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salasarjigemsllp222 · 22 days

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AUNIT OF SALASAR JI GEMSLLP

Natural 9 Mukhi/Face Rudraksha (Nepal Origin)

9 Mukhi Rudraksha :- Navamukhi Rudraksha ( nine faced Rudraksh) is blessed by Devi Durga (the goddess of power). Durga who is also called Jagdamba has the power of all the 9 goddesses known as Navadurga ( Shailputri, Brahmacharini, Chandraghanta, Kushmanda, Skandamata, Katyayani, Kalaratri, Mahagauri and Siddhidatri ). They are specially worshiped during Navratri. The person who wears it becomes fearless and stress free. It makes the wearer strong and self-confident.

Ketu is the ruling planet of 9 Mukhi Rudraksh. The troubles given by the planet Ketu can be solved by wearing 9 Mukhi Rudraksh. If Ketu is malefic, a person suffers from lung diseases, fever, eye pain, intestinal pain, skin related diseases, etc. By using Navamukhi Rudraksh, all these defects can be removed.

Who can wear 9 Mukhi Rudraksh – Those who have fear of death or any other kind of fear, they should certainly wear Navamukhi Rudraksha. If worn along with Dashmukhi and Ekadashmukhi Rudraksh it becomes a tremendous means of protection. 9 Mukhi (9 faced) Rudraksh is recommended for both males and females alike. It can be worn especially by career-oriented females to attain success and growth. They can wear it alone or with other mukhi beads. A devotee of Maa Durga who wears 9 Mukhi Rudraksh is blessed with good luck, happiness and prosperity in life.

Benefits of 9 Mukhi Rudraksh – This bead symbolizes Devi Durga who is considered to be all powerful. Wearing 9 Mukhi Rudraksh helps in eliminating all sorts of fears and evils. Worshipers of the Supreme Divine Power must wear it. It provides the wearer with the armor of Maa Durga, which protects him from all kinds of untoward incidents. This is one of the most useful Rudraksha for women, because Maa Durga’s armor is impregnable. Navmukhi Rudraksha increases self-confidence and makes one fearless.

The mantras for wearing Navamukhi Rudraksha are:

Om Hree Namah (Shivpuran)

Om Hum Namah (Mantramaharnav)

How to activate 9 Mukhi Rudraksh – You should wear only after properly cleaning the original holy Rudraksh with Panchamrit, raw cow milk and Gangajal. There after the mantra should be chanted 108 times to energize or activate the holy Rudraksh. It can be worn as a pendant or around the neck as mala in silver or gold capping.

Contact Detail - 222, Agarwal tower, I.P.Extension, Patparganj, Delhi, 110092 Mob No. 7042891757

#Which Rashi can wear 9 Mukhi Rudraksha?#Who is the ruling god of 9 Mukhi Rudraksha?#9 मुखी रुद्राक्ष कौन सी राशि पहन सकती है?#original 9 mukhi rudraksha price #9 mukhi rudraksha price in india #9 mukhi rudraksha benefits #9 mukhi rudraksha side effects #9 mukhi rudraksha original #9 mukhi rudraksha mala #9 mukhi rudraksha bracelet #9 mukhi rudraksha for which planet #9 Mukhi Rudraksha: Benefits #Powers And Significance #9 Mukhi Rudraksha #Benefits of 9 Mukhi Rudraksha Nepal #Natural 9 Mukhi/Face Rudraksha (Nepal Origin)#9 Mukhi Rudraksha Original

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mantrapiece · 2 years

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Discover our huge collection of om mani padme hum bracelets. We have something for everyone. Website link is in the bio. @mantrapiece . #mantrapiece #buddhistjewelry #buddha #buddhism #mantra #nepal #nepalese #nepalesejewelry #jewelry #vintage #traditional #fashion #style #brassjewelry #copperjewelry #copper #brass #bracelet #bracelets #bodhi #bodhisattva #enlightenmentistherevolution #enlightenmentent #enlightenmentissexy #enlightened #awakened #awakenedmind #awakened #spirit #love (at Los Angeles, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CfD627AuNQi/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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desertdollranch · 4 months

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Just a few weeks after I did a group picture of my eleven Hearts for Hearts dolls, I've finally found the last missing member--Surjan!

I'm absolutely floored by how gorgeous she is. She shares a face mold with Tipi from Laos, but everything else is different. Her eyes are a pretty shade of hazel, and her brown hair is long and wavy. Like other Hearts for Hearts Girls, Surjan is beautifully dressed and has lots of sweet little details. She has gold earrings, a gold nose ring, and a pretty gold bracelet. These purple flats aren't her original shoes, which she is missing, and which I intend to reproduce.

