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gojoshooter · 1 month

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PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS- make a part 2 for sukuna x hindu bride/wife btw if it isnt obvious i'm in love with ur writing style please like make it as long as you want (but like longer than part 1) srry if this is too much to ask but damn i loved that one coz like no on ...NO ONE has ever written abt it (make it a lil smutty or suggestive pls<3 )

oops anonie, might've gone lil more than "suggestive" 🤭 here's part 1 for new readers!

Sukuna and his Hindu!Bride pt.2

tw. suggestive, oral (f!receiving), reader wears a saree the old way without blouse

It's been a few months into your marriage with the mighty king Ryomen Sukuna, and you've already started yearning for his undivided attention. Although he has never not been immersed and utterly obsessed with his little pretty Hindu!Bride since the first time, you crave being more than just in your busy man's arms at the fall of night.

Today, you peek out to make sure your husband is out of the chambers before you proceed with planning what to wear—and it's not the regular queen atire.

You're dressed in a long gorgeous saree, heavy golden ornaments dazzling head to toes. Sukuna loved watching you captivate him with your traditional elegance.

Out of his thrown room after a long day, the king hears the ringing melody of your payal chiming around the royal garden. His brows rise up, Sukuna missed this playful sound around his shrine... it's about to be an interesting night.

Stepping into the loucious garden, he's walking around in the silver moonlight searching for your familiar silhouette with a subtle grin. “Where's my lady?” he drawls while seeking for your trace like a big cat.

Hidden behind a tree, you attempt your best to stop your giggles well known to the fact how sharp Sukuna's senses are. This little game kept your adrenaline high as you peeked your head to look where he is.

Stepping closer, Sukuna smirks standing right behind you, with your head the other direction. He whispers with a smug look on his handsome face “Brat, brat... so playful”. His sudden rough voice causes you a tiny flinch as you turn your head. Your playful almond eyes looking back up at him.

The king pulls you flush to his firm chest, drawing out a soft gasp from her bride. Two ruby-red eyes set on your softer ones as the smaller pair subtly checks you out up and down... demanding answers for what he didn't ask. A lazy huff leaves his chest as one of his big palm starts to caress your features. He can smell your arousal.

Blushing, you attempt to speak “King... my king,” a rough thumb is placed on your plush lips shutting you effectively. With a few more long minutes of him admiring or rather glaring down your adorable shy face, he finally let's go of your smaller body and you step back, flustered.

The king grips the end of your silky long atire, pulling it slowly with one of his large arms. As your saree unwraps your body, the pull makes you stumble back on his strong chest... now leaving you unveiled in front of Ryomen Sukuna like nothing but a flustered little mess.

The view made him grin. His queen, his Hindu!Bride clad in nothing but heavy jewels to cover her from the night's cold breeze. It almost looks like a part of your golden skin. Shivers run down your spine. No matter how many times, he would never fail to make your body feel worshipped like a real deity before pleasuring it.

“Mohini...” (enchantress) he whispers at the sight. Your heart accelerates at his remark, causing your blush to run down your neck.

The king's smirk widens as one palm goes for your heated centre, a mouth splitting open on it's surface as he hoists you up. A soft yelp comes out of you, while he brings you near a tree and holds you still on it's rough trunk. Your soft-as-petal limbs shake and twitch by the sides of his big wet mouth, chanting your king's name. You gasp for more air.

One snap from one of his hands, and small droplets of rain start falling down in the cold night. Watching your drunken eyes widen with wonder, he uses his two spare hands to grip tight on your ankles, pining them spread on the trunk as well. The first arm keeps you balanced up high in front of him while still drinking in all your essence. Sukuna seemed to be high on it's taste.

In the silent moment of intimacy, little sighs leave you as the rainfall soaks both of your bodies with water. Just how much is he capable of, will ever be a mystery to her wife as well.

“You are one seductive woman...” he grumbles next to your ear, sounding as if he hadn't spoken in ages. Skilled tongue on his palm firmly latched to your tender flesh. The dangling jewels on your hair, arms, waist, hips and ankles clinking together on your damp tan skin as your smaller body shook in his grip, creating music mixed with your whimpers of pleasure only for his ears's to listen.

Your arms flew to hug his neck, bringing him closer as you rode your intense high, eyes watering. Head spinned while Sukuna held you close, watching you breathe in and out to calm your heart.

“More...” came a weak voice from your dry throat, his sharp red eyes set on your pinned open body like a fragile butterfly, “Swami”.

His warm mouth latches on the side of your neck, sharp canines tracing their path to your favourite spot making your toes curl in air. The monster king smiles sadistically knowing he is anything but leaving you undisheveled right now in this royal garden...

masterlist !!

an. AAHHHSHSJ true form sukuna *bites fist* thank you anon for your precious words T-T hope this was long? likes & rbs are appreciated!! <3

tags: @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @ruins-posts @shrekstealedurgurl @bibliophilemiyo @dottedhalfnotes @attackonnat @mangiswig

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bishh-kanya · 10 months

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A guide to incorporate vintage Indian fashion to your daily life .

Statement sleeves

The original Indian attire hardly has mention of blouses it's the colonisation that brought the picture of blouses and sleeves , the rich could afford high necked statement sleeves that are elegant but detailed , white and pastel colours could be considered while experimenting with colourful and neon shades also work .

Pearls

Pearls brought in what everyone could afford , from big statement pearls to small pearls , they offered a sense of extravagance not in a super rich gold , diamond sense but a subtle old money pearl dim shine sense , they elevated ones look and provided a rich zamidar, financially stable look , the use of pearls must be well matched with the choice of necklines and patterns of your attire.

Sarees

Sarees are the ultimate staple to vintage Indian looks tho the mention of salwar can be seen I'll be focusing on the sarees coz ofc I'm in love ,

Satin and shiny sarees provided a glamour look ,you can pair it with some jewellery for a vintage look to yourself.

Statement border sarees , the banarasi , kanjeevaram holds the key to our hearts , the karigari with some beautiful designs in the borders are appreciated and the saree be plain and minimal , while the borders let shine this .

