you didn’t have to meet him.

“Still feisty, huh? I missed you so much, love,” he said. His hand stayed firmly on the small of your back, exposed due to the short length of your top. You squirmed in his hold but he tightened his other hand around your wrist. Trying to push away from him, he pulled you closer to him and kissed you. You didn’t reciprocate the kiss but tried to get away from him.

“The boys said you’d be he—” Hoseok gasped as he saw you kissing some random guy. Jimin finally release you and you ran to Hoseok. 

“It’s not what it looks like, baby,” you said as you hugged you. 

“Who are you,” Hoseok asked Jimin. 

“Park Jimin,” he said and Hoseok immediately understood the whole situation. You had told him about your ex before.

“Get away from me, you cheater,” Hoseok said and pushed you away. 

“Please, Hoseok, listen to me,” you begged and Jimin smirked. He was really enjoying watching the scene unfold. The anger and resentment was evident on his face. Hoseok walked up to him and grabbed his collar. 

“Stay away from me unless you want your pretty face broken." 

Jimin looked genuinely scared. He quickly scurried away and Hoseok looked back at you.

You were sitting on the ground, crying. You had gone through a horrible break up with Jimin and all the memories flooded back to you. Hoseok was your everything, you wanted to marry the man someday. Your boyfriend sat down next to you and put his arm around you. 

"I know that you didn’t kiss him on purpose. I just wanted to make sure and seeing him smirk when I called you a cheater, I knew it was him who kissed you,” Hoseok said. You hugged him tight and explained exactly what happened.

“I know you wouldn’t do such a thing to me, y/n. I just hated the fact that he hurt you so badly and still had the audacity to touch you. I would have broken his nose if I could” Hoseok comforted you.

Caressing your face, he cooed and tried to calm you down. That’s when you heard a loud sound. The frown on your face disappeared and you pointed at the sky. Beautiful colours filled the sky and the sound of sizzling filled your ears as the crackers burst above you. You had once told Hoseok that your favourite memory was laying in your hideout and watching the crackers.

You both layed down and watched them, fingers interlocked. Hoseok struggled to keep his eyes on the sky as his gaze would always wander back to your face. He couldn’t help but admire your flawless features and pretty smile. You looked at him and saw him staring at you, specifically at your lips. Turning onto your side, you held the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss.

You don’t remember most of it, but you somehow said your goodbyes to your family and friends and got to the car. You were wrapped in Hoseok’s spare jacket as Hoseok played his ‘songs for sex playlist’. You had always found the playlist ridiculous mainly for including songs like 'Give It To Me’, 'Singularity,’ and most importantly, 'Expensive Girl’. 

The moment Hoseok parked the car you rushed out to call the lift. Hoseok followed behind silently before he pinned you against the wall of the elevator when it arrived and kissed you roughly. He pulled  you out of the lift when you reached your floor and quickly unlocked the door. You haphazardly took your heels off while Hoseok closed the door. 

He throws you over his shoulder before you could utter a word, cause a yelp to escape you and took you to the bedroom before dropping you onto the bed. Your clothes, quickly discarded and you were pinned beneath your boyfriend. He devoured you with deep kisses as both your lungs strained for air, his soft lips coming down on yours aggressively. 

Hoseok makes his way down your body, littering kisses here and there. His fingers snake around you to take your bra off before it is thrown away into a corner. Mouth attaching to one nipple, he uses his hand to massage your other breast before switching. He nips at your skin till he finds your sweet spot and sucks hard, making you moan and squirm in his hold.

He placed a chaste kiss on your belly button before getting up to walk to the closet. Rummaging through the drawer, he picked out a few things before returning to you. He pried open your legs and settled between them before grabbing both your hands and bringing them to the front. He tied your wrists together with some red rope.

You knew he was pissed off about the whole Jimin thing and the only way he would calm down was by punishing you. Not that you minded, though. You were such a brat that you would go out of your way to ask him for punishments or act bratty just to get him to punish you. Once he finished tying you, he tapped his thigh and you got up off the bed. Over the years that you’d been together, you both had developed a sort of non-verbal communication system.

You bent over his lap, your ass in the air. Hoseok grabbed the leather paddle from the nightstand and ran it over your backside and thighs. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you awaited the first blow. It came down harshly and you hissed at the pain. 

“One, thank you, Sir,” you muttered. 

The rough edges of the paddle made dark blue and purple lines on your ass. Bruises formed all over you as Hoseok continued to deliver hits. The hits got harsher as they came down on your skin.

“Twenty, thank you, Sir,” you said as tears streamed down your face and your boyfriend finally dropped the paddle on the floor. He tapped his foot twice on the floor and you immediately got up.

Kneeling in front of him, you settled between his spread knees and looked down at the carpet. You winced as you sat down on your sensitive ass. 

“What an obedient slut you are, aren’t you? But you still had to make Sir mad and you’re going to pay for it. Open,” he commanded and you immediately dropped your jaw, opening your mouth as widely as possible. Digging his thumb into the hollow of your cheek, he made you open your mouth wider, making your jaw hurt.He pushed his boxers off letting his already hard cock out of the dark material.

“I’m going to fuck your throat and you’re just going to take it all, understood?” he warned and you nodded.

A sharp pain blossomed across your cheek as Hoseok slapped you. 

“Yes, Sir,” you corrected yourself. Without further delay, he stuffed his cock down your throat making you gag, but he didn’t relent and continued until your nose brushed up against his pelvis. You willed yourself to breathe through your nose as Hoseok thrusted in and out of your mouth. Tears and saliva dripped down your face, making you look like a mess. Hoseok smirked down at you and thrusted even harder.

Your muffled moans and his grunts filled the room. Your throat felt all rough from your boyfriend’s relentless pounding. His balls slapped against your chin, making your face hurt. You were just about to tap out when Hoseok gave out a broken moan and came down your throat. You swallowed it all and opened your mouth to show Hoseok. He patted your head before tucking his hands under your armpits and lifting you onto the bed. With your head down and your ass up in the air, he spread your knees apart after discarding your panties so that you couldn’t move.

You moaned as you felt his tongue flick your clit. He immediately stopped and lifted you up by the hair. Grabbing the ball gag, he fastened it around your head. 

“Shh, babygirl, you don’t want to make Sir angry, do you,” he cooed and you whined. 

Getting back to work on your core, he inserted two fingers inside you, curling them and finding your g-spot. Muffled cries escaped your lips as your orgasm drew near. Just when you were about to cum, Hoseok pulled away.

“My little slut knows better than to cum without Sir’s permission, right,” he asked before pressing his favourite vibrator against your lower lips. Tears streamed down your face as your orgasm started building up again. Your legs shook as you tried not to cum. Hoseok didn’t stop even though your moans were getting more and more desperate. Before you could tell him to stop, he threw the vibrator away and without warning, he sheathed himself inside you in one smooth stroke. You squealed through your gag as started thrusting.

Gripping your thighs harshly, he pounded in and out of you at a slow yet hard pace. You whimpered and tried to tell him to go faster but were muffled by the gag. 

“Want me to go faster, whore? Then beg for it,” Hoseok hissed and you continued trying to beg with the gag still in your mouth. He just chuckled. He slowed down further just to frustrate you.

“What a pathetic bitch, can’t even beg properly.” Hoseok pulled the gag out of your mouth and let it hang around your neck. 

“Pl-please, go faster, Sir,” you begged, which he rewarded with a slap to your already bruised ass causing you to whimper. He humoured you by going a tad bit faster but not fast enough to get you to cum.

“Faster, Sir, please. Please,” you begged further and Hoseok finally gave in, pounding into you at an inhuman pace. Broken moans escaped you as he abused your g-spot and grinded against it. 

“So tight,” Hoseok gritted.

“Are you close, babygirl,” Hoseok asked in a soft voice. You nodded which resulted in another slap to your ass. 

“Use your words, slut,” Hoseok said. 

His fingers tightened around your thighs, sure to leave bruises, not that you minded them. You loved to see marks that your boyfriend left on your body.

“Please Sir, I’m s-so close. Please, let me c-cum,” you muttered. The pleasure was getting too much to handle. You needed to cum but you knew very well that if you came without Hoseok’s permission, you wouldn’t be getting any sleep. 

“Go ahead, cum for Sir,” Hoseok cooed and you let your body fall over the edge. 

You chanted his name as you came. He helped you ride out your orgasm, but didn’t stop even after you came down from your high. Fucking you into overstimulation, you cried as he reached his own high. Cumming deep into your pussy, he pulled out and rolled over to lay down next to you. Both of you laid there in bed for a few minutes to catch your breath.

He untied you and ran a bath for the both of you before picking you up from the bed and carrying you into the bathroom, setting you on the counter. He sat in the tub and pulled you in to sit between his legs. After a long relaxing bath, both of you collapsed on the bed, limbs tangled. 

As you stared at your boyfriend’s beautiful face, you recalled the incidents that had taken place over the course of the previous hours and felt an indescribable feeling towards him. Your love for him was infinite but it somehow continued to grow.  

Over the next couple of days, you didn’t leave your studio at all. You barely interacted with Hoseok during this period of time. You slept on the couch in your studio a few times and other times you would get home really late and leave really early. Your boyfriend was getting nervous and was confused as to why you were behaving in such a manner. He was worried that he went too overboard that night and that you were mad at him.

In reality, you had gotten this idea stuck in your head since the day of the Diwali celebration that you just needed to get out and the only way you knew how, was to make a song about it. So, that’s exactly what you did, spending those days composing and writing nonstop. When you were finally done, you recorded it to send it to the team for approval. Once you got the thumbs up from the higher ups, you send it to the group you were in charge of for final recording.

Hoseok was in his dance studio when one of his co-workers came in to give him a new song for him to choreograph. The track was titled, 'Lights,’ and he played it on the speaker to hear it and start working on it. He heard the signature synth sound that you added to every song that you produced, a sort of signature, if you will, to indicate that the song was made by you. As the song played, his eyes filled up with tears.