Part of what I like about these dolls is their backstories, which talk about their lives and sometimes their struggles. But their stories always focus on how the girls are changing the world, one heart at a time. Surjan's story, though, is very bleak. She is from Nepal, a country situated between China and India, in the Himalaya mountains. Her family is very poor, and when her father can't find work, he sells Surjan to a rug weaving factory, takes the money, and abandons his family. Surjan must work long, difficult days to pay back the debt. But one day, a stranger named Gubal approaches her and tells her that not only is it illegal for children to work in factories, but that she can offer a glimmer of hope--escaping to a new life in the capital city of Kathmandu.

#hearts for hearts #hearts for hearts girls #surjan

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bcacstuff · 5 months

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Okay BCAC, where do you think Sam is right now? Asia? Europe? North America?

I got a lot of these kinda messages the whole week. Which I didn't post or answered. Since, I did share my theory, which I gave you all an extended explanation for. But I didn't chip him and I don't have a GPS app to follow him like these ClubOcean 'whale tracking bracelet' ads I get on FB.

Anyway, I sure think he was 'somewhere' last week. 😂 But I totally exclude North America as well as Europe. I still think he is/was in Asia given the sm activity times.

I also don't jump to conclusions when he's offline for some days, or comes back online at some point to say oh now he's here or now he's there. It takes a bit more time to figure out a pattern, and we've all seen this time the times of posting and being online were all over the place, and odd.

After he came back online on Sunday, the times very much still looked like Asia, and then I'm talking about the parts that have a timezone of GMT+5 to +6, so India, Nepal...

Consequently we saw him a lot online on Monday and Tuesday, beginning early in the morning and on Monday like 12 hours and Tuesday even from 8.30am - 23.00 (GMT) constantly with just a few times some hours between posts or other activity.

Today, it starts to look more like his usual UK pattern, but I'm still cautious and keeping the Asia option open. And that's the best I can say about it. We can keep speculating, but we better hope he's gonna show us at some point. What I did notice, all he posts are reposting things others posted, even on Twitter!

Oh and to all the Anons sending me these messages about he's with this or that woman... stop embarrassing yourself please. It's obvious he's not and you don't make any sense at all.

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plasticcharmbracelet · 4 months

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Crow

For @wriightworth for the 2023 AJ:AA Secret Santa!

I have no clue what this is. I hope you can derive some enjoyment from it anyhow?

The sky is the brownish grey of cheap paper, and the dry stalks inside the fence and the dry grasses outside it abrade one another quietly in the weak, warm, suspirant breeze that has breathed unceasingly on him for the long afternoon of three months.

Apollo doesn’t really care whether the birds are scared or not. It’s been one long day / a week / three withering summer months, and the sky hasn’t changed, and he can’t close his eyes.

He can’t move. He can’t make a sound. He has not always been a scarecrow, but he is. He is one now.

Apollo has almost never spoken about growing up in another country, wedged in the mountains east of Nepal and Bhutan, and he has spoken even less about growing up in two different countries, because his childish, snowblind memories of the faraway supported him during his foundling years in Los Angeles the way a bangle bracelet and a broken promise never did.

His foster father in the Himalayas had had little enough choice to bring Apollo and his own son along on those expeditions. Children were obviously at risk in the faraway, but at least at more easily disregarded risk than if left to themselves in a bungalow in the snow for an overnight hike that might take three years on the other end. But Apollo’s gratitude for the trips had extended beyond the simply practical, because -

Because a fugitive in the reported world could wield wonders away. A person could feed promises to the wind and to the steep planes of sunlight and have them kept, in words written on the clapper of a chime hung in the air or drawn in powdered pigment on the snow.

Because a runaway could have promises kept, and beauty with them. And when he was homesick, it was the faraway he was homesick for.

He had spent years scrabbling at the walls of the world. Very literally, as a child, and then via research and rumors in the internet’s dirty puddles as a teenager, in libraries as a student, and at last, as an adult, by reading between the lines of every job listing tangentially related to Law. His foster father had told him the truth about this, as much as he hated to admit it. Gates to the faraway have irregular locations and subtle locks, and lucky discoveries are children’s stories; everyone who has learned one has found someone to show it to them.

