#happy birthday sri

[naurasweetarudesu]

🎉🎈Happy 1.27🎈🎉

It's already 27th of January in my country. It's Sri's birthday! Have some hair down Sri to celebrate it.

Bonus: Old Lady Sri

[biblioklept-writes]

The Foreign Queen (Aemond Targaryen x Desi!Fem!Reader)

Summary: There is a new ship in the land, carrying riches Westeros has never seen before. The people are interesting, sharing some common and other completely different ideas. Aemond decides to deal with one claiming to be their Princess, the beautiful Y/N, and something clicks in place.

Content Warning: canon divergence (duh), i have only watched the show, might contain some spoilers, reader has black hair and brown eyes (typical of most desis) and wear kajal (kohl), reader will be good at maths and physics (i had too i need the representation), reader is hindu and will talk of hinduism, there will be “strong” jokes, I invented a whole new continent in the hotd universe, okay? Explicit language to be expected, other than that we are good i guess? No other physical description of the reader is involved

Ps: will use hindi, sanskrit and odia (translations in parentheses). Currently this is just an idea, i will write further if the motivation and plot strikes. 

Series Masterlist

It had been a rather dull autumn afternoon, the only highlight yet being the morning flight Aemond had gotten with Vhagar. Business in the council was proceeding as usual, with Aegon missing and their grandsire, Otto Hightower acting as the King Reagent in his stead while their mother, Dowager Queen Alicent Targaryen sat at the head. The lords had been discussing an upcoming tourney when a messenger came in with a flushed face, looking as though he ran from port to the Red Keep. He barely caught his breath before he started speaking.

“There is a large ship being docked in the port, Your Grace, My Lord Hand,” He breathlessly said. “Their messengers speak mostly in a foreign tongue, but they claim to be here for trade. They say their princess is with them, those strange people. They are asking for permission to enter King’s Landing.”

“Where are these people from?” Otto Hightower asked. “Did they say?”

“They said… Bharat.” The messenger added, still struggling to catch his breath. “Your Grace, My Lord Hand, you must send your word with me back, the matter requires your urgent attention. They wish to speak with His Majesty in his court.”

“I don’t think a message would be apt for this situation,” Alicent calmly said. “It is better if we send a representative of ours with you, Ser.” Her big brown eyes scanned the room once, and said, “Ser Cole, I would like you to go to the docks as Aegon’s representative, make sure that these people are not of ill intentions.”

“It would be better to send a royal to accompany Ser Cole, Your Grace.” Ser Willis Fell said, earning agreeing nods from the other lords in the council. “For if this Princess' claim is true, it wouldn't be… appropriate for a Knight to meet a lady of such stature. If My Lord Hand could go-”

“I will accompany Ser Cole,” Aemond said. He agreed, if it were indeed a princess of a foreign land, sending a non-royal to speak with her would reflect poorly on them. A foreign land meant more resources and soldiers, and they needed both of them in abundance as the war threatened to bloom in Westeros and Essos. A strong alliance for them meant a weakness for their opponent.

“Aemond-” Alicent started, but he interrupted her.

“I’ll be fine, Mother.” He said. “I really wish to see these strange people claiming to be traders.” Aemond’s gaze fixed on the messenger, who seemed to cower under his calculating stare. Of course, the eyepatch must have been a contributing factor with the reputation that he had built for himself.

Vhagar was simply too big to fly to the dock, so Aemond had to take a horse along with Ser Cole, unfortunately. It took them a bit over an hour but they managed to make it to the dock before sunset, and there he saw it: a ship in the horizon, larger than anything he had ever seen before, gleaming like liquid gold in the late afternoon sun. A red and white striped flag with a yellow swastik flew high in the oceanic winds.

Two men adorning mustard colored tunics and some white pants with black hair, white turbans and twining moustaches signalled at the ship upon his arrival, and a small boat moved toward the coastline. They were still too far away to make out clearly, but once the boat got closer, he noticed the woman sitting in the front, majestic on the waves. The man and the woman behind her rowed her quickly to the shore.

He thought her claim must be true then, for she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on with her hair blacker than midnight and her brown eyes stern yet deep. Her presence commanded attention, and she carried herself with the poise of a queen.

She was dressed in a lavender and white garment he had never seen before, her dark mane complimenting her brown, kohl-lined eyes. Her body held a certain feline grace - her steps quiet and calculated, her gaze confident and conniving. 

Aemond got off his horse as she stepped off the dock and towards the port, the messenger escorting her to him and Ser Criston, who stood behind him with his hand ready to raise his sword. “This is Princess Y/N of the Bharat,” the messenger said, unable to take his eyes off you. Everyone present on the dock stared eagerly, trying to soak up the gossip.

“And I assume you must be Prince Aemond,” She said, her voice firm but sweet. Her pronunciation held an accent, but it was fairly accurate. He was more surprised to find that she actually knew him by name and recognised him this quickly. “I hear you have a reputation for brutality,”

“Only to the people that pester my family and my brother’s kingdom.” He replied in his usual monotone voice. “I hope you aren’t here to threaten my brother’s kingdom, for I’d hate to put a blade through you.”

“Bharat reaches to you in good hopes, Prince,” She said. “We are merely here to offer trade: we have skilled workers manufacturing weapons, chariots, even defences of all sorts. We have great food and spices. You ought to give us a chance to present our goods before disregarding us.”

“Would these weapons fight against dragons, Princess?” Aemond asked.

“There’s only one way to find that out,” she said. “I hope to be able to get an audience with the King, we will do as he sees fit -  we shall leave in peace if he demands that, my Prince.”

“Mhm,” Aemond glanced over at her and her people once more. They all had a curved knife strapped to their hips, and the princess carried a two-foot long blade in a bejewelled holster, the hilt seemingly made of gold with a leather grip. He noted the big gold hoops that gleamed in her ears and the three large rings that occupied her right hands’ fingers. “Only you and one more person will be granted permission to meet the King,” He carefully said. “And… you must leave your weapons behind.”

“Going into a foriegn land with no people and no weapons seems like a fools’ errand, my Prince,” She countered. “Are your swordsmen and fighters so incapable that you are afraid of being attacked in your own palace by two foreigners?”

Aemond slowly blinked, a devious grin forming at her words. “Very well then,” he said, voice decisive. “You and your companion must be accompanied by a knight or me at all times, for we have no intent of trusting someone… unfamiliar with our home. Times like these demand such action,”

“I hope we wouldn’t bore you with our dull company,” She said, brown eyes glinting with amusement, and something dark, something he pictured in his own gaze.

“I can tell that your company will be anything but dull, Princess.” He said. “Ser Criston, please get two mighty steeds for our companions from Bharat.”

Presently, they stand in the King’s Court, the drunkard King sober for a change. Aemond supposed the foreign Princess’ commanding presence was a contributing factor to his brother’s sobriety, but he knew it was her enticing allure, her charming voice and her regal poise that appealed to him. The princess reminded him of wildflowers - magnificent, all consuming in their scent and most of the time, deadly. 

His keen eye had not missed the way the knights of the Kingsguard and the lords at the court had eyed the bejewelled sheath of her blade up and down, as if trying to see through the sheath and capture the blade.

“You talk of trade, yet you carry weapons deadly enough to cut a man,” Aegon noted, gaze eagerly fixed on the woman in front of him. The whole court was silent save for his words, all eyes and ears focused on the stunning princess. “What sort of trade requires that, pray tell me,”

“Your Majesty, the blades are to defend the supplies,” She said, voice neutral. “And to hunt animals for meat. The blades only cut through those who threaten our peace, honour and survival.”

Aegon scratched his chin, leaning forward. “What did you say your trade in?”

“Spices, fabrics, weapons, gold, skilled labourers,” She said, seemingly holding everyone’s gaze at once. “Silver, bronze, blacksmiths who can build chariots, soldiers who would kill for your cause.”

The silence that followed was ringing, one could hear everyone’s breath.

“Why do you need this trade?” Otto Hightower asked.

“My Lord Hand,” Princess Y/N started with a respectful bow. “Why do merchants sell? Why does a servant work? All of the work that we do comes down to one thing - money and power. We have skilled labourers, we have gold, we have silver, we have copper. But even gold becomes worthless when it is in excess, and the flow of trade would make both of us more powerful.”

“What would we get in exchange for our money?” Dowager Queen Alicent asked. Aemond knew from the gleam in her big brown eyes that she was curious, at least, about the goods the princess promised.

“Allow me to present to you a small gift, Your Grace,” The Princess bowed again. From the bags, her moustached companion fetched the finest of the silk Aemond had ever seen - his fingers involuntarily twitched at the sight of the sage-green fabric. A servant brought the fabric from the foreign man to his mother, who was visibly impressed by the silk. “It is the finest silk in the known land, Your Grace,”

Another sample was a thick gold chain with a tiny hourglass pendant, given to his Grandsire Otto Hightower. “My Lord Hand, this hour glass turns over itself in a period of five and forty minutes,” She said. “It is made of the most intricate designs and is sturdy enough to be worn daily.”

“For His Majesty,” The Princess said as her companion fetched a foot long box wrapped in a silver-grey cloth. “We present the blade forged by our best swordsmiths, we present a gauntlet sword - Dandpatta - made in silver reinforced with the best steel we make.”

Aegon eagerly opened his present, the silver blade almost blinding in its shine. He stood up and tested the blade, and commented, “It has great balance, Princess.”

“I am glad to impress Your Majesty,” She said. Her companion fetched another box wrapped in silver-grey cloth, this time the servant handing the box to Aemond. He opened the box, normally, as the Princess’ sweet voice said, “For those who prefer sleath over pomp, for the one known to be quiet, I present to you, Ratri, the blade of the night. It is made of the highest quality of wootz steel, and can cut silently even through the toughest of barks and scales.”

It was a wicked blade, curved slightly like a scythe, but much smaller and easily concealable. When did the princess get to study each of them? Has someone been ratting them out to people they didn’t even know existed? For such precision in giving gifts was impossible without proper prior knowledge of the receiver.