“When I close my eyes

In the darkness, your light

Lights the way for me

We can walk forward without fear, you & I woah

You’re my light you’re my light

Always shine into my heart

You’re my light you’re my light

No matter how far apart we are

Your light shines on me”

He realised why you hadn’t been interacting with him and he also felt guilty for doubting your love for him. He concocted a plan to surprise you. You had revealed to him quite a secret recently that helped his plan perfectly.

You got a call from Hoseok in the middle of a writing session, asking you to come down to his dance studio in half an hour. You finished your session just in time and headed towards your boyfriend’s practice room. When you knocked on the door, Hoseok asked you to come inside. The members of your group and your boyfriend were sitting on the floor, clearly exhausted after a long practice session.

“So, as you all know, our lovely producer, y/n, over here made you guys a new song. I got the track today and was asked to choreograph it. But after a long discussion with the CEO, Mr. Kim Seokjin, we’ve come to the conclusion that I won’t be choreographing the song." 

Loud gasps filled the room as the boys looked at their teacher with confused expressions on their faces. 

"Instead, your choreographer for the song will be y/n herself!" 

You were shocked at Hoseok’s sudden revelation. 

"What,” you asked, confused. The boys started asking Hoseok why you were going to be in charge of the song.

“Your noona here is a wonderful dancer. I didn’t know this fact until recently, either. But after having a conversation with Mr. Kim, we’ve decided that this song should be choreographed by noona." 

You told them that you’d come in tomorrow for working on the song and you and Hoseok left to go home. "What in the world just happened?” You asked your boyfriend and he just smirked. You felt confused and happy at the same time because this was a big opportunity that you weren’t expecting at all.

The articles said everything. 'Lights’ had set innumerable records on the music charts and was the group’s best selling single. When asked about the song, the boys all credited you for producing and writing it. The choreography was also applauded as one of the best ones that the group has ever had. Your fan following and popularity skyrocketed to the point where the CEO offered you to quit your job as a producer, and join as an artist and you immediately agreed.

You and your boyfriend curled up on the couch after coming back from a party that was held by KM Entertainment for the success of 'Lights.’ 

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Hoseok cooed as he ran his hand through your hair. You snuggled into his chest as he praised you. 

“I should thank you for letting me choreograph the song,” you muttered.

“By the way, why didn’t you ever tell my you danced,” Hoseok asked. You had never actually had a conversation about this topic since that night. 

“I was too insecure. I always thought I was never as good as you, Hobi,” you confessed. Hoseok chuckled.

“Are you actually kidding me? You’re a way better dancer than I am. I almost lost my job because of you. If Seokjin hadn’t asked you to join as an artist, I was sure he was going to make you the new choreographer." 

You hit your arm playfully against his chest before you turned to look up at him. The pride and adoration on his face was so evident that it made your heart beat faster. 

You placed a chaste kiss on his lips, whispering, "I love you." 

Hoseok hummed in response, the sound echoing your own sentiments. Arms wrapping around you tighter, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

"I love you too.”

25 Days Of Christmas: A BTS Anthology Masterlist

[heywardsarchive]

DIWALI PARTY (PETER PARKER X INDIAN!READER)

Summary: Peter Parker is dating an indian girl who takes him to her house for a Diwali party. Peter is apprehensive but little does he know that it would be one of the best days ever! Reader introduces him to authentic indian food and culture. At the same time her family and Peter are getting to know each other. Madness ensues.

Warnings: none, just Peter getting overwhelmed by readers family😂 Also there will be many lines in hindi for which I will put a translation beside it.

Alright let's begin!

*********

Peter Parker was good at many things. He was spiderman, he was Tony stark's intern and he excelled in school. But Peter Parker was not good at meeting new people. He almost always became a cute stuttering mess. This never was a problem until one fine day in October when his lovely girlfriend informed him that her parents wanted him to come for the annual diwali get together.

"y/n what is Diwali and why do I have to come with you?" "Diwali is the festival of lights celebrated all over india and by Indians all over the world over five days in October or November. You have to come with me because my mom told everybody I have a boyfriend and now they all want to meet you. Don't worry it won't be too bad. They might just grill you a tiny bit." Peter was going to be majorly grilled. "Ok it can't be that bad can it? It's next week right? I'll be there." Y/n smiled at Peter and kissed his cheek. "I'll pick you up at 4 the both of us will go together." He nodded.

The week leading up to the party was the most stressful week of peters life. He was nervous. He wanted to make a good impression on y/n's family. He liked her alot you see. He spent hours reading up on indian culture and even learnt a few hindi phrases which proved to be a bit tough for him. May was very amused at her nephew's behaviour. Two days before the party Peter could not take the stress anymore. Even the reassurance provided by y/n was not enough. He went to May and told her everything. "Peter, did you get any traditional clothes?" "Traditional clothes? " Peter was confused. May sighed. "Peter if you want to make a good impression on y/n's family you'll have to dress appropriately. You can't show up in jeans and a sweat shirt. Diwali is a very important festival to indians!" "Now what do I do?" The very same evening Peter was taken to get traditional clothes by his aunt. He tried on many kurtas (traditional Indian outfit) and finally picked a light yellow one with gold designs on it.

It was finally the day. Peter looked at himself in the mirror and adjusted his outfit. He checked that he had everything before leaving the room. The doorbell rang and on opening it he saw y/n. She looked so gorgeous in her ghagra choli (indian skirt and top)

Peters mouth fell open. "Close your mouth you'll catch flies." She giggled. "You look so pretty!" "You don't look too bad yourself Parker." She laughed and pulled Peter in for a kiss. "Remember, no kissing in front of my family or they will kill you. Alright? Let's go." Peter nodded. "Bye May!" "Wait! Peter." May ran out with a camera and a gift. "One picture!" Peter and y/n smiled for the camera. May handed Peter the gift bad and they left for y/n's house.

Just before opening the door, y/n looked at Peter. "Don't get overwhelmed by the number of people inside alright? None of them will try to kill you. You don't need to talk to all of them just the main people. One of my sisters has also got her boyfriend so don't worry you won't be alone. Don't worry about who is who I'll introduce you inside. Just call all the ladies aunty and the men uncle and you should be fine. Maybe not actually? I think I should teach you basic hindi phrases?" She started to panic. Peter smiled at her. "Calm down. I learnt a few lines in hindi, although I'm terrible at it. If you help me I'm sure I'll be fine." She smiled at him and sighed to herself. She rang the doorbell. "Oh I almost forgot. Take off your shoes outside the house." Y/n said removing her own heels. Peter nodded and did the same.

The door opened. It was a middle aged man wearing spectacles who opened the door. He saw y/n and a big smile appeared on his lips. "Y/n beta! Kaise ho?" (Y/n dear! How are you?) "Theek hoon mamaji aal kaise ho?" (I'm fine uncle. How are you?" "Main be theek hoon. Acha yeh batao ki wo ladka tumhara boyfriend hain kya?" (Im also fine. So tell me, is that boy your boyfriend?" Y/n nodded beckoning Peter toward the man. "Peter, this is my mother's brother. He's my uncle." Peter tugged at his collar. Now was his chance to show off his hindi skills and prove to be the better boyfriend. "Namaste uncle. Mera naam Peter hain." (Good day sir. My name is Peter." "He can speak Hindi! You got a good one y/n. Come inside what are you waiting for?"

He turned away and y/n gave Peter a bug smile and a thumbs up. Peter sighed in relief. She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. The whole room was filled with the fragrance of spices and sweets. Y/n had walked over to her parents whom Peter had met before. "Hello mrs y/l/n hello mr y/l/n." "Hi Peter! Im glad to see you made it." Said y/n's mother. Her father clapped Peter on the back and told y/n to introduce Peter to her grandparents. "Come with me." She pulled him to two old people. "Nani, nanu, (maternal grandparents.) This is my boyfriend." "Namaste aunty, uncle. Mera nam Peter hain." Her grandparents looked impressed. "Hello Peter. I see you're our granddaughter's boyfriend. Take good care of her will you?" Peter smiled and nodded already feeling better about the situation. He met a few more people and they were all impressed that he knew how to speak Hindi. Finally he got to meet her cousins. And boy they were in a much larger number than the adults who were also a huge number of people.

They were all sitting in the balcony all dressed in traditional clothes. Some of the younger children were bursting crakers. "Y/n!" Said one of her cousin brothers. She instantly ran into his arms. They spoke for a while and then she went and greeted her other cousins. Peter stood behind her passing smiles at everyone. One of her sisters put an arm around y/n's shoulder. "So this is the boyfriend huh." She smirked. "Yeah." I muttered feeling insecure. "Hey don't bully him. He's a sweetheart!" Y/n smiled at him making Peter feel a bit reassured. "I gotta go to the loo. Please do not trouble Peter while I'm gone ok?" She warned and left.

"so Peter. You're dating my little cousin." Said the boy who first hugged y/n. "Yeah..." Peter said meekly. "Don't break her heart man. Or you'll deal with us." Said her sister. "I-i would never!" Peter practically squeaked. Where was y/n! The cousins asked Peter a few more questions when finally y/n walked in. "Dinners ready!" Everyone ran out of the door. "I hope they didn't bother you too much. They're very protective you see." Peter nodded.

They sat down at the table where all the children were sitting. The food was all traditional Indian food and there were a large variety of sweets as well. Y/n served Peter more sweets than food. "Wanna make him fat ey?" Said one of the boys laughing. "Shut up. You know the food may be too spicy for him." Y/n said and glared at him. He nodded and stopped laughing. Peter thought he was scared of y/n. The rest of the dinner passed by smoothly. The food was indeed too spicy for Peter but he thoroughly enjoyed the meal. He was definitely going to eat Indian food again.