Two years and seven months out of law school, a job making transcripts overnight, before he had finally seen the advertisement whose in-between-the-lines he had read correctly and whose demands he had been able to meet. A little old-fashioned, the skills required, the wording.

Kristoph Gavin, Esq. A little old-fashioned, the man’s clothes. (Though handsome, striking even, the man who wore them.) A little strange, the quiet pools of tension in the conversation.

And at last, after a probation with the mail and the filing cabinets and the little tests in every detail, he had followed his new boss up a narrow flight of stairs in the strange office building - a fading blue piece of 1980s Los Angeles frivolity with circular windows and half-stories and a wraparound balcony - and into a parlor left over from an earlier time than that, one full of dark wooden furniture and glass-fronted cabinets and a grandfather clock whose silver pendulum only wriggled once in its case, and whose windows looked out not on a wide intersection full of Mercedes-Benzes and box trucks but on this Kansas that would never know Technicolor.

And his new boss had smiled at him across a desk and a cup of milk with barely a splash enough of coffee to deserve the name before taking his left arm in a blacksmith’s grip, pulling his bracelet off his wrist, and hauling him out of the room over his shoulder as if he were a sack of dry leaves. He was.

The breeze rattles the brown stems, the sun never moves, there’s a pole along his shoulders and one at his back, and he’s forgetting the lines of Auden’s Roman Wall Blues.

In the mountains north and east of Ojai, there is a tiny community started by long-ago immigrants from the same Himalayas, and their spot in the faraway had been a vague goal. Somewhere the rules might be similar enough to what he remembers, where he could conceivably reacclimate or acclimate at all. But he had anticipated something entirely else for faraway Los Angeles - tomols pulling up onto golden beaches, turquoise Hockney poolwater, willow/tule domes alongside silver screen diners where a girl could be discovered on that lucky afternoon. Colors that would suit Kristoph Gavin, blond and blue and white.

Here there are crows sometimes, circling and yelling above the prarie brown beyond the fence, but they don’t approach. Neither does the man who hired him, fooled him, brought him here, robbed him and planted him in this grim faraway grass.

Over the heather / I don’t know why / I shall do nothing but look at the sky.

A crow lands on him.

Perhaps the wind has become infinitesimally stronger or the haze infinitesimally darker, but it may just be that this crow LOOKS storm-tossed, tumbling out of the air exhausted with feathers in all directions. The oily sheen on it is purplish and its beak hangs open as it heaves to breathe.

Apollo can do nothing for it. Not a movement, not a sound - but his paralysis, in the smallest of comforts, prevents him from doing anything that will agitate it further. If Kristoph wants him to frighten birds, then his own small comfort will be in letting this one rest, if it decides to.

He waits. The crow moves up to his shoulder, under the brim of the stranger’s hat that Kristoph had dropped on top of his head, hunches itself into a ball, and sleeps.

Time brushes past, warm and weak and irregular as the breeze.

When the crow at last rouses itself, sorts its feathers halfway, and hops and glides down to the ground, Apollo realizes that he will miss it when it goes. But it doesn’t. It stalks and pecks in a circle around the base of the pole, finding a few bits of dry seed, and something like a worm - likelier a centipede, since his peripheral vision suggests that it has hair-fine legs along it. After it seems satisfied - though how can it be? - it smoothes its feathers a little more and flies back to his shoulder, to rest again.

The pattern repeats another three times. It provides a sense of a day and night cycle, however feeble.

It is his crow now.

Kristoph never makes an appearance from the still, sullen house behind him, or at least not one that he can perceive. There is never the sound of the door, or of footsteps, or clinking pans or anything of the kind. He worries for the bird even more than for himself, should Kristoph spot it, but it seems to understand circumspection and doesn’t fly closer to the structure than an acre-wide circle will bring it, both ends of which Apollo can see.

His crow has never cawed at him, either, or at anything else. It is a surprise when at last it says: “ba.” It’s not a crowy noise; it sounds more like a pet raven in a video clip, making something still a few lengths from music.

His crow bounces sideways down his arm and back. “Ba-ba ba-ba ba ba?” He wishes, partially, that he could respond, but is selfishly glad that it has stayed close and unafraid of him. “Ba ba ba-ba ba ba.” Something Annie Lennox about it.

Day/night/what passes for them.

The circles his crow flies become tighter, keeping it closer to him. When it comes back, it wedges itself between the hat and Apollo’s straw shoulder in the remnants of his own shirt. Its feathered-over heartbeat feels fast, but its heartbeat always does.