The Princess turned to Haelena and curtseyed for the first time. “For Her Majesty, I present a jewellery set fit for a Queen of her stature, it is all in steel reinforced gold - can be used as a weapon lest someone corner the beautiful Queen.” 

“Quite thoughtful of you, presenting these gifts,” Aegon said, clearly impressed by the sword he received. “I will let you trade with us, Princess.” 

Perhaps you had impressed his brother with the presents you had so thoughtfully brought, but you had imprinted yourself in his head with all the inside information you must have known to think of such gifts. Either that or you and your companions were quick judges of character, but that seemed a bit of a stretch. Your face was one he could never forget, with the intense kohl and the gleaming brown eyes and hair darker than the night, you were a sight meant to be remembered.

The only logical explanation seemed that you had spies in the Red Keep, getting updates about everyone from that source. He had to find that source, pull it off the roots, for you knew the royal family a little too well.

The court was dismissed and you were sent back to let your ship dock at the port and your people had been granted an empty warehouse to store the goods along with a clear plot of land to build the temporary housing facilities your people would need.

Alicent had generously offered you to stay in the castle walls, but you had politely declined, saying that your heart and duty lies with your people and travelling companions. Aemond respected that, his respect for you growing tenfold on learning that you spoke in four tongues and were learning a fifth. But he had so much to learn from you, and from your manners in court today, he knew it would be a big challenge for him - you had earned his respect, but he had to know how you spied on his family without them being aware of you and your peoples’ existence.

How was it that the mighty Targaryens with their dragons had never explored the unknown? How was it that a fleet of ships managed to survive the unresting sea from lands so far away that the dragonriders didn’t spot it? It was this primal hunger for answers that urged him to get closer to you, to dig out the answers he needed to sate his curiosity. Why were you promising them your soldiers? Were you one of his half-sister’s ploys to usurp the throne that was rightfully Aegon’s? Were you sent on a mission, falsely pretending to be a princess sent by Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen to wipe his family clean and leave the Iron Throne vulnerable and up for them to do as they please?

There were so many questions, but no answers in sight. Aemond doubted you were from Driftmark - you and your people were too different, with skin that glowed like gold under the sunlight and new languages he hadn’t even heard of before. Self-appointing himself as your contact person to the King’s council, he frequented your camp, not seeing any ill intent - at least for now.

But he didn’t know what to make of the Bharatiyas either. The people were welcoming and nice enough, even treated him to delicacies he never could have imagined. There were some names he was struggling to speak, but Aemond was nothing if not determined. With the eyes of a hawk and the hearing of a wolf, the dragon carefully observed the foreigners and slowly picked on your languages. 

One of them - Hindi - was simpler than the other tongues that people used. It seemed there were as many dialects as there were people, and Aemond found himself terribly lost as he tried to keep up with them. But he had vowed to himself that he would learn to understand your languages, at least. Yet, he was drawn in by the complexities and fun of their culture, how they worshipped their Gods and Goddesses; how each member of the camp contributed to the working; how the few kids there were allowed to be exposed to the Westeros languages and culture (lack thereof, he thought later).

Aemond had never expected to enjoy someone else’s customs this much. He had appointed himself on a mission, and he wouldn’t let himself be distracted. He swore that he will abstain from gazing at your intense eyes and glowing skin, from the confidence you exude and the power you command.

But each second he spent in your presence, he found himself more enraptured by you - your kohl lined eyes, your pretty mouth, your heavy gold jewellery and the delight with which you spoke. He would be damned to the seven hells and beyond with all the teasing he would get if Aegon or Daeron ever read his mind, full of thought with admiration for you.

Here it is! for all the desi!readers out there like me, I hope you enjoy this. This part mainly describes their entrance and welcome, and I will try to include more political intrigue as I write further. Do drop by some scene ideas that i can include so all the desis feel represented. It is currently 2 am for me but today is Halloween and my birthday so I am posting this as a treat for myself (yes this is another treat for me hehe) Lets hope that i can get around to finish this one. Also, if you are a team black stan who would rather stay off some anti-sort remarks, i am sorry loves but this one is not for you. Better if you scroll past than start an argument.

[jeevanjali]

Krishna Janmashtami 2024: How To Worship Laddu Gopal On Janmashtami For ProsperityKrishna Janmashtami 2024: Learn the method, mantras, and significance of Laddu Gopal Abhishek on Krishna Janmashtami 2024. Seek the blessings of Lord Krishna on this auspicious festival

[srbachchan]

DAY 5900

Jalsa, Mumbai Apr 13/14, 2024 Sat/Sun 12:37 AM

Birthday - EF - Prasha Ganesh Sunday, 14 April .. wishes for this day from all the Ef family ..🚩❤️

🪔 ,

Ef Prasha Ganesh from Sri Lanka .. and Ef Urvashi Sharma .. 🙏🏻🚩

Mesadi / Vaisakhadi

Mesadi/Vaisakhadi festival celebrated by the people of Maharashtra and Karnataka. Celebrated on the 13th day of the bright half of the Hindu month of Vaishakha. An important festival for the farmers of Maharashtra and Karnataka as it marks the beginning of the sowing season.

VAISAKHI, VISHU, RONGALI BIHU, NABA BARSHA, VAISAKHADI AND PUTHANDU PIRAPPU

Sunday, 14 April

.. all the festive occasions .. all together .. one nation ..

greetings for peace calm and harmony among all .. 🚩🇮🇳

... for the joy and happiness in the celebration of good harvesting .. what be sown, be of value and immense .. the feed from the 'Annadata' .. अन्नदाता .. the deity who provides food ..

THE FARMER .. !!

... but the mind still lingers on the nuclear areas of discussion and many other books videos documentaries are researched .. and all come to just one conclusion ..

within seconds .. it can me Armageddon .. !!!

no further explanation or talk .. live in the present of celebration and gaiety , happiness and celebration .. for nothing be greater than that ..

Love to all 🌹❤️

Amitabh Bachchan

PS :

.. and you watch a game .. and truly without reason you side with one side and inwardly, even though there is no personal interest or following, you wish it to win .. and it reaches a hard fought end to a battle well fought .. and lose ..

Painful ..

But the pluck of the loser be rewarded ..

The boxing ring in Sherwood ..

[srisrisriddd]

Happy 5251 st Birthday Krishna God - Janmashtami

मेरी भव-बाधा हरौ, राधा नागरि सोइ। जा तन की झाँई परैं, स्यामु हरित-दुति होइ॥ या अनुरागी चित्त की, गति समुझै नहिं कोइ। ज्यौं-ज्यौं बूड़ै स्याम रँग, त्यौं-त्यौं उज्जलु होई॥ - Dr Devang H Dattani

Good Morning

Duha / Quote / Poem / Poetry / Quotes Of 

Bhagwan Sri Sri Sri

Doctor Devang H Dattani

Infinite SriSriSri DDD

Posted By TheBlissCity DDD Team

See The Media Photo Video For

Quoteoftheday

God Morning

#aartj , #bliss , #TheBlissCity , #philosophy , #mindfulness , #DrDevangHDattani , #nature , #awareness , #InfiniteSriSriSriDDD , #quotes , #life , #art , #zen , #awakening , #quote , #spiritual , #photography , #Video , #meditation , #psychology , #poem , #poetry , #motivation , #inspiration , #quoteoftheday , #love , #words , #thoughts , #joy , #pun , #enlightenment , #health , #mental health , #consciousness , #shiva , #god , #krishna , #life , #video , #self , #beautiful , #makeup , #birthday , #nirvana , #tantra , #yoga , #harekrishna , #har har mahadev , #harerama , #mahadev , #light , #rama , #temple , #videography , #flowers , #photooftheday

[vicbutbetter]

I’m playing a little game called

Do they Snore?

David ✨- only if he sleeps on his back, and when he does snore that shit is LOUD, it shakes the foundation of the house. He is what caused the San Francisco Earthquake of 1989. You always make him sleep either on his side or his stomach (he hates sleeping on his back anyways so it’s fine)

Milo ✨- absolutely. It doesn’t matter where or how he’s sleeping that mf is snoring. However it’s not as loud as David. It's quiet but you can definitely tell when he’s sleeping. It’s a little inhale snore.

Asher ✨- he does snore but you never hear it because his face is always IN the pillow. How he hasn’t suffocated yet I don’t know. He definitely snores louder than Milo but I’m taking off points since he’s muffled by his pillow. (Save this man)

Sam ✨ - I don’t think he snores but I do think that he breathes REALLY LOUD. It sounds like he ran a marathon in his sleep. (Run cowboy run)

^

Edit: If Sam is woken up by someone he has the middle aged mom war flashbacks. And he’s probably punching you in the face too

Vincent ✨ - Absolutely not. You don’t even know when he’s asleep, he’s as quiet as a mouse. You guys are watching a movie and he’s laying his head in your lap and you wouldn’t know he’s asleep until the end of the movie. And you don’t know WHEN he fell asleep either. He sleeps like the undead (HAHA GET IT)

William✨ - He doesn’t snore when he first goes to sleep but later he will, it’s like a jump scare. It’s a very polite snore. It’s considerate of your feelings, but it also comes out of nowhere. (wtf Vic).

Guys say thank you to @sri-rachaa for helping me with Vincent

Also happy birthday @daveyistheloml !!!

[gingerbreadmonsters]

cherry leather looker

or: you're a car, you're a woman, you're a drug!

gn!reader, explicit nsfw, vincent-typical after-school shenanigans. bank me like a millionaire, baby! it’s time for some last-minute summer fun, so you know what that means… my vincent is chinese, so don’t be surprised that he’s got a bit more physical description than i usually go in for. for the wonderful rae @sri-rachaa, mutual of my heart everything i do is for her - happy birthday gorgeous girlie!! all my love, and hope you’re having a fab day <3 inspired by sugar soaker by panic! at the disco, and i wonder if you can guess why…? vincent going off-road in just over 5300 words.

i’m aware that the byline implies fem!lovely, but that’s just because that’s how the song goes lol - lovely here is entirely gender neutral, and their body (including their, um, hardware) is basically not described at all.

this fic contains explicit nsfw content, and is very, very 18+. reader discretion is advised. minors dni. thank you. 

Ugh.

Studying.

