seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from India
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Slovenia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
#180 GIFS OF VEDANG RAINA in ' THE ARCHIES ' can be accessed for FREE by clicking the source link! vedang raina is an actor of kashmiri descent born in 2000, so please cast accordingly and use appropriately. all gifs were made by me from scratch, do not claim them as your own. please give this post a like / reblog if you found it useful!
Chapter 1
OKAY BUT VEDANG KA PERFORMANCE IN JIGRA WAS ACTUALLY GOOD OKAY.
V̲i̲e̲w̲ ̲a̲l̲l̲ ̲c̲o̲m̲m̲e̲n̲t̲s̲
𝘃𝗲𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗮: 𝗘𝘅𝗰𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗱𝗼 𝗜 𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝗜’𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝘂𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂 @𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶 𝗮𝗻𝗱 @𝗶𝗺𝘁𝗶𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗹𝗶 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗱𝗮𝘆
𝗔𝗹𝗲𝘆𝗻𝗮_𝗮𝗹𝗶 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘃𝗲𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗮: 𝗖𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 @𝗶𝗺𝘁𝗶𝗮𝘇𝗮𝗹𝗶 𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗭 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂
𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢: 𝐈’𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐲 @𝐯𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?
𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐚_𝐚𝐥𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢:
𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞
𝙛𝙖𝙣1: 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙫𝙖𝙧𝙞 𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥
𝙛𝙖𝙣2: 𝘼𝙡𝙚𝙮𝙣𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙨
𝙛𝙖𝙣3: 𝙒𝘼𝙄𝙏 𝙑𝙀𝘿𝘼𝙉𝙂 𝙄𝙎 𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙑𝙀?
𝙛𝙖𝙣4: 𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜
𝙛𝙖𝙣4: 𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙪𝙢𝙖?????
𝙛𝙖𝙣5: 𝙑𝙚𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙫𝙖𝙧𝙞 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙤 𝙨𝙤 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙚
𝙛𝙖𝙣6: 𝙒𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙋𝙪𝙣𝙟𝙖𝙗???????
𝙛𝙖𝙣7: 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙋𝙪𝙣𝙟𝙖𝙗 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡🤨
Here’s the first chapter of the series I need your honest and genuine opinions regarding this.
Tagging some of my favs: @rutvii @chai-ke-sath-parleg @abolitionistlawpluscoffee @twinblueflamee @gloriouspurpose01
Misti – Ishar Singh Grewal(Keenu) x Reader(misti) - oneshot
The golden afternoon sun of Sargodha cast long shadows across the dusty streets, the whole town humming with its usual lazy rhythm. You navigated the familiar alleys, the silver anklets beneath your cotton salwar kameez chiming softly with every step. Cradled in your hands was a brass dabba filled to the brim with rosogollas you had spent the morning preparing.
It had been two years since your father, the District Magistrate, had been posted to this bustling Punjabi town. Leaving the lush green landscapes of Bengal had broken your heart at first, but Sargodha, and specifically the fiercely loving family in the haveli at the end of the lane, had stitched it back together.
You stepped through the wooden doors, the scent of ghee and dried red chilies giving way to jasmine blooming somewhere in the courtyard.
"Sat Shri... Sat Sri Akal, Beeji," you called out, stumbling slightly over the vowels the way you always did, pulling your dupatta a little higher over your shoulder.
Beeji was on her charpoy in the center of the aangan, sifting through a plate of wheat. Her face broke into a crinkly smile the moment she saw you.
"Do saal ho gaye, phir bhi tera Punjabi kaccha hai," she laughed, not unkindly, waving you closer. "Koi baat nahi, dhee. Aaja, aaja meri dhee. Aaj phir kuch meetha banaya hai? Teri mehek toh is dabbe se pehle aati hai."
You smiled, a little sheepish, the small correction landing soft rather than sharp, the way it always did in this house. Your eyes betrayed you as they scanned the courtyard, searching the verandas and the rooftop for a tall frame, a neatly tied pugri, a crisp pant shirt. He wasn't there. You held up the container anyway.
