Fav Hindu Mythology Stories: Krishna And Kaliya

Words cannot describe my love for this movie. And this scene.

- Milady, you may have anything you can carry. - May I have your word on that, sir? (requested by waywardhufflepuff)

Gayatri Devi (1919-2009).

Indian princess and politician.

.

She was the third Maharani consort of Jaipur from 1940 to 1949, a politician, and philanthropist who was admired as an icon of glamorous royalty but later emerged as an outspoken politician and social activist.

.

Ethnically born in a Koch Rajbongshi Hindu family, her father was Maharaja Jitendra Narayan of Cooch Behar in West Bengal, and her mother was Maratha Princess Indira Raje of Baroda, the only daughter of Maharaja Sayajirao Gaekwad III.

.

In 1940 she became the third wife of Sawai Man Singh II, the maharajah of Jaipur and an international polo player. Gayatri Devi rejected purdah (the seclusion expected of female Indian royalty), traveled frequently, and received foreign dignitaries, including U.S. first lady Jacqueline Kennedy in 1962. Gayatri Devi also founded several girls’ schools.

.

Following India's independence and the abolition of the princely states, she became a successful politician in the Swatantra Party. She advocated free enterprise and greater involvement with the West. She served 12 years in Swatantra Party, during which time she was a prominent critic of Indira Gandhi's government. When Prime Minister Gandhi declared a state of emergency in 1975, she was arrested due to an alleged political vendetta on the false accusation of violating tax laws and was jailed for five months. After her departure from politics, she lived a quiet life in her large estate, spending time with her grandchildren and on hobbies and leisure.

She published her biography, A Princess Remembers, written by Santha Rama Rau, in 1976.

.

Gayatri Devi was also celebrated for her classical beauty and became something of a fashion icon in her adulthood.

She was a particularly avid equestrienne. She was an excellent rider and an able Polo player. Her Highness was fond of cars and is credited with importing the first Mercedes-Benz W126, a 500 SEL to India which was later shipped to Malaysia.

.

She had a son, Prince Jagat Singh.

She died on 29 July 2009 in Jaipur, at the age of 90. She was suffering from paralytic ileus and a lung infection. She left an estate estimated at nearly half a billion USD.

“What is it, one-eyed Visenya? Did we finally conquer Dorne?”

Prompt Fluff: “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?” - Ram x Sita - High School AU

!!!! this was so fun!!! short and sweet lol (sorry!) but thank u so much for the prompt hope u like it!! 

--

“Are you flirting with me?” 

Sita looks up from the book she’s pretending to read, sitting across from Rama as she always has when he chooses to study in the library during their shared lunch period. Her foot rests against his sock-covered ankle, as it has the last twelve times they have been here. Rama, hair slightly ruffled after nearly half a day of class, tie slightly undone under his vest and school blazer on the table to discourage others from joining them, is staring at Sita as if for the first time. 

It isn’t scandal, Sita decides after a minute of observing his expression, nor is it disgust. Just surprise. 

So: “Yes,” she says, shrugging, “I am. You finally noticed?” 

His eyes widen. “Finally? Has...” Rama swallows. “Was this not the first time?” 

Sita would laugh if she didn't know that the Head Librarian was just waiting for an excuse to finally toss her out, Sita’s study partner being the son of a major school donor notwithstanding. She smiles. “It’s been a few months,” she admits, trying to be kind. It wasn’t like she hadn’t known that he would be obtuse after so many years of watching him accidentally reject the offers of other girls, not even realizing he was doing so when he walked past them to sit next to Sita on school trips, trade books with her in the hallways, drive her home after school. 

“Months!” Now Sita hears the scandal, and begins to blush. 

“It’s ok if you don’t like me back,” she mumbles, watching her fingers trace the lettering on the spine of her book. “I just thought --” 

“Not like you back?!” Sita’s eyes snap up in alarm because Rama sounds as near hysterical as she’s ever known him to be. He’s raised his voice in the library of all places! “Sita,” he leans back, chair scraping as he stands up, towering over her as he makes his confession. “I’m in love with you!” 

“What?” Sita stands up so quickly she gets tangled in her chair, tripping slightly as it moves back. Rama’s hand shoots out to grab hers as she flails back, and when she’s steady enough to look at his face again he’s smiling gently, eyes fond as if he really is in love. 

But wait -- “You always look at me like that,” she accuses. 

“Like what?” 

“Like you love me! I just thought you looked at all of your friends like that.” Or well, she’d hoped, which was why she had spent the last few months trying to get his attention, but she hadn’t known.

Rama’s brow furrows. “I don’t have any other friends,” he says honestly as if that doesn’t break Sita’s heart every time she thinks too hard. But in a way, that’s kind of her point. 

“How do you know it’s love then, and not just....heightened friendship?” 

His face relaxes back into the smile. “How do you?” 

“I....” So many things, Sita thinks, but none that can be said in the middle of the library on a Wednesday. Especially not when she knows that the Head Librarian is undoubtedly creeping the stacks, trying to listen to their conversation so that she has something good to pass on at the next faculty meeting. Sita bites her lip. “Because of this,” she decides, left hand reaching out to grab him by the tie, right hand tangling in his hair. 

Their first kiss is a mash of noses and lips, and the rim of Rama’s glasses biting just slightly into the skin of Sita’s cheek. He’s leaning awkwardly over the table, hands planted like trees at the edge of the table, and Sita realizes very quickly that neither of them has ever done this before -- and she knows that the only movies he sees are the once he watches with her. 

Still: “Good?” she asks when they split apart. 

“We’ll practice,” he says dazedly, eyes roaming the contours of her face as one hand coming up to wipe what she assumes is spittle at the edge of her lip. “But yes, I’d say so.” 