Exams aren’t coming up for a while yet, but unfortunately that doesn’t mean you don’t have to study. DAMN loves to pile the work on, latent humanborns be damned, and it’s an absolute nightmare once deadlines start to roll around.

“Lovely!”

Sam’s been tutoring you every Friday for a few months now, keeping you hostage once a week for an hour or two after classes, and it’s awful. He’s not bad at it, he’s just kind of boring, you know? He’s so good at this stuff that he doesn’t really know how to teach it very well, so he ends up doing that infuriating thing where he just reads stuff out of the textbook, nods like of course you’ll have understood that, and moves onto the next thing. It’s infuriating!

You’ve got to be at his place in, like, twenty minutes - normally Vincent would come and pick you up, but he’s got some meeting in town with a client, so Sam’s coming to get you instead. It’s not fair! When Vincent comes to pick you up, he always lets you choose the music, and he brings one of the cars that’s fast enough to get you there in half the time, so he can make out with you in the back seat for ten minutes before you have to go. Sam? Uh, no thanks, for several reasons. Long story short, you’re really not looking forward to studying with him tonight-

“Tianxin!”

…Wait, what?

The car park isn’t full, but it’s certainly not empty. It must be, what, about half twelve? Quarter to one? You’ve just come out of your Introductory Mental Disciplines lecture and your brain is kind of fried - Professor Albright’s a wonderful teacher, but he can be a little… intense, to put it lightly - so it’s not exactly a surprise that it takes you a minute to figure out where that voice is coming from.

“Lovely! Over here!”

Hazard lights flash behind you, and a good handful of other students turn with you to see - ah. Yeah, okay. You really should have known. Vincent Solaire, the picture of romance, big round sunglasses perched amid gracefully-dishevelled hair, waving madly from the driver’s seat of a very red, very shiny, very expensive convertible.

“Get in!”

Well, he certainly doesn’t have to tell you twice.

He’s already got his foot on the pedal as you slam the door shut, chucking your backpack over onto the back seat, and he pulls you in for a breathless kiss while clumsy hands fumble with your seatbelt. As soon as he hears it click, that’s it - before you really know what’s going on, you’re racing out of the car park and down the road out of town, music all the way up and pedal all the way down.

“How did - where-” You’re still a bit dizzy from the speed of it all - how the hell is he here? “What happened to your meeting?”

“Got Alexis to do it,” he says breezily, one hand reaching up to adjust the rearview mirror before slipping down to sit high on your thigh. “I just about stopped Fred catching her and Christian having some fun in the dining room after the clan meeting a few weeks ago, so she owes me one.”

Ah. That would explain why Vincent couldn’t keep a straight face when Sam’s mate had asked if he knew why the dining room table was away for repairs the other day. You don’t really want to know what he told them.

“Actually, that reminds me!” Regrettably, he takes his hand off you to put his sunglasses on properly - only Vincent would be caught wearing sunglasses at night unironically, just because they look cool, baby, look! He does an awkward sort of wriggle as he fishes his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, tossing it lightly into your lap. “Can you check if it’s on silent, please?”

“Yeah, hold on. It’s… no, it’s not.” It only takes a few seconds - you offer it back to him, but he shakes his head, so you just put it in the centre console. “Why?”

“Because…” Vincent’s grin gets impossibly bigger, laughing as you race down the A-road that leads into the woods surrounding Dahlia. “I’d know that old thing a mile away. Say hello, lovely!”

He flashes the hazards again, sticking two fingers in his mouth for a piercing wolf-whistle before flipping off the truck going the other w- hold on, that’s Sam’s truck, why’s he heading out now if you’re meant to be-

“Better luck next time, old man!” Vincent shouts over his shoulder, and there’s that vampire hearing - true to form, his phone lights up with an incoming call, the familiar piano loud as it vibrates. “Finders keepers!”

Twisting round in your seat, you laugh as Sam’s truck disappears when you turn the corner, leaning over to kiss Vincent’s temple partly in shock, but mostly in elation. “Breaking me out of prison, hmm?”

“For you, baobei?” He threads his fingers between yours, that lovesick look you know so wonderfully well, gently pulling your hand to press his lips to your wrist. “I’m stealing you all for myself.”

His other hand flicks the left indicator on, which is a bit of a surprise. Isn’t home in the other direction? “Are we not…?”

He scoffs theatrically, and it’s unfair that he can make it sound so cute. “Going home? No. What’d you wanna do that for?” Your phone starts buzzing, Sam clearly having given up on Vincent answering, but you both ignore it. “I thought we could, uh, go on a little adventure tonight. Just us.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” He flushes slightly at your tone, cheeks slowly turning pink, and your smile widens as he deliberately avoids your eyes in the mirror. “Last time we went ‘adventuring’, we ended up fucking up the suspension so much that even you said you were gonna have to pay someone to fix it. Sure you wanted to bring this car?”

“I - you-!” Flustered, he stabs clumsily at the centre console, pointedly turning the volume up even as his blush deepens and deepens with your wicked laughter. “ Just- just pick a song!”

The drive isn’t too long, all things considered - it’s only about an hour, maybe a bit more. It’s not like the roads are all that busy at 1am, you know? At first, you’re not really sure where he might be taking you, but about twenty minutes in he turns down onto the coast road, and it clicks.

“At this hour? It’ll be freezing!” He really thinks he’s slick, doesn’t he? And okay, yeah, he kind of is, but there’s no way you’re telling him that. Got to keep him on his toes, after all.

“Mmm, it will be, won’t it?” Up ahead, the lights turn red at the junction. Ever a man of opportunity, he wastes no time - the car’s barely stopped before he’s kissing you, one hand under your jaw and the other sliding down to rub teasingly over your hip. “Gonna keep - nnng - gonna keep me warm, lovely?”

“Haahh-” Soft, always so soft. Pulling slightly against your seatbelt, closer closer closer - ooh, is that strawberry chapstick? Between the fizz of his hands on your skin and the sweetness of his mouth against yours, it’s kind of hard to come up with a coherent response. “Yeah, mmm, yeah, just- hm?”

Unfortunately, he breaks what was shaping up to be a very nice kiss as a motorbike speeds past, straight over the junction. Oh. Right, yeah, the traffic lights. You’d sort of forgotten about that. Thank goodness there’s nobody else behind you. Vincent’s gaze meets yours, washed in green light, lips already slightly pinker than normal - you’re so tempted to ask if you can pull over. Come on, nobody’s looking. Just for five minutes?

(Well, maybe ten. Fifteen. Twenty? Maybe just a bit longer-)

The glovebox clicking open knocks you out of your pleasant reverie, watching Vincent rifle awkwardly through the mess of CD cases before extracting a half-empty bottle of chewing gum.

“Want some?” He rattles the jar towards you, popping two in his mouth before grimacing in surprise. “Wait, this-”

Pushing his sunglasses back up into his hair, he looks properly at the label this time, and you’re not saying his age is catching up to him, but… “Fuck, I forgot I ran out of strawberry.” Undeterred, he takes a third one before handing you the bottle, stepping on the pedal as you put it back in the glovebox. “I think it’s spearmint? Peppermint? Oh, I don’t know - the one Lexi had the other day.”

“Did she get it for you?” You’re surprised. When Alexis and Vincent buy things for each other, they’re normally one of two things: specifically designed to make the other’s life noticeably worse, or costing at least several thousand dollars. Somehow, you doubt that this particular jar of chewing gum was either of those things, but Alexis Solaire is nothing if not full of surprises.

“Nah. Nicked it off her desk,” he declares, looking far too pleased with himself as he flicks the indicator down. “She likes that awful cinnamon-flavoured shit more anyway, so really I’m doing her a favour.”

(Yeah, okay. That sounds more like the pair of them. You won’t mention the industrial-sized roll of tin foil that you saw her and Christian dragging into Vincent’s room at Will’s house.)

Humming along to the CD player, he turns off down one of the side roads - you know the sort, one of those that’s not really a road at all, just a sort of gap in the hedgerow. It’s just dirt, and it’s kind of bumpy, but it gives Vincent an excuse to go and fuss over his precious paintwork, so he’s fine with it. Sam complains about it every time he comes down here, but that’s what you get when the suspension on your truck is practically prehistoric, isn’t it?

“Wanna go inside for a bit? Or straight out to the back?”

“Uh…” As nice as the house is - and make no mistake, it’s really nice - you’d rather get straight to it. It’s not everyday you get to spend some time at a place like this. “Straight through?”

“Sure.”

The house belongs to William, but it’s not associated with the business as one of the actual, like, ‘Solaire Properties’. Really, it’s just for family or clan stuff - you’ve been down here several times before, mostly for birthdays or celebrations or whatever. Vincent’s never gone into too much detail, but from what you’ve heard about William’s life before the whole rich-vampire-king palaver, he’s always liked the sea. He loved it from afar, as Vincent puts it, but you gather that he never really had much of a chance to enjoy it.

That’s why he bought this place, apparently - a long-held dream fulfilled, and you’re not going to begrudge him that. It’s not very easy for vampires to really do beach holidays. Good on him for finding a convenient (if eye-wateringly expensive) way to do it.

(When she’d mentioned it to you the first time, Alexis had called it a nice little summer house. Your definitions of ‘nice’ and ‘little’ clearly aren’t quite the same. For starters, you probably wouldn’t include a multi-million dollar beachfront property in one of the most beautiful places on the California coast, but apparently that just shows how much you know. Turns out the dollar really is almighty, and William Solaire certainly has a lot of them.)

“Hope you brought your swimsuit, baby,” he says innocently, fiddling with his phone and unlocking the gates. His wry grin betrays him, though - he forgets every time that you can still see him in the rearview mirror. “Water’s nice, this time of year.”

“You little…” Oh, he’s going to be for it in a minute. “Who on earth do you know that brings a swimsuit to a Dreamwalking lecture?”

“My lovely, caught unaware? Surely not!” He gasps in faux surprise, now not even trying to hide the smirk spreading across his face. “I reckon you had this planned, you know.”

“Yeah?” This should be good. “And how did I do that, hmm?”

