#84 temples | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lalunanymph · 13 days ago

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✧.* IN BLOOM

✧.* summary summer rains bring about the faint scent of asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen. time stands still, fragments of moments leading you right to this very second. you take his hand and a deep breath. “anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, caleb.”

it’s all the permission he needs.

✧.* warnings first time, mutual virginity loss, slightttt psuedo-cest if you squint, soft and smutty, size kink, spanking, oral sex, mating press, dirty talk, breeding, slight aftercare at the end, pillowtalk

✧.* dawn says something different from the dark content i usually write and tried my best to balance fluff and the feelings of losing your v-card for the first time (cue rose from titanic's voice: "it's been 84 yearsssss…")

It’s the middle of the night somewhere in Skyhaven.

The street lights reflect puddles of rain left from a thunderstorm, and the air smells faintly of petrichor, reassuring weary strays and rain-soaked passersby alike that the worst is already over.

While the world dries off from another raging tempest, inside Caleb’s home, you’re in his arms, warm and tipsy from the intimacy of shallow breaths gracing your parted lips.

Smack. Huff. A caress.

Slick and hot, the soft sounds of his kisses make you flush deeper, and you tighten your fingers in his hair.

Caleb moans, unrestrained, as he feels you shift on his lap. Like a drug, he can’t get enough of you. The smell of wildflowers in your hair, how you taste like the strawberry balm he bought for you days ago when you complained of chapped lips. Slick fruitiness glides over his parched mouth, making his kisses glide effortlessly.

He tangles his tongue with yours, sending a jolt of desire running up your spine.

“Mhmph,” you moan against his mouth. “Oh… Caleb .”

His name, sticky sweet with cadences of love, slips past your bruised lips, and he swears his heart chokes on a stutter.

Cool fingers push a stray lock of hair behind your ear, and he hums, those purple eyes vortexes of yearning. The maelstrom of emotion in them makes your chest squeeze, and you lean into his touch, breath coming out in a soft huff.

The unspoken tenuous line looms before the two of you, and you wonder if tonight is the night you’ll dare cross it.

Flames from the digital fireplace flicker, synchronous with the temperature on the thermostat bumping up a notch, the one Caleb got installed because you grumbled that Skyhaven was colder than you remembered. Beads of sweat drip down his temples, but he doesn’t pay them any mind.

You gently run the back of your hand against the muggy skin, wiping his perspiration away.

This close, your breaths mingle and blend into one, the tips of your nose rubbing against each other.

Inevitably, Caleb would pull back, sigh, and tell you to go to sleep while he takes a ridiculously long cold shower. You’d be left alone in your room, an ache blooming between your thighs, and frustration keeping you up all night.

That bastard.

At your core, you understand your ex-older brother figure didn’t mean to edge you to the precipice of oblivion. His protective tendencies, while great in keeping danger away from you, are a hindrance to taking the next, natural step forward together.

As you feather another kiss to his jaw, you feel him pull back.

Caleb’s cheeks are ruddy, not from the heat of the room, but from the one building between the two of you.

He licks his lips, inadvertently drawing your attention to the puffy flesh which is still sticky from your errant smears of lip oil. With a huge sigh, he drags himself back from your orbit, as if he can’t bear to be within crashing distance of your surface.

“Pipsqueak, it’s late,” Caleb whispers, the tenderness of his words brushing against your earlobe.

You shiver when his teeth graze the sensitive flesh.

“You need to sleep—”

Stubbornly, or perhaps, foolishly, you tighten your grip around his neck and drag him closer to you till his forehead bumps yours.

Your lips seek him with a newfound determination, and he almost stumbles back into the stuffed cushion, a moan of desperation slipping past his carefully crafted self-control.

“Pip—”

“No,” you mumble heatedly, and drag your tongue across his lower lip, begging him for access into his mouth.

Caleb reluctantly parts his lips and you tangle your tongue with his, tasting the sweetness of the apple soda he just drank half an hour ago.

“Mhm,” he moans, and gives in to your momentary distraction, knotting his fingers into your already disheveled hair.

Something hard pokes your lower belly, and you whine into the heat of his kisses, running your tongue over the hard palate of his teeth.

Caleb tightens his grip on your hips, and relents into the force of your yearning, feeling the contours of your body melting against the hard planes of his own muscular build. You shiver when he dips his fingers past the hemline of the tank top you’re wearing, your breasts pressed up to his chiseled pecs. He’s bare except for a low-slung pair of sweatpants, temptation right in the palm of your hand.

Your nipples pebble from the friction of his body slowly rubbing against yours, and the need he’s been stoking throbs warmly between your thighs, an aching thirst demanding to be quenched.

“ Caleb… ”

The whispered moan feathers across his cheeks, grazing him with the warm softness that is entirely you.

In his arms, you’re sin waiting to be devoured—those doe-innocent eyes and warm, wet mouth that get him harder than steel.

He whimpers when your lower body drags against his bulge, and winces when you giggle and gently nip his lower lip.

“Pipsqueak—”

Hoarse and ragged, the sound of your childhood nickname brings you up short.

“Caleb, why do you always insist on calling me that when I’m trying to… you know…” you trail off, equally as shy as him.

It’s clear he doesn’t expect you to directly address the elephant in the room. But, after almost losing him once to the explosion and another time to his spiraling secrets, you desperately want to hold on to the man who had taught you what love was.

Caleb’s thumbs stroke the fleshy part of your hips, drawing tender circles on your skin. Those purple eyes flash like a doleful puppy’s and you resist the urge to pinch his cheek. He looks like he’s in pain—as if one touch from you could break him.

“Are you sure?”

His voice is hoarse. Uncertain.

“Once we do this, it’s…” he trails off. Years of knowing his ins and outs make you privy to the true meaning of his hesitation:

Are you sure you want to cross this line with me?

Your fingers tremble when they caress his jaw. Summer rains bring about the faint scent of Asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen.

Time stands still, fragments of moments leading you upright to this very second.

You take his hand and a deep breath. Caleb sees your crystal clear eyes, free from the shadows of the doubt creeping into his mind. He tastes the first stirrings of hope, right in the center of his rib cage where his heart pounds valiantly, and tightens his grip on your hand.

You look at him like he’s something precious —gold and gems in the palm of your hand. Tenderly, you press a kiss to his forehead, tasting the salt of his skin, and murmur:

“Anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, Caleb. ”

It’s all the permission he needs.

Caleb snaps you up into his arms effortlessly, using his unbeatable strength to carry you back to his bedroom, his lips never leaving yours.

The heat of the moment is only broken when he sets you down on the bed, his lips detaching from yours for a moment to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking his marks all over the pristine canvas of your skin. You gasp, arching into his touch, when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your shoulder; biting down on the stretch of skin just begging to be marked by him.

He slides the strap of your tank top to the side, stamping more heated kisses down onto your shoulder, the jut of your arm. Every loving graze is punctuated by his devotion, those violet eyes brewing with the storm of his affection about to snap and break.

Caleb… you whine, and he answers with a low grunt, his entire weight bearing down on you.

As kids, he’s always had the unfair advantage of his build and age to win at wrestling. Gran would often find the two of you entangled on the rug, you flushed and seething and him glowing with triumph when he’s won—yet again.

But, the press of his body on yours is different this time.