At last the party was over. Y/n and her parents and Peter bid everyone goodbye and left the house. "We're glad you came Peter. And we hope you enjoyed yourself. If you ever want to come over again we'll be glad to have you!" Peter smiled and agreed. Y/n's parents stopped at peters apartment and told her to drop him upstairs and that they were waiting for her. She nodded and they got off the car.

"I am truly glad you came. I know how anxious you were. " "Im glad I came too. I had a great time today. And I would always do anything for you because I love you." "I love you too Peter." They shared a sweet kiss before bidding each other goodbye.

That night Peter went to sleep with a happy heart.

********

I know this story is a bit wierd but the idea kept nagging me. I hope you enjoyed! Leave requests in my ask!

[samantala-ako]

Ghosts.

A told me once that the Hindus don’t believe in ghosts, and when I thought about what that meant, I realized he must understand death and baggage differently than I do. Maybe that’s yet another advantage for those who have been raised Hindu. Meanwhile, I’ve got ghosts and skeletons gathering dust in the pockets of my coats. Sometimes, I feel them there when I reach for my keys or for my cigarettes.

We Catholics hold on to our dead for as long as we live, and we come willingly to their graves a few times a year to remember them. We bring flowers and candles and rosaries, we bring tents and lawn chairs and coolers full of beer.

They say to love someone long-term is to attend a thousand funerals for the people they used to be. In my mind, there is a graveyard with every version of A that he’s put on and discarded since I met him at the age of 16. Sometimes, I come here to bring a rose and contemplate all the ways I have loved him, but there is one gravestone that I have not yet stopped to visit.

The Tasmanian Devil

2012-- He was a snappy, restless 17 year old who always seemed like he had better things to do than worry about other peoples’ problems. There was always something new to learn, something interesting going on in his life, and that was a big part of his allure. I found that energy intoxicating.

We met a year before, at summer camp. Occasionally in the months after, I’d log on to Facebook and see the little icon next to his name glow with a message notification. I had never expected him to stay in touch, and that to me, was a big compliment in itself. The rest of my relationships from that summer faded into hi-hello’s and comments on each others Facebook photos.

He talked to me about life at boarding school, riding horses, and going to the beach with friends. He was quick-witted, mischievous, and incredibly smart. He had opinions about everything and could talk at length about politics and what was going on in the world, and then he would switch over to things like sex and relationships without missing a beat. I could tell he was looking to me for entertainment and I always felt nervous about not having anything funny to say. I was a Filipino, living in the Philippines; I couldn’t think of anything that my American pen-pal would find even remotely interesting or relatable.

To me, he seemed impossible to satisfy, twisting and turning and kicking up dust in a fit of boisterous humor and teenage rage. He was fascinating, and I wanted so badly to live life at that speed, to be just as unapologetic about my opinions and the way I saw the world.

At 16, I was slowly withdrawing into myself. I didn’t have a name for the early signs of depression, but I slowly cultivated the habits that would take me there. Outside of books or my favorite bands, I didn’t have many ideas that needed to be forcefully stated, and I was honestly just looking for someone who would listen to me try to form them. He seemed to have figured out how to bake his opinions overnight and run with them, and I was still just learning how to walk. I was clearly no match for this Tasmanian devil and still, I got swept up in his dance.

He flirted a lot and he was nonchalant about it. The boys I knew were shy and calculated, like so much was hanging in the balance in every interaction, but his strategy seemed to be more “fire and forget.” He flirted with me recklessly and called me his angel over Viber messages and Skype calls, with little to no consideration what it was doing to me.

Or maybe he did know. Maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. I thought about this a lot and it seemed the idea of full awareness and nonchalance just further intrigued me. What a privilege it must be not to care, but to be desired nonetheless. I cared so much and felt so irrelevant; I wanted to be like him, I wanted to not care about feelings, too. Feelings were all I was made of at 17 and it was exhausting. I wanted to have fun, be aloof, be chase-able, like the girls he desired and flirted with and talked about. What was that like?

When I look back now, everything is hazy.

A year and a half into our friendship, I realized I fell in love with him and like a fool, I decided to let him know. I didn’t realize that there was only one way that it could have gone, and I put my foot on the accelerator and drove the whole thing into a wall.

When he didn’t reciprocate my tenderness, I couldn’t bear my embarrassment. I was angry — how could he flirt with me like that and say he didn’t feel the same way? —,  I was indignant —what kind of girl did the think I was?— , and I was hurt. I felt strung along and played with by someone I opened up to and trusted.

He couldn’t believe I had fallen in love over the phone, but to me it seemed like the most natural thing that could happen. All that time, he had been teasing me and getting me to open up to him,  what did he expect? I ended up falling in love by myself, and I felt foolish and betrayed.

My response was to do a complete 180*, retreat back into my shell, and scuffle away in a huff. I told myself to stop wasting time on him and I deleted his number in my contact list. Whatever that was, we’re done.

He gave me space after that and we eventually lost touch— one more reason I convinced myself that I meant absolutely nothing to him. A year passed before we started talking again, and by then, it seemed like we were different people.

I thought if I put the right armor on, we could be friends again. I convinced myself that, because he had hurt me before, I would be safe this time. Inoculated, clear-eyed, as long as I remembered that none of it meant anything. I told myself that every bit of affection between us was just another joke, another part of the game he liked to play. 

So, I stood up straight and proceeded confidently. I offered him friendship, an ear to bend, a willing audience for his rambles and debauchery. In return, he never brought the past up again.

The Funeral

All those years, I didn’t want a conversation, I just wanted to move forward. I realize now that it might be why every few months, I break down over something that happened so far in the past.

Sometimes, I wonder if it’s too late for a funeral. Some days, I want to build a funeral pyre and throw some gas and a lighter over it. I want to watch all the bitterness burn away. Some days, I want to hold vigil and talk late into the night and drink until I can’t see straight.

Most days, I want to stop feeling like I have to tiptoe around the grave of the 17 year old boy that broke my heart, the 17 year old boy that a part of me still hates. I want to stop imagining all the booby-traps I could have avoided if I only knew better. I wonder if I would have had the guts to call him out if I did, or if I would have been impatient and just rolled my eyes, moved on, and never looked back.

Reincarnation

At 25, A hardly resembles the cocky 17 year old that he was all those years ago. He’s a full inch taller for one, and he’s grown into himself a little more. He even smiles differently now, more genuine and more relaxed. When we started dating, A came to visit me in the Philippines. His dad remarked that he hadn’t seen A smile like that in a while. I like to think that I make A happy, that maybe my presence in his life gave him back a bit of the simplicity he lost in his teen years.

We both changed quickly and drastically since we decided to give dating a real shot in 2016, three years after we rebooted our friendship. I took a while to come around, and I didn’t believe it right away when he told me he loved me. It went against everything I told myself, but still, like a sucker, I hopped on a plane to New York City to visit him and figure things out. I spent my senior year of college trying to convince my parents that I had an internet boyfriend and that he was real.

We’ve since graduated, found jobs, resigned from jobs, and learned to file taxes. We’ve met each others families, gone on road trips and beach trips, and attended Diwali parties and weddings together. I applied to grad school, got accepted, and, after a crazy 2 months, I moved stateside.

Even now, we are evolving, and each year looks different than the one before. We went from daily Facetime calls and long-distance Netflix dates and months without touching to spending every weekend together and making omelettes on Saturday mornings. We’ve become a bit of a legend in our friend circle after overcoming the distance in one piece. Soon, we’ll be moving in together and celebrating our 4th anniversary.

Most of the time, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be 17 and it feels like a different lifetime. I am living a life better than anything I could have thought up at that age, and when I look at the life A and I are building together, it all feels far away.

Whatever happens in the past, usually stays in the past. But even after several reincarnations, the soul knows where it’s been.

[docandprof]

Why Did This Week Suck and Not Suck so Much?

Salutations good sir!

Man this week was a rollercoaster of emotions. Honestly probably one of the hardest weeks I have ever endured. But before that, lemme take a hot sec to answer some of your questions and comment on you. First and foremost, I'm SUPER proud of you and how much of an adult you are becoming! Your life seems, if not more than, as crazy as mine does. It always brings a smile to my face when you tell me how you are breaking out of your shell in more social and professional environments because when it’s us and the gang, you are more than sociable, so I see it as more the world is getting to see the true version of you, a dorky pensive goofball. Even though this wasn't in your post, because we talk outside of said blog, I was really happy that Lyss was able to go see you two and spend some time with ya. I can’t wait to see you all for Thanksgiving, which is just a few short weeks away!! Also, when are you coming home for that? I'm gonna be in Iowa from that Tuesday until maybe Friday morning so I wanna see you when I can before I have to leave again. You might have to share me with Jaynie at that point because I'm not gonna have tons of time to see everyone. Ummmm your question for the week was kinda hard because I would want everything to be magical. Buuuuut, if I had to choose, I would probably go with something inconspicuous like a magic watch that when you open it or interact with it in whichever way the player sees fit, a portal opens from which you can pull/store anything like Hermione's bag. Or it’s imbued with some sort of element and you can get creative with what it can affect, like you click it and you turn into a flame-man or different parts of you take on the characteristics of the different elements a la Ben 10. So yeah, something like that.

Now for my week in retrospect! Let’s see, Halloween here at school is more of a big deal on the weekend (Halloweekend is what they call it) because that is when all the parties are, so I stayed in and studied and did work like a good lil noodle. I did dress up in my Superman onesie while I did work so that was kinda in the Halloween spirit. So lemme just preface what my academic week entailed and then we can get into it. Monday: 3-4 page Spanish paper was due, Tuesday: Orgo lab report due, Wednesday: Test corrections due for my Bioclocks test, Spanish essay test, History of Warfare test where like every subject involved some iteration of Charles, Frederick, Philip, Henry or some Pope, Friday: massive Orgo test, big project due at midnight for my Brain Damage class, and another assignment for said class. And inbetween all of those things, I had to study for all 3 tests, perform a continuous sleep study on myself, help mediate/console 2 friends who are dating/like each other but being stupid so I'm being the good friend who listens and tries to help, AND still dealing with my own emotional shortcomings. Ok got the picture? Simple enough? Good. OH! And I planned out the rest of my classes for the rest of college in order to be prepared and efficient for class registration, which is tomorrow for me.