“Oh, it’s very simple,” he proclaims, free hand gracefully pulling his sunglasses off and tucking them in his shirt pocket as he turns down the drive. “You’ve lured me out here with your effortless charm and stunning good looks, with the promise of getting to take a swim all alone with my gorgeous lovely, only to turn on your heel and deprive me of the one thing I’ve been looking forward to all week.“ It’s unfair how cute that stupid pout of his is, sighing plaintively as he laments your supposed scheming. "You’re so mean to me, you know that?”

“Am I, now?” It’s always fun, playing along with him. “I’m sorry, my love,” you say mournfully, leaning across to press a kiss to his cheek and smiling as he tries not to blush. “However could I make it up to you?”

“Well, I do know one way we could make this work…” he says, valiantly ignoring the flush slowly spreading across his face at the absolutely shameless once-over he gives you. “I mean, you don’t have to be wearing anyth- hey!”

“Nice try, loverboy,” you announce, haughtily settling your newly-acquired sunglasses atop your head. “Like hell you’re getting me in there with nothing on - it’s fucking freezing!”

Vincent sighs, plaintive and airy, like it being 1am and pitch-black outside shouldn’t matter. Ooh, he’s lucky he’s so pretty. “Too bad, sha gua, too bad. Guess I’ll have to find some other way to get you w- okay! I’m st- I’m stopping!”

Bastard. One-handed, he bats away your hands from his hair as he pulls up by the sand, fingers flexing on the wheel when you manage to get just close enough to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Rude.” He huffs, giving you that stupid, cute pout that really shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. “I thought that was pretty good, actually.”

You give him a look. “I’m not sure pick-up lines have ever been - hey - waitwaitwait!”

You’re never going to be used to that vampire strength, are you? The angle is ridiculous, but his hands lock around your waist before you can protest, and somehow he manages to manoeuvre you over the centre console and into his lap without too much fuss.

Vincent opens his mouth, smug as anything, but he only manages a sort of garbled half-noise before your hand quickly shuts him up.

“That does not count as a pick-up line!”

He stares, cross-eyed, down at your hand for a surprised second, before petulantly trying to lick your palm in retaliation. Luckily, you’re wise to his tricks by now - you pull your hand away just in time and fix him with the best glare you can muster, although it’s probably undercut by the fact that you’re trying really hard not to laugh.

Undeterred, he smirks up at you, brushing the hair out of his face with a satisfied flourish.

“Yeah, but you thought it was hot.”

Fuck. He’s right. You stutter into an excuse for a second, but it doesn’t come - instead, you just slide your hands up his chest, over his shoulders and up to his jaw, before just leaning down and kissing him. It always works.

True to form, he melts into your touch, letting you kiss the mint-flavoured smirk right off his face with a pleased sigh. Quick fingers twist into the fabric of your shirt, and you’re just running your tongue over his bottom lip when-

“Wait - just - just a sec-”

He pulls back unexpectedly, reaching over and fumbling around in the glovebox for a second, one hand holding your hip to keep you balanced in his lap, before extricating an old receipt. Neatly, he drops his gum into the paper, folding it in half to stick it to itself before depositing it into the cupholder to throw away later.

“Okay!” He grins up at you, blindingly beautiful, and you almost have to blink away the sunspots in your eyes. “Where were we, again?”

This time, you don’t bother trying to hide your laugh - instead, you just muffle it in his shoulder, letting him nip affectionately at your neck against the gentle sound of waves lapping at the sand. “Hate you.”

“Yeah,” he replies airily, and you don’t need to look to see his smile. “Hate you too.”

You pull back and he ducks his head slightly to kiss you again, tongue brushing lightly against your lip until you tilt your head slightly to - yeah, that’s a better angle. Vaguely, you’re aware of him guiding your legs around his waist, and you can feel him standing up and getting out of the car, but most of it is forgotten as the warm haze of his kisses swirls through your brain and makes your fingers go all tingly.

Although your eyes are closed, you can tell that he’s walking somewhere from the movement of his body against you, the sound of sand under his feet, but where’s he going? Into the house? Cracking one eye open, you can see the dark shape of the garage in front of you - so he’s heading towards the water, then. Wait, but why would he - oh, no fucking way-

“Mm - mmf!” Swallowing a giggle at his stunned face, you wriggle out of his arms with a sharp twist and a burst of vampiric speed, before turning and scrambling away across the sand. Shocked, he’s not quite quick enough to grab your arm as you dodge out of the way, and he laughs in surprise as you make him chase you further and further towards the sea.

“Oh, I don’t - I don’t think so-!”

“Catch me if you can!”

As fast as you’re going, it’s basically no distance at all until you’re splashing into the shallow water. Spray kicks up around your ankles, soaking into your shoes and socks, but it can’t weigh you down. You dance out of his way regardless, heart pounding giddily as adrenaline rushes through your body, dipping your hand down to flick water at him whenever he looks in danger of getting slightly too close.

“Still - fuck! - still too slow!” He almost manages to snatch the back of your shirt, and you stick your tongue out at his wounded expression as you back up into the slightly deeper water. “See, I told you I was faster…”

“You - get - get back here!”

He lunges for your waist, but he’s too slow - with a splash, he topples through the space where you used to be and goes face first into the freezing water. Luckily, it’s deep enough that he doesn’t just hit the ground, and you wade gingerly towards him as your body starts to register the cold.

“Lovely!” Spitting out a mouthful of seawater, you’re met with the distinctly-bedraggled shape of a very wet Vincent Solaire, blinking the salt out of his eyes. The shock of the cold water forces the breath out of him, but for some reason it can’t make him any less unfairly attractive. You don’t bother to hide your satisfied smirk at the sight of him raking his soaked hair out of his face with one hand, white t-shirt now slightly see-through and clinging to his chest.

“You - you!” he gasps, pointing accusingly at you with as stern a glare as he can muster. “Oh, when I get my hands on you, I-”

He’s cut off by your gleeful kiss, throwing yourself through the waist-deep water at him and knowing that he’ll catch you. Mmm, he’s such a sucker.

“Yeah?” you say between kisses. “You’ll what?”

“I…”

After a pause, he shrugs half-heartedly and gives in to let you kiss him again. “Probably - mmm - yeah, uh, probably that…”

Moonlight sparkles on the water as he clutches you tighter, drinking in the familiar taste of you. Cold currents come and go, but neither of you really notice, far too swept up in each other for it to matter - besides, the warmth of his body against yours is more than enough to keep you happy.

After a little while, he moves to kiss slowly down your neck, leaning you back slightly in his arms to get a better angle. Your fingers tangle in his hair, dark and dripping, and he sighs happily against your skin when you pull slightly, just the way he likes.

“Tianshi…” he murmurs, fangs digging gently into your skin because he knows it makes you shiver. “You shouldn’t tease, you know.”

“Mm, you started it,” you reply. “Whose good idea was it to go swimming in the middle of the night, again?”

“Hm.” You can feel him pouting, muttering quietly into your shoulder. “Like ‘m giving up my lovely for some stupid tutoring.”

He makes a good point. This is much nicer than whatever boring textbook questions Sam was supposed to be making you do right now. In your magnificent generosity, you reward your saviour with a benevolent kiss to his temple, before your hand trails down over his neck, his shoulder, across his-

“Did you-?”

“Hm?” Tilting back just a little, he looks down at himself like he’s as surprised as you are that his shirt has disappeared. “Oh, yeah.”

Biting back a laugh, you smack his arm with a quiet slap. “Now who’s the tease?”

“What? Do you like wearing wet jeans?” he asks smugly, smirking as he hears your heart speed up - the dark water comes up to about his waist, so you dread to think what other bits of clothing he’s got rid of while you weren’t looking. “That’s what I thought.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, patting him on the shoulder in consolation. “Remind me to send him flowers when we get back.”

“Who said he taught me? You don’t know! I could’ve, um-”

His cry of indignance is swiftly cut off by your flat stare. You know exactly where he got this from. After a brief stand-off, he sighs in apparent defeat, bending down slightly to scoop you up so that he’s properly carrying you. “Yeah, it was Gavin.”

“Knew it!” you sing, cheerfully kicking your legs as he starts to walk back out of the water, up towards the sand. “You think I haven’t seen him trying it with Freelancer before?”

He pretends to sulk, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “And here I thought you were looking at me…” The sand crunches quietly underfoot as he carries you towards the car, and the slight breeze is pleasantly cool against your warm skin. “What do I have to do to get your attention, hm?”

Sneaking a downwards glance, you raise an eyebrow. Turns out he wasn’t lying about the jeans. “I could think of a few things.”

“Only a few?” He scoffs, before leaning down to press his fangs to that sweet spot just under your jaw. “Keep up, tianxin, and you’ll get more than that.”

A burst of magic fizzles over your body, warm and crackling shivers from head to toe. Before you can blink, you’re both completely dry, and one look at him tells you exactly what you need to know - ooh, he’s been practising that one. He preens under your gaze, tossing his head proudly to flick his now-dry hair back out of his eyes.

God. He’s so pretty.

The walk back to the car isn’t far, but he doesn’t put you down - instead, he opts to lean down and lay you gently back against the hood, kissing you down against the warm, smooth metal. Back arched slightly over his arm, it’s a little uncomfortable, so you have to shift around a little bit in order to-

“Mmm…”

Maybe he thinks it was on purpose, or maybe he knows and he just doesn’t care - whatever the case, he rocks his hips back down to meet you, and that’s when you notice that he’s got rid of your clothes, too.

“Haah - Vincent!”

He doesn’t even have the good grace to look appropriately chastised at your muffled shout, just grabbing your wrists before you can try to slap his side and pinning them above your head with a devilish smile. Any protest you may have had quickly disappears when he grinds against you, thin cotton all that separates you, melting into a soft moan that drips off your fangs and runs down your chin.

“What - nnng! - what’s the matter, lovely?” he says, breathless. “Having second thoughts about your study session?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Lost in the heat and the hardness of him, it’s getting more and more difficult to put words together. “Think you - mmm, think you should persuade me…”

You don’t have to tell him twice - the world blurs around you as he lifts you up, depositing you on the passenger seat as he slips down to kneel in the footwell, and you hastily grab his shoulder in surprise as he presses the little button on the seat, sliding it back to give himself a little more room.