At the end of one particular circle, then, the bird skims past him and keeps going, in the direction of the blank, disapproving house. It can’t be more than a few minutes that he feels its absence, and minutes are a concept he has lost most of his use for, but he doesn’t like it. It makes him nervous.

His crow has lost its mind when it comes back. It doesn’t caw or scream or ba-ba, but it lands hard on the end of the shoulder pole, where his wrist might be, and flaps hard enough that the beats sound like flags in the wind or a person falling down a flight of stairs. It grips and rustles in its panic, then takes off and repeats its actions at the end of his other arm, hitting the pole and buffeting the air again.

What are you doing?, he thinks. The agitated bird stretches its wings up like blades and strains at the pole. Again. Stop. He worries how long it can continue before it -

His vision becomes a dizzy brown swoop as the pole that holds him upright spins at his crow’s last assault and tips sideways, leaving him at a thirty-degree angle and facing the house the other way. The bird is drinking air on his left wrist, shaking, gathering itself.

A small brass bell that he had not had time to notice hangs on a string by the door, straight toward the ground, entirely unmoved by the breeze. The rest of the yard fidgets in it, brown leaves insinuating against their neighbors, dry sticks dragging themselves an inch in the dust, cloth in bundles on the ground by the fences almost shrugging, then wrinkling down empty.

The nearest bundle has a pair of glasses. Another is topped by a hooded sweatshirt, bleached grey on top and its original grey showing when the wind lifts it.

As that understanding hits him, his crow caws for the first time and continues, loud, scraping the air and echoing off the dirty clouds. Other birds, the ones that have never dared to come close to the fenced plot of land, scream back and start to gather. One approaches him, lands nervously three feet away, then ignites its courage and joins his crow further along his arm. They all begin to gather along his arms, all facing the house, staring, yelling. Challenging.

The little brass bell on the porch starts to swing in the air, emits a sour little chime. Two more. Then louder.

Kristoph, taller than Apollo remembers him, opens the door, one hand raised.

The crows dive at him, surge at him, in a zigzagging clawed cacophony. One tangles itself in his hair, others snap and stab at his eyes, draw blood from his palms and the bony peaks of his knuckles, though a few of these he knocks out of the air with savage swipes of his arms. Apollo’s and some of the others evade him completely, though, and vanish into the shadows of the house. Kristoph shifts his attention from the birds attacking him and pelts after the interlopers. After Apollo’s crow.

The door hangs open and a few battered crows lie in the doorway or just inside it. Apollo can do nothing but stare and listen as the crashes diminish, the shouts and the wild calls diminish, until the scraping leaves are once again the only sounds half-submerged in the silence.

It could be an hour/a day/five skipped heartbeats before there is movement from the house. Two crows, each carrying something shining in its beak, hopping out into the brighter dimness and soaring away over the roof for the horizon. Neither has a purple sheen to its feathers. Nor do the next half a dozen that come.

Minutes and eras.

A scraping sound, not dead stalk on dead stem but something wooden and something that isn’t.

Apollo’s crow hobbles from the door, dragging a broken claw, a cluster of flight feathers, and Apollo’s bronze bracelet. Its scuffling steps are painful to watch, have to be so much more so to execute, but it hauls the bangle to the foot of the scarecrow pole and waits, chest fluttering. Then it catches its breath and hops flapping at him, falls back to the ground with a sound more like a shaken piece of paper than a caw.

It tries again, can’t lift the bracelet with one leg. Tries and fails with its beak. Puts its head through and manages a flailing glide to one ruined knee of Apollo’s suit trousers, claws its way up to his shoulder, sidesteps, so tired, along the length of his left arm, and deliberately maneuvers the bracelet onto the end of the beam.

Apollo collapses face-first into the dead leaves and comes up with dirt on his human face. His arms are shaking from their own weakness, not from the sickly breeze. He blinks for the first time in weeks, months, yellow crud in the corners of his eyes. When he sits up all the way, he sees his crow hunched in the plants, staring at him.

He picks it up and it lets him, and he carries it wobbling on weak legs into what may no longer be Kristoph’s house. He can come back for the wounded birds, but first -

At the foot of the stairs that lead back down to Los Angeles is a scarecrow in a blue suit, its head bent to one side and a tear in its fabric neck from which straw has started to slide to the floor. He steps back, carefully.

The room he had sat in is thrown apart, jewelry and pocketknives and keys and things spilling out of drawers angled downwards from their caves, across the desk, everywhere on the floor. Black feathers here and there.