So I did what I had to do and I buckled down, studying and working on everything while trying to be a good friend for these two love birds. Now I think the earliest I ever got to sleep this past week was 3 in the morning, and I woke up at 8 every day, so my body was really pushing its limits. I didn't really feel stressed out in the beginning of the week, which is normal for me. You know me better than anyone, so you know that I'm pretty calm under pressure and don't panic, which I just consciously realized is all God. I always knew that everything I did wasn't by my own strength and that I am extremely blessed and favored, but it never really registered in me that the reason for my stress-free life is because I have faith in God that he will take care of me and everything will work out in accordance with his plan and if God provides for the birds, why would he not provide for his own beloved children. So that was pretty cool to actively know that. Now back from my sermon of the week to our previously scheduled programming. Totally ok during the week, and then Thursday hit. I was feeling like crap, like actual crap, no figure of speech there or excuse to include some profanity, I was really not feeling well. But I had already asked Nidhi if she wanted to go get breakfast that day at 9 because I haven't had a real breakfast in forever. I ate like 3 bites before I started to feel worse. So we do breakfast and then move to go do work. Standard stuff, studying, tried to eat a lil something for lunch, couldn't. So I went back to the house and kept studying until I finished the notes and felt like I had an ok grasp on the material. Later that day, my friend Jordan came over and we were studying together and she would ask me a question about something, but I just had no idea how to answer, so we moved on to the practice test which we both usually do pretty well on. But we couldn't even make it past the first question without having to look everything up and I was getting really frustrated at that point because I had been studying for over a week. Now at this same point in time, in addition to the friends in love problem thing, I was getting frustrated with myself over this whole Jaynie situation because I'm me and I haven't told her how I feel and it has been eating at me for a bit and she has been busy so we hadn't been talking a lot and you know how I get attached to the people around me, so not talking to one of my favorite people was pretty frustrating. And we were talking at the time of my failure to even attempt the practice test and I was telling her that I was getting frustrated amongst other things. She asked me what was wrong and if I wanted to talk about it, and I said yes and no because it’s complicated and I wanted to tell her everything but it’s hard to tell her some of the reason for my anxiety was because of her and my feelings for her so that worsened things on my end because she could tell I was losing it, so she used my own advice I gave to her earlier that week against me that I needed to talk to someone and not internalize my feelings. So at that point I kinda just lost it and left the house to go on a walk. I was gonna call you because I tell you everything, but it was like 1 in the morning at that point and you were asleep, and I was gonna call my dad because he and my brother have a close relationship and I know that he will always be up and willing to listen and give me some advice, but I didn't do any of that. Instead I called Jaynie. I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew that I had to hear her voice. Luckily she answered, and I was initially just gonna call and say thanks for helping me through it and that I was gonna call my dad afterwards, but I never did and we ended up talking for a little bit and it felt really good. She knew that the best way to calm me down was to ask me about other stuff like the crappy dodgeball game and some other stuff to get my mind off things and it was really just what I needed. We didn't really address anything else major, even though I really wanted to bring us up, but I didn't and after we were done on the phone she sent me nice text telling me that I always had someone to call and that I don't always have to be perfect. So outta my ashes of a first mental breakdown came some solace and some good in that one call. But yeah, that was my week.

As for this upcoming week, I'm pleased to announce that Jaynie will be coming back for the weekend because I invited her! Nidhi is dancing in the Diwali showcase on Saturaday, which is an Indian festival thing and she is super excited to do it, so I figured it would be a nice surprise if her best friend came into town to see her dance. But we are ALSO going to another concert after Nidhi’s dance and that is gonna be fun because we know the band personally. More on them later in the recommendations. And so we had this all set up to surprise Nidhi, but things kinda got twisted around logistically, so we had to tell Nidhi about it since Jaynie is gonna be staying the weekend with her and she didn't wanna just blindside her like that, so I told Nidhi what was going on and she was so happy, so I'm pretty excited for this weekend for 2 reasons, which are pretty obvious and need no further words ;). The only thing I have to get done this week is to write a research paper for Friday, but I think that’ll be ok. Life is on the upswing right now.

Ok recommendation: this band we are seeing is called Arlie, and the guitarist was the RA of the floor my friends and I hung out on all the time last year in Memorial and we are good friends with him. But they just signed a record deal, and they have their single out on Spotify right now and it is actually decently popular with like over a million listens already, so check out Arlie and their single because I think you would enjoy it. Question of the week: have you ever thought about watching Silicon Valley on HBO? I have seen the first episode and am wondering if you would like to watch with me? Oh, I also have watched all of the Bloodborne and Dark Souls 3 play throughs on IGN, so praise the sun for that!! Now that I have once again plot dumped on you, I bid thee farewell.

With all my love,

the doc

P.S. - don't forget to tell Dev happy birthday!!

[ykbumich-blog]

Being International

This is not the American dream I signed up for.

Here’s the thing about being an international student – you are never secure. Especially with how volatile the current US political climate is. On a whim, immigration legislations are changed, and we are left praying that our thin thread to this country is not cut.

I was born in India, but spent most of my formative years in Ghana and South Africa. My blood is saffron, but my accent is warped by the long “aai”’s of the Afrikaans vernacular. I wore ghagras and body chains to Diwali. I grew up hearing stories about Goddess Lakshmi and Anansi, the west African God. But one thing never changed - my bedtime stories were always about becoming CEO of a CPG after graduating from Harvard Business School.

I worked fucking hard to get here, as I’m sure most U of M students did. But the plight of international students is a bit different. Expected to learn an entirely new syllabus for one test, I spent months self-teaching myself SAT words and math methods completely different to anything I had ever done before. I invested time in filling out visa applications, interviewing, praying for acceptance, and waiting in long embassy lines in anticipation of the “stamp of approval” on my passport. I gave up home cooked meals (more importantly, Nando’s) and familiar cuisines; I moved to a country across several oceans - no friends, no family - in pursuit of the “American dream.”

And if I do lose my student visa, I lose that dream. Worse, I don’t get to reunite with my friends or my parents. I don’t even get deported back home. I get deported to my country of citizenship – India. A country that I spent less than two months in, post-birth. Saare jahan se accha, Hindustan humara (Better than the entire world, is my India), but it is not my home.

I’m finally going home for Spring Break, Rainbow Nation home, and I cannot be more excited. Not just because I’m being welcomed by a Nando’s dinner (can you tell I love Nando’s?). I haven’t been home in six months, and I miss my bed. But I am terrified. I’ve been subjected to “random selection” literally every time I’ve landed in the US. Still, I am terrified that landing in DTW ten days later, I will be asked to step aside, and I won’t be released after a simple pat down and standard questioning.

The question I ask myself is, is it worth it? Moving to the US has literally been my only option since I was a kid. My family’s concerns have shifted from “akeli ladki America jao?” (A girl going to America alone?) to the hateful policies of the current presidential administration. My mom is constantly worried about me walking to class or home from the library. My dad has filled my inbox with transfer applications to LSE.

Has America seriously turned its back to people like me? Is it time to consider saying goodbye? They say never meet your idols, because you may be disappointed. I guess this is some variant of that.

I left home in search of a well reputed tertiary education system and subsequent job prospects. Basically, some stability for my future. But, stability is the complete opposite of what I have experienced in my short time here. We are no longer safe or wanted. Student visa applications are being rejected, current holders are being revoked, students are cautioned against going home over the next 90 days.

A nation built and developed by immigrants now blocks its borders from us. There are 17,354 international students registered in American colleges. Can our parents come to our graduations? Will we be offered sponsorships for B-1 visas? Is your idea of “The Land of Freedom” imprisoning your foreign brothers and sisters?

- Nithya Elsa Ramesh, 2017

[tellytantra]