“We have - fuck! We have a bed in - inside!” Your half-hearted protests go ignored in favour of strong hands impatiently tearing the rest of your clothes away, shredded fabric littering the floor beside him. God, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

He lifts one dark eyebrow, challenging, although he can’t quite keep his eyes on your face. “You want me to wait?”

“No, no, this is - no, this is fine-!”

Words melt away as he eagerly grabs your hips, pulling you forwards to the edge of the seat and burying his face in you with a long, drawn-out moan. Mmm, he really doesn’t waste any time - your fingers unconsciously find their way back into his hair again, twisting and tugging with every flick of his tongue, sloppy, sticky kisses that make your cheeks burn and your insides twist with need. Your nails digging into his scalp only seem to encourage him, wonderfully warm as he licks a slow, burning trail all the way down before speeding back up until you’re shuddering in his enthusiastic hold.

“I - oh, I - ahhh…”

Almost too fast for you to notice, a tiny burst of magic swirls around his fingers - oh, you definitely remember Gavin teaching him that one. Gently, he eases his middle finger into you, stretching you ever so sweetly, and you have to clamp your hand over your mouth to stifle what you’re sure would be an embarrassingly loud whine.

“Baby…” Vincent clearly disagrees, though, nudging your legs up over his shoulders and nipping at the soft inside of your thigh in disappointed reprimand. “Wanna hear!”

A graceful hand runs blindly up your body to tug your hand away from your mouth, depositing it firmly back in his hair where it belongs. You can’t complain - and even if you wanted to, the high-pitched keen that fills your mouth as a second finger slips inside you leaves no room for objection.

It doesn’t help that even like this, he’s still so fucking beautiful - crescent-moon eyes closed, groaning in pleasure at the taste of you, achingly hard but refusing to let go of you even for a second. Your head falls back against the headrest, back bowing as you roll your hips slightly, and the change in angle lets his fingertips press just right - fuck, just right against that spot inside you that makes your breath stick in your chest and your eyes go all blurry.

“Yeah?” The look he gives you is wicked, filthy grin all smeared and sticky. Fuck, he sounds absolutely wrecked, words lazy and languid as he kisses the words into you. “Right there, xingan?”

You nod frantically, nails scraping harsh lines into the tanned skin of his shoulders. He hisses with the pleasurable sting, and you watch them fade and heal over almost as fast as you can make them. “Mm-hmm, mmm, yeah-!”

It’s too much - deft fingers curling and stroking, the vibrations of his voice thrumming over you, all warm and wet and messy. Fuck, it feels like your whole body is burning, trembling in his grip, skinbuzzing like a livewire. The leather underneath you sticks and catches as you writhe under Vincent’s attention, and a flood of heat rushes through you at the reminder that you’re just out here in the open, entirely at his mercy.

“I - oh, fuck,” you gasp out, curved forwards over him as your body greedily tries to pull him impossibly closer. “It - ahh, it’s-”

“I know, baby - I know,” he chokes out, sounding almost as desperate as you feel. “Come on, come on, lovely - nng, please!” Mouth full, sentences all slurring together as he buries himself in you, it’s enough to make you wail with each breath, the delicious stretch of his fingers and the sharp tease of his fangs. “Please, want it, I wanna see-”

He strokes his thumb over your thigh, silent question obvious as he looks pleadingly up at you - you must nod, or tell him yes, yes of course, because the next thing you know is the white-hot ecstasy of the bite, needy and glittering, and all of a sudden you’re falling apart. Legs trembling, eyes slammed shut as you sob through your orgasm, all you know is the familiar kiss of Vincent’s mouth on you, strong hands trailing warm, comforting patterns over your skin, and the distant sound of your own cries.

For a long moment, you’re floating, a joyful balloon on a satisfied string. Vincent takes you in his hands with a soft smile, and slowly pulls you back down to earth.

When you finally blink back to yourself, you’re slumped loose and heavy over Vincent’s shoulder, flopped forwards against where he’s kneeling up in front of your seat. He hums quietly as he feels you stir, one hand smoothing comforting circles into your back, and you nestle your face into the side of his neck with a pleased sigh.

“Back with me, baobei?”

“Mm,” you say eloquently. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He kisses the side of your head before tenderly nudging you backwards a little bit, giving himself a bit more room to clamber out of the footwell. He almost manages it, too - the effect is ruined slightly when he trips over the lip of the floor, stumbling awkwardly into the open door and nearly smacking his face against the handle, and you giggle at the indignant glare he shoots at the side of the car.

“Ooh. Smooth.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he grumbles, though there’s no heat behind it. “Only the best for you, xiaogongju.”

You take his offered hand with a flourish, letting him guide you up and out of the seat and onto shaky legs - after a few steps, he decides to take matters into his own hands and just lifts you up into his arms like a bride, your head back on his shoulder. From here, you gaze idly out at the dark line where the sky brushes the sea, just barely visible even to your enhanced eyes, and let yourself rest in the gentle sound of the waves.

(A quick look back shows you - oh, that’s going to be a bitch to clean out of the leather. Whatever. It was worth it.)

“Love you,” you murmur through your hazy smile, fingers brushing back and forth over the dips and hollows of his collarbone. “Gonna get you back later.”

“Love you too, baby.” Waves lapping at the sand, salt and heat and happiness, the chill of the breeze. “I look forward to it already.”

He catches your lips in a short kiss, sweet and soft and painted in moonlight. Vincent carries you into the house, closing the door behind you, and all you can think is that this is much, much better than a study session.

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

Dear Readers. I started a new semester at community college. I will be busy. So please do not pressure me to write. This chapter is dedicated to the belated birthday of my number one Reader Chan. Enjoy everyone.

Lowly Desires. Yandere! Gellert Grindelwald x Female Muggle Reader.

Birthday Boy.

Ouch. Once again ouch. The soreness between the flesh of your tender legs was the result of the previous night's routine.

But, you felt something moist and squishy pressed against your forehead. You blinked open your beautiful pair of eyes in confusion. You saw the weird and tender smile of your tormenter, Gellert Grindelwald.

The man who kidnapped you.

His head was resting on the palm of his hand as his elbow was propped against the mattress.

He had a queer look on his face. As if he was daydreaming and off in his own little world. 

With that stupid grin on his face, you wondered what was his problem.

"Good morning, Lovely." He rubbed your cheek with his thumb. "Today is my birthday."

You licked your lips and forced yourself to say: "Happy birthday." 

To butter him up, you added. "You should have told me this earlier."

Grindelwald seemed to like what you said. His smile widened with glee. 

"In fact, there is something you can do "

There, all set. You nodded in approval as you inspected your Tres Leches cake that you just baked and decorated.

It was designed with blue roses made with buttercream. It included leaves and vines.

Grindelwald thankfully left you all alone. He said he had a meeting with his Goons. Perhaps another hunting spree of killing and kidnapping muggles.

Since it was a special occasion, you dressed yourself up. You didn't want to beautify yourself for Grindelwald.

But, when he said that he stopped celebrating his birthday since he was nineteen years old. His parents were dead by then.  You pitied the monster.

"Darling, I am home." You heard his voice across the room. 

The said man stood behind your back then held you towards his muscular chest. 

"That cake looks delicious. I knew you would impress me again. My tradwife." He sniffed your long hair. "Albus will be coming over to celebrate with us."

The kind man came over after sunset. He held a decorated box. "Happy birthday, friend." Albus said.

"Thanks, Albus. Name made Sri Lankan food." He gestured to him to sit down.

Albus stared at the prepared dishes on the dining table. "Looks Divine."

The three of you sat and ate. As usual, you only spoke when spoken to. You studied the ugly old man. He did look more cheery. You would have been happy for him. He had a sad life. But, he was evil.

You only liked Albus. You considered him a new friend. Despite Albus indirectly causing  Grindelwald to see you in Thailand.

"I want to take pictures. I don't want to forget this." Grindelwald suddenly said.

Albus sipped some of his coffee. "Wow, Gellert. You normally hate taking photos."

"Today is my first birthday with Name. This is different." 

A floating camera appeared after magic cleared away the dishes. The cake appeared on the table.

The camera snapped. It took pictures of all three of you happy huddled together, Grindelwald blowing out the candles, and him cutting the cake to pieces.

You sweatdropped when Grindelwald "asked you" to feed him the first slice of cake.

Albus watched with a smile on his face. "I'm glad you found your soulmate, Gellert. You're a lucky man." Albus took a bite of his own cake.

Gellert rubbed Albus' shoulder. "I wish you a wife. You deserve it. I can't thank you enough for suggesting that I take a vacation to Thailand. I would have never seen Name."

You clenched your jaw in annoyance. Albus was not a bad man. But, his suggestion to Grindelwald caused the events to ruin your life.

[freedomforthewin]

Newt’s Birthday

Newt heard a knock at the door. He got up and went to answer the door. He opened it and saw his brother there, a small box of chocolate cake in his hands, and a big smile on his face.

“Hello, Newt,” Theseus said happily.

“Hello, Theseus.”

“Happy birthday!”

“Thank you.” Newt smiled, stepping aside to let Theseus in.

Theseus set the cake on the dining table and took out a candle and his wand.

“How’s your day going so far?” he asked as he prepared the cake.

“Good! I took care of my creatures, and I also got word of a new creature in Sri Lanka. I’m going to set out for there in a few days.”

“Ah, that’s great. Must be excited,” Theseus said warmly.

“I am,” Newt said.

“Well, I’m especially glad I’m here then. I get to see you before you go for…who knows how long.”

“It’ll be a month.”

“A month, then.”

Newt smiled at him. “I’ll miss you, too.”

Theseus gave him a small smile.

Then, Theseus lit the candle with his wand.

“Alright. Ready?” Theseus asked, grinning.

Newt took a deep breath. Oh boy, Theseus was really going to do this.

“Happy birthday to you,” Theseus began to sing.

Newt smiled sheepishly as Theseus continued singing. When it was time, Newt closed his eyes, made a wish, and blew out the candle.

“Yaaaay!” Theseus cheered. Newt chuckled.