“Is something yours?”

“Ba ba.” His crow nods its head several times, but shakes it again when he starts to paw through the shiny mess.

“No?”

The bird in the crook of his arm becomes agitated again when he moves for the doorway, unfolds out a wing to one side and then grumbles in pain.

Apollo turns to look and catches sight of his reflection in the case of the grandfather clock. The strange pendulum isn’t a solid rod, is it, but a chain with a jagged silver pendant as a bob. The case is locked when he tries it.

He places the bird as gently as he can on the cushion of a velveteen sofa in the corner of the parkor, despite its bas of concern, then all but charges down the stairs and wrenches the pale blue coat off of Kristoph’s scarecrow, leaves the thing limp against the baseboard and wraps the coat around his left hand and arm as he stomps back up on ever more steady legs.

He closes his eyes in front of the clock and swings his swaddled fist through the glass of the case. It is a satisfying thing to do.

He pulls the pendant and its chain carefully from the hook in the mechanism, and carries it back to his crow, which is watching him with an intensity that is certainly hope, but apprehension too.

“This?”

A long pause. “Ba.”

He sits on the floor and his crow edges forward and lands gracelessly on his knee.

“You’re on my lap.”

“Ba ba ba? ba -“

“Fine -“

His hands shake only a little as he holds up the chain and lets it settle around the sleek black neck.

An instant later he has another young man collapsing ragged against him, beautiful in black and purple with bruises purpling his fingers, a man who could be the mirror of Kristoph and who, beyond all clarity, is not in any way like him at all.

There are so many things they will need to do, soon. But for now, Apollo’s crow embraces him and buries his face against the crook of his neck, and Apollo tilts his head toward him, and holds him close, and loves him, loves him back.

#wriightworth #ajaa secret santa 2023 #klapollo

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redheadspark · 1 year

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Hi love 🩷 I just absolutely love how you write Jack Russel! I don’t if you’ve already done this, but can I please request #14 with Jack please ?

A/N - Jack would short-circuit for certain! Thanks for requesting my friend!

Moment

Summary - Jack's first date with you was nothing extravagant, but he thought you were

Warnings - Just some cute fluffiness!

"Well, that was an adventure!"

"I'm so sorry about tonight,"

"What are you talking about, Jack? It was wonderful!"

Jack was sitting against his ottoman at the foot of his bed, watching you take out the earrings you were wearing and then the bracelets to put on the dresser. He looked rather shocked by what you said, and you were so calm and relaxed as you were ruffling your hair from it being in the ponytail that he was in.

"It was?" Jack asked, not wanting to sound too shocked about it but he was. You turned around to face him, grinning as you nodded your head.

"Of course," You replied, shrugging off your blazer and then throwing on a cotton jacket that you had hanging next to you at your dresser. Jack was still shocked since in his mind it was a disaster of a date.

He had reservations at a great restaurant that you would have loved to eat at, and then a stroll through the park right next to the restaurant. For the past two weeks, he was thinking about this first date. Ever since he asked you out he was wanting it to be the best date ever.

It was the opposite.

The restaurant was beyond busy and you two were shoved in the back, the loud talking and music around you made it hard for you two to hear your conversation. And the food came out cold and undercooked, Jack was embarrassed to send it back and have to wait a bit longer for the rest dish. And once you two left the restaurant, it started to rain. Going to the park was going to be a wash. He felt as though he took every blow that was against him to have a great date with you, yet he was surprised that your smile never left your face throughout the whole night.

Jack took you back to your apartment and you invited him in to escape the rest of the rain, although Jack wanted to just hide in his own apartment and forget the date ever happened.

"The food was good, although they got your plate wrong and you had it sent it back. That's their fault, not yours," You explained as you sat down next to him on the ottoman, "And those stories about your travels, I loved every one! Especially the story of you and Nepal!"

Jack felt himself blush from hearing that from you. Just seeing you next to him, stripped down from your date outfit and in sweats and jacket, still looking as gorgeous as the day he met you some time ago. He always thought of you as beautiful, from the freckles along your nose and cheeks to the way you painted your fingernails a dark color to contrast against your skin tone, and your eyes were so bright and infectious. Jack considered himself lucky when you said yes to a date with him.