One more. Just one more and then she would be done. Prerna Sharma was at the Basu mansion, going through what seemed like a million reports on her laptop to check for any drafting errors, a work her dear Kaku Babu, her Sir now, had put her to. The work took up almost all of her day and she ended up having no lunch, something she cautiously avoided telling her Kaka Babu when he called to check up on her. It was nearing five in the evening and every muscle in Prerna's body begged her to just collapse into a couch and put an end to the day's work. Her shoulder's ached with all the typing that she had been doing. But there was one last report that she had to go through before she could do that. Do it, Prerna Sharma, its just one more, she cajoled herself as she straightened up and pushed up the glasses that were precariously perched on her nose. Doing this work was absolutely essential to her. Kaka Babu had so trustingly employed her to do this work and she made every single effort to live upto the trust he had in her. But that wasn't the only thing. She worked so hard so she could pay the lawyer. The lawyer that she hired to fight Shivani's case in the court. Ishaan Khanna was a very renowned advocate and absolutely deserving of the name he had. It was when Prerna was clutching every last strand to find a  good lawyer for Shivani that she ran into Ishaan. Luck favoured her and Ishaan immediately got on board to help her. She discovered later that Ishaan was her schoolmate through classes 4th to 8th and was delighted to have met him after so long. Ishaan was an observant and placid person. He hardly ever got anxious or excited nor emotional when working. Prerna could see that he was a great lawyer and felt positive they would make a good case. When he wasn't working though, Ishaan was very good company. He was humourous, lively and very easy going. Prerna was relived she found Ishaan. Or her life would have been a complete mess, courtesy a certain Mr. Anurag Basu. Having had taken up the work of Moloy Basu's Personal Secretary, it was quite inevitable that she would run into Anurag Basu quite often. And that meant, she would be subjecting her poor heart to continuous disappointment and ache. She had pretty solid feelings for Anurag which she was sure were not ephemeral. Anurag on the other hand was back with his ex-girlfriend, whom he seemed to actually like. To keep her sanity intact, Prerna indulged herself in work. She arrived early in the morning went straight to the study, worked till night and went back home. She made a conscious effort to not run into anybody except Kaka Babu. She wanted to avoid Anurag for obvious reasons. Well as for Nivedita and Mohini, nobody in their right minds would WANT to run into them. Prerna missed Anurag. Big time. He was one of her best friends and she missed having him around. They talked though. But very few times. The few times he was home. Prerna ensured the conversations didn't go beyond general exchanges. And as soon as she started to feel Anurag would venture into the topic of her avoiding him, she would make up some excuse and get back to work. What with the first hearing of the case nearing, Prerna also had to pay Ishaan a lot of visits along with Shivani. All in all, her days were very demanding. Prerna was immersed in all kinds of thoughts, when her reverie was broken by her phone ringing. ______________ Anurag was passing by the study when he decided he could allow himself one peek at Prerna. And maybe have a conversation even if she wasn't caught up with work. Because all his best friend Prerna Sharma did these days was work. She hardly got any time to talk to him. It bothered him to no lengths. Sure, he would love her to succeed in her life and be the best at her work, but he didn't imagine that it would mean him and her spending such less time with each other And not just that. The few times that Anurag did manage to catch Prerna free, she seemed aloof and distant. She talked very little. Only about work and Shivani's case.     And when she spoke about Shivani's case, she mentioned Ishaan Khanna. A few million times. Or so it seemed to him. Anurag hated him. For no apparent reason. Anurag was hardly the kind of person who would hate somebody without even knowing anything about them. Ishaan Khanna seemed to be an exception. He was about to find Prerna a good lawyer when one fine day she just dropped by to inform him that she had already found one. He was happy for her. Not for himself. All Prerna did when she talked to him was speak about Ishaan. Of how focused he is, how intelligent, how genuine and empathetic and on and on. It irked Anurag so much. Okay fine. It made him jealous. Prerna was HIS best friend. He wanted her to be with him. Spend time with him. Okay, he was being very stupid. She only spent time with 'the guy he won't talk about' for Shivani's case. Had things been different he wouldn't have bothered. But things were bad. So bad. Prerna avoided him like plague. Consciously. And she was so distant. He knew not why. And add to this already plumetting friendship of theirs 'the other guy', he felt pretty gloomy. He stopped by the study. He decided he would knock and get in when the door opened and out came Prerna Sharma. The movement was quite obviously unanticipated on either's part, effect being that Prerna collided into Anurag. And fell down. Splendidly on her bum.4 "Ow," she whined, rubbing her aching bum. Prerna threw Anurag her filthiest glare, because he was laughing clutching his stomach. She rolled her eyes at his exaggerated laughing. He extented her a hand which she ignored and got up as gracefully as the situation allowed her to. Anurag put an end to his ridiculously prolonged laughter after Prerna gave him a scathing look.1 He looked at her flushed face, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried to smoothen her crumpled Kurti. It was when a few loose stands fell out of the messy bun of her hair that he realised she looks so much more beautiful when her hair was down. Prerna looked up at Anurag to see him staring at her observantly. Her feeble heart, so full of mushy feelings, gave a  jolt. He slowly and with deliberation took a step forward. He raised his hand to the back of her head and removed the clutch that was securing her hair. Prerna's heart thudded so loud, she was scared he would hear her. "Tum khule baalon mein bahaut achi lagte ho," he said, his voice sounding strained. It did strange things to her senses. Anurag didn't drop his hand though. He let her hair sift through his fingers repeatedly, his motions on autopilot, his eyes staring at her raptly, as Prerna stood frozen, her mouth open, her senses haywire. "Kaha jaa rahi thi?" He asked her, now proceeding to tuck her hair behind her ears, his finger tips grazing the tips. "Huh?" Prerna muttered, intelligently. "Kaam se fursat lekar jaa kaha rahi ho?" Anurag asked. That was when Prerna snapped out of her daze and moved away as if electrified. "I was actually going down to ask Kaka Babu if it was okay for Ishaan to come meet me here. He wants to discuss something." Oh.   Ishaan it was then, that made her stop her work. Anurag looked like Diwali was cancelled. He nodded his head gravely his face assuming an utterly unpleasant expression. "He is coming here then?" "Yeah" Another nod. A pregnant pause. "You want to come down and help as well?" Prerna said, before she could hold her tongue. This was the affect of being around Anurag. The more she talked to him, the more she felt like having him around. Before she could make an excuse on his behalf, Anurag nodded enthusiastically. "I would love to!" He said, smiling at her radiantly. Prerna smiled back meekly, weighing the consequences of her stupidity. Probably spending a lot of good time now and then going home and crying buckets, she thought miserably. They went down. _______________ Anurag was a man of his words. And true to his nature, he kept his word and  still hated Ishaan. Nothing changed after he met him.2 Anurag found Ishaan way too perfect for his liking. He was good humoured, easy to speak to and was amazing at his what he did, Anurag admitted grudgingly. How can someone be so irritatingly perfect, Anurag fussed, even as he sulked. Prerna was now laughing at some joke Mr.Perect had cracked. Perfect.2 God, he sounded nuts. "Don't you ever worry, Prerna, I have got your back," Ishaan promised her, giving her hand a little squeeze. Okay. "You should always keep smiling," he appealed to her sincerely. Diabetic sweet.2 "You look beautiful when you smile!" Wait. Why the hell was he flirting with her?4 Anurag shuffled impatiently in his chair, racking his brains for a change of topic. Prerna smiled politely and nodded at Ishaan. "Have you eaten anything?" Ishaan inquired. The nerve of him! Did he think they didn't serve food at his home or what?2 "No," Prerna admitted in a small voice. Anurag whipped his head around to look at her mortified. "Why?" He demanded, his voice giving away his hurt. "I was so caught up in work I didnt have time to," Prerna said, apologetically. Anurag was about to give her a big sermon for not having lunched when Ishaan beat him to it. Ishaan then suggested they went out to eat something because he was feeling hungry as well. And invited Anurag along. "I will come," Anurag said, giving 'the other guy' a stiff smile.2 He brought his car out to drive them to the nearest restaurant. Prerna was making her way to the front seat when Mr.Perfect came out of nowhere and slipped into the seat. This guy was the limit! Anurag gave his hand break such a hard tug, he was surprised it didn't break and come apart into hsi hand. Ishaan talked non stop all the way to the restaurant profusely complimenting Prerna for even the most mundane things. The guy was clearly smitten by her. And Anurag didn't like it one bit.3   At the restaurant, before Mr.Perfect could come up with anymore stunts, Anurag sidled after Prerna next to her seat, leaving Ishaan no choice but to sit in the opposite chair. Their food arrived and they started eating. If Anurag hadn't been so irritated by the presence of 'the undesired', he would have noticed how Prerna became all dazed and confused each time his elbow touched her while eating. Anurag sat so close it was hard to make any movement without touching him. It was when Prerna finally took notice of what was in her plate, that she noticed a strand of hair in her rice. "Ew," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Go get the dish changed," Ishaan suggested which obviously welcomed a disgruntled look from Anurag. Prerna left to get her dish exchanged and also give the concerned people an earful. "Charming girl, isn't she?" Ishaan began, cheerfully. "Of course," Anurag said, giving Ishaan a cold glare. "How long have you known her for?" "Quite long! We have been friends since childhood." Anurag said, smiling indulgently. "That's strange. I have been in Prerna's grade for four years, she never mentioned you."1 Anurag gritted his teeth so hard, it was a wonder they didn't break. "Prerna likes to keep her private life private. She has been like that since forever," Anurag explained, distate writ all our his face.1 "Oh," Ishaan subsided. Pause. "Sorry if it seems intruding, but are you guys, close?" Ishaan asked hesitantly. "Pretty close. Yes." "As in- are you?" "Yes, I am Prerna's boyfriend," Anurag said, with a slight pride emanating in his voice.1 Oh god. He said it. The look on Ishaan's face was priceless. Anurag smirked contently at Ishaan's heart shattering expression. He never felt so elated doing a wrong thing.1 He had no idea why he did what he did. But he hated the idea of Prerna being romantically involved with Ishaan. Now he came to think of it, he didn't like the idea her being romantically involved with anyone at all. Shit. This was crazy. He can't decide for her. What if she actually liked Ishaan? The very thought gripped his senses in fear. No. No. No. It can't be. It didn't seem like she did. But he still had no right to do what he did. There would be consequences. Bad ones. Prerna would yell at him. Guaranteed. But he would put up with all of that later.2 But right now, he was feeling so happy. Now he looked like Christmas arrived early. He couldn't stop grinning and passing Ishaan all dishes, insisting he ate more.1 When Prerna returned, he gave her a breath taking smile and even served her some of his Roti with his own hands. When it was time to go back, Ishaan calmly slipped into the back seat. Prerna slid into the front, looking utterly confused. They two men behaved the exact opposite way the did in the morning. Ishaan was sulky and Anurag cheery. Anurag dropped Ishaan off and offered him a big smile. He stopped his car infront of Prerna's house, humming to himself. "Why are you so happy?" Prerna asked dubiously. "You will find out soon and maybe I won't be as happy after that." Anurag admitted.1 Prerna who couldn't make head or tail of this cryptic remark bid him goodbye and stepped out of the car. She was about to get into her house when she felt a tap on her back.+ She turned around to see Anurag grinning at her. Before she could process anything, he gently, pulled her head towards his face and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Sorry, okay?" He said still grinning. "I dunno why I did what I did. But I also don't think I regret it." Saying so he sped off in his car, leaving Prerna behind utterly bewildered and totally dazed. Anurag Basu would be the death of her one day.

http://jodifiction.blogspot.com/2020/04/the-other-guy-anupre-os-kasautii.html

[wayneooverton]

6 totally badass women I’m obsessed with right now

Despite 2018 seeming like it was perhaps a giant dumpster fire for women around the globe, woman did a tremendous job of getting. shit. done.