Newt cut the cake and they both ate, chatting happily as they did so.

It had been some time since they had spent time together. It was nice to finally catch up.

Before long, it was time for Theseus to go. To Theseus’s surprise, Newt hugged him.

“Thank you for coming,” Newt mumbled into his older brother’s shoulder.

Theseus tightened his hold on Newt.

“Of course.” He smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They held each other a little longer. Then, they pulled out of the hug.

“Happy birthday,” Theseus farewelled.

“Thank you.”

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Sharon Salzberg

+

I’m mostly in denial that I’m about to turn 70 years old. I often find myself saying, “Let’s just not think about it. I’ll pretend it isn’t going to happen.”

But of course, as I contemplate my upcoming birthday with disbelief, I remember that I’ve spent all these years in a Buddhist tradition that encourages reflecting on your own death every day. So maybe it’s not something I should put off anymore!

When I do this reflection, I think about letting go. During the pandemic, I let go of many things: travel, seeing friends, and much more. And so I ponder what it would mean to let go of everything.

Of course, aging is a mixed bag. Wisdom, perspective, gratitude—so many things grow stronger as we get older. But there are also distressing, growing incapacities from one’s body; the fear of what a moment of forgetfulness might mean; the sheer indignity of being treated as unimportant by some; even the frustration of having to scroll down for a long, long, long time on some websites to get to the year of your birth (my personal pet peeve).

And then there is the painful fact, so relevant recently, that one’s body tends not to mount as strong an immune response to illness.

I do also feel the joy of aging. For example, I don’t feel ambitious. If someone asks me what I’d like my legacy to be, I think, “I’ve done it.” Hopefully I can still accomplish things and make things happen, but I don’t feel competitive. I don’t feel haunted by the folly of youth as I might have been at one time.

I once attended a retreat focused on aging led by the Tibetan master Tsoknyi Rinpoche. Although he was still a fairly young man at that point, Rinpoche had noticed that many of his students were confronting the challenges of growing older. One afternoon, someone in the retreat was waxing on about the tremendous joys and delights of growing older. Exhilarating insights, followed by a litany of pleasures, followed by impressive triumphs, all spoken faster and faster (“What is she running from?” I thought darkly), until Rinpoche interrupted her.

“Don’t just make a poem out of aging,” he said. “It can be really hard sometimes.”

He wasn’t encouraging cynicism or despair—more an invitation to see and openly acknowledge all aspects of our experience. We don’t want to deny the difficult, of course, but we also don’t need to be completely defined by it. Being enveloped in and defined by what’s difficult is relatively easy to do, so it takes some intentionality to recognize all aspects of our experience and remember the positive forces in our lives.

So how might that work in practice?

First, while the difficult parts of aging are unavoidable, we can try not to add to them. For example, I have seen, throughout my life, the tendency to rehearse some catastrophe and thereby live it several times. So I think the first question is always, “What are we adding onto a situation which is already hard enough?”

Not being able to do something I used to be able to do, or being in physical pain, or losing people we love – these are already very hard. But we often add more suffering onto them, like thinking it shouldn’t be this way, or feeling shame or fear. One possibility of mindfulness is to notice where we’re adding to the suffering that’s already there, and try not to fall so much into it.

Second, I learned an interesting form of lovingkindness meditation from Ananda Matteya, then an energetic, 94-year-old Sri Lankan monk visiting the Insight Meditation Society in 1993. He taught us what he described as his favorite meditation: combining loving-kindness meditation and a body scan. He would go through the body, part by part, wishing each part well: may my head be happy, may my eyes be happy, and so on through the whole body. Even “may my liver be happy!”

I’ve taught that meditation to people with injuries, scars, diseases, difficult diagnoses, and all kinds of things, and it makes a difference. It can help counteract our tendency to add bits of shame or resentment, even subconsciously, to whatever is already there.

Finally, there’s the perspective of wisdom.

I first met Joseph Goldstein at my first meditation retreat, in India, in January, 1971. Just before lunch, I was in a madly frustrated state, because I couldn’t keep my attention on the breath. I said to myself, “If your mind wanders one more time, you should just bang your head against the wall!”

Fortunately, the lunch bell rang just then, saving me from that fate. This retreat was not silent, so waiting in line for lunch, there was a conversation going on between two people behind me. One asked, “How was your morning?” And the other replied, “I couldn’t concentrate at all, but maybe this afternoon will be better.”

He was so casual about it that I was horrified. I thought “This guy doesn’t understand how extraordinary these teachings are – he’s being so glib!”

Of course, ‘this guy’ was Joseph Goldstein. The difference, of course, was that I had been meditating for four days, while he had been meditating for four years and had a kind of perspective on change, on the inevitable ups and downs of meditation, that I was nowhere near having.

Now I feel that way about life in general. Things change, there are ups and downs, and with practice, we can learn to let go, again and again.

[scotianostra]

Happy 76th Birthday the excellent Scottish actor David Hayman.

Hayman, one of Scotland’s most acclaimed actors of stage and screen was born in Bridgeton, Glasgow on February 9th 1948.

David Hayman grew up as one of three children in a working class family in Drumchapel, Glasgow. Leaving school without any academic qualifications he started work as a would-be engineer at 16. One day, wearing his grease stained boiler suit, he marched into the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama and announced his intention to become an actor. He still has no idea where this came from, he is basically a shy person and there was no family history of acting. He took advice and joined an amateur dramatics group and a year later was accepted to study drama and has never been out of work since.

His film and television credits are, frankly, much too numerous to list but include his superb portrayal of hard man Jimmy Boyle in “Sense of Freedom” and, of course, he is recognisable everywhere as Detective Chief Superintendent Michael Walker in Linda La Plante’s long running Trial and Retribution series.He has also starred in the hit Scottish cop drama Shetland as well as Scottish comedy shows Scotch & Wry, Rab C Nesbitt and Still Game.

Hayman has also directed numerous films and TV shows as well as regularly treading the boards in the Theatres.

Away from acting, David established his Glasgow-based charity Spirit Aid in 2001. It has gone on to become one of Scotland’s most successful small scale humanitarian organisations. He started Spirit Aid because he wanted to do a Scottish Live Aid at Hampden, but his rock stars let him down. “They were all, ‘Oh, man, I’m burned out,’ and I was thinking, ‘You’re sitting on your fat arse on your sofa with £40 million in the bank. Go and sit in a refugee camp in Afghanistan and tell me you’re burned out’. But I thought, I believe in this, I’ve got to keep going.”

He spends several months every year visiting his charity’s relief projects where he employs indigenous workers wherever possible. His fundraising operations include Operation Loo Roll, a project selling toilet paper that raised £100,000 in 2007. The charity undertakes humanitarian relief projects from Kosovo to Guinea-Bissau, Afghanistan, Sri Lanka, Cambodia, Malawi and South Africa.

Hayman is a big campaigner for a Scottish film studio, which is looking like happening soon, he says “It takes the Americans to come in and build a shed where they shoot Outlander and that’s the nearest thing we have to a film studio, think of all the movies that we’ve lost, all the money that we’ve lost all the way back to Braveheart.”

David was recently in the fab comedy from Scottish director Michael Caton-Jones, Our Ladies, “set mainly in Edinburgh a group of Catholic school girls get an opportunity to go to the capital for a choir competition, but they’re more interested in drinking, partying and hooking up than winning the competition” it is an adaptation of Scottish author, Alan Warner, of Morvern Callar fame’s third novel Sopranos, I read the book in the late 90’s it is a laugh out loud book, and the film is also very good.

Hayman was in an interesting film, My Neighbor Adolf, last year, which I haven’t got round to watching yet, set in 1960;s Brazil he plays a “lonely and grumpy” Holocaust survivor convinces himself that his new neighbour is none other than Adolf Hitler. We also saw him in the sequel Fisherman's Friends: One and All, both films get ratings of 6.2, and 6.4 on IMDB . I have just started a binge watch of Chemistry of Death, a Brit crime thriller series which is on Paramount plus. Last year David played a Chieftain in the Disney Star Wars prequal series Andor.

David won a top theatre award for his portrayal of northern Irishman, Eric, in the acclaimed play Cyprus Avenue last year, he has a couple of projects lined up, Jailbroken, an action crime thriller described as "the day before a violent criminal is due to be released from prison he receives a threatening call. Armed only with a mobile phone he must somehow save his family - and himself."And at the other end of the spectrumis a fantasy called Assassins Guild, "After the Mermaid Wars, Iliad's city is attacked by dark forces. With the city full of rancor and corruption, Death herself forms an alliance and offers Atticus, an elite fighter, the chance to return to life. This gift comes at a price."

[mischieffoal]

Rosie, Frodo and Sam, Now and for Always

Here it comes: Cici’s chaotic “review” of Lord of the Rings: a Musical Tale

(Spoilers for the musical: go and see it (it's running until mid-October 2023) and then read this)

“My emotions are a wreck, and now we must obviously discuss all of the musical’s shortcomings and its adaptational choices and the costumes, when I really want to stand in a field and yell. After a few hours on the train of actually very good discussions, I cycle home and yell in the park.

5 stars.”

Nothing like a bracing sprint through Reading station to forge fine friendships over somehow managing to get to Newbury and the Windmill Theatre in time. We unite with our friends, get a group photo in the designated Instagram spot and, most importantly, confirm that there will be ice cream in the interval. 

It’s Mr. Bilbo’s eleventy-oneth birthday, didn’t you know? The hobbits make sure we are well informed, and someone on our picnic table is accosted by Fatty Bolger and made to play whack the rat. They all look lovely, waistcoats and sandals abounding, and some watching fauntlings are very gently introduced to hoopla. In general, if you are LARP-positive, sit at the left hand end - we were in the prime spot. Bilbo complimented my cloak and I derided my companions once again for being the only cloaked representative of our smial. Then, someone else approaches - she asks us if Mr. Bilbo said anything odd. Nothing odd at all, we reply, all a perfectly normal party. I think he’s planning something, she says. I’m worried about my spoons. I gasp. “Madam, may I ask, are you perhaps Lobelia Sackville-Baggins?” “I am!” “Madam it is an honour! I am honoured to be in your presence!” She shakes my hand. My life is complete. 