It carries a more intimate intention, all of which is far from the innocence of playfully fighting each other for the last hawthorn-flavored candy in the fridge, or the privilege of choosing what Saturday morning cartoons to watch.

He sweeps your hair back, letting it drape over your other shoulder as he moves his lips to the delicate stretch of skin still untouched by the heat of his mouth. Caleb’s teeth graze your pulse point, and you jerk, as if electrocuted.

“Nghm,” you moan, and he huffs a chuckle, his warm breath making goosebumps erupt across your arms. “ Fuc—”

“Uh-uh,” he chastises, the heat of his mouth swelling over your pulse point, gently sucking on your skin. Leaving another errant mark. “Don’t swear—good princesses never swear.”

Teeth sink into your lower lip. You feel dizzy and elated at the same time like you’re standing on the highest point of the earth, looking down at the swirling colors below.

“Ngh—C-Caleb. ”

Oh, you sound so weak. Already driven to your knees, metaphorically, for this man who had as much power over you as you did over him.

“Yeah, princess?”

He moves his lips down to your sternum, hot puffs making your nipples perk up from her dormant slumber. They tent underneath the ratty, old t-shirt you’re wearing, the one that used to belong to him, demanding to be sucked and teased.

Caleb is careful to not push your boundaries, but you don’t want any of that.

Grabbing his head, you press it none-too-gently in between the valley of your tits, wordlessly signaling what you need.

His dog tag shines in the low light of his bedroom, the apple charm a glint of red that complements the fog of lust taking over you. Everywhere you look, you feel, is nothing but Caleb.

He presses you flat into the bed, the sheets bunching up under you and in your tight fists.

“Don’t touch… not yet. Can you follow my orders, baby?”

There’s no choice for you, but to nod.

Slowly, like molasses dripping from the lip of a bottle, he wraps his mouth around your turgid, right nipple. The dampness of his saliva seeps past the thin fabric, and you cry out when he bites down on your bud, the brief flash of pain lighting up your nerves from head to toe.

Slick need saturates the seat of your old sleep pants. You whimper when the head of his cock drives between the cleft of your pussy, digging against your clit.

Sparks of pleasure ricochet from the tips of your fingers up to your hairline and you groan, mouth falling lax.

He takes his time, swirling his tongue over your tender peak, broad strokes of his tongue spreading more spit and heat, wetting the front of your shirt. It’s methodical, how every stroke of attention stacks up to a building heat throbbing at your core.

A supernova of desire, bulging and waiting to explode.

(And, he hasn’t even fucked you yet).

Caleb moves his attention to your other peak, and you cry out when he nibbles on it, your hands breaking formation from the bed where he’s ordered them to be stationed, and tangling disobediently in his dark hair.

But, he doesn’t chastise you.

Caleb continues to purl swathes of his tongue over your tender nipple, flickering his darkened gaze up to the line of your jaw as the pleasure unfurls across your heated face.

You choke on another cry when he pries your thighs further apart, settling his bigger build between them.

“Look at you.” Heated derision drips from his venomous lips, and you lap them up, tilting his head up to taste his lips. You’re not sure how you ended up in this position when it was you who wanted this. The last bit of control you have dissipates, and your body falls open for him like the spine of a well-read book.

It scares you how much Caleb knows about your body. The small scar above your knee when you crashed your bike into the wide trunk of an oak tree. The grooves of your neck now bear his kisses and marks.

Despite staying true to his word about never getting a girlfriend, Caleb is mysteriously nimble and sure for a virgin.

“Did you have another girl before me?”

You don’t mean to sound accusatory, but the words fly from your puffy lips and you can’t take them back.

Not when he glances up at you as if you had insulted thirteen generations of his family.

“Uh—no,” he mutters defensively, caustically pushing back his sweat-soaked bangs from his flushed face. “ Excuseeee me, princess. What’s with that tone? You know you’re the only woman I’d ever touch.”

You purse your lips and level him another glare, though it’s tempered by a glowing warmth in your chest.

“R-really?”

You hate how whiny you sound, like a psychotic girlfriend. But, Caleb does have a penchant for bringing out the crazy in you when you least expect it.

He brings your knuckles to his lips, feathering a soft kiss on them. “Yeah. Why do you think I took so many cold showers growing up? This little pipsqueak is far too tempting for me.” He punctuates his point with another kiss on the nape of your neck.

His Adam's apple bobs from the admission, and your eyes widen.

“Huh. I seeee .”

You drag your words like him, playfully pinching his cheek. “That’s… kinda sweet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his gruffness reminds you of a ruffled puppy, and you laugh, tugging his silver chain with two fingers.

The scene flickers. The man on top of you cracks, and a fragment of the boy you grew up with glimmers; the past merges with the present, and the essence of who Caleb is grins mischievously right in front of you.

Like so many times before, he tackles you onto the bed, hands flying underneath your shirt to tickle your sides.

“No! Caleb! I yield! I yield—! ”

Your infectious laughter bounces across the monochromatic walls of his room and fills his lungs with bubbles of joy.

“Yeah, you better,” he threatens jokingly. While you’re still giggling, he grabs the hem of your shirt and gives it an experimental tug. When you don’t resist, Caleb pushes the envelope of your consent and lifts the shirt past the smooth terrain of your tummy, inching it up slowly… so slow…

His fingers are trembling, and you take over, helping him with the last stretch, leaning up to tug your shirt completely off your body.

Your chest squeezes with a mix of dread and anticipation when he eyes your bare breasts, a myriad of emotions flitting across those deep-set purple eyes.

Need, desire, shame, anger—tenderness.

His eyes speak the truth, even when he remains silent, and no matter how much he changes into the stoic Colonel you now have to coincide with your gentle older brother figure, those irises will always betray his true emotions for you.

Now, they’re gooey with a feeling neither of you can name, as he peppers more kisses around the plush fat of your breast. Taking his time, he teases you with puffs of hot breath and grazes of his teeth.

Working you up to a crescendo of need before he gives you what you want.

And god, do you want it.

Your body is arching tighter than a bow ready to strike, so keyed up from his few touches and the previous makeout session.

“Caleb—”

“Yeah, gotcha.”

He samples the flavor of your skin, closer now to your nipple. Your thoughts flat lines into a white-hot buzzing hum when he finally— finally —wraps his lips around your tender bud.

Fuuucckkk. Your keening sigh sends a chill straight to his bones.

Suckling tenderly, he pulls the taut flesh into the enticing vacuum of his mouth and releases it, forming a small ‘O’ with his puffy lips and moving on to your next breast.

The twinge of unending sucking and nibbling rubs your tender flesh raw.

Caleb… Caleb…

You’re panting like you’re racing a marathon. He leaves a bunch of hickies down the pillowy fat of your tits, making his mark loud and clear on your body for the world to see.

A possessive hint curls on the edges of his smile and he braces himself on his forearms, juicy biceps glistening in the interplay of shadow and light in this muggy room.

Peeling your glassy eyes at him, you huff, grumbling.

“Tease.”

He laughs heartily at your adorable accusation.

“Never said I wasn’t a right bastard, love,” he coos, cocky and sure. You want to wipe the smirk off his infuriatingly handsome face.

Leaning up, your spit-soaked nipples rub the hard planes of his broad chest, and you tangle your hand in his hair, drawing him down into the plush sin of your eager kisses.

“S-low down,” he huffs, smothered by your smacking little puckers.