From the bravery shown by the women of the #MeToo movement, to historic wins for women in the midterm elections in the US (particularly of women of color), to Spain appointing a majority-woman cabinet, to Iranian women watching the World Cup in a stadium next to men for the first time in decades, to women in Saudi Arabia finally being legally allowed to drive, the list is long. It was a good year for us.

In honor of International Women’s Day, I’m sharing a little list of badass women I’m currently obsessed with right now. I cut this list down from 17 to 6 because, holy hell, there are a lot of women that deserve some bragging right now and each one deserves her own blog post. I bow down!

Please leave a comment to let me know who I left out, and who else I should be obsessed with at the moment (because there’s always room for more in my closet shrine!)

1. Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi

If you were alive during 2018 (which I’m assuming you were since you’re reading this article) you probably didn’t escape the year without first hearing about Free Solo.

Perhaps you weren’t interested or didn’t really understand, but surely  you’ve heard about the epically superhuman efforts of Alex Honnold, a free solo expert who achieved his dream of scaling 3,000ft of a vertical wall in Yosemite National Park without a rope.

It has rightly been dubbed as one of the greatest athletic feats in the history of mankind (NBD) and watching the event is equal parts exhilarating and holy-shit-I’m-sweating-in-places-I-didn’t-even-know-could-produce-sweat terrifying.

When you hear about Free Solo, people normally talk about two things:

1) how amazing Alex Honnold is (and he is amazing)

2) what a great film Jimmy Chin produced (one of the greatest adventure photographers of all time)

Ok great, enough about them, let’s move on to the real star of the show.

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It was a day … @stellamccartney @carolyntangel @thefashionguitar @mhmakesithappen @jimmychin @alexhonnold @sannimccandless @freesolofilm here we go….@c_albert #oscars2019 @oscardelarenta @idaorg thank you to too many who made this possible thank you #avillage

A post shared by Chai Vasarhelyi (@chaivasarhelyi) on Feb 24, 2019 at 12:38am PST

What no one ever seems to talk about is the co-director and all around inspirational badass Chai Vasarhelyi and her role in all this.

So who is she? I’m glad you asked. Chai is an uber-ambitious 39-year-old woman who grew up in Manhattan and when to college at Princeton. She finished her first documentary, A Normal Life, at age 24 that told the story of 7 college-aged friends in the middle of the Bosnian Conflict.

I can’t even tell you one interesting thing I did the year I was 24. Her film won the Tribeca Film Festival. Casual.

Moving on! She spent the next decade making films about Senegal, honing in on her knack for storytelling and showcasing raw human emotion. Let’s fast forward a bit because I could literally talk for hours about her and we’ve got a lot of women to cover.

Chai found herself in the presence of Jimmy Chin (who she initially blew off because why not, you do you, girl). He asked her for some tips on his film, Meru, which had been kicking around for years, not managing to make it into any film festivals. She let him wait in limbo for three months before she got back to him and agreed to take a look.

Chai turned the now famous Meru from doomed, super bro climbing porn film, to a genuine story that went on gain high praise from elite film festivals everywhere.

How’d she do it? She insisted on re-shooting basically everything except for the actual climbing. All of the storytelling, all of the interviews with the climbers, all of the interviews with the family members. She revisited all of that and pulled out real human emotion that she felt viewers could connect with. And she was right.

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More Ampas / Baftas and more @brockcollection what a break from being a mud drenched Doc filmmaker feels like being Cinderella…..thank you @freesolofilm @thefashionguitar @carolyntangel 🙏❤️

A post shared by Chai Vasarhelyi (@chaivasarhelyi) on Feb 8, 2019 at 11:51am PST

And as a surprise to literally no one, she did the same thing for Free Solo.

She took what easily could have been a niche climbing film and turned it into an oddly relatable and universal story: perfection vs death, love vs. focus, ethics vs. filming an incredible feat. For her efforts and diligence, this documentary made people feel things other than fear and exhilaration.

She gave the audience and understanding of the complexity of the whole project. Oh, and she’s married to Jimmy Chin in case anyone actually cared. And they just took home an Oscar!

2. Jacinda Ardern

You didn’t think I was going to write this list without mentioning one of the most badass world leaders of all times, did you? Especially from the country that was the first to give women the right to vote!

As a leader of the first Labour government in New Zealand in a decade, Jacinda Ardern shares values common of a leftist party: investment in health, education, climate action, public housing, and social justice. Excellent start, but hundreds of politicians share those values and push those agendas.

So what makes Jacinda so special?

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Happy Diwali! If you’re in Auckland (or even near it) pop along to the festival at Aotea Square

A post shared by Jacinda Ardern (@jacindaardern) on Oct 19, 2018 at 8:22pm PDT

For starters, Jacinda has absolutely no time for what others expect of her outside of her job responsibilities.

All those bogus questions about family woman usually get when they run for public office? Nope! Jacinda wasn’t having any of it. She was elected and promptly announced her pregnancy like it was NBD, had the baby in a public hospital and became the first world leader ever to go on maternity leave, where she graced the world with a charming Facebook Live video of her and her daughter Neve.

When she was ready to go back, she went and her partner (not husband, mind you!) stayed home with the baby. I love a good gender role swap!

She continued her year getting shit done as the Prime Minister and also being an amazing parent.

She brought her new baby to the Nelson Mandela Peace Summit where she spoke moments after handing off the babe to her partner (She also got her baby a special UN pass for the event). Through her actions, she is normalizing being in a position of power as a new mom, breastfeeding at work, and having her partner be the primary caregiver.

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Welcome to our village wee one. Feeling very lucky to have a healthy baby girl that arrived at 4.45pm weighing 3.31kg (7.3lb) Thank you so much for your best wishes and your kindness. We're all doing really well thanks to the wonderful team at Auckland City Hospital.

A post shared by Jacinda Ardern (@jacindaardern) on Jun 20, 2018 at 11:14pm PDT

Enough about her baby. Let’s talk about her career accomplishments. In her short time as president, she has already:

Introduced the Families Package that delivers more money to families with children and reduces child poverty

Passed a bill to allow leave for victims of domestic abuse

Made the first year of tertiary education or training fees free

Increase student allowances and living cost loans by $50 a week

Passed the Healthy Homes Guarantee Bill, setting minimum standards for all rentals

Passed law banning overseas speculators from buying existing houses

Set up a ministerial inquiry into mental health crisis

Introduced legislation to make medicinal cannabis available for people with terminal illnesses or in chronic pain

Increased the minimum wage to $16.50 an hour (and announced this year another bump up to $17.70 by April of this year)

Set the zero carbon emissions goal and began setting up an independent Climate Commission, ended all new bids on offshore oil and gas exploration

And announced a phasing out of single-use plastic bags nationwide

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It’s been a while since I gave an update on the work to eradicate M. bovis, so here it is…. We’ve had 74 properties infected so far. 36 farms have now gone through the process of having their farms given the all clear and restocked – I visited one of those farms today to talk about their experience. We still have things we need to improve (and we made a few extra announcements on that today) but we’re also still very committed to eradicating Mycoplasma Bovis.

A post shared by Jacinda Ardern (@jacindaardern) on Oct 8, 2018 at 5:28pm PDT

Oh, and she greeted the Queen of England wearing a traditional Maori cloak. What’s that? A country treating its indigenous population with even an ounce or respect and dignity!?

3. Melise Edwards

Melise has become one of my favorite women to follow on Instagram. Not only is she a sponsored rock climber, but she’s also an actual brain scientist AND social justice warrior.

She refuses to sit behind her climbing success without also tackling issues for women and communities of color in the outdoors. She refuses to accept the erasure of dark-skinned women in outdoor advertising and when she gets hate mail for it, she straight up calls those bullies out.

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The truth is: I've had so many negative interactions in the climbing community in recent years that have arisen due to conversations surrounding diversity, feminism, privilege and inclusion that I find myself sometimes uninterested, angry and afraid to be a part of the local community. . . There have been the friends from my city & back home who block, unfriend and unfollow me, though first letting me know that "demonizing white people" by asking for folks to recognize our many collective forms of privilege and the impacts of recent historical oppression on minorities is divisive and racist against white people. . . There have been the strangers and local climbers who are all too comfortable harassing and trolling me online with the added bonus of getting to see them here in the gyms when I climb. There have been the in-person conversations at where people seek me out to tell me I'm playing the victim and that racism and sexism are not really issues. . There have been the prominent climbers and first ascentionists who vehemently oppose these conversations and message me condescending remarks. There has been a man twice my age writing a blog post on his institute's page about my fragility. And on top of this, we see chronic affronts and attacks on POC & other underrepresented groups within the outdoor community and society at large daily. It comes from friends. It comes from strangers. It comes from leaders and people in positions of power in the industry. It comes from people who would rather not get involved. . . These things make it difficult to "just go climbing" and push myself within a hobby that used to give me so much joy. My life is amazing and I'm so thankful for where I am and all that I do. There are also many incredible people and groups in this industry who are doing invaluable work. But if I am being honest, I am struggling with my waning passion for a community and hobby I used to love. (Photo by @andreasassenrath)

A post shared by Mélise | Seattle, WA (@meliseymo) on Feb 26, 2019 at 12:02pm PST

Her passion and dedication is infectious and makes me want to do better:

“I yearn for the day when multiple women of color can be featured for an advertisement or photoshoot within and beyond the outdoor industry; for the day we don’t need to have several white women or men in the shot for the photo to be inherently successful. . I yearn for the day POC can get paid and aren’t questioned or criticized for wanting to get paid for their work and time. This means valuing their time, chronic advice, labor and the information they provide enough to actually compensate them. (E.g. how do I make my company more diverse?) . . I yearn for the day when more people of color make up the staffing at large companies and folks don’t call on *that one POC you know on Instagram* to ask for chronic free education and labor. . Companies: Diversify your staff. Diversify your marketing. Take actual efforts to support POC in the outdoor community beyond superficial displays that do not get at the root of the problem (e.g. inviting a panel of POC to talk for free at your events.) . Finally, please stop asking POC to only come to your events to talk about diversity instead of their amazing careers in the outdoors, recent adventures or athleticism. We can all do better when we learn how rampant these issues are in our community and seek to change them. I believe in you all.”