Although the prevalence of organza isn't seen much , the floral designs of the organza material will absolutely coincide with the sleeves and the pearls , floral sarees were also famous then , tho the material differs.

Makeup

Don't shy away with moving in accordance to your features , downturned eyes go with downward liner and lashes, upturned eyes or doe , siren eyes , a long winged liner will take you great miles , use kohl the depth will suit you and even kajal will make you look absolutely lovely , slight blush and skincare will take you miles , for a good make-up look , good skin works best , get the right products for your skin . Maroon and red lipsticks work great , the dusky lipsticks will give you the look as well ,nude lipsticks will be less preferred, but if it suits you go for it . All in all very natural to your face canvas and statement with your eyes and lips .

Hair

Suble hair buns , with some hairs to shape your face will look good, the kala movie is such a good reference to vintage fashion , wavy hairs or straight hairs a bun will give you the look you desire .

Flowers never left

Flowers in the form of gajra or all over your braids , a single flower of love will elevate you so well .

That's all for this post , this is how I see it basically and now i manage to style myself, this may not coincide with the original fashion , but i hope this is helpful, if you like such posts my asks are open for any other arena of Indian fashion you'd like me to explore.

Alvida for now , stay beautiful! :)

#fashion #indian fashion #desiblr #desi tag #desi tumblr #desi culture #desi academia #indian academia #desi aesthetic #indian aesthetic

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misalpav · 6 months

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ram being in love with the daughter of temple priest and even though he isn't very religious he still went there for sandhya aarti once he saw her one jhumke had fallen and finally able to gather some courage he decided to approach her and they had a talk or something.

also one more request don't use y/n can you pls use the name vaidehi ?

anon!!!! I love this prompt and I hope I did justice to your vision <3 (I'm on a writing high rn so I can actually write fast for once would you look at that?)

yemito ee maya

Two years after Governor Scott's death

Ram slowly walked away from his house, lost in thought. He could feel the wind in his face, rearranging his carefully styled hair and ruffling the shirt he just finished ironing. The sun, shining brightly in his eyes, slowly began its journey back to the horizon as kids laughed and ran back home from school. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, letting himself relax. There was a time when he didn’t know what the word relax meant, how it felt to feel his heart rate slowing and have time for himself. Now that he did, he never quite knew what to do with it. Sometimes, he would make a beeline to Bheem or Sita’s house to talk to them or have dinner together, other times, when he didn’t feel like socializing, he would sit at home and read a book. On days like today, when he just couldn’t get himself to pay attention to the words on a page, he’d huff and put down his book to go for a walk, thinking about how much his life and his India has changed.

“Ram anna, chai thaaguthara?” (tl. Do you want to drink chai?)

He turned his head and saw a group of kids at a street food stall looking at him eagerly and quickly recognized all of them from his colony. His mouth curved into a smile as he forgot about his earlier thoughts and started walking towards them, his hands checking his pockets to find his wallet.

“Aa thaguthanu. Anna, okka chai isthava?” (tl. Yes, I’ll drink some. Can you give me one chai?)

As the seller made his chai, he pretended to look in his wallet for money while secretly watching the kids, and smiled with a glint in his eyes as the kids’ faces fell, realizing he didn’t get them anything. He pulled out a 100 rupee note from his wallet and handed it to the vendor, who looked at him confused.

“Migilina paisalu tho pillalu ki vallaku ishtam ainadhi edhaina ivvandi, inka mitha meeru pettukondi.” (Give the kids whatever they want with the remaining money, and if there’s anything left you can keep it for yourself.)

The kids’ eyes widened at him in disbelief, and they quickly ran to the vendor before Ram could have second thoughts and asked for bajjis, dosas, lassis, and whatever else they could think of. Ram chuckled and shook his head, taking a seat at one of the tables and enjoying the warm taste of chai. He was completely aware the colony moms would make their displeasure very well known to him when he went home, but he figured he’d take it if it meant upholding his role as every kid’s favorite person.

The kids sat around him and became engrossed in conversations about their classes, the math teacher they despised, the cricket game they played last night, and a few other things and Ram sat back and listened attentively to their stories while tending to his chai, zoning out only once in a while when the conversation was directed away from him.

At one of these moments, he heard a laugh and the jingling of bangles coming towards them, and he turned his head subconsciously. His jaw dropped as his eyes rested on the source of the laughter: a woman, busy in conversation with a younger girl, walking towards them wearing a beautiful black and yellow saree, her hair tied back in a neat braid, with a book in her hands. As they walked up to her, he suddenly stood up, catching the woman’s attention. When she turned to face him, he held his breath and examined her eyes, bordered with kohl, and the bright red bindi above the bridge of her nose. Silver jhumkas adorned her ears glowing in the sun and the smell of the jasmines in her hair radiated off her, and he was lucky one of the kids pulled on his hand to get his attention. The woman’s face softened as she smiled, turned away from him, and walked away, and he quickly reoriented himself, telling the kids he had other work to do tonight and started in the direction the woman had left towards, promising the kids they’d play cricket together another night.

Ram speedwalked for a few minutes and finally caught up to them, trailing only a few meters behind, but he couldn’t bring himself to approach her. Internally, he was cursing himself out for making this seem easy to Bheem all those years ago, when he himself was such a mess at it. He wished Bheem, Sita, Jenny, the kids, or literally anyone was with him right now to tell him what to do and how not to embarrass himself. His shoe stepped on something and he tripped over, clasping his mouth to make sure no sound came out. When he turned to see what caused it, he found one of her silver jhumkas lying in the dirt. Ram couldn’t believe his luck and he picked up the jhumka, taking it as a sign from the universe to meet her. He then followed her, his faith in himself somehow reinstated simply by the fact he had something of hers in his pocket.

The women approached a Shiva temple, removed their shoes, and entered, and Ram stopped outside. He hadn’t been inside a temple since his father was killed by the British. Everyone close to him had tried to reinstate his faith in god, but he always shut down the idea by stating that if god was real, his father wouldn’t be dead, and if god is real and let his father be killed, then he had every reason to be extremely angry at that god. Ram almost turned around and left, but then he saw the woman returning outside, and froze, realizing she was staring at him.