You giggle, a vixen on the loose, needing to rein her mate in. “Nuh-uh. Not until you finally fuck me senseless.”

Caleb cocks a brow. “S’that an invitation, darlin’?”

Stuttering, you realize your mistake a second too late when he prowls over you, pressing you into the mattress, fluid like a panther locking sights on its prey.

“ Wait— ”

Caleb wastes no time hooking his thumbs under the frayed band of your shorts, tugging it down in staccato drags to mess with you.

“ Caleb—! ”

You whine, more turned on than annoyed by his teasing. It’s not until the sight of your mound appears, clinging to the edge of the band like the horizon of a new world beckoning to be explored does he stops, gaping at the sight with reddening ears.

It’s your turn to mess with him. “Cat got your tongue… gege?”

He stares at the sliver of skin like a blind man feeling the sun on his face for the first time.

“Shit,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful .”

Tentatively, he drags the last remaining piece of clothing off your body, his breath lodging in the back of his throat.

God… he groans. Pretty, little princess… gonna taste you so good.

Two worlds crash, sky to earth, and Caleb’s mouth meets the terrain of your pelvis. Traveling downward, he connects a path from hip to mound, and you feel his tongue sampling this uncharted territory.

His broad back almost blocks out the light above and god—you’re already panting when the sharp jut of his shoulder blades creates an attractive silhouette sliding down the last few inches of your body, finding his haven in the juncture of your thighs.

Caleb spreads' em’ nice and wide, making sure to run the tip of his tongue over the cushiony bounce of his lower lip. Shit, you murmur under your breath, before he dips his head and enjoys his meal.

The tapered edge of his tongue touches your clit, and you lose the last semblance of control.

You know Caleb’s always been a foodie, and the way he practically feasts on your pussy is no different.

Slick juices smear across his pretty mauve lips, and he slurps you up obscenely. The gloss of his spit lubes you up hotly from the inside, filling you with a pressing slick.

Oh—mhmph… you groan, panting heavily.

How was he so goddamn good with his tongue?

“Nghmm,” he moans, looking up at you with drunken purple eyes, lost in the sweetness of this sin he can’t stop devouring. “You taste heavenly.”

Caleb presses into your pussy, treating her like an old lover he wants to French kiss till dawn.

The high bridge of his nose bumps against your tender clitty, and he takes this chance to smear his lips all over your folds, rubbing your bundle of nerves raw.

Your back lifts off from the bed and you can’t make sense of where you start and he ends.

“H-ahhh,” you moan, and twine your fingers in his hair, tugging.

“Easy,” he groans, lifting his wet, plump lips from where your core is inhaling him in. “Y’gonna make me bald in no time, princess…”

A senseless dribble of drool trickles past your lips, and you feel the thick toughness of his finger swiping it up, popping it into his mouth. Caleb grins, spreading your legs wider, and lifts your lower body off the bed. The sight of a dark spot seeping the front of his pants makes your breathing stutter, and you can’t keep your eyes away from such a lewd show.

“See what’cha do to me, sweetness?” He moans and gingerly takes your hand with his right one to press it right on his crotch.

Holy shit. Your eyes bulge wide.

He’s fucking huge.

You lick your lips in nerves, unable to tear your eyes away from the undulating mass of his rock-hard abs moving with every ragged breath he takes.

“Is that…?”

Caleb smirks, a dark look flitting in his eyes. “All for you?” he finishes. “Yeah, sweetness.”

As if goading you to take the next step, he tips his head to the side, looking at you from under his thick lashes, his magnetic eyes pinning you to the bed.

“Wanna see it?”

He guides your hand to rock against the hard bulge, and you swallow when you feel him twitch under your palm.

The reality of your position under him hits you, and you feel as if every breath you take might make you float up to the ceiling. Your mind is racing, a cacophony of thoughts that swirl and blend into one pulsing thrum of more, more, more.

“Y-yeah.”

He grunts at your admittance and steers your fingers to the edge of his band. “There you go—tug it down, princess…”

You do as he says, and gasp when the crown of his cock comes into view.

Girthy, thick. Veiny.

A dark, almost violet-inky trail of hair leads down to the rise of his pubic bone, and you stare as the curve of his cock becomes more pronounced. Flaccid at 6 inches, he would rise to greater heights once released into the open air, and you panic, closing your fist around his still-clothed head as you beg him with your eyes to pause.

“Hold on…” you gasp. “Jus’ wait a minute.”

Caleb pauses, his eyes flashing.

“You… don’t want this?”

The implicit question hangs heavy in the air.

You don't want me?

It pains you how quick he is to incriminate himself as undesirable when it's the furthest thing from the truth.

“No!” you mumble and gently hook your fingers under his chin to get him to look at you. “I just… need a second to recalibrate cause… holy shit… you’re massive—”

He guffaws, shaking his head, boyish face lit up in joy. “S’that all? Aw, princess…” he coos and flicks your nose with his index finger. “Swear, you can be so adorable sometimes…” he teases, and you huff.

You take a deep breath and center yourself, before finding the courage to proceed with tugging down his boxers and sweatpants.

“Okay…” you murmur, and un-fist the soft material, dragging it down with bated breath.

There he is, in all his glory.

He’s warm and alive in your hands, and you give the girthy base a generous pump. His smell hits you—musk, man, briny…

Is this how a real man feels? You think your obvious lack of experience makes you faint with worry.

Would Caleb notice?

Would he hate how you don’t even know what to do with a cock?

What if he doesn’t want you to touch him—deciding you’re too inexperienced for his tastes…?

“Shit—” Caleb hisses, taken off guard by your sudden movement. “You’re killing me here, princess…”

In such simple praise, you find your footing once more against the tidal wave of insecurity.

Pushing aside your worries, you hum, taking your time to explore his body.

The divots of his abs, the crinkles of his girth as it sits so pretty on his lower body like a pair of crown jewels.

You run your thumb over the pulsing globes of his balls, feeling the soft, almost velvety skin dimpling under your touch.

Caleb grunts, and you flicker your gaze to him. His brows are furrowed, and he looks a second away from busting a vein, his face a light shade of puce.

“Caleb?” You softly call out to him in worry. “Are you—?”

“Yeah,” he gasps, and shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Jus’... didn’t expect you to feel this good…”

Good?

You feel… good?

Licking your lips, you focus your concentration on the fleshy plump head of his cock. If he has sensitive balls, Caleb is practically a timebomb of nerves on the tip of his arousal.

Flushed and sticky with pre, you swipe your thumb through the crease of his slit, gathering the milky white deposit and slowly bringing it to your mouth.

Salty. With a hint of bitterness.

Surprisingly, he tastes amazing—

Large hands yank your away from his cock.

He doesn’t give you the luxury of time to enjoy him.

Your world suddenly tilts and Caleb’s growl is loud in your ear. He has you pressed into the sheets, your face in the soft cotton, and his large palms kneading the doughy rise of your bare ass.

Smack!

You gasp and jerk back, indignation at the tip of your tongue. But, it dissipates when he drivels a finger right into your core, sinking fully into the heat of your pussy.

Your scream is muffled into the pillowy sheets, and he wastes no time in hooking his meaty digit up, hitting a spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

With his other hand, he continues to spank you, little pert taps that grow in intensity as his frustration builds.