Soon enough, the actual musical begins, narrated by partying Hobbits. Now and for Always had stuck in my head just from the soundtrack on YouTube, and it’s a worthy start to the show as Mr. Bilbo tells the same old stories that he always does. Hobbits sing and dance and every one of them plays an instrument. Someone has a piccolo, someone else has a lute. Bilbo has a harmonica and an accordion. Every single Hobbit has an unspecified country accent. The Brandybucks are loud, the Proudfoots are Proudfeet and Fatty Bolger moans at me about it. R says he knows who’s playing Gollum, because he’s bald. Frodo is very sweet, but I catch Lobelia’s eye across the garden and commiserate with her at her ill fortune. Sam asks Rosie to dance, and I fall in love with them (Sam is Sri Lankan, and sounds it, and Rosie has Afro hair, and they make me very happy). Bilbo gives his speech, “magically disappears”, and 17 years pass as we all get up and troop into the theatre proper.

We’re on the side of the balcony, in a wonderful wooden interior that J guesses might have been a church at some point. We return to the action with Frodo, Sam and Rosie, greeting each other with a little two step jump that I want to do with all my friends. Frodo sends them off to the Ivy Bush, because there seems to be some kind of trade mark problem with the Green Dragon. Gandalf enters bombastically, and Frodo and Sam leave as soon as they know their task, because they know that the show is only three hours long, including an interval. 

The singing begins! Walking fast, singing and playing as they go - The Road does indeed Go On,  the centre stage rotates as they dance-walk around it. Merry and Pippin assail them in a projected cornfield, because they’re his cousins and they’re not letting him do anything dangerous alone. Frodo is very put upon. Merry plays the cello, hanging round his neck, Pippin has a fiddle, and Sam a guitar. Also, Pippin is a girl, not just played by one. Good for you, Pippin Galadriel Moonchild. She’s also terrified of trees (Merry knows a less Tree-ish route and the Old Forest is resoundingly ignored.) 

(Photo Pamela Raith)

And then! Elves! Gildor and Earendil sung with a Y! All the elves are wearing lovely blue tabards. Dark is the road ahead for Frodo, and danger follows their path. That’s nice and cheery. 

(Speaking of costume, Gandalf and Saruman have very nice robes. Saruman is played by the bald one R assures me will be playing Gollum. They have a fun little stand off across the rotating stage, and Saruman isn’t hiding any of his schemes - army included. Uh oh.)

In the Prancing Pony, K says she’s going to play “spot the Strider” but Strider is in fact very very bad at being inconspicuous, as the only one wearing a hoody. 

Strider makes himself known, and so does Pippin, and Frodo’s brilliant distraction plan is to sing a song. He’s not at all prepared for this and walks like a puppet, but the Brandybuck and Took contingent are raring to go with the Cat and the Moon, and soon Frodo is having a lovely time dancing on tables and all. Let’s pretend that Frodo’s smile will never fade.

The Ring goes on. Mari Lwyd black riders appear. Frodo looks like he’s underwater and it’s very funny. Stabbing ensues (no time for Weathertop today). Run! Run for Rivendell! (Costuming side note: Strider has a banging undercut and goatee situation going on). Arwen enters playing a harp, singing a Song of Hope in a bunch of elvish with no subtitles. Tolkien would approve. “The weary traveller returning… home.” It’s Strider, and we learn that this is the first time he’s returned since disappearing to be a ranger. He’s grown a lot, Arwen says. Strider mumbles something about not wanting any bigger destiny than her. Then Frodo wakes up and it turns out they’ve been having this lovely romantic discussion is his hospital wing. Ah, good, says Frodo, we successfully completed our adventure! Merry is very excited at the amount of books and maps, also did you know that Arwen is a half-elf, technically, and did you see the way she looked at Aragorn, and did you know that she’s thousands of years older than him? 

(Photo Pamela Raith)

The council is called, Saruman the bald is also playing Elrond the bald, and is generally an old wise man. All of the elves are obsessed with hand gestures, and their hands are never below their waists. Everyone has so many problems, but Boromir (with another very cool undercut) wastes no time telling everyone Gondor has it worst. The steward is asleep, you say? And you had a dream and followed it here? But the sword that was broken is as lost as the One Ring. (Boromir has great dramatic timing.) Frodo will take the Ring to Mordor, though he don’t know the way. Gimli will go with him, and so will Legolas and Gandalf and Strider. (The Elf and Dwarf are Iranian and Black, and it really stands out amongst the otherwise white Men - I like it a lot). Strider asks Boromir nicely and Boromir says fine, he’ll come too. The fellowship of the ring! A rousing ensemble number with Earendil with a Y! Boromir is playing the trombone and singing at the same time and it’s the best!

Saruman learns of the Fellowship from his useless gas-mask orc minions. He deals with it himself - with menacing flute music. He flutes up a storm on Caradhras, and the Fellowship must go through Moria. Gimli reverently takes a guitar, and sings them a song of his people, as the fellowship and the audience have a chance for a rest. Then drums start in the deep, a balrog is come, and Gandalf is gone. They must continue - to Lothlorien. That horn player is a different elf now, you can tell because their tabard is gold this time!

They arrive blindfolded as Legolas waxes lyrical about the elves of the golden wood, and it turns out he’s not in love with Galadriel he’s just really patriotic. Galadriel tells Frodo they will both share a great loss, and also sings a power ballad. 

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Everything falls apart after Lorien, as we all know. Boromir dances with the hobbits before the orcs get him - Strider appears seconds too late, and Boromir tells him he’s failed, the Fellowship and his people. Strider shows him his broken sword (he’ll show you his if you show him yours) and finally claims his birthright. Boromir begs him to save “our people” and Aragorn really can’t deal with that, especially when Boromir dies in his arms. Aragorn is the best actor in all of this and it’s mainly in degrees of how much he cannot deal with this. The three hunters reunite, honour Boromir, and finally pick themselves up for the road ahead - Aragorn can see the hobbits’ footprints…

In the interval we theorise on how they’re going to fit two whole books into a second act shorter than the first one. Are they just going to cut the entirety of Rohan? That’s the bit of the book I can never understand. The ice cream is very nice.

As the lights go up, Sam races after Frodo and berates his idiot upper-class master who thought he could do anything without him. They set out on their long journey, and from the other side of the stage, Pippin and Merry come charging in. They’ve already escaped from the orcs, as we really don’t have time for that. Pippin is confronted with her fear of trees. Entish is a very musical language which was beautiful to experience, and I think a far better rendition of trees talking than any realism could give. Musicians stood around the auditorium and plucked and strummed their discussion (Gimli was behind us drumming the plumbing). 

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Saruman, meanwhile, directs a cool break dance number from the orcs. They’re going to crush Minas Tirith, and then Sauron will surely think Saruman is an ally, a massive victory for the Light.

The rest of the cliffhangers from act one get resolved in the next ten minutes. The three hunters can tell from the footprints that the hobbits are safe, so they race the breakdancing orcs to Minas Tirith. (No Rohan, I whisper to K). Aragorn demands an entrance to see the Steward (played by Bilbo, this company has one old wise man and one old father figure). The Steward is under Saruman’s spell! They call him Denethor but he’s serving Theoden’s role, with considerably less drama as it only takes Aragorn revealing himself as King to wake him up from the curse. 

They agree to fight together to defeat Saruman! It’s another ensemble song and dance! Gandalf the White returns, and doesn’t come alone! The trees are marching! And Boromir’s actor is playing the trombone behind Denethor as he fights to defend their people, and that made me very emotional. 

It’s Gollum time. Nearly naked bald man with full body dirt makeup scrambles around theatre and balcony, more news at 7. R seems unable to comprehend a theatre company having two bald men in it. This actor was so physical, my director brain was terrified of the risk assessments that must have been required for him to run along the balcony barrier. 

Victory at the Pelennor Fields! TheoDenethor is slain, but the free peoples have won. They ride to Isengard. Saruman enters, and in a very dramatic and tense moment, I thought he greeted them with “Sup”. (Sadly it was actually “So”). Gandalf is sure that this will not be the end of Saruman’s mischief…  

Frodo and Sam (and Gollum) are carrying on, but it’s hard going. They reminisce on the stories they used to listen to, and Sam gets out his guitar as they wonder what kind of story they’re in. Sam sings to Frodo, a reprise of Now and for Always from Mr. Bilbo, and his master tiredly joins in. He hasn’t smiled for days. “Tell us a story, of Frodo and the Ring”. Sam falls asleep, and it’s Frodo turn to sing about him - “no finer friend, now and for always”. Frodo doesn’t quite manage to finish the chorus before he falls asleep beside his Sam - but Gollum takes over in a horrifying corruption of their duet. It took me a while to realise it, but this Gollum’s voice reminds me of Voldemort from A Very Potter Musical - not at all a bad thing, but a specific niche of “very creepy and also pathetic”. 

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Aragorn is crowned, and receives the reforged sword. Together, the representatives of the free peoples plan to storm the Black Gates, in a hopeless battle - for Frodo. Smeagol/Gollum finally decides to lead them to Shelob, and Frodo trusts him. “Well,” Sam says, “let’s walk into Mordor.” Cackles from very small pockets of the audience.

Shelob is a REALLY COOL PUPPET. Sam manages to stab her with the LED Sting as he is seconds away from his doom. Galadriel empowers them with ballads from afar, but Frodo can barely walk. Sam takes the ring to try and relieve his burden, and Frodo doesn’t even notice. Gollum returns and swears he knew nothing about the giant spider, what giant spider? She wasn’t there last week! 

Aragorn, in the B-plot of the musical (we realised afterwards that in the books, destroying the Ring and saving the world is the B-plot), gives a rousing speech to get everyone gearing up for a battle they’re all going to lose. Arwen (I think, or is it Galadriel, I’m writing this the day after and I’ve slightly lost the plot) calls to Aragorn and starts off the ensemble number "out of grief, joy".