"Haan Beeji, rosogolla banaya tha aaj. Phoola kahan hai?"
Beeji's eyes twinkled with ancient mischief. "Apne kamre mein padhai kar rahi hai. Jaa, uske paas chali jaa, warna saari mithai main akele kha jaungi."
You made your way to the back room, laughing softly. You and Phoola were the only girls in your batch at the Government College, a bond that had quickly turned into sisterhood. But as you pushed open the heavy teakwood door, you knew Phoola's love for sweets was only half the reason you visited so often.
"Oye hoye! Meri Misti aayi hai!" Phoola shrieked, abandoning her history books and lunging for the brass container. She popped a rosogolla into her mouth, eyes closing. "Waheguru! Misti, tere haath mein toh jaadu hai. Kasam se, main inke bina nahi jee sakti."
Heat rushed up your cheeks, and as always happened when you were flustered, your mother tongue slipped out. "Arey, baba, aaram se kha. Onek aache... I mean, aur bhi hain dabbe mein. Dheere dheere kha, Phoola."
You settled on the edge of her bed, gossiping about a particularly strict professor from college, your sketchbook resting shut beside you the way it always did, never quite out of your hands for long. You were deep in conversation when the rattle of bicycles echoed in the outer courtyard.
Keenu and his best friend Aftab pushed open the heavy gates. Keenu's cotton shirt was tucked neatly into his trousers, his pugri immaculate as always, mid-sentence in some line of Urdu poetry he had just penned, when Beeji's voice cut through the courtyard.
"Oye Keenu! Aa gaya tu?"
"Haan ji Beeji, bas abhi aaye hain," Keenu replied, leaning his Raleigh bicycle against a pillar.
"Toh jaldi andar jaa. Aaj Misti aayi hai," Beeji said, tease dripping from every word. "Aur apne saath tere pasandida rosogolle bhi layi hai. Pata nahi, shayad Phoola ne ab tak khatam kar diye hon."
Misti.
Keenu froze. The couplet died on his lips. His hand flew up, smoothing down his beard, then trailing to check his pugri.
Aftab caught the panic in his friend's eyes and let out a snort. "Oye hoye, Majnu bhai! Sun liya naam? Pairo mein pahiye lag gaye?"
"Sachi Beeji? Woh aayi hai?" Keenu's voice cracked, deaf to Aftab's teasing.
"Haan haan, jaa bhag ke jaa!" Beeji laughed, waving him off.
Keenu didn't think twice. He abandoned the bicycle, which wobbled precariously before Aftab caught it, and sprinted across the courtyard, dodging a charpoy and leaping over a drying mat of red chilies.
"Oye ruk jaa, aashiq! Gardan tudwayega kya!" Aftab yelled, cracking up as he dropped the bikes and ran after him.
The commotion drew Keenu's mother and aunts to the veranda. Their usually composed, poetry spouting, college going boy, sprinting like a five year old towards his sister's room. The elder women erupted into laughter.
"Haye rabba, dekho isko! Jawaani ke din," his aunt giggled, pulling her dupatta over her mouth. "Bada kavi banta hai, par ladki dekhte hi bacha ban jata hai."
A few steps from the door, Keenu stopped.
He pressed a hand to his chest, drawing one long breath in, then let it out slow, like he could push the last of the sprint out of his body along with it. His fingers moved fast and practiced, smoothing his beard, straightening his pugri, tugging his shirt back into place at the waist, running a hand down the front of his trousers to knock the dust off. He rolled his shoulders back, chin lifted, chest puffed, the picture of the composed, poetry reciting man he wanted her to see.
That was the exact moment the door flew open.
You came barreling out, sketchbook clutched to your chest with both arms like something that might be torn from you, Phoola right on your heels.
"Dikha na yaar, sirf ek baar dikha de!" Phoola laughed, grabbing for the edge of the sketchbook. "Tu hamesha usi mein muskurati rehti hai jab koi nahi dekh raha hota, main bas dekhna chahti hoon kya hai usme!"
"Nahi, Phoola, chhod!"