“Look - at - how - wet - you’re - getting,” he snarls, and withdraws his fingers to show you the trails webbing in between them, proof of your not-so-innocent reciprocation. Caleb taps his slick fingers to your lips, and you part them obediently, half-thrills of fear and lust curling up your spine.

The taste of you perforates your tongue. Sweet and musky, you've sampled your arousal before, but never from his hand. Gagging lightly on his digits, your eyes roll back into your head and you feel his fingers tickling your uvula.

Shit, he curses under his breath. You're too cute, Pipsqueak… too precious.

He moans as you gurgle his name. Cwaleb…

Throaty and sweet, you're the perfect symphony and he could listen to you all night.

Caleb withdraws his sticky fingers from the back of your throat with a damp, little ‘pop’ as his spit-slicked digits tap your cheek.

“Fuck, you're too perfect .”

He sets you back on your back, your pouty, glossy lips twisting in a smirk. Caleb hooks your ankles around his shoulders, and—showing he's about as virginal as a town bicycle—smooths his thumb through the mess of your folds.

His pointer catches on the lip of your gaping, swollen pussy, and he hums when he smears your love juices all around, making sure to get it as messy and creamy as possible.

Inching his thumb past the loosened ring of muscle, he grins.

The gooey, silky mess coats him to the knuckle. You're already pretty free and easy for him to slip his cock in.

“Just a little more, sweetness,” he coos, twisting his thumb, slipping it out only to replace it with his index finger. His now free thumb smears the cream of your arousal around, catching on the pearly mound of your clit as he deepens the pressure.

Nghh ahhh, Caleb! You cry out.

Your cheeks are warm, eyes glossy with heat and Caleb can't get enough of the way you're panting and twisting on the sheets, writhing like a prey caught in his trap.

It's too much. Too fucking much.

Desire turns your thoughts hazy. There’s a swollen spot inside of you that he manipulates with ease, pressing down on it— “S’good girl,” he murmurs into your neck. “Taking my fingers so well. You make me so damn proud, darlin’.”

You’re panting, lapping at the sweat beading on your upper lip.

It’s too hot.

He feels like a fucking furnace above you.

Bigger than any man you ever imagined to take, Caleb is a beast trapped in the body of the boy you love. His scent drenches you—cedar wood body soap bleeding into your pores, marking you as his. The scent of his aftershave grazes your cheek as he leans in to give you a sloppy, full-tongued kiss.

Mhmmph—you mewl, clinging onto him like ivy.

Your thighs wrap around his waist instinctively, and everything is primal when you finally give yourself up to him.

His plump, weepy tip catches on your pulsing opening, and he groans at the briefest contact of slick mingling together. You’re so wet, your pussy juices web with his pre, silvery strands clinging to the lip of that little hole he wants so badly to sink into.

Like the deepest tunnel in space, Caleb wants to venture where no man will ever go. He grasps the head of his cock and guides it right to where the blackhole of all his desires resides, rimming the opening where he swears nirvana throbs out his name.

Caleb… she calls out to him. Claim me. Come in me.

He answers her signal, forehead smushed with yours, his sweat dripping into your slack mouth.

It’s a strange sensation.

Fingers. Tampons. The occasional vibrator.

None of it can compare to the sheer volume and intensity of a real cock pushing past the envelope of your flesh. The ridges and bumps feel magnified as if there’s a forcefield of pleasure accompanying such penetration. Like it’s sucking you into a different dimension.

Your head spins and your gasps sound far away, like someone has plunged you right into a swimming pool.

The only anchor you have is Caleb’s broad shoulders.

You hold onto him as he rocks his hips forward, pleasure unfurling down your spine like a current.

Fuck… Caleb…

There’s nothing else in your mind but him.

The sound of his groans. The pinched furrow of ecstasy on his brow. His swollen lips hovering over yours.

Even the dim lighting of the room makes you feel cocooned in his embrace, safe from the horrors of the world.

It’s effortless, really, how he grasps your hips and opens you up to him like you’re a centerpiece dish all bared out and vulnerable.

Nimble hands arrange you into the meanest mating press as your legs dangle above you uselessly, swaying with every hard roll of his thrusts.

Caleb fucks like he wants to put you through the mattress.

There’s nothing romantic about this—a man hellbent on making you his. His cockhead smushes with your cervix in a romantic dance of fleeting French kisses. Marking you for days. God, you whine. God, you’re—

So good.

Oh, Caleb.

More. More.

You don’t even notice the light schmear of blood coating his length. Or, how the pinch of pain is overridden by the messy plap plap plap of your bodies meeting together.

You’ve just given up your virginity to the boy you love—the man who’s been with you through hell and back.

Caleb grabs your ankles and presses it down onto the pillows above your head, plunging his cock in and out, in and out. It’s sloppy and you’re making a mess everywhere.

Foamy white creams at the base of his cock, dribbling onto the dark sheets of his duvet.

Your body rocks with him, the bed creak creak creaking under the brunt of his thrusts.

He dwarfs you, a mountain of a man bruising the same golden spot that makes your toes curl in your periphery.

“Fuck,” he drawls, purple eyes gouging on your every reaction. “You— mhm —’re squeezin’ down so good, princess.” He huffs, dew drops of sin splattering from his lips and lapped up by your tongue on his jaw. Caleb groans, his hips stuttering. “Can’t get enough of you,” he starts to babble, face flush and eyes heavy with intoxication. Your pussy is the perfect drug for him.

He starts to whine, dog tags slicked with sweat and heavy with his body heat thudding against your jaw. You part your lips and bite down on the metal, tasting salt and tang. “You—ngmmm—feel too good… so good—ah, shit, sweetness—” Caleb curses, thick fingers dimpling into the flesh of your hips and tipping you up to be fuller of him.

C-can’t hold back, darlin’, he almost whimpers. I-I can’t… you gotta come with me. Come on, sweetness, give it to me… give me your cum, baby. That’s it, baby. Ooohhh, yes. Yes. There she is. Atta girl. Goooddd girl. Stay with me, baby. Don’t—lift your hips, fuck. Lemme rub that pretty pearl, darlin’. You look so good cummin’ all over me—

Your screams pierce the night air, echoing with a clap of thunder outside the windows. But, you can’t pay attention to storms, not when the biggest one is wrecking you apart.

Caleb moves like a man possessed, greasin’ his thumb around your pebbled clit, changing the angle so he’s pushing even deeper—

“Caleb!”

Your back arches off the bed, till only the crown of your head remains on the pillows. Caleb pushes back, drowning you back into the sheets, his whole body pressing down— “Shit, nghmmm! —” he grounds out in a low voice.

Almost a growl.

It makes your insides shiver around his cock. He doesn’t jackhammer you like those oiled-up studs do in pornos.

He takes it intensely, grinding his hips, injecting his rhythm with a few punctuating thrusts.

“Good —” you choke out. “—fuck me so good— ”

Yeah? He teases, dark bangs falling in his face, covering one of his magnetic violet irises.

Your body tenses, abs clenching, and he groans.

Tipping you further down the precipice, Caleb ducks his head and engorges his wet, hot mouth around your swollen nipples. He pinches the other one with his free hand, the spare still frigging your clit with the intensity of a madman.

Your eyes roll back into your head.

You clench—hard.

White hot paint splatters behind your closed eyes, imprinting on your lids and the world fades into hypersound as you scream:

Caaaleeeebbbb!

Oh, shit.

Your walls massage him better than any fleshlight could. Definitely a thousand times better than his hand.