“Intha dhooram vachi lopadiki raara?” (tl. You came this far, won’t you come in?) she asked. Realizing he was stuck, he slowly took off his shoes and stepped into the temple.

Once he was standing next to her, she asked him what his name was and he replied saying his name is Ram. She introduced herself as Vaidehi, and he said the name back to her, appreciating the way it rolled on his tongue. They sat in the back of the temple, and Vaidehi opened her book and started reading while he examined her features, and noticed she had removed the other jhumka. Ram hated being interrupted while reading, but he also needed to close this silence somehow, so he craned his neck to see what book she was reading.

“Avunu, gudiki vachi em pustakam chaduvuthunnavu? Adhi intlo guda cheyyachu kadha?” (tl. What book are you reading in the temple that you can’t read at home?)

That beautiful laughter that first got him to turn his head towards her escaped her mouth again and she told him his father was the head priest and she enjoyed attending the sandhya aarti whenever she could. She told him about the book she was reading, History of Dharmashastra, and they both fell into an animated conversation about the development of Indian ancient societies and their dreams for a modern and independent India. She said India needed more men like Alluri Ramaraju and he smiled and agreed, hiding the joy in his heart from hearing her say that. He never bothered mentioning that he was Ramaraju because he found it refreshing to talk to people normally without being treated like a savior everywhere he went.

Suddenly, a man, who he assumed was Vaidehi’s father, stood in front of the garbhagriha and everyone in the temple stood up. They recited bhajans, and while Ramaraju knew all of them from memory from his childhood and his mother, he quietly listened to Vaidehi’s voice. At the end, he took the prasadam from one of the other priests and walked back outside with Vaidehi. She asked him if he didn’t know the bhajans, and he replied saying he did, but he enjoyed listening to them much more than singing them, opting to leave out the truth about his father. They talked more about their interests, exchanged addresses, and talked about meeting again. As the sun finally set, she told him she needed to leave, and that they’d definitely meet again. Ram watched her walk away and put his hand in his pocket, touching the jhumka he never returned, whispering, “I promise we will.”

---

(a/n) should I make this a series lmao I have so many ideas for where this could go. also, I haven't been to india in like 6yrs now (curse the pandemic and then school/work) so idr if 100 rupees is acc a reasonable amount for the chai scene 🗿

open tag list: @obsessedtoafault @rambheem-is-real @lil-stark @manwalaage @contemporarykafka @sinistergooseberries @budugu @the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see @hufhkbgg @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @hissterical-nyaan @how-is-it-in-london @gauri-vishalakshi @sada-siva-sanyaasi @bromance-minus-the-b @darlingletshurttonight @voidsteffy @itsfookingloosah @mad-who-ra @fadedscarlets @justmeand-myinsight @rasnak2 @ghungru @irisesforyoureyes @vijayasena

I copied a rrr tag list I literally haven't used in a year and tried to remember as many old urls as I could. if you want to be added/removed from the list pls lmk <3

#rrr #rrr fics #rrr movie #ram charan #ss rajamouli #alluri sitarama raju #ntr jr #jr ntr #komaram bheem #desiblr #rrr fanfic #yemito ee maya #shri writes #shri's fics #shri's posts

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pumpkinsy0 · 28 days

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Do you have any headcanons about Johnny Cade? 🎤

YEA I DO🗣️🗣️

•i said it before and ill say it again bc i love this hc that johnnys art style is so obviously based off of patachirta, i love that style of painting sm it looks so cool

•lowkey, if he wasnt so introverted, he’d b a rlly good dancer, like super good he’d look so cool, his footwork is actually unmatched

•he has this oral fixation problem that results in him biting the inside of his cheek (same lol)

•he also bites his nails a lot, his nails dont look allat good</33

•hes brownskin, he thinks its funny when pony gets a lik sunburnt n gets all red

•likes quiet enviorments bc then he can listen for any danger, its not that he hates noisy places or thing, he just prefers it to be quiet, poor guy is always on alert

•always holding pony when they were toddlers, ponys just a lil guy to him, he never admits it to make pony feel better about himself but he always found pony cute

•asexual, hes not sex repulsed just quite literally not interested in anyone in that way, hes also demisexual

•johnny🫱🏾‍🫲🏼darry

being transmasc

•his shoes r actually fallin apart, u just dont notice bc he sewed the soles back up and it looks pretty cool actually

•lets pony draw on him in class cause he likes the touch and closeness of it

•may i just day if he was a girl, she’d love wearing a saree everywhere, ofc she’d b a lil on the fence but it makes her feel pretty

•if johnny DID live he wouldnt live w his parents anymore, he’d totally live w the curtis’ full time

#johnny cade #desi johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #darrel curtis

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hum-suffer · 6 months

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We'll see each other again (nevermind the chasm between us) 10

Amar has known Gauri since before they were even born. They shared the same blood, the same parents and the same womb. The nursemaids gossiped about their birth to this day, whispering about how close they are, how Bahu didn't stop crying until he was laid next to Gauri, how Gauri didn't breathe until she was next to Bahu.

They share a bond, profound— beyond anyone's understanding. He feels what she feels and knows it even before she has identified her emotions. He knows what she's thinking and he knows how it's all gonna end in her emotions bubbling. Gauri feels a lot and sometimes, she can't contain her emotions. He's there to hold her together when she cracks with all the untamed emotions inside her.

He's on an excursion, with Bhalla and Gauri, their guards trailing behind them at an unassuming distance. They're disguised, Bhalla having somehow convinced Maa to let him go out to see the Diwali market. She's angry, Amar can tell that even without being her twin.

Her jaw is set— as she's learnt from Amar himself. Her hair is pulled by in a style she rarely favours and he knows an amateur would assume that is a reason of her irritation but Amar knows his sister and knows something as trivial as that wouldn't even hold her attention beyond a couple of minutes. She's wearing an orange saree, complete with red highlights that match her alta— and he knows she hates this combination beyond relief, she's complained about the saree before.