"Tonight was amazing, Jack," you said to him, reaching down to lace your fingers together and give him a kind smile, "I would do it again if you wanted to,"

"Yes!" Jack said quickly, then looking rather sheepish as he slammed his mouth shut, "I mean...yes, I would love to go on another date with you,"

Your smile never left your face as you leaned in and kiss his lips so softly. Jack felt his heart burst and expand at the same time, leaning into you a bit more to kiss you back and gently cradle your face in his palm. He was always a reserved person, with every decision he would have to make he had to consider the outcome. But with you, you shook his world from head to toe. Jack ever thought he would feel like this with another person, but he wasn't afraid of it. At that moment when you kissed him, after a disastrous date, Jack would kiss you again and again. And he would take on any other horrible date that came his way, as long as you were there with him.

The End.

Spring Prompt Session

#jack russell x y/n #jack russell x you #jack russell x fem!reader #jack russell x reader #jack russell #werewolf by night fanfiction #werewolf by night #marvel cinematic fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #mcu writing #mcu phase 4 #mcu fanfiction

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secretly-a-catamount · 24 days

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An Overview of My Favorite Goncharov Background Character: Lucky Doe

(Not a lot of people know about Lucky, so I thought I’d remedy that. Most of this information is taken from either the background of the film itself or her wiki page.)

Appearance:

Lucky is a fifteen year-old girl with badly cut and chin-length dirt-blond hair, “whisky-brown” eyes, and one arm; her right arm ending in a stump just above the elbow. She wears a bracelet of seashells around her left wrist, and has a sharpened scalloping knife hanging from her belt, but otherwise she dresses in traditionally-masculine clothing befitting an average teenage boy from the time period in which the movie is set.

Background:

Lucky was a founding child — hence the surname Doe — who grew up in the nearest town’s orphanage until she was about ten, when she was adopted by the groundskeeper of Goncharov Manor.

Taken to Goncharov Manor by her new guardian, Lucky quickly fell into a lifelong friendship with Henry Robins, a red-haired, British boy who moved to Nepals to be closer to his ailing mother and then took employment at the manor to pay for her medical costs.

Henry was the one to fashion Lucky’s seashell bracelet, and the scalloping knife that Lucky always carries is another example of their strong relationship, as Henry is the only other person who understands the “inside joke” attached to the blade.

By the time of the film, Lucky is an official employee at the Goncharov Manor who is most often seen tending to various odd-jobs that need to be done, playing poker with Mario Ambrosini, or simply standing next to Henry Robins.

Quotes:

That’s just Henry, tragically ginger and tragically British. “Then you wouldn’t mind—” Look at him again, and I’ll cut my other arm off and beat you with it.

Fold.

“Where’d you getta dog?” His owner drowned. In the harbor. “I thought your father raised you better than that.” You did?

“Don’t you already know how I see you?” [. . .] ‘Whiskey-brown’ eyes? . . . Thanks, Henry.

No, no, go left!

That’s why I’m in charge, and you’re not.

How’s your mother?

Hang the washing.

Touch any of them, and I’ll stab you. “That’s a sharpened scalloping knife.” So? It can still carve your eye out just fine.

Henry!

Henry?

Two tickets. [. . .] Please.

#goncharov #goncharov 1973 #lucky doe #lucky doe goncharov #lucky doe goncharov 1973 #disabled characters #physical disability #amputate girl #amputated arm #henry robins #henry robins goncharov #henry robins goncharov 1973 #mario ambrosini #mario ambrosini goncharov #mario ambrosini goncharov 1973

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nitewrighter · 2 years

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May I suggest the ol' 51 & 53 for any pairing of your choice?

Gonna do Yeehan just because I think they're stupid enough to get entangled like that.

51. Accidentally Married

53. Mutual Pining

There's a major Shambali Festival celebrating Aurora's ascension and the awakening of Omnic sentience in Nepal. Hanzo has only been on the watchpoint a few months now, but both Genji and Zen want Hanzo to not just feel more like part of the group, and to help him understand how Genji learned to accept himself. Hanzo, as always, is skeptical, but Cassidy's curious about what a Shambali party looks like, and Mercy's honestly excited to see peace advocates like the Shambali in action. Cassidy and Hanzo are at this weird point in their relationship where like, Hanzo is very aware he's caught feelings at this point, but he's also still kind of stuck in the "The entire team hates me" zone, and meanwhile Cassidy's starting to catch feelings too, but he's kind of like "Oh, Hanzo's been very clear on his opinion of me from the start." And there's still this kind of stumbling, mutual "oh my god get over yourself" huffiness on both sides. The celebrations are... honestly a little off-putting for Hanzo (everyone's too nice and it's freaking him out a little bit), so Cassidy suggests they dodge the crowds by heading deeper into the temple. They end up coming across a very small, beautiful ceremony being held by a handful of Omnics and humans, they get invited to participate, sure, they don't really 'believe' in the Iris, but honestly since they barged in there it seems rude not to...