Neither of you saw Keenu standing there, freshly composed for an entrance that never got to happen.
You collided into him at full speed, the impact knocking the sketchbook clean out of your arms. His arms shot out on instinct, catching you at the waist before you could stumble back, steadying you against him. For a second neither of you breathed. His hand was warm through the cotton of your kameez, and you could feel your own heartbeat everywhere at once.
Behind you, Phoola skidded to a stop, hand flying to her mouth to smother a laugh she didn't try very hard to hide.
"Sambhal ke," Keenu said quietly, not letting go a second longer than he needed to.
The sketchbook lay open on the ground between you, pages splayed. You both bent for it at the same time, and your hand landed on his.
Neither of you moved.
His eyes dropped to the page.
It was his own face looking back at him. Charcoal lines of his jaw, his pugri, the exact tilt of his head when he recited a couplet without realizing he was doing it. Not one sketch. Page after page, each one more careful than the last.
He looked up at you slowly.
The tip of your tongue poked out between your teeth for half a second, the way it always did when you got caught doing something you weren't supposed to, before you pressed your lips together and looked away, unable to hold his gaze.
You couldn't speak. There was nothing left to hide behind, not the dupatta, not the rosogollas, not the practiced Punjabi you always fumbled at Beeji's door. Just this.
Something in his chest settled, quiet and certain, like a line of poetry finally finding its last word. He had filled half a notebook with her name disguised as metaphor, her eyes hidden inside verses about the moon, never once imagining she carried him too, tucked into the corner of a sketchbook in careful black lines.
He would show her, he decided. Someday. Every page.
For now he only closed the sketchbook gently and held it out to you, his fingers brushing yours again on purpose this time.
Behind you, Phoola cleared her throat loudly, suddenly very interested in the pattern of the courtyard tiles, a smile she was fighting tugging at the corner of her mouth. Neither of you noticed. Neither of you looked away.
Drop a comment if you want to be added to the tag list for my upcoming Main Vaapas Aaunga fics! 💕
⭐ Vedang Raina for GQ India
📷 Farhan Hussain
Guys why are we not writing about vedang raina 💔💔💔 THIS MAN HAS ME ON SUCH A CHOKEHOLD 😭 I SWEAR
HE IS BEAUTIFUL 😭
To specify, yes I am talking about his character from main vaapas aunga. Y'all are not telling me I'm the only one simping on that cutie ok 😭
Other than that, it GENUINELY surprises me that we don't have fics on Imtiaz Ali's characters. Qais bhatt, Jordan and literally almost all his characters. There is so much to talk about in Imtiaz's films!
It still surprises me everyday that there's nothing for Qais and even Aditya Kashyap. like I thought those two would have sonnets on them guys 💔
Making this post cause I kept admiring vedang raina and saw that we have no fics on his characters 💔 heart has been shattered. He's just gorgeous and such a dreamy guy ok don't come at me.
(USING DHURANDHAR FANDOM TAG CAUSE WHO DO I HAVE IF NOT Y'ALL)
Everyone loves to hate on The Archies and CLA$$ but at least they were casting Gen Z actors (especially Gen Z men) instead of 35-40-somethings for these roles.
The lack of Gen Z men in Bollywood is so annoying istg.
Like actors like Vedang Raina and Chintan Rachchh are clearly the IT boys of the modern era so can directors let go of the same SOTY core millennial men (and worse, Gen X men) pls?
VEDANG RAINA wearing rahul gandhi + rahul khanna
this part ❤️
"Kahan Se Ho Layi Aisi Shokh Adayein
Tumhi Se Bani Hain Ye Tumhi Ko Banayein
Jhoothe Bahanon Se Chahatein Jatayein
Baaz Na Aaye Ji Baaz Na Aaye
Kahan Se Ho Laayi Aisi Shokh Adayein
Tumhi Se Shikaayatein Tumhi Ko Duayein
Kaho Ji Main Kya Karoon Laad Jo Aaye
Samajh Na Aaye Ji Samajh Na Aaye"