(It was a gift from some lord, an attempt to win Maa's favour. Obviously, a failed attempt.)

"What is the matter with you?" Bhalla asks her finally, when Gauri has stayed silent for the whole of the excursion and is now still silent on the way back. He's easy to anger, but Bhalla has always had the tact of his father— he's never understood women.

(He was different when they were younger. Bhalla used to know everything that made Gauri happy and everything that made her furious. Amar feels an ache in his chest at losing that but he knows that Bhalla feels pressure to do the best among them as he's the eldest. He doesn't have time to tolerate tantrums, in uncle Bijjaldev's words, and he has a lot of responsibilities.

And anyways, who is ever guaranteed to be the same this day and the next? Time changes even the nature of mother earth, what is the nature of man in front of that?)

Amar won't claim to understand anyone he's never met, but he knows his sister to her very bones and soul. It's his one consistency and he's proud of it. I will understand her today and I will understand her when we're both old and frail, he thinks with pride and humility in the same amount. Thank you, Mahadev, for giving me a sister.

Gauri sighs loudly in irritation. "I am fine, Bhalla. Nothing is wrong."

Gauri has always been a good liar. To anyone but Amar and Bhalla. Sometimes, even Maa can't read her lies as well as the brothers do.

Bhalla obviously knows she's lying too. "Do not insult me with lies. Remain petulant if you must, but do not lie to me, Gauri."

Amar sees the minute wince Gauri suppresses and he wants to punch Bhalla for being so impatient with her. He reaches for her hand and gives her wrist a squeeze that is hopefully reassuring. She doesn't show any response to it.

"Gauri." He knows she'll listen to him and sometimes it breaks his heart to have such power over her. He wishes she didn't love him so wholly, he thinks of the day she will marry and move away to whatever place her husband would be in and his heart burns. He will never be able to live in a world where he's away from his sister. "Please, talk to us."

She side eyes Bhalla as she speaks,"Uncle Bijjaldev and his dearest friend, the Kulpurohit, want me to not join in on the Diwali's Lakshmi Pujan."

Amar sees the way Bhalla stiffens. "And why not?"

"Because it will be only a couple of days after I finish my periods," she says, uncaring of the narrowed looks she receives as people overhear her talking about periods to boys. "Apparently, I will be too impure."

Bhalla doesn't speak anything else but looks away at the main objective of the issue being her periods. Amar frowns. "That's absolutely ridiculous, there's nothing impure about you. There can never be anything impure about you!"

"Thank you!" She exclaims, "That's what I've been trying to tell them! Maa asked to meet me today to discuss the same thing and she is seriously considering banning me from the puja because she believes the Rajpurohit."

Amar hears Bhalla groan. "I understand why you're angry, Gauri, but seriously, who can go against the Rajpurohit?"

Something akin to dread trickles down his spine and Amar thinks and oh. No. No. No.

He thinks of Gauri, excluded from the puja and confined to her rooms. Gauri, alone, only with Bhairav and some guards to protect her. Gauri, who already has had an assassination attempt on her. Gauri, who could be killed so goddamn easily away from their eyes. Gauri, who could die. Cease to exist. Amar doesn't think he can imagine a world without her. His sister, half of his heart, his twin, dying. He can't think of the possibility, he can't. Gauri can't die. They can't serve his sister to the assassin on a silver platter, no.

Fuck their notion of made up impurity.

Amar will never lose his sister, not at any cost.

"You don't understand anything, Bhalla," she says heatedly,"Your presence in any ritual hasn't been brought to a question because of your bodily functions! And Rajpurohit is making this up, I know it, there's no way periods are impure, they're the reason people are born!"

"The religious texts do say that women should not get involved in activities during their...problem." Bhalla says, sounding so disinterested that Amar knows he's contradicting Gauri only to distract her from her anger and not because he actually believes the bullshit he's spouting.

Gauri's ears turn red in her anger. "I agree periods are inconvenient enough to be a problem, but saying the word won't make you faint, brother! And the religious texts say that because women need rest in their periods. Do you even know how much my legs, back, stomach and head are aching at this moment? Do you know how nauseous I felt after breakfast today? Do you know my whole body is aching right now and I have these irritating breakouts on my face? The texts say women should not perform stressful tasks, not that they mustn't perform any tasks of import. Yagnas and pujas are stressful because we have to sit in the same position for hours, and because women's bodies are more receptive to energies in their periods and hence also soak up any and all kinds of energies, especially in yagnas, which are literally based on positive and negative energy and enforcement."

"Breathe, you annoyance," Bhalla says, sighing heavily and pulling Gauri closer to hug her sideways. "I understand your perspective and I'm sorry for assuming anything otherwise. Now, do you want a piggyback ride as repayment?"

Gauri thinks about it for a moment but Amar knows she's going to say yes. She hesitates a lot in her path to happiness but she loves the beloved treatment she gets, being their only sister.

She nods finally and all three of them stop in sync. Amar instinctually knows Mama, Bhairavrath and Advaita, their guards, are instantly suspicious. Bhalla hunches down and Gauri hands Amar the money pouch she'd been carrying before hopping onto his back. Amar smiles at the two of them, their grins big and eyes filled with merriment as Gauri winds her dhoti clad legs around Bhalla's waist and laughs loudly, in Bhalla's ear.

"I will throw you off," Bhalla threatens her playfully. They all know he'd never hurt either of them.

He looks at Amar,"What's gotten into you now?"

Amar shakes his head, still thinking about his sister, dead in a room they used to share, blood staining her purple bedsheet.

From Bhalla's back, Gauri raises her eyebrows comically and despite not wanting to, Amar snorts. "Let's go before Mama tells us about how inappropriate behaviour this is."

He doesn't have to, Amar can feel all the questioning stares burning onto the three of them already.

Bhalla begins to speedwalk instantly and Amar chuckles. Gauri looks over her shoulder at Amar, who's a couple paces behind them.

'I love you.' He mouths to her.

'I love you more.' She mouths back, grinning.