Later on they meet back up with Genji and Mercy and Cassidy's like, "Hey! Check out these nifty bracelets the monks gave us!" And Mercy and Genji look at them like :0 and Zen's just going "Oh! How wonderful!"

#yeehan #gency #trope mashups

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sashkacobracelets · 20 days

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Never take a single day for granted.🌼

https://sashkaco.com/collections/new

#sashka co. bracelets #handmade jewelry #glass beads #beaded jewelry #alwayspositivevibes #spring bracelets #spring fashion #summer vibes #gift ideas #shop now #Florida #nepal bracelets

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mahayogi-123 · 5 months

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Mahayogi Rudraksha - 5 mukhi Nepal rudraksha bracelet for wearing on wrist for meditation and gifting others for their betterment. Mahayogi Rudraksha on +919833091964

#rudraksha #Gemstone #Shivling #Yantra #Shaligram #Parad #Mala #Bracelet

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ohmboho · 6 months

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Beautiful Stone Bracelets from Nepal🌿

𖤓 www.ohmboho.com 𖤓

#ohmboho #hippy #boho #bohemian #hippie #jewellery #jewelry #bohochic #handmade #hippiechic

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rudrakshabeadsblog · 1 year

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Choose us to get Rudraksha Beads and Sandalwood Beads from us

We are one of India's top suppliers of Rudraksha beads. We deal in wholesale Rudraksha beads from Indonesia, Nepal, and India. Pendents, malas, bracelets, and other accessories are other products we create and sell. We have created several religious items with a scientific basis utilising our understanding of the earliest Vedic writings. The items will be introduced progressively. We want everyone who is interested in rudraksha beads and other spiritual goods to register so they may be notified when new goods, rare rudraksha go on sale, special deals, and other things come up. Additionally, our site is often updated, so you may learn a lot about Rudraksha and other spiritual goods. Customers may ask queries and look for relevant information. To the best of our ability, we'll do our best to respond.

It has been scientifically shown that rudraksha beads have a positive impact on a person's mental and physical health at several pioneering research institutes in India and overseas. The number of faces that a rudraksha bead has an impact on a person's luck, health, and mentality. We have included thorough explanations on how Rudraksha Beads work with each product. We guarantee the highest quality beads, and if a buyer is unhappy with their purchase, they have 15 days to return it and get a full refund. Bulk Sandalwood Beads for creating malas. Red sandalwood beads lack the scent but have a great texture and hard wood, whereas white sandalwood beads have a pleasant aroma.

Both types of sandalwood beads are excellent choices for a mala. Wholesale cost; excellent quality. Retailer of wholesale sandal wood beads. Strings with Rudraksha beads. There are 108+1 beads per thread. Supplier of wholesale rudraksha beads. These are strings of Rudraksha beads with five faces (Mukhi). They may be worn or the beads can be used to create a bracelet or mala of the wearer's choosing. These Rudraksha beads are from Indonesia and are beneficial for overall health, high blood pressure, anxiety, and meditation practise. Visit us online at http://www.Rudrakshabeads.Org/

#Rudraksha Beads #Sandalwood Beads

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rodricksfilipinagf · 2 years

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Friendtopia Part 2: So Much For A Meet-Cute

We end up leaving this high end designer store- I’m wearing this loose white top with flowy sleeves with turquoise shorts. With a turquoise necklace and bracelet, and stacked heels.

“You had something custom made?”

“Multiple stuff custom made. You said you were buying,” I remind him.

“You’re so lucky I’ve been waiting to hang out with you for months,” he bemoans.

Suddenly I spot a girl in a long, breezy skirt and a white shirt with balloonlike sleeves handing out pieces of paper to passerby with a smile on her face.

“Do you need anything in the convenience store?” He looks at the store we were in front of currently.

“You’re going into a convenience store? You do know you’re going to have to get everything yourself in there, right?”

He frowns slightly. “What, are you not coming? I was hoping that since there were two of us…”

I roll my eyes. “Normally I would love to find stuff for you in the convenience store that you could easily walk over and find yourself, but I’m about to lose my chance to have a meet cute with that girl over there.”

He follows my gaze. “Passing out flyers near the meat mug place? They have to be about how great I am. My people are just so devoted and appreciative.”