He’s a goner right there and then.

Thick, fat spurts of hot, sticky cum fill you up. Neither he nor you care about what this means, pumping you to the brim until wet, gummy dribbles splotch down onto the bed. Caleb shudders like a great beast, and with one last, heaving push, he breeds you.

There’s nothing else in the ringing quiet but your ragged breath.

The world slowly comes back—a flickering flash of thunder. Caleb’s soft groan.

He pulls himself out, and the effect is a reverse weirdness of when he fucked himself in.

It leaves you gaping. Empty. You whine and he chuckles tiredly, gathering you into his arms.

All's silent for a few moments until you hear the bed creak and his weight off the mattress. Your blurry eyes open to find his massive, muscular frame in all its naked glory ambling to the bathroom. In a few moments, a warm softness glides between your puffy, well-abused folds, and you moan, twitching away.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “But, I gotta get you cleaned up. Stay still, sweets.”

He wipes you down until you’re clean again, and tosses the soiled rag to the floor. Your arms open on autopilot for him, and Caleb chuckles, sinking back into the ring of warmth your body gives him.

Sighing into your hair, he tightens his grip around you. Outside, the eddies of raindrops swirl down the window panes, and another flash of thunderclaps. He slowly presses a kiss to your head, holding you tighter as a new storm rages unceasingly.

Caleb yanks the blankets up to your waist, and uses himself as a weighted one, pressing you into the soft mattress, much to your bubbling giggles. He smiles, loving the sound, and gently flicks your chin with his index finger.

“I didn’t hurt you, didn’t I?”

He moves to your side and you turn around, propping your head under your arm to gaze at him, a lovesick expression etched on your face.

Caleb mirrors your movement, also sliding his arm under his head, his other slung casually on your hip.

“Nah,” you admit after a beat of silence. “Didn’t even feel it.”

He pretends to pout. “Y’know, if you say that in a different context, I would get really, really hurt, Pipsqueak.”

You groan, and smack his chest. “Just like you to ruin the mood.”

He catches your hand, pressing your palm to his cheek with a boyish laugh.

“I’m kiddin'! Kidding, darlin’. C’mere—”

Yoinking you closer, he smears a kiss onto the nape of your neck.

As you trace his arm, he hums.

“You… really blew my mind,” he admits sheepishly.

“Huh. I did?” It’s your turn to tease him now. “Well… I guess so did you.”

You yelp when he pinches your ass playfully.

“‘Oh, Calebbbb ’.” He mocks your earlier moans. “‘Ahhhh moreee moreee— ’”

“Hey—!”

He lets you smack his chest, snickering in glee like a stupid boy.

“Juussstt kiddin’, sweets.” He kisses you right on your pouty lips. “Knew you’d be perfect. You’re always perfect.”

And, your heart melts.

“Really?” You whisper as a subtle flash of lightning illuminates one side of his grin. Warmth fills you up when he nods.

“Is it sad to say I’ve been dreamin’ about you like this for eons?”

You shake your head, a smile playing on the corners of your lips. Slightly breathless, you respond:

“I’ve been… thinking about you that way, too, baby.”

You expect him to make a stupid joke, or to diffuse the tender moment with his snark.

But, Caleb doesn’t do that. He loves being in this delicate bubble with you—and only you.

“Good,” he hums. “Because I’m not done with you yet, sweets—not by a lonnggg shot.”

a/n: comments and reblogs are very much appreciated ! thank you for reading ;D

#🦢 writes #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #lads caleb #caleb lads #caleb x mc #caleb smut #caleb fluff #love and deepspace caleb #lnds caleb #love and deepspace fic #lads smut #lnds smut #lnds fluff #lads fanfic #lads fluff

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divyadrajyatra · 2 years ago

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Luxury Trains In India | Quite A Lavishing Ride

“Luxury must be comfortable, otherwise it’s not luxury” – Coco Chanel

The nature of a luxury and the richness of the lifestyle are still alive in the land of Nation India.

The way of living and the set of circumstances do speak for you – live in comfort and play well – life is a tricky game, understand the rules and standby your terms.

My greatest possessions are my creations – We humans cannot be deathless but the monuments can definitely be everlasting. The stony Forts and Palaces adorned with a great and extraordinary form of creativity – the red and yellow sandstone – Outstanding wall art – striking rock-carves alleys – a huge high roofed open room studded with the great ivory throne- wide hallways dotted with tiny windows and YES the list is limitless.

Kings fought some great wars – Few tasted defeat and few stood stiff with victory – monuments were built – wondrous palaces were constructed to live a luxurious and comforting life – the leaders changed as per the circumstances- Days passed on – the courageous people were born to define bravery – and they died doing the same throughout their lives- people came and went but what is still rich and alive is their way of living, which is still followed strictly in the places of importance.

Some of the Royal Families are yet multiplying significance to the flourishing land of country India. The fair richness is still alive in the rocky walls of the Forts and Palaces, which dates back to an era that lies way beyond your thought and imagination.

Allow me to introduce few names of the Royal families residing in present date in the productive land of country India:

The Mewar Dynasty

The Wadiyar Dynasty

The Royal Family of Rajkot

The Gaekwads of Baroda

The Royal Family of Alsisar

The Royal Family of Bikaner

The Royal Family of Jodhpur

The Royals from the past and even present helped us to know a different and unique mode or way of living our life – where every action is carried in a quirky manner with up to standards.

Life is always more to what we live – a dream to touch the extreme height of the sky and make sure to be well- connected and rooted to the ground.

Divya Brij Yatra in Mathura is the leading Brij 84 Kos Yatra, Hawan & Pooja, Hotels, Tour and Travel service provider in Mathura offering a broad spectrum of services that include Taxi booking, reservation, event planning, personal temple guiding and our foremost priority are the packages provided by our company. The remain major tourist views like Mathura, Agra, Rishikesh, Haridwar, Nainital and wild life experience in India.

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dlyarchitecture · 2 years ago

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#Kandariya Mahadeva Temple is the largest and most ornate Hindu temple in the medieval group found at Khajuraho in Madhya Pradesh #India. Its main tower has 84 mini spires and a definitely impressive fractal-like structure.

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animusrox · 5 days ago

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MY LETTERBOXD

TOP 10

1. Dune: Part Two 2. The Substance 3. Hundreds of Beavers 4. Anora 5. Dìdi 6. Nosferatu 7. Nickel Boys 8. The First Omen 9. Sing Sing 10. Civil War

GRADE A

11. No Other Land 12. Robot Dreams 13. The Peasants 14. Conclave 15. Smile 2 16. Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes 17. We Grown Now 18. Memoir of a Snail 19. The Last Stop in Yuma County 20. A Real Pain 21. It’s What’s Inside 22. Red Rooms 23. Sometimes I Think About Dying 24. A Different Man 25. Better Man 26. The Brutalist 27. Heretic 28. His Three Daughters 29. Hard Truths 30. Evil Does Not Exist 31. Late Night with the Devil 32. Alien: Romulus 33. MadS 34. Rebel Ridge 35. Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person 36. Challengers 37. Strange Darling 38. Flow 39. All We Imagine as Light 40. Longlegs 41. Saturday Night 42. The Apprentice 43. Terrifier 3 44. The Seed of the Sacred Fig 45. A Complete Unknown 46. A Quiet Place: Day One 47. Juror #2 48. Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl 49. Oddity 50. Kneecap 51. Touch 52. Mayhem! 53. The Order 54. In a Violent Nature 55. Small Things Like These 56. Twisters 57. Hit Man 58. Woman of the Hour 59. Stopmotion 60. The Wild Robot 61. Deadpool & Wolverine