He doesn't argue, he knows it's true. No one will ever love him like Gauri does. His heart gets heavier, the thought of parting from her in any way will kill him one day.

But he won't let her die, not as long as lives. As long as Amrendra Bahubali lives, so shall Gauraangi Devi.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

He finds Maa on a swing in the west wing of the palace. He knows she favours the spot, for it is silent and peaceful here. The moon looks wonderful and the stars shine so beautifully that he sometimes doesn't move from this very spot for hours.

"Am I allowed to intrude?" He asks playfully.

Maa turns back to him with a smile that brightens her face and beckons him forward. "Bahu, of course, come. Sit beside me, here." She moves to make space for him and slows the swing down to let him sit.

"Gauri was furious today," he says after a long silence. Maa hums. "Do you believe women in their periods are impure?"

Maa shakes her head. "Never, son. Women are part of Shakti, the reason for the universe, they cannot be impure unless it is in regards to their own karma. However, the council isn't made of men as understanding as you and Bhalla."

"But why are Gauri's periods known to them in the first place?" He asks, miffed at the break in the privacy of his sister,"She has her right to privacy and autonomy."

Maa nods regretfully. "That she does. But Gauri has excruciating periods, like your grandmother. She pretty much cannot do anything for at the very least the first two days of her periods. Her absence makes it obvious."

Amar purses his lips. He will find out the names of these over-interested councilmen later and have a talk with them about just what the hierarchy between the princess and the council is.

"You must let her come to the Puja, Maa. You know how much she likes Diwali. It's her favourite time of the year!"

Maa looks down at her lap, clearly saddened too. "And I want to. But people here are too orthodox and I don't want an unnecessary political fight to ensue with my daughter being at the centre of it. She's bright and mature, but I won't expose her to any kind of backlash, if I can help it."

Wonder fills Amar's heart. Here is Maa, thinking of never letting Gauri face backlash even if she is held as a culprit in Gauri's eyes. And there is Gauri, thinking of never letting Maa face backlash, even if she has to risk her life. Women love so deeply, he thinks, for a moment drowning in the sheer love they carry in their hearts.

But he knows what is the bigger necessity and he doesn't care about orthodox people, he cares to not leave his sister's life to fate and chance.

"Tell them, Maa, if they won't let my sister attend the puja, I won't be there either." His heart is beating wildly in his chest but he knows he will hold his ground. He will never compromise Gauri for anything.

Maa's eyes widen and he feels regret for a moment for causing her strife but it is soon replaced by his love for Gauri.

"Bahu, don't be stubborn. You don't know the things she will hear if she comes to the Puja. I cannot throw every person who slanders her in the dungeons, son and I won't have my daughter crying in Diwali."

"And I won't have my sister feeling ostracised in Diwali, Maa. If they don't want the daughter of their previous King, they won't get the son of their previous King. I mean no disrespect to you, Maa, but I will not leave my sister at any cost." Anxiety flutters in his chest.

(He remembers once choosing Maa about Gauri once, when they were being given separate rooms. He remembers Gauri crying and he acutely knows how unloved she must have felt. He's never going to let her feel so again. Even if there wasn't a threat hanging over her, Amar is never going to leave his sister to misery again. Never again.)

Maa sighs and she suddenly looks so tired, Amar wants to curl up beside her and offer her any comfort he can. But he holds his ground.

Maa shakes her head. A smile slowly blooms on her face. "You are your mother's son." She looks down again, before looking up at him,"You must also realise that I would never let my daughter be isolated from her own rights and family in any condition, Bahu."

"So, Gauri is allowed to attend the puja?"

Maa chuckles as if he said something endearingly amusing. "Yes, Bahu."

Realisation dawns on him.

"You deliberately took their side to see what I would respond with!" Maa shrugs, unashamed of her ploy. Amar shakes his head at her and laughs, throwing his arms around her. "Don't scare me like that again! I don't like fighting with you."

"It's a lesson, Bahu," she says, caressing his hair,"Your Maa or the world around you won't always be correct. But stand your ground. Stay with the truth. Do not ever stray from your duty." He nods dutifully.

When he's finally getting up to leave for his room, Amar looks back at Maa. "Don't worry, Maa. You can't throw everyone who slanders her into the dungeons. But I will cut the tongues of any man who badmouths my sister." Even my uncle. Especially Even the Rajpurohit.

Amar has a simple idea of life: Gauri before everything else.

If his uncle can't accept that truth, he will have to learn to live a bitter life.

Maa gives him a smile that he can't decipher beyond pride and he doesn't care to. He wishes her a good night and leaves, wanting to be the first one to tell Gauri the good news.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

An empty home is never fulfilling.

Bhairav has spent the past years trying to live the way his sister would have wanted him to but it's difficult to keep living when all the goodness of his life is dead.

He hates that he locks the door behind him when he leaves, but as soon as he's back on duty to the palace, all the thoughts of melancholy are locked away. He needs to be at his best if he's ever going to be good enough to protect the princess of Mahishamati and wallowing in unresolved grief really isn't the best way to go about doing that.

Yamuna, the guard who takes the night shift to guard the princess' door gives him a curt nod before leaving. He's given up trying to make conversation with the girl, he knows she doesn't like fruitless conversations.

It's almost an hour later that the princess steps out of the room, dressed in a saree as beautiful as the blue sky and her hair tied in a braid, resting on her shoulder, adorned with pearls.

"Bhairav." She greets him with a slight nod and a smile as they begin walking towards the east wing of the palace, where the princess and the princes have their lessons.

(And isn't that new? Who called him with a nickname last time? How many years has it been? He knows exactly how many years, even days, it's been since someone said his name so tenderly and with affection. The soldier that Katappa made him often peels back like a mask and all he can remember is the child who cursed how powerless he truly was.

"You are my protector and sword, thus, I will be your defender and shield. You shall face no stigma under my service. So I've sworn, and may Mahadev strike me dead if I stray from my oath."

The words echo in his ears and he feels the power thrumming through his veins.)