Sita smiles. “Good.” She leans in to peck him quickly on the cheek. “I love you too.” 

all that matters is water and streams and rivers

Vesper Confesses AU

They spent the day in the sunshine on the deck of the yacht, but now they’re tucked safe below, resting together in the cozy, lamp-lit bunk-space. They’ve been trading little secrets back and forth, both of them too sun-drowsed to be bothered with sex. He knows about her first kiss and her mother’s alcoholism. She knows about his parents’ deaths, that girl at Eton, and his most embarrassing moment during Six training.  

It’s her turn to go, and she’s been quiet for a long while, so long he’s not sure they’re playing the game anymore. Finally she sits up, her back a tense line against the headboard, and says, “James.” Her mouth trembles. “I need to tell you something.” 

James swallows. “You don’t have to,” he says carefully, hearing the fear and the dull resignation in Vesper’s voice. If only nothing could spoil their happiness; if only Vesper could pretend that all was well again. 

But Vesper is brave, sensible, and ruthless. “I don’t have to say anything,” she agrees. “In fact, I planned not to. But I find that I need to. And I need you to promise that you won’t interrupt. You won’t say a word, not until I’m finished. Understood?” 

“Completely,” James says, his heart sinking into his stomach. What will he hear?  

Mostly, however, he’s relieved. They’ll finally have it out, this thing that’s had Vesper twitching at shadows, pasting on a smile like he can’t see that something’s wrong. 

He’s played pretend in his relationships for all his life, and Vesper is the first person to make him feel like honesty could be enough. 

Please, let it be enough. 

***

“It was a trick,” Bond says afterward, numb. What will he do? But first, she has to know– “They didn’t really have him. Yusef. You know that, right?” 

For the first time since she started speaking, Vesper turns to him. “No, I heard him!” she says, anger flashing in her eyes. “They played me his–you don’t want to know the things I heard him going through!” 

How can he tell her? 

But Vesper is brave, ruthless, and sensible. She needs to know. 

And it’s his turn now, anyway. 

“One of the first missions they send potential double-ohs on is a seduction mission,” Bond says dully. “It’s intentionally long-term; could last up to a year if you’re unlucky. Meant to be a soft introduction to undercover fieldwork. And the goal is this: to make someone in a critical position fall in love with you. To begin a strong relationship with that person. And then to convince that person that you’ve been kidnapped and will only be kept safe in exchange for valuable information, sabotage, and favors.”  

Vesper’s hand comes up to her mouth. A high-pitched sound stays trapped in her throat. “You–” 

“I succeeded,” Bond says, closing his eyes. “Like he did. I’m sure of it. What you said, it’s right out of the training manual. Even the necklace–we’re told to give the target a token of physical affection, something they can wear every day, so they never forget who they’re tied to.” He hesitates. “I gave mine a ring.”   

***

He spends the rest of the night sitting on the cold wooden deck outside, going over all of it in his mind. What she’s done. What he’s done. What they’ve been through. 

Can he love a spy? 

When it’s put like that, he laughs a bitter laugh. Of course he can. To do otherwise would be hypocritical, wouldn’t it? And he does. When he puts the fury and hurt aside, he admires her all the more. If she hadn’t said anything, she would have succeeded. He’s sure of it.   

A scared woman in a trap, and she would have out-maneuvered him in order to save him, and let the steel jaws close in on herself.

Poor bitch. Poor, brilliant bitch. 

*** 

He makes scrambled eggs the next morning. It helps him think. 

Vesper, silent, glances up at him in between writing in a journal. 

“If you could do anything,” Bond asks, serving the plates up, “what would it be? Your ideal future.” 

Vesper eyes him closely, her pen unmoving on her page, before answering. “I would want the two of us to be doing good work and to be happy. Either together, or separately. And you?”  

James takes a deep breath. “It seems to me we have two concerns,” he says. “Our own safety, and our country’s. We could go to M and ask for her protection. She would be better able to justify it to her superiors if we brought along a bargaining chip–the contact who was going to meet you in Venice. Once we get him, we can begin eliminating the rest of his organization–anyone who would know enough to want to kill you. And after that…after that, we’ll be free to do anything. Go anywhere.” 

Free like he thought they were yesterday, before…before everything. He’s still got the draft of his resignation letter saved in a file. Maybe someday he’ll get to pull it out again.  

Vesper taps her pen against the side of her cheek, considering. “You’re never giving me a ring,” she says finally. “Or a necklace. In fact, no jewelry. And you’re to keep your hair short so I can never have a lock of it.” 

James grimaces. The hair thing had been in the handbook too. His own hair has always been too short for it, thank fuck. “I can do that,” he says. “And in return, you’ll tell me whenever you’re planning something suicidal and self-sacrificing again. The only lamb that needs skewered here is me, remember?” 

For the first time in hours, Vesper’s lips quirk up into a shadow of their usual smugness. “You may have a point.” 

“So, we’re doing this?” James asks. 

“These are dangerous people,” Vesper says. It’s not quite an objection. 

James reaches for her hand across the table. “So are we,” he says, looking into her eyes.  

She squeezes his hand. “All right,” she says. “That’s it, then. We’re going to capture Mr. White and take my life back.” Her mouth sets with determination. “And I know just how to do it.” She taps the journal. “Starting with this.” 

Of course she’s got a plan. James smiles. She might be a bitch, but she’s James’s brilliant, brave, ruthless, sensible bitch, and he wouldn’t have her any other way.  

Krishna:

Yudhishthir at the dyutt sabha:

Bheem:

Arjun:

Nakul:

Sahdev:

Karna:

Bhishm @Dhritarashtra:

Vidur:

Dhritarashtra:

.

.

.

[ Mahabharat Characters as Tweet Peeps ]