“Yeah, yeah. So we’ll catch up later?” I ask. “Please don’t get yourself kicked out.”

He snorts. “Y/N, I’m the emperor. It’s not like I was ever going to find stuff myself,” he says before heading into the convenience store.

“Oh, he is so getting kicked out,” I say under my breath as I head toward the girl. As I’m doing so I’m looking to see if any of my clothes look any less perfect than I did when I left the store in them. Blue stacked heels, still on my feet. Turquoise shorts, still on. Turquoise jewelry…still on. White top…still on. I’m so glad I didn’t wear any makeup. It probably would have melted off by now. Sitting in a makeup chair having it done is lowkey tiring on my face so I only get it done on special occasion, like balls.

“Hi!” I say when I’m in front of the girl. “My friend thinks the flyers you’re passing out are about how awesome Emperor Kuzco is, but I highly doubt it. Unless it is. Is it?”

She looks at me bemused. She definitely looks part Asian. I’m not sure what other ethnicities she is- part Incan, Mayan, Aztec, Middle Eastern, or white…but there definitely is some Asian in her. She has strong, fierce eyebrows and a narrow nose and long, straight hair.

“No,” she says. “It’s to save the manatees. Did you know they’re an endangered species in the Incan empire?”

I study the flyer. It’s of a bunch of manatees in the ocean. They don’t seem miserable. But hearing that they’re endangered is really sad. I wonder why that is. “Do people keep hunting them?”

“Tourists keep accidentally killing them, thinking they’re dangerous,” she says.

I’m baffled now. All manatees do is float around. They don’t even have any sharp teeth, or claws, or anything like that. They’re very sleepy. “Well, that’s terrible. And confusing. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I’m Bri,” she says. “I just wish that people cared about manatees the same way they care about…whatever it is they care about here.” She shrugs. “I just arrived here a few days ago. I was just in Nepal on a detox retreat.”

“Detoxing from what?” I ask.

“Just…life and all of its distractions. The unimportant things.”

“Yeah,” I manage to eke out. I wonder what she’d think of the shopping spree Kuzco and I just went on. I wonder if she’d think it was unimportant.

“Some people might think that vacations are about superficial things like going to the beach or getting hot stone massages, but I think it should be about giving back,” she says, adjusting her bag strap. Her bag that was white and grey checkered. A pattern that I recognized really well. It was what people back in France used to wear when they just wanted to show they had money but when they also lacked imagination and individuality. Because that designer makes so many other bags in so many other patterns. You could still show off your money by getting one of those. But the grey-white checkered pattern showed that you primarily cared about impressing other people with recognition rather than quality.

“I’m sorry- how is going to the beach superficial? How? It’s a super relaxing way to unwind and forget about your troubles, like you said you wanted.” I don’t know why I was being so combative. It’s just…suddenly she was coming off a little pretentious, and I wanted nothing more than to poke holes into her already holey theory.

“It’s just how can you relax at the beach, knowing that the manatees who live there are endangered? I mean, that’s definitely true here. And Emperor Kuzco doesn’t even care.”

“For your information, Emperor Kuzco is throwing a save the manatees ball tomorrow! But I guess you wouldn’t want to come, because it’s superficial, right?” Me being extra combative would probably not get her to want to come to the ball, but at this point I was debating whether I actually wanted her to come or not.

“No way am I missing that,” Bri says. “He’s probably going to spread more misinformation, like to save them you have to pollute the ocean.”

“How can you say that?” I demand.

“I was in the convenience store an hour ago talking to the owner about workers’ rights. Apparently he got kicked out of there five times for complaining about having to get stuff himself.”

It’s going to be six, I just know it. And what’s she doing talking about worker’s rights? I thought her whole thing was manatees. And why a convenience store owner? It’s not like he’s being oppressed…is he? Besides Kuzco being a pain in the ass, he seems to be running a thriving business. “Well, you’re wrong,” I say. “He does care, and you’ll see it at the ball.”

Bri raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Sure.”

“Whatever,” I say before storming off. So much for a meet cute.

I encounter a disgruntled looking Kuzco in front of the convenience store. “Let me guess, he kicked you out?”

“I’m so done. We’re going home,” he grumbles.

“Ughh, I’m with you on that,” I say as we head back toward the palace. “I need somewhere with echo-y walls and floors, where no one will look at me like I’m an insane person if I burst out screaming.”

#kuzco #emperor kuzco #disney kuzco #bri senior year

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