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Marketing in the outdoor industry and society at large is strikingly homogenous. Even attempts to diversify marketing efforts will usually feature one light skinned, white passing or racially ambiguous woman still out numbered 10:1 by white models and a usually all white staff. . . Similarly frustrating is the chronic expectation for POC to continually offer free labor to *thank* companies for daring to care about diversity. Superficial means of supporting diversity will be offered without ever addressing the issue at the community, staff, company and marketing level. . . Companies need to do better to represent the diversity of our communities. . I yearn for the day when multiple women of color can be featured for an advertisement or photoshoot within and beyond the outdoor industry; for the day we don't need to have several white women or men in the shot for the photo to be inherently successful. . . I yearn for the day POC can get paid and aren't questioned or criticized for wanting to get paid for their work and time. This means valuing their time, chronic advice, labor and the information they provide enough to actually compensate them. (E.g. how do I make my company more diverse?) . . I yearn for the day when more people of color make up the staffing at large companies and folks don't call on *that one POC you know on Instagram* to ask for chronic free education and labor. . . Companies: Diversify your staff. Diversify your marketing. Take actual efforts to support POC in the outdoor community beyond superficial displays that do not get at the root of the problem (e.g. inviting a panel of POC to talk for free at your events.) . Finally, please stop asking POC to only come to your events to talk about diversity instead of their amazing careers in the outdoors, recent adventures or athleticism. We can all do better when we learn how rampant these issues are in our community and seek to change them. I believe in you all. (PC @andreasassenrath)

A post shared by Mélise | Seattle, WA (@meliseymo) on Feb 2, 2019 at 9:56am PST

4. Cristina Mittermeier

In case you haven’t heard, global warming is real. It’s happening right now and us humans who have expedited global warming are generally not being helpful at all.

Good thing there are people like Cristina Mittermeier to show us the way forward. (And if I haven’t lost you at this point, congrats, you understand science!)

The Mexico-city born marine biologist has some notable accolades but her strength goes beyond her studies and awards. Cristina is an expert storyteller and sheds light on what’s going on in the world, whether at the bottom of the ocean floor or in some of the most remote indigenous villages in the world. She photographs them, tells their story and gives hope for the possibility of a mindful, sustainable future.

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What might seem like a featureless snow-covered landscape to us is an invisible map filled with smells that lead to prey and mates for polar bears. While the future of this incredible species remains uncertain and concerning, the unwavering hope that so many of you have for vulnerable wildlife tells me that our ability to protect them has never been more diverse and more promising.

A post shared by Cristina Mittermeier (@cristinamittermeier) on Oct 7, 2018 at 9:23am PDT

At her core, she wants her audience to really truly think about what it means to be a human and our undeniable link to other species and the responsibility to look after fellow life forms.

In 2005, she created a league of Conservation Photographers (hello new dream job!) to help give a platform for photographers working on environmental issues. She’s also co-founded a nonprofit called Sea Legacy, with legendary photographer Paul Nicklen, that works towards protecting the world’s oceans through storytelling.

If that’s not enough to convince you to be obsessed with her as well, I’ll leave you with this quote.

“To roam the farthest corners of the Earth, where wild creatures live, is a privilege reserved for an adventurous handful. But even though most of us may never feel the chill of Arctic air through the frozen flap of an icy tent, images can help us understand the urgency many photographers feel to protect wild places. My work is about building a greater awareness of the responsibility of what it means to be a human. It is about understanding that the history of every living thing that has ever existed on this planet also lives within us. It is about the ethical imperative—the urgent reminder that we are inextricably linked to all other species on this planet and that we have a duty to act as the keepers of our fellow life forms.”

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Blue whales are the largest animals to have ever existed, reaching mind-boggling dimensions of 100 feet long and upwards of 200 tons on a diet composed almost exclusively of krill, tiny-shrimp like crustaceans. It was a joy to be in the water with this gentle giant off the coast of the Azores. I had never had an encounter with a blue whale before. While the hunting of blue whales was banned by the International Whaling Commission in 1966, endangered fin whales are still being hunted in Iceland in defiance of a world wide ban of commercial whaling in 1986. Follow the link in my bio to learn more. This work was performed under the authorization n.0 XX-ORAC-2018 issued by the Government, on February 22, 2018.

A post shared by Cristina Mittermeier (@cristinamittermeier) on Jun 23, 2018 at 8:42am PDT

5. Mirna Valerio

There’s a myth in the medical world that fat people cannot be considered fit.

There’s phony talk about the importance of BMI (spoiler: it’s absolutely worthless for determining health) and the unarguable need to shed pounds to achieve health.

This simply is not true and Mirna Valerio is here to prove it.

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Guess what y’all? I’m a swimsuit model too! I loved this shoot with the talented @insecto, Carlos Palacios, in Costa Rica for @skirtsports! I never thought in a million years I’d be doing #swimwear photoshoots on a beach on top of a SUP board in #halfmoonpose baring, well not quite all, but more than I am used to… ## WELCOME TO MY NEW WORLD! Also this bathing suit is available the link in my bio—use code MIRNAVATOR for a 20% discount! #swimsuit #beachphotography #womenwhomove #optoutside #bathingsuit #bareitall #bodypositive #bopo #photography #bodylove #effyourbeautystandards

A post shared by Mirna Valerio (@themirnavator) on Feb 25, 2019 at 11:30am PST

Mirna has essentially been an outdoors obsessed athlete all of her life. From field hockey and lacrosse in high school to now being a full-on ultramarathon runner in her adult life. She started blogging (Fat Girl Running) in 2012 as she was training for her first marathon and as her support systems grew, so did the haters, flooding her inbox with negative comments. But Mirna never let the haters get her down. She loves her body and is consequently chasing our stereotyped perception of what fitness and health look like.

“They don’t like to see me on a cover of a magazine because I do not represent what fitness means to them,” she says. “I want to continue sticking my big ass into places where people think I don’t belong. That has been the nature of my life—I’m going to do it and I’m going to do it proudly.”

“We are much more than our bodies. Whether it’s body image, our choices to be moms or not, our career choices—we are more than our bodies,” Valerio says. “We’re so powerful beyond our wildest dreams.”

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An excellent morning on the #wildwoodtrail at #forestpark in Portland with new friends @erin.nicksmartin and @rossmaxloudness from my awesome Facebook Group FATGIRLRUNNING. We had a great time exploring the #trail, enjoying the peeks of sun, and most of all, each other’s company. So happy to have our community! #fatgirlrunning #trailrunning #optoutside #runtrails #trailandultra #trailrunning #outdoors #urbantrails #portlandtrails #runner #zapposrunning #empoweredbyrunning #hylandspowered

A post shared by Mirna Valerio (@themirnavator) on Dec 27, 2018 at 12:51pm PST

As a runner, author, and educator, Valeria has secured her voice encouraging everyone, especially the youth, to get outside where they can test their own mental and physical strength. She advocates for green spaces in cities and supports more price-public funding for school trips.

“It’s not just a necessity for urban kids, but it’s a necessity for kids all over no matter what their level of privilege is and no matter what their level of exposure and access is,” she says. “Whenever I think of the outdoors, it’s not only a place to be myself and live in my introverted ways, but I also look at the outdoors as a place of bonding with other people and having these really deep, profound experiences with nature that you can’t have looking out a window.”

6. Pattie Gonia

Pattie Gonia is the world’s first backpacking queen and honestly, this is exactly what we need right now in these trying times.

Some days the news is so dark and our world leaders are so questionable that you might want to crawl into a tiny cave and not come out until everything is fixed but then, like a ray of sunshine and hope, emerges Pattie Gonia, the viral drag queen who dances on top of mountaintops in platform heels and everything in the world seems a little more manageable.

Yes!

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SURPRISE BISH !!!! park ranger pattie is here to write you a ticket for being TOO DAMN FABULOUS. 👑 & o no sis we’re not done yet. 💥 your fine is to tell someone u know needs to hear it how fabuluz they are too. 🧚🏻‍♂️ & u know y??? because this is our year to shine TOGETHER. so u better watch out u better not hide i’ll be patrolling these here parts & should u choose to be too fabulous again just watch me i’ll pop out from behind a tree (BOO!!) w these au natural hairy leggz & say u too wonderful AGAIN here’s another 1 !!!! . whooole lewk by queen @katienashbeauty photo by queen @erinoutdoors photographed on jumanos native lands . #servingyounationalparkSERVEice #nationalparkservice #nationalparks #outdoors #neature #nature #alewk #amajorlewk

A post shared by Pattie Gonia (@pattiegonia) on Mar 4, 2019 at 12:30pm PST

Pattie graced us with her presence less than six months ago but has already made waves across the world.

Pattie is portrayed by fellow Nebraskan photographer and Eagle Scout Wyn Wiley. If you aren’t familiar with various state identities in the USA, let’s just say that Nebraska is not the easiest state to be apart of the LGBTQ group.

Nevertheless, Wiley unapologetically embraces his inner queen and we’re all a lot better because of it.

But Pattie Gonia is more than a feel-good IG feed to make you smile. Wiley’s ultimate goal is for Pattie Gonia to inspire more people to get outside and enjoy mother nature, especially those who have historically been excluded from the outdoor community, including the LGBTQ community, people of color, and bigger folks.