"My princess." He greets her back, forcing himself to be more alert as they pass the silent hallways. He's even more suspicious of people these days, since the day the princess has revealed that she thinks someone tried to assassinate her.

Katappa would have his head if he said it out loud, but Bhairav already has his suspicions on why anyone would want to kill the princess that is so obviously beloved by the general public.

Since swearing to be her sword, Bhairav has accompanied her to all the donations she has done, to all the temple visits (may they be at midnight), to all the blessings she has received from the common people. He has witnessed it all.

He walks behind her, knows she doesn't particularly like it but he also knows his limits. He's a servant, his place is behind his mistress.

She walks with the power of a Queen.

Bhairav can't help but lament the fact that Mahishamati isn't a Queendom. If it were, Gauraangi Devi would be the best thing that would happen for the state. It's a treacherous idea, but he has enough idea of the characters of this generation of royals to know how emotional Prince Bhallaldev is, how trusting Prince Bahubali is and how loving Princess Gauri is. She is the most immune option of them all.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Most days, Bhairav can't even fathom the trust his princess shows in him.

They're sitting in a room, him, and the royal twins. Bahubali is undoubtedly displeased by his presence but has accepted it because he knows Bhairav will slit his own throat rather than betray his princess.

"I knew I'd heard of this Satyaveer somewhere," Bahubali said. "He served as a chamber servant to Uncle Bijjaldev, he was the one who was instructed to make my current room liveable when we first separated from the original room."

It's a controversial topic, as far as Bhairav is aware. Everyone knows the storm the princess kicked up when she felt that her bond with her brother was threatened. People often laugh about it, calling it a little girl's tantrum.

(But Bhairav knows how much he craves for such vehement demands. Because no one loves him enough to fight for him. No one knows him enough. No one wants him enough. Anyone who did is dead. Maa, Jijaji, Didi—

Dead.)

(How he wishes someone loved him. Loved him enough to fight for him. Demand for him.)

"If I may, your highness," he says, pulling himself out of his thoughts,"I followed Satyaveer on the days that my princess was ill. He seems to have an affinity for secret passages."

The Princess looks at him sharply. "Which secret passages, exactly, Bhairav?"

"The one beside the statue of Indra dev on the second floor of the west wing, my princess." He's noted down everything about this. He can't even think of failing his princess, she deserves the best to protect her and guard her and Bhairav will not break her trust by letting some cowardly bitch kill her.

The twins share a look. There's a set to the princess' jaw that foretells horror.

"That passage leads to the floor that has a royal suite, used by Uncle Bijjaldev and Maa and the room reserved for the Kulpurohit." Bahubali says. Bhairav narrows his eyes. Rajmata Shivagami Devi would never want the princess dead, that's beyond ridiculous. The woman loves the twins like her own children, she would never let anyone else harm them, let alone plan their assassination.

Oh.

The Princess sucks in a breath. Bahubali shakes his head,"That's ridiculous! Neither Maa nor Uncle would want you dead. The Kulpurohit..?"

The Princess purses her lips. "Uncle wants Bhalla to be the next King. The Kulpurohit has hated me since I first demanded an apology from him for not letting me enter the study rooms on my periods."

"Leave, Bhairavrath." Bahubali says. Bhairav looks at the princess for a moment and she nods at him.

He leaves the room immediately. It's treacherous to think so, but Bhairav thinks his suspicions are only proving correct.

Bijjaldev wanted to be the King but wasn't made one. He wants his blood on the throne. The Princess may not be a contender for the throne but she is the sole power of Bahubali. Without her, Bahubali won't have the same power. He will be loved and liked and adored, he will be courageous and daring and strong, but the power behind the throne won't be wholly his. He wouldn't be able to wield it to his full potential without her.

Hell, from what Bhairav has seen, without the princess, Bahubali would probably give up materialistic things in life. They're both too entangled in their bond to ever survive the death of the other.

Kill one, and the other will instantly be dead.

He keeps his thoughts to himself. Heads have rolled for less.

____________________________________________________

What do we think?????

Tagging: @vijayasena @alhad-si-simran @o-merebholebalam

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operafantomet · 6 days

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Do you know the measurement for the elissa skirt hem? I've seen three meters mentioned a few times but that feels a little small for some of the fuller skirts

You will probably find as many variations as there are costume makers... One thing is that the skirts has gotten bigger over the years, another thing is that they have different sizes depending on the height and overall physical appearance of the Christine. A very petite Christine may get a smaller skirt, if they do have different sizes in stock in the production.

That said, to get a believable bustle or crinoline shape you would need at least three meters, and likely more. The exact length will depend on your overall size, how full a skirt you want, and if you want it big and flowing or more structured. For example, the current Japanese costumes are fairly flowing and light, and will flare out when spinning. They also don't do the pleated hem, which underlines the lighter look. Here's Haru Kasumatsu and Sae Yamamoto:

It looks to me like they have used two lengths of Indian saree or dupatta fabric (see the nice gold decorations on the side? That's usually where they cut the lengths, so you have a nicely framed piece of fabric). I wanna say such a length is typically 2-2,5 meters a frame, which suggests to me these skirts are 4-5 meters in width. But this is assuming rather than knowing.

I used around the same quantity (and also the same type of Indian fabric, in red) for my own replica some 15 years ago. Photos of the finished costume VS the costume in making shows that there is quite a bit of yardage in it. I think 5,5 meters in total. But my tulle hoop skirt underneath the finished skirt is not particularly big, hence the slimmer silhouette:

(also, if you want to do a pleated hem have in mind that it is a LOOOOT of pleating for each little piece of length you add to the skirt's width... I've never done more pleatings in my life)

A similar tendency can be seen in the US skirts. They look full enough when worn, but really flares out when spinning. It should however be added that the split down the back means they flare out more than the width of the skirt; meanwhile the split is covered by the backdrape. Here's Emilie Kouatchou on Broadway:

But there are also skirts which are considerably narrower in look, both when worn and when spinning. The original Australian / World Tour skirts are good examples of that. Unlike some of the others they don't have deep folds or extra fabric, they are more tubular or triangular in construction. The underskirt rather lifts the hip and back, making them more bustle-like in shape. Alas I couldn't find any good spinning photos, but here's one of Emilie Lynn and her skirt backstage (as it appeared in Stockholm):

I dare not say what amount of yardage has gotten into this skirt, but it is definitely one of the narrower types out there.