[Tap 'Keep Reading' For My Full Graded List]

GRADE B

62. The Devil’s Bath 63. The Bikeriders 64. Sasquatch Sunset 65. The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim 66. Monkey Man 67. Last Straw 68. Abigail 69. Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga 70. Tiger Stripes 71. The Book of Clarence 72. The Instigators 73. I’m Still Here 74. The Coffee Table 75. The Return 76. Problemista 77. Trap 78. MaXXXine 79. Love Lies Bleeding 80. You’ll Never Find Me 81. Between the Temples 82. Marmalade 83. Blitz 84. Speak No Evil 85. Asphalt City 86. Piece By Piece 87. Wicked Little Letters 88. We Live in Time 89. Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story 90. V/H/S/Beyond 91. The Dead Don’t Hurt 92. Suncoast 93. Maria 94. My Old Ass 95. Immaculate 96. The Truth vs. Alex Jones 97. Cuckoo 98. Daddio 99. We Were Dangerous 100. The Outrun 101. Infested 102. Monolith 103. Azrael 104. The Last Showgirl 105. Babes 106. The Fire Inside 107. Lisa Frankenstein 108. Here 109. Thelma 110. Queer 111. Out of Darkness 112. Y2K 113. Handling the Undead 114. Bad Boys: Ride or Die 115. I Saw the TV Glow 116. Arcadian 117. Transformers One 118. Never Let Go 119. The Piano Lesson 120. Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F 121. Wicked 122. Gladiator II 123. Carry-On 124. Blink Twice 125. Self Reliance 126. Fly Me to the Moon 127. Boy Kills World 128. Kinds of Kindness 129. Nutcrackers 130. Skincare 131. Ezra 132. The Front Room 133. Mothers’ Instinct 134. Inside Out 2 135. Omni Loop 136. Girls State 137. Beetlejuice Beetlejuice 138. Your Monster 139. Babygirl 140. Mufasa: The Lion King 141. The Greatest Hits 142. Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 143. Magpie

GRADE C

144. The People’s Joker 145. Nightbitch 146. Road House 147. Young Woman and the Sea 148. Am I OK? 149. Music by John Williams 150. The Killer’s Game 151. Oh, Canada 152. Wolfs 153. Sting 154. The Idea of You 155. Don’t Move 156. 1992 157. Werewolves 158. The Killer 159. The Shadow Strays 160. Rez Ball 161. MoviePass, MovieCrash 162. The Fall Guy 163. Lee 164. The End 165. Godzilla × Kong: The New Empire 166. The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare 167. Madame Web 168. Caddo Lake 169. Watchmen: Chapter II 170. Watchmen: Chapter I 171. Salem’s Lot 172. The Exorcism 173. The Watchers 174. Kill 175. Jackpot! 176. Rumours 177. Damsel 178. My Spy: The Eternal City 179. Drive-Away Dolls 180. IF 181. Spaceman 182. Joy 183. Joker: Folie à Deux 184. Megalopolis 185. Monster Summer 186. Lovely, Dark, and Deep 187. Bob Marley: One Love 188. Kraven the Hunter 189. Moana 2 190. I Used to Be Funny 191. Goodrich 192. September 5 193. Hold Your Breath 194. Apartment 7A

GRADE F

195. The Platform 2 196. Arthur the King 197. Shirley 198. Back to Black 199. Land of Bad 200. Poolman 201. Emilia Pérez 202. The Room Next Door 203. I.S.S. 204. Brothers 205. Knox Goes Away 206. Mean Girls 207. Krazy House 208. Slingshot 209. Mr. Crocket 210. Argylle 211. Sonic the Hedgehog 3 212. Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey 2 213. Afraid 214. Tuesday 215. Spellbound 216. Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths Part Three 217. Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths Part Two 218. Justice League: Crisis on Infinite Earths Part One 219. The American Society of Magical Negroes 220. Subservience 221. Time Cut 222. Night Swim 223. Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire 224. Red One 225. This Is Me…Now 226. Despicable Me 4 227. The Union 228. Ricky Stanicky 229. The Beekeeper 230. Honeymoonish 231. Hot Frosty 232. The Deliverance 233. The Garfield Movie 234. Lift 235. Atlas 236. Trigger Warning 237. House of Spoils 238. Borderlands 239. Tarot 240. Venom: The Last Dance

Bottom 10

241. Imaginary 242. Unfrosted 243. It Ends With Us 244. Dear Santa 245. The Crow 246. The Strangers: Chapter 1 247. Harold and the Purple Crayon 248. Rebel Moon - Part Two: The Scargiver 249. Dirty Angels 250. Miller’s Girl

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infiniteglitterfall · 10 months ago

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A Chabad synagogue in Pomona, New York, burned to the ground on April 17th, along with its three Torah scrolls.

Torah scrolls are hand-written, hand-made, and kept in elaborately decorated cases or wrappings.

Many of them have long histories; my synagogue has two, I think, that were smuggled out of villages being destroyed in pogroms or in Nazi attacks. One of them is the only remaining piece of that village on earth.

Sometimes, the Torah scroll doesn't even belong to the synagogue, but is on loan from a place like the Memorial Scrolls Trust:

There's an entire Jewish holiday just for taking them out and dancing with them: Simchat Torah, "The Joy of Torah."

In fact, that was the holiday on which Hamas's invasion took place.

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So it's a particular tragedy when a Torah is destroyed.

Chabad itself has a page about what goes into making just one Torah scroll:

"An authentic Torah scroll is a mind-boggling masterpiece of labor and skill. Comprising between 62 and 84 sheets of parchment -- cured, tanned, scraped and prepared according to exacting Torah law specifications -- and containing exactly 304,805 letters, the resulting handwritten scroll takes many months to complete.

"An expert pious scribe carefully inks each letter with a feather quill, under the intricate calligraphic guidelines of Ktav Ashurit (Ashurite Script). The sheets of parchment are then sewn together with sinews to form one long scroll. While most Torah scrolls stand around two feet in height and weigh 20-25 pounds, some are huge and quite heavy, while others are doll-sized and lightweight."

I learned all of this on Tumblr.

Once upon time, in people's "punch Nazis" days, I would've been able to find some mention on Tumblr of this synagogue burning.

There is none, so I'm posting about it.

And I'm going to quote Daniel Weiner, Rabbi of Temple de Hirsch Sinai in Bellevue, Washington, when his own synagogue was vandalized last November:

"It’s horrific and heartbreaking.... [Taking out your feelings about] what's going on in the Middle East by defacing a sacred space of a synagogue -- that’s the very definition of antisemitism."

I'm also posting about the Kehillat Shaarei Torah Synagogue in Toronto, whose windows were broken on Friday, April 19th, by someone who also tried to break the front door down.

And the April 15 graffiti outside a Bangor, Maine synagogue that said, "Nazi Israel 30K murdered," next to a crossed-out Star of David. The same synagogue faced pro-Hamas flyers plastered around it in November.

I was going to include all the synagogues vandalized over the past six months. But there are way too many. Several every week. Lots are swastikas.

I'll go back to just doing attacks on and near synagogues.

Someone has to talk about the 1-year-old who was stabbed outside Temple Beth Zion-Beth Israel (BZBI) synagogue, in Philadelphia, on April 13th.

The foiled terrorist attack on a Moscow synagogue on April 11th.

The man who, on April 9th, screamed at the rabbi at Moldova's Great Synagogue, "What are you doing here? How come no one has finished you off for everything you are doing to the Palestinians?" Just one week after people had vandalized a Holocaust memorial in nearby Soroka, and sprayed "Free Palestine" on it.

The Oldenburg, Germany synagogue that was firebombed on April 5th.

The Florida Las Olas Chabad Jewish Center, which on March 16 burned, but not to the ground. The Torah scrolls were safe, and no one was hurt, but the back of the building was severely damaged.

The planned-but-thwarted-on-March-7th ISIS massacre in a Moscow synagogue.

The stabbing of an Orthodox Jew in Switzerland on March 5th. (He was badly injured, but expected to survive.)

A man leaving a synagogue in Paris was beaten on March 3rd.

People set the courtyard of a synagogue in Sfax, Tunisia on fire on February 27th. Firefighters managed to put the fire out before it consumed the inside of the building.

The synagogue is no longer used; there are no Jews left in its area, and fewer than 1,000 Jews left in Tunisia overall.

(Thousands of Tunisian Jews were sent to work camps during the Holocaust. Antisemitism across the Middle East continued to increase rapidly for decades. By the 1970s, 90% of Tunisian Jews had fled to France or Israel.)

On February 18, an Orthodox Jew leaving Synagogue of Inverrary-Chabad in Lauderhill, Florida, was beaten by an attacker yelling racial slurs.

Someone deliberately chose International Holocaust Remembrance Day, January 27, to smash all the windows in the front of Sgoolai Israel Synagogue in downtown Fredericton, New Brunswick.

On December 29, Turkey arrested 32 people linked to ISIS who were planning attacks on synagogues and churches.

On December 17, a man drove a U-Haul truck up onto the sidewalk between a barrier and the front door of the Kesher Israel Congregation in Washington D.C., got out, and started yelling "Gas the Jews." He also sprayed a foul-smelling substance on two people leaving the synagogue.

December 17 also saw 400 synagogues across the United States receive bomb threats.

On December 11, a man attacked an elderly couple on their way into a synagogue in Los Angeles, screaming, "Give me your earrings, Jew!!" and beating one of them bloody with a belt. (Happily, he chased the guy down the street, and caught him when his pants fell down.)

On December 10, a 16-year-old was arrested in Vienna for planning an attack on a synagogue.

On December 8, on the first night of Hanukkah, 15 synagogues in New York State received bomb threats. And someone screamed, "Free Palestine," and fired shots outside of Temple Israel in Albany, NY. Which has a preschool that was in session.

Meanwhile, the five Jews left in Egypt were canceling public Hanukkah candle-lighting at their synagogue out of fear of reprisals. Particularly after two Israelis in Alexandria had been gunned down by terrorists on October 8. (While Israel was still fighting Hamas in Israel.)

On November 15, a terrorist group set the only synagogue in Armenia on fire.

Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (ASALA) has a history of working with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP).

(PFLP is part of Hamas's network of groups. Samidoun is their nonprofit arm - which is why Germany banned Samidoun last year, although it's still active in many other countries.

PFLP is also actively supported by the Palestinian Youth Movement (PYM), a diaspora nonprofit group, and Within Our Lifetime (WOL), an SJP spinoff in NYC.)

On November 11, halfway through Shabbat services, police asked Central Shul in Melbourne, Australia to evacuate "as a precaution" due to a "pro-Palestinian" protest that had chosen the neighboring park as its gathering place. Australia has seen some very outspoken antisemitism at protests, including the march shortly after October 7 that chanted "Gas the Jews."

Also on November 11, protesters targeted a synagogue along a march route. They sat in their cars, spraying green smoke and shouting at people leaving the synagogue. The march itself featured a record number of horrifying signs and chants.

On November 7th, Congregation Beth Tikvah in Montreal was firebombed, and the back door of the Jewish organization across the street (Federation CJA) was set on fire.

On November 4, protesters chanted "Bomb Israel," and burned an Israeli flag outside the only synagogue in Malmo, Sweden.

During October, there were 501 antisemitic acts under investigation in France in just three weeks, including groups gathering in front of synagogues shouting threats, and graffiti such as the words “killing Jews is a duty” sprayed outside a stadium.

On October 18, people firebombed a synagogue in Berlin after homes all over the neighborhood were graffitied with stars of David.

And also on October 18, hundreds of "pro-Palestine" rioters attacked the Or Zaruah Synagogue, in the Spanish enclave of Melilla in North Africa, while worshippers were inside.

Based on the video, they seem to have blocked the synagogue entrance completely, while screaming "Murderous Israel" and waving Palestinian flags. (Melilla is an autonomous zone belonging to Spain. It borders Morocco.)

On October 17, during pro-Palestinian protests, hundreds of rioters set fire to Al Hammah synagogue, an abandoned house of prayer in central Tunisia. They hammered down the building’s walls and raised a Palestinian flag on the building. Police did not intervene.

The Facebook page "Tunigate", which has around 88 thousand followers, published a video of the assault. So did "Radio Bousalem”, with 83 thousand users. The vast majority of comments on these videos welcome these acts. The building was severely damaged and almost completely razed to the ground.

On October 15, bomb threats were sent to many East Coast synagogues. Attleboro synagogue Congregation Agudas-Achim received one of the emails, which read, "The bombs will blow up in a few hours. A lot of people will die. You all deserve to die."

On October 8 -- again, while Hamas was still in Israel -- Madrid’s main synagogue was defaced with graffiti that read “Free Palestine” next to a crossed-out Star of David.

And on October 7, an assailant in Rockland, NY fired a BB gun at two women entering a synagogue. Later in the month, a banner at the Stephen Wise Free Synagogue in the area was vandalized with the words, “Fuckin kikes."

#if you have used “Free Palestine” as if it's a sort of verbal assault you can shout in comments or scribble over flyers #if you are unwilling to hear what the Jewish term Zionism means to the people who use it #if you cannot name one Palestinian human rights activist #and most of all if you don't know how Hamas abuses Palestinians and you still think it's The Resistance #then you. are. the. problem.#if you don't know people in gaza have been protesting Hamas and blaming it for deliberately instigating a war they don't want #if you don't know how often they've spoken out about Hamas stealing aid and selling it to them #and especially if you don't want to believe me much less find Palestinians in Gaza to listen to #also if you didn't know about any of the stuff in this post BUT you have taken it upon yourself to tell Jews that “it's not antisemitism”#like seriously everyone deal with your learned distrust of Jews challenge #wall of words #fire tw #guns tw #violence tw #Instagram

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junemermaid · 28 days ago

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[sentences sunday] mlc fic snippet

so, it's been 84 years, etc. but I have been verrrry slowly chipping away at the taste of pomegranates. here, have a morsel before the work week swallows me whole once again. *

Once Di Feisheng is done, he sits with the sheathed dao across his knees, his hands lax on its familiar curve. Doing nothing. Thinking little. Feeling how the air cools as the charcoal in the brazier burns down to a last waft of smoke.

Li Lianhua fills the brazier again, replaces the little shovel in the charcoal box, and blows on his fingers. His hands are always chilly these days. Di Feisheng lets him bustle; the small noises of his movement are soothing in the same way as oiling his dao. The water pot clinks onto the tea brazier, and Li Lianhua scoops fresh water into it. The fine new leaves Fang Duobing brought give off a faint fragrance of dried jasmine. He remembers Li Lianhua's tastes well.

Then, instead of fussing over the tea things, Li Lianhua comes to the bed and sits down, one knee up, the other tucked against Di Feisheng's. Trusting that either his closeness is permitted or Di Feisheng will tell him otherwise.

He lets Li Lianhua sit. The bed is wide enough, and the warmest place in the room.

Li Lianhua brushes a fingertip over his temple—only his second finger, cool and dry, tracing the shell of his ear and then down along the fall of his hair. Di Feisheng doesn't flinch, no, but a tiny tremor goes through him, and he doesn't think to control himself.

"You didn't sleep," Li Lianhua says. He begins the soft stroke again, from brow to shoulder height, and this time Di Feisheng sits still.

"It won't kill me." His head dips downward. His eyes follow the curling brasswork of the scabbard.

"And that should reassure me?"

Di Feisheng expels a sharp little breath that Li Lianhua can well plumb for meaning. He has nothing better. He feels… not brittle, no, but like a willow wand stripped to its green wood. If its roots are still in the ground, new bark will grow. If not—

"What do you want?" he asks, so hushed it is more plea than demand.

Li Lianhua continues: one long, patient stroke after another, his fingers sinking down to the scalp now, trailing that same path. With a sigh, he puts his chin on Di Feisheng's shoulder. He has a smudge of soot on his forehead, unnoticed. "Do you want me to stop?"

Di Feisheng huffs, again. "I'll be fine. This… cosseting. I do not need it."

If he still has a foundation. If there is something to hold him to the earth. Li Lianhua need not fret about him like he does about Fang Duobing, however he couches it in mock irritation.

His hand, steady and gentle, stops at the nape of Di Feisheng's neck. "Of course not, Lao Di," he murmurs, "but perhaps I do."

tbc

#mysterious lotus casebook #li lianhua #di feisheng #difanghua #six sentences sunday #fic: the taste of pomegranates #june does mlc #fic snippet #fic by j #writing is a bullshit hobby

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mysterioushimachal · 1 year ago

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Ardhganga Bharmour: Unveiling the Sacred Depths of Spiritual Purity

Nestled in the eastern corner of the revered 84 Temple Complex in Bharmour, Himachal Pradesh lies the mystical pool of crystal-clear water known as Ardhganga or Ardhagaya. This sacred site, also referred to as Guptaganga, holds a profound significance in Hindu mythology and is a testament to the divine tranquility that graces the heart of Bharmour. The Essence of Ardhganga: Ardhganga,…

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#84 Temple Complex in Bharmour #Ardhganga #bharmour #chamba #ganesha #Guptaganga #half Ganga #Himachal Pradesh #Lord Shiva #parvati #Shiva

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mxtxfanatic · 5 months ago

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Saw someone say that Jin Ling "always runs to Jiang Cheng when he cries," so here's all the moments when Jin Ling cries in the novel:

Right now, Jin Ling, who cried so loudly in front of the crowd, could almost make him see what Jiang YanLi looked like as she bawled her eyes out in such extreme despair. Among the boys at Jin Ling’s age, some had married already, and the older ones had already become fathers. To them, crying was quite the humiliating act. To cry before such a large crowd—just how frustrated did he feel? For a while, Wei WuXian didn’t even know what to do. He looked at Lan WangJi as if he was asking for help, but it was even less likely for Lan WangJi to know what to do. At this point, a voice came from across the river, “A-Ling!” Around half-a-dozen larger boats surrounded the fishing boat that they were on. Every one of those boats was filled with cultivators, with one sect leader standing at the foremost. The YunmengJiang Sect’s boat was at the right side of the fishing boat. It was the nearest, with no more than thirty metres between the two. The one who called was Jiang Cheng, who stood near the edge. Still teary-eyed, as soon as Jin Ling saw his uncle, he immediately wiped his face, sniffing. He looked here and there and finally made up his mind to fly over, landing at Jiang Cheng’s side. Jiang Cheng grabbed him, “What happened to you? Who did this to you?!” Jin Ling rubbed his eyes roughly, refusing to speak up.

—Chapt. 84: Loyalty, exr

Jin Ling had always thought crying was a sign of weakness, treating such an act with contempt. Yet, apart from a flood of tears, there was no other way to release the pain and anger in his heart. ... When Jin Ling heard that Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi were gone, he rushed outside, almost tripping on the threshold of the Guanyin Temple. But no matter how anxious, he was no longer able to find their figures. Fairy giddly ran circles around him, wagging his tongue. Jiang Cheng stood below a tall, straight tree within the Guanyin Temple. He glanced at him and spoke coldly, “Wipe your face.” Jin Ling rubbed his eyes roughly, wiping his face before running back, “Where are they?”

—Chapt. 110, exr

Bonus for "Who would Jin Ling run to if he felt like he was in danger:"

From the dark forest behind him slowly walked out a group of cultivators from different sects, wearing uniforms of different colors. The group grew larger and larger. In estimation, there were almost two thousand, a large black blanket that surrounded the cave. These cultivators, including Jiang Cheng, all bathed in blood, their faces tired. All of the boys rushed outside the cave, shouting, “Dad!” “Mom!” “Brother!” They were embraced into the crowd. Jin Ling looked left and right, as though he still hadn’t decided yet. Jiang Cheng’s voice was harsh, “Jin Ling, why are you so slow? What are you taking your time for? Do you want to die?!”

—Chapt. 68: Tenderness, exr

Is this the canon you’re reading?

#jiang cheng #canon jiang cheng #mdzs #if i missed a scene feel free to let me know #but jin ling isn't walking around bawling in this story #and the way that he makes sure to hide his tears from jc in the first scene #along with jc reacting harshly to seeing that jin ling had cried in the second scene #should show pretty clearly who jin ling is *not* going to when he feels like crying

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passivenovember · 1 year ago

Text

Someone says Billy might be in there, and that's all it takes to snap Steve's resolve in two like a pathetic, gnawed-on piece of red vine.

Billy might be in there, Nancy says.

It's strange when it claws out of her, choked and desperate because they're running out of time, some. Huge, old, fuckin', annoying clock ticking away someplace, deaf to be heard. But felt. Like five knuckles to the stomach.

Nancy's got mud on her cheeks. Blood crusting brown at the corner of her nose and fear glittering like shards of mirrorball in both eyes. Blue. Steve used to obsess over that shade, until.

Billy. Who burned the rest of the world to the ground. Who changed water and sky and moonlight and lake fronts forever. For Steve. Billy--

Who might be down there.

Steve peers at the soft current of the lake, rippling with tabs of stardust. Billy's dead, Steve remembers suddenly. They told him he was dead because he couldn't see through the cloud of black-cat gun powder that night the bottom fell the fuck out. They told Steve everyone was better off, they buried what was left of his body and they moved on. Everyone.

Steve didn't cry at the funeral. Couldn't. He promised Billy that he never would, not. In front of Neil Hargrove, not in front of anyone, so.

Billy might be in there.

Steve can't blame them as the boat rocks, gentle as the tick-tick of time pressing on, when