Meanwhile, tension is rising in the Frodo-Sam-Gollum-Smeagol polycule. Everything will change, when they destroy the ring. “The elves, Sam, they’ll disappear - all of the magic will be gone out of the world. But if I take the ring!” No one can resist the ring. Gollum and Frodo speak and move as one as they condemn Sam as a traitor and a thief. At some point in all of this Frodo gets the Ring back, Sam runs away, Gollum attacks Frodo, Sam protects him, and Frodo wakes up enough to cast Gollum out instead. I’m very tired and can’t remember when this all happens, but it was all very emotional. 

The free peoples fight, and they all dance and stand so differently you can tell which peoples they all are even without the height differences. Legolas shoots from on high, Gimli is rooted to the ground with wheeling axes, Aragorn just stabs so many orcs. Merry has his cello and uses the bow to attack, and Pippin has her accordion. We love Pippin. She’s here for moral support.

(Photo Pamela Raith)

Sam and Frodo reach the top of Mount Doom and wrench open the backdrop doors. Sam can’t take another step and collapses behind Frodo as he tries once more to take it for himself - before Gollum appears. Gollum’s fall was beautiful and slow - he’s caught by black clad actors on a darkened stage and they gently let him down into the fire. And then it’s done. 

The ensemble sings as Gandalf the White comes to save the two hobbits, and they reunite with their friends as Aragorn bows to the Shirefolk (and holds Frodo’s head so close that he re-awakened my inner Frodo/Aragorn shipper). Gandalf inexplicably says he’s off to have a chat with Tom Bombadil, who we had been ignoring, but that he’ll see Frodo again.

The hobbits return to the Shire, and Lobelia tells us Saruman has been there. We all have to work together to restore the Shire, including the audience - up you get, get outside and get LARPing again. We help the hobbits restore the battered garden to its former glory, and Rosie and Sam are married! Frodo never can return to the cheer he had at the beginning of this adventure. The actor had literally added eye bag makeup, I winced in sympathy when I saw him. Gandalf and the many elves of Middle Earth reach the Shire. They are going into the West. Frodo gives Sam the book in which to write their story. The hobbits do a very sad little dance jump greeting and Frodo hugs Sam tight, before he goes on his way towards the sails of the Grey Havens. 

(Photo Watermill Theatre)

Rapturous applause! Everybody’s back on stage for a rousing final Cat and the Moon! Don’t worry about Frodo’s depression, we’ve got to sing a musical number for us all to go home to! My emotions are a wreck, and now we must obviously discuss all of the musical’s shortcomings and its adaptational choices and the costumes, when I really want to stand in a field and yell. After a few hours on the train of actually very good discussions, I cycle home and yell on my way through the park. 

5 stars.

[thereader-radhika]

Mayavan and Mayamohini

Nappinnai in Ponniyin Selvan. Read here.

When Vanthiyathevan reaches Kadambur on the 18th day of Adi, people are celebrating the monsoon festival of Adi Perukku. But that year, there is something more special about Aadi Perukku.

Yes, today is the birth star of Andal. And it coincides with the eighteenth day of Adi, which is why there is such jubilation.

He starts dreaming about Krishnan, Andal pasurams and a death in the royal family even before he knows about the conspiracy, Nandini or her history.

A priest armed with a scimitar emerged from behind the statue of Kali, whose mouth was a gaping gash . . . “That means you’re unfit to be sacrificed. Go on, run,” said the priest. Kannan suddenly took Kali’s place. Two girls holding garlands danced in his shrine, singing Andal’s pasurams.

After this, Alwarkadiyan tells him about his sister Nandini and her extreme devotion. When Vanthiyathevan exhorts her to return to Krishna bhakti, she replies that she doesn't deserve it.

Then he goes to Pazhayarai to give Karikalan's message to Kundavai and people are celebrating another event there.

Aha! That’s what it is! It is Sri Krishna Jayanthi, Krishna’s birthday, that they are celebrating with such joy.

He sees and hears various songs, plays and even plays Kamsa in a street performance. Funnily, none of these are about the birth of baby Krishnan. Rather, all are about Mayavan (the Tamil equivalent of Mohana), the Great Enchanter.

Vanthiyathevan as Kamsa: Adel Krishna. Your magic won’t work with me. I am going to kill you right now. I am going to kill your brother Balarama. And your father Vasudeva too.

(Foreshadowing about Uncle Maduranthakan's Conspiracy and Pandya Murder conspiracy, together)

Kundavai's companions dancing to Aachiyar Kuravai (Nappinnai dancing with Krishna):

If that Mayavan [enchanter], Kannan, who once Used a calf sent to kill him :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: If that Mayavan who once Broke the tree which was but a demon

Another one:

The great Lord, Mayavan, who appeared as a god and clasped the entire world in his navel with its flowering lotus . . .

When Vanathi is lost in a song about a girl waiting for Kannan, Kundavai scolds her. We will revisit this later.

Initially one would think that this is about Vanthiyathevan's adventures but after Vanthiyathevan goes to Lanka with Arulmozhi's scroll, there are no notable mentions of the Great Enchanter until Karikalan makes an appearance again.

Nandini starts talking about Mayakkanan who enchants and disappears (see the post about Nappinnai for details). When Karikalan asks Manimegalai to sing non-religious love songs, she sings about another (secular) enchanter, moving Nandini to inconsolable tears.

Is that all a dream, my friend The time we spent together On the slopes of the mountain Besides the waterfalls Beneath the shadow of fruit-laden trees When he held my hand And we were both lost in happiness Is that all a dream, my friend Or just a thought in my mind?

In the grove of punnai trees Under the golden rays of the evening sun He called me near And whispered words of love In my ears Is that all a dream my friend Is that miracle nothing but a lie?

Defying all security Like a thief he walked in stealth And with boundless love Held me in embrace And smothered me with kisses Did it happen? Weren’t we happy? Is that all a dream, my friend Or just a thought in my mind?

If this one isn't enough, Kalki says that she sang multiple songs like this. Seriously, Manimegalai? 😤  And why is Nandini crying when she heard about some lovers making out in secret? Very fishy.

Rational Kundavai absolutely hates this enchanter aspect of Krishnan. When Vanathi is listening to such a song on Janmashtami, she scolds Vanathi and disses Mayavan.

Good Lord! And he came to Tamilnadu as our God! If he has been stealing butter, playing the flute and spending time with the women, where will he have time for other things in life? . . . Why are you so silent? Have you too become enchanted with Kannan’s flute?

She has the same opinion about her brother.

But now I have lost hope. Adithan is a great warrior. One of the most valiant men of our times. But he can’t keep his mind under his control.

This Greater Enchanter disappears from the novel after Karikalan's death. Nandini is frequently labelled as the enchantess, the Mohini. If Nandini is Mayamohini, then Karikalan is Mayavan. Though both accuse each other of enchanting them and disappearing, the irony is that Mayavan and Mayamohini aren't different - they are just two aspects of the same God.

N. B. Another person Aditha Karikalan is constantly compared to is Aravan, Mohini's husband. In Tamil versions of the Mahabharatam, by Peruntevanar and later by Villiputtur and Nallappillai, Arjunan's son Aravan offers himself as a sacrifice to Kali to ensure victory for the Pandavas. He asks for three boons before he dies, of which one is that he should be married before his death. Since no parent would give a daughter to one who is about to be killed, Krishna appears as Mohini and marries Aravan for a night.

@vibishalakshman @sowlspace @celestesinsight

[jeevanjali]

Krishna Janmashtami 2024: जन्माष्टमी के दिन ऐसे करें लड्डू गोपाल की पूजा और अभिषेक : जीवन में होगी धनवर्षाKrishna Janmashtami 2024: कृष्ण जन्माष्टमी 2024: लड्डू गोपाल के अभिषेक की विधि, मंत्र और महत्व जानें। इस पावन पर्व पर भगवान कृष्ण की कृपा प्राप्त करें।

[srbachchan]

DAY 5536

Jalsa, Mumbai                April 13/14,  2023                Thu/Fri  12:05 AM

Birthday - EF - Prasha Ganesh .. Friday, 14 April .. greetings filled with the affection of the Ef .. ❤️

🌹 .. April 14 .. birthday of Ef Prasha Ganesh from Sri Lanka and Urvashi Sharma .. both sharer of birth with  Bharat Ratna Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar .. and on this auspicious day we wish you all the love and happiness, Prasha and Urvashi ji ..

..

... and having done the birthdays the slumber and the routines of daily responsibilities took over and here we are on the 14th of Apr again at 9:17 AM

intriguing debates and discussions pursued the entire day in discussion and Saptaswar, for projects that need careful attention and involvement for the work undertaken .. it is a World of rapid change .. 

Change .. or be changed by circumstances .. but change you will .. it is the byline tag USP of each daily day now .. and the generation that occupies the Universe , unaware of the past and the good it left, have before them the incredible NEW World of immense value and invention and technology that is keeping us oldies breathless and under no condition to keep up with them .. 

Smarter faster in intellect .. educated for it , for borrowed through technology, it is an inevitable occurrence .. cannot fight against it , for when you do the force of the technological world swishes past you , leaving you gasping for fresh air .. if at all there is some ..

there is some merit in the ‘elixir of life’ .. the bean, burnt melted in degrees of consumption and which states that it is welcomed by several parts of the interior physiognomy  .. one of such being the cerebrum .. which exudes intellect physical extended limits and much more .. actually the guile and freedom to performance enhanced brings immense pleasure to not just the consumer, but indeed they that come in close proximity ..

and the consumer .. well .. it is being protected now by law and morality soon .. the one that propagates is the one that shall be at the gate of answerability .. 

Hmmmmmmm ..

a great deal of  .. MMMMMMMMMM .. shall follow if this is put into practice .. 

time shall tell ..

the breathing machinery be present now .. which nostril bringing in the energy .. so 🙏 .. 

more later .. the famous departure express ..

Love

Amitabh Bachchan

[srisrisriddd]

Happy 2586th Buddha Purnima

Nothing Nobody Nowhere Can Free You If It Can It Can Enslave You Too To What Avail Is Such Freedom Be Your Own Light

Buddha Jayanti Good Morning

Happy Buddha's Birthday Vesākha

Seokga Tansinil

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