So a bit unclear answer, but also to show there is not one right answer. The stage-worn skirts vary consideraby, and the exact yardage is both a matter of what style you want to make, and what size/formate that is a good fit for you. Whatever you choose will probably have a stage equivalent.

#costume nerding #elissa #think of me #phantom of the opera #maria bjørnson

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stxrrynxghts · 6 months

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Styling in My Mahabharat

I am a person with wild dreams. And one of my wildest dreams is making my own Magnum Opus on Mahabharat, which focuses specifically on Abhimanyu & Uttara. The story is being written by me, and I am doing my best for all of it. Styling, is something that I am focusing on, as it makes me happy.

I am not the biggest fan of the clothing in Star Plus Mahabharat because:

The clothing was too simple. Only the borders had designs.

The clothing was repeated a bit too much, where was the variety?

The jewelry clearly seemed...phony. Rich n royal=/= heavy gold tbh.

So, I watched some styling videos of many period films, and here I am, with my ideas!

First of all, we need to incorporate materials like silk, cotton and muslin. These three should be the primary, and the difference b/w the three can clearly show a difference in hierarchy. Muslin can be shown to be worn during the night/summers.

We have Banarasi and Kanjivaram sarees, we have Bandhni and Patola prints, we have zari work. I would def include these in the costumes.

For jewelries, simple, but designs from various parts of the country will look good. One or two heavy necklaces are enough, IMO, to show the grandeur of the era. Plus other jewelries like hair ornaments, earrings, bangles, armbands and kamarbandhas are here.

Different designs of armor for the men are a must, probably modelled after what Arjun wore in Star Plus Mahabharat. His armor suited his body type, and looked very good on his figure, over all.

Hairstyles have to include flower ornaments like gajra. They are not worn on "wedding nights" pls, how do these ppl find flowery stuff romantic when someone else is wearing it?!

And now, I shall style my main characters, Abhimanyu and Uttara. If this is successful, I shall do the others too-

Abhimanyu

This is gonna be pretty short. What are the main things for styling a male?

I imagine Abhimanyu with long hair, not too long, but till his neck. Not completely straight, slightly wavy.

One thing I love about StarBharat is the tilaks they have done, for the Kuru men, with the moon and other designs. I will keep that one for sure.

Since Abhimanyu has lived majority of his life in Dwarka, some traditional prints/jewelry designs of Gujarat/Maharashtra will be a great inclusion.

As for ornaments, nothing particular is necessary, except two bracelets, one neckpiece, and two earrings. My headcanon has Abhimanyu wearing an armband, and a single ring.

And colors...hmm, purple is a good option, as that color is associated with royalty. The color blue is a great choice, since it symbolizes freedom and sensitivity, as well as faith and stability. Red is a must, as it is associated with bravery, and dark red means vigor, willpower, and rage. Abhimanyu is canonically short tempered, his name means "extremely wrathful". And red is associated with sacrifice as well, so it is def his color.

As I am going to show Abhimanyu be 21, his headpiece in the armor from StarBharat goes away, as it gives him a boy-ish look. Without it, however, changes his look completely, and I don't want anything in his outfit making him seem boy-ish.

Uttara

Uttara's details in my mind are far different from what is shown in StarBharat. I have kept the same cast as they look cute together in my story, yes, and I hate Uttara's styling.

Her clothing is exquisite, just like her mother's. Matsya is canonically rich, and her maternal side is from Kekaya, what do you expect? Uttara's clothes are flowy, to allow easy movements.

The material of the fabric will be silk, with Kanjivaram, Zari and Banarasi type of embroideries on them. I am showing Matsyadesa to have a riverine trade route, so she should have access to all types of fabrics. Some traditional Rajasthani prints have to be there too.

Jewelry is not too much, but well made and designed. Uttara is interested in dressing up, and it is obvious that she shall have a large collection of ornaments.

The colors shall be pink, as it symbolizes innocence and softness, off white and yellow, which symbolize purity and joy respectively, and blues, lemons and greens as well. Her color scheme rarely has dark shades, as it is symbolic.

Her hairstyles range from a braid, to a bun and a bun with a braid coming out of it (kind of like the typical dance hairstyle).

Sindoor is a must, and there are no veils here. Uttara does own various mini-chudamani style ornaments, which she wears from time to time. Blouses are strapless mostly, some times some of them have straps.

@ambidextrousarcher

#mahabharat #mahabharata #abhimanyu #uttara #hindu mythology #styling #costumes

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ramayantika · 11 months

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–✦– 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨, 𝙍𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙠𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙒𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣 –✦–

Usha Lakshmi Gargi Ratri Saraswati

Rati

(@krishna-sahacharini had figured it out 💖)

Amidst my box of pink, peach and nude shades of lipsticks, the bold red lip colour stands out. It appears as if it wants to mock me. 'You purchased me from Ladies Corner two months and I am still sitting in your box with an unbroken seal. Are you afraid of a colour?'

I have worn red sarees, red frocks and even red tops. I have red clips and rubber bands, heck even red sandals, but the prospect of applying red lipstick scares me. It makes me nervous. I have heard this boy tell me that you look gently and dainty in pink and peach shades like a fairy. The other day while coming back from college, I heard an aunty comment on a girl, saying, "God, did you see that bold red shade on her lips. It looks so improper. Girls should wear light shades that makes them look graceful."

But I remember applying the same red shade on my lips after borrowing her lipstick. She was reading a book then and I was trying out her lipstick. The colour suited me so well! For the first time, I got goosebumps when I saw my lips in red. It felt as empowering, liberating, bold as well as beautiful. My friend was observing my reaction and cheered, "You must wear red colour too you know. The shades you wear look pretty, but red has that charm which no other shade has." I blush and mutter a thank you. That evening I bought a red lipstick for myself.