He hopes to achieve this by having Pattie Gonia lead groups of newbie hikers and using sponsors to help provide gear for those who can’t afford it, because let’s be honest, outdoor gear can be as expensive as hell and historically, spending leisure time outside is a huge fucking privilege.

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THE BEND & SNAP TRAIL EDITION ♻️💃🏼🌲 ugh isn’t trash on the trails the most sad moment??? let’s keep our trails clean & do it while looking fab && snatched & cute as a bb prancing deer. not only for us but for all the animal babes friends we share mother natch with!!! remember, we have one earth to have our party, let’s not leave the house trashed. pick up your trash. it’s simply good etiquette, queens. . keeping our trails is clean is as easy as you brining a simple plastic bag to not only pack out your trash but what was left behind by other people. even if you pick up a piece or two of trash on a 30 min hike that can do wonders to keep mother natch looking snatched. . outfit by clothes my mom got me for christmas video by @charlieronan edit by @adamkingman #recycle #packout #packinpackout #protectourparks #nationalparks #hikevibes #litter #trash #stateparks #parksandrec #11thessential #leavenotrace #staywild #colorado #redrocks #denver #nature #fierce #drag #dragqueen #dance . video taken on cheyenne and ute native land

A post shared by Pattie Gonia (@pattiegonia) on Feb 7, 2019 at 12:22pm PST

On a more personal level, Pattie is a way for Wiley to explore his more feminine sides.

“In my normal life, I’d say I’m pretty straight-passing,” he says. “But when I put those boots on, it feels like a girl when she puts on mascara for the first time – it unlocks a different side of you that you haven’t seen before. I think femme is important. I think masculinity is important. I think it’s all inside of us.” If everyone accepted this gender fusion, the world would be a much better place.

Trust me. Better yet, trust Pattie.

Spill! Who are some badass women you’re obsessed with right now? Comment below and share some inspo!

The post 6 totally badass women I’m obsessed with right now appeared first on Young Adventuress.

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[wionews]

Life on a (Bollywood) film set

I arrived in Mumbai like legions of aspiring actors before me, and doubtless many more to come: with heady dreams of Bollywood stardom.

I have to admit that before moving to India, I had seen exactly one Bollywood film, and that was “Dhoom 1”, not exactly the height of cinematic achievement, I realise in retrospect, but I was hooked. I also (as mentioned in a previous post) had the dubious honour of singing “Tere Liye” from “Prince” at a Diwali Ball in graduate school. I didn’t have the faintest idea what the lyrics meant, and (having been trained in opera in my youth) I sang it like Brünnhilde. It was all very weird. When I learned that during my tenure in Mumbai, I’d be living mere blocks away from the legendary Shahrukh Khan, I believe my words were “Sharoo Who?” (Oh the heresy! The naiveté!)

I’ve been an avid thespian since I was 7 or so, chiefly acting in Shakespeare plays and musicals, so Bollywood – with its flair for melodrama, fondness for spectacle, and characters’ propensities for spontaneously bursting into elaborate song and dance routines – was a logical extension of my tastes. And once I got it into my head that I would portray the ingénue in Amir Khan’s next blockbuster (Dangal 2), I set about doing my homework.

I bought bootleg films in the local market and visited nearby movie stores to purchase boxed sets of Greatest Hits. I polled my coworkers for their all-time favourite Bollywood films and made a point of watching every movie they suggested [1]. A fellow Clinton fellow and Bollywood fanatic, the lovely Yasin Khan, and I teamed up to watch an Alia Bhatt flick “together” over Skype: her in Darjeeling, me in Chennai. Poor internet connections on both ends meant we had to re-sync our copies dozens of times, but we persevered.

One of my seminal experiences as a temporary Mumbaikar was patronising a matinee screening of Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (DDLJ) [2] at the Maratha Mandir theatre. This particular venue has been showing DDLJ, perhaps the most iconic movie in Bollywood history, every. single. day. since its debut in 1995 [3]. When Katrina and I attended a showing one weekend morning in early February, I expected to find the theatre virtually empty – for who could possibly want to watch a film that’s been running for 22 years at 11:30 am on a Sunday? To my enormous surprise, the balcony was absolutely packed to the gills with raucous moviegoers. Thus began one of the most absurd and electrifying crowd spectacles I’ve ever experienced; indeed, it felt more reminiscent of a football game than a film screening.

When Kajol and SRK made their first appearances onscreen, the spectators erupted in cheers and wolf-whistles; they sang along with every song and recited large chunks of dialogue word-perfectly; at intermission they streamed out into the lobby for samosas and steaming cups of chai, chattering delightedly; and moments after the final epic train scene, when Kajol’s dad utters the now iconic lines “Ja Simran, ja, jee le apni zindagi!” (“Go Simran, go, live your life!”), the whooping and hollering crowd almost instantaneously dispersed, leaving an eerily quiet balcony littered with samosa wrappers and paper chai cups in their wake. It was an experience as bizarre as it was delightful, and it ranks among my warmest Mumbai memories.

Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge celebrates 900 weeks of continuous showings at the Maratha Mandir: “The One with Heart Will Win the Bride”. (Others)

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My first decisive step towards Inevitable Stardom was to enrol in Anupam Kher’s evening acting course, thinking it might be a good way to hone my technique and make contacts in the industry. Alas, I quit after the third session: the course was conducted entirely in Hindi, and my language skills weren’t nearly strong enough for me to grasp the finer aspects of the Stanislavski Method. I also didn’t particularly relish the thought of spending three hours every evening for the next month pretending to be a snowflake [4].

I set about creating half a dozen online audition profiles and cold-emailing scores of casting directors. In time, all manner of bizarre audition notices began trickling in. At one point it seemed likely that I would be the face of India’s leading deodorant brand (huzzah!), but sadly that particular career-making windfall never came to pass. There were several offers that offended my dignity: I turned down a chance to advertise razors since doing so required posing nearly nude. I was cast in a web-series as a stock western character with “loose morals” but I did not feel comfortable with the behaviors I would be required to portray, nor did I wish to perpetuate stereotypes about my race. My most persistent pursuer – who regaled me with dozens of emails and phone calls despite my repeated refusals – seemed quite desperate to find Western actresses willing to wear a revealing Mrs Claus costume at a gentleman’s club in Delhi.

A few of my attempts to break into the Indian acting world came tantalisingly close to fruition. I was cast as a British publisher in an independent film and met personally with the director to review the script and discuss scheduling, but the filming dates kept getting postponed until finally, it was time for me to leave India. I was asked to make an emergency appearance at a Bandra studio to play a bit part in a Marathi serial, but the director never followed up with a specific location. I gave a screen test at Yash Raj Studios, to no avail. I was also invited to audition for the lead in a Niraj Pandey film (my big break at last??); but once again, the agent never provided audition details. Quite near the end of the fellowship, I joined the cast of a Hindi-language production of Macbeth (a ludicrously improbable confluence of so many things I adore), but ultimately work and family obligations took precedence.

At around the halfway point of the fellowship, I resolved to take matters into my own hands. Mumbai guidebooks will tell you that a Westerner hoping to serve as an extra on a Bollywood film set can often get “scouted” in certain touristy areas of town. I sipped countless cold coffees at the Leopold Café on Colaba Causeway, with my hair coiffed and a neat stack of resumes resting coyly on the table beside me. I repeatedly visited a hostel where tourists can sign up for same-day gigs and was told (much to my bafflement!) that all the studios in the city were “shut for the season.” I religiously attended theatrical performances all over Mumbai – at the Prithvi Theater, St. Andrew’s Auditorium, the National Centre for the Performing Arts – in hopes of forging directorial contacts. I even tried to put up my own production of one of my favourite musicals, “The Last Five Years,” but was unable to cast a crucial role.

In the end – spoiler alert, dear friends! – I never “made it” in the way I had envisioned. I guess Bollywood stardom is just one of those bucket list items I’ll have to consign to the failure pile, along with becoming a guzheng (Chinese zither) virtuoso and successfully knitting socks. Perhaps I am doomed to spend the rest of my film-watching days bitterly coveting all of Kalki Koechlin’s roles. In the end, however, I have no regrets about my misadventurous foray into the Mumbai film world: after all, almost becoming a famous antiperspirant evangelist is something I can be proud of. And along the way, I gained firsthand insights into the sometimes frustrating, sometimes exhilarating and always the capricious world of Indian cinema.

But to end this post on a slightly more positive note: I haven’t entirely given hope. Somewhere in the bowels of the Yash Raj media archives is a 30-second clip of me speaking terrible Hindi; so perhaps one day, Amir Khan will come to his senses and FINALLY cast me as the lead in a remake of Rang de Basanti.

I’ll be keeping my Indian mobile phone charged just in case.

[1] Incidentally, the results of this informal survey constituted a fascinating study of my colleagues’ personalities and tastes: one co-worker suggested the delightfully goofy classics “Mr. India” and “Amar, Akhbar, Anthony;” another raved about “Mughal-e-Azam,” which is a cinematographic masterpiece but LONG and SLOW; while a few of my younger colleagues favored modern movies with political slants and social commentary, such as “PK” and “Pink.”

[2] I was also interested to note that many of the canonical Bollywood tropes – scenes shot in exotic locations, “bad boys” wooing “good girls,” unwelcome engagements and wedding mishaps, a final dramatic climax unfolding on a train – can trace their origins to the wildly popular DDLJ.

[3] At one point in the early 2000s (so the legend goes), the Maratha Mandir Theater decided it was time to end the daily showings of DDLJ; so the lead actor, Shahrukh Khan, simply purchased the establishment to keep his signature film running. This story is apocryphal, but fun to think about.

[4] As much as I adore and deeply respect the craft of acting, training in this field can sometimes be accurately characterised by my favourite Fry and Laurie sketch).

This article was originally published on 09/ 08/ 2017 on American India Foundation

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