Never wore it after I purchased it though. I always make excuses to myself. I carry a gentle, sweet, cotton candy persona so red isn't suitable.

Like always, I pick my light pink lipstick to retain my natural colour. I look at the black saree with golden borders carefully placed on the bed and then at my reflection in the mirror. Open tousled hair, black blouse, white petticoat and golden jhumke dangling down my ears. I bring the pink lipstick near my lips when suddenly the mirror turns black.

Gasping, I touch the mirror. I pinch myself to ensure if I am active or dreaming. The slight pain tells me I am actively experiencing this. My heart paces in panic. This feels like a scene from a horror movie and for a moment I brace myself to prepare for a ghostly attack when the black fades away only to reveal a lady dressed in dark red robes. Her outfit reminds me of sculptures of dancers, apsaras and goddesses from ancient Indian temples and paintings.

Her skin is as fair as milk. Well drawn arched eyebrows between which a red circular dot called bindu is carefully applied. Deep kohl highlights her beautiful pair of eyes. On her neck, I see a nuptial chain and a couple of jewelled necklaces reaching below her bosom. A thick strip of deep red cloth is tied around her chest. On her waist, I see a loosely tied waist chain and her hips sport a jingling hip belt. She wears a dhoti styled draped cloth which reaches till the knees to cover the lower half of the body. There was a specific name to it which I had read in a book. Sadly, I can't recall the name anymore.

I stare at her matchless beauty. She gracefully steps outside the mirror and stands behind me. Her thin fingers gently place themselves on my shoulders, and she whispers in my ear. "Did you recognize me?"

Stuttering, I try to form an answer. "Apsara Menaka?" She looks like a sculpture reborn alive from a temple after all!

The woman chuckles and taps my cheek with her index finger. "I am the Goddess of Love, my darling."

My lips part in shock. I gaze at the reflection of the woman beside me. "Rati...." I murmur.

"Absolutely correct! Thankfully, you remember me. Many women don't -- atleast not in today's generation."

Hundreds of question circle my mind regarding why is the Love goddess here in my room on a random Saturday afternoon when I am to leave for an outing in an hour.

"My my, did you forget about the lady in red from your visions? I am here for that only," I hear the goddess say.

She snaps her fingers and the lady in red appears on my mirror. Her face looks eerily similar to mine. I hear Devi Rati again. "Do not look away from the mirror until the lady in red disappears."

The woman looks mesmerizing. She doesn't have the perfect zero figure like models do. I see her belly rolls and love handles. There are a few stretch marks on the side of her waist where a thin chain lies. But God, the confidence on her face and eyes makes me shiver. Her eyes makes me want to get lost. This was the woman, I wanted to be and not someone who pinched at her love handles and looked up hundred ways of removing stretch marks from my hips and thighs while fretting over my slight double chin and non existent jawline.

Devi Rati speaks again. "Look at her, love. Her bold red dress stands for the feminine energy she carries within herself. Do not confuse her sensuality with lust. Her eyes are bright and playful. She needs no man no woman to tell her how gorgeous she looks or how modest she has to look. She saw you look at the 'flaws' of her form, but she is beyond flaws and perfections of the flesh. She knows the trivial nature of beauty. It only lasts until the age of youthfulness runs. But does that mean one should not appreciate beauty? Should one not wear good clothes and adorn themselves?

"They should and everyone has the right to feel good about themselves. Do not cover or hide yourself. If you love a colour, a dress or a jewel, wear it. If the world has to judge you, they would just do it for a minute and forget about you in the next minute." She picks the red lipstick from my box. "Your life is too short to be spent in worry if a boy or that old woman down the lane will call you bold for wearing a simple red shade."

She gently applies the lipstick on my lips. Her eyes meet mine and what she says next gives me goosebumps once again. "When they tell you to cover yourself on their narrowed understanding of modesty and culture, remind them about me, Rati, the goddess of Love and Beauty. Remind them of the goddesses and their sculptures from the same temples they love to visit. Remind them of apsaras and beautiful maidens who were clever, wise, knowledgeable and beautiful. Remind them of the same golden ancient culture that looked upon the female form, every female body as divine and everlasting."

The goddess makes me stand up and removes her hip belt and ties it around mine. "Do not let them dim your shine. This powerful red shade intimidates many. This power, this divinity and beauty is your reminder that we reside in you. Your body is a temple for the divine Shakti. You are the legacy of us Goddesses, queens and maidens who carried wisdom and power equally. Do not let them take away or make you hide this powerful radiance from your mind, heart, body and soul."

Rati snaps her fingers once again and the mirror shows my reflection. I am dressed in the same red saree, bold dark kohl lined eyes, red lipstick, jingling anklets and roses in my hair just like the lady in red from my dreams. She winks and says, "I not only make two people fall in love, my love. I also teach how to fall in love and admire oneself."

"Thank you, Rati..." My eyes well up with tears. It's not because I look so pretty. It's because for finally acknowledging my identity, my power and my connection with these divine women and Goddesses who have looked after me and every woman on earth. I promise myself that I shall let no one especially a man to take away my strength and pride for me, not when I carry the power of the Goddesses in my bones.

"Now now, i would hate to see that kajal drip down your eyes."

I laugh and wave at the goddess. Time to show the world sakhis!

******** ***** ****** ******** ****** ***********

Look, I am really excited for this. For a while before writing about Sarawati, I thought maybe I shouldn't write Rati because I was afraid if I would do justice to her.

But as every piece of art that I do is inspired and dedicated to the gods. Nothing of it is mine, somehow the Goddesses made me do it skskkanskakasmsmsmsks so here I am. Mein jaa rahi nahane ab :)

Tagging all of you because I want all of you to read this 🤧: @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @tumhari-bhairavi @sanskari-kanya @krishna-sahacharini @krishna-priyatama @mere-heera @morally-gayy @shut-up-rabert @arachneofthoughts @thegleamingmoon @flowerheadkiller @ketchup-jar-ka @kaal-naagin

#desiblr #hinduisim #goddesses #samridhi writes #indian gods #indian goddess #writings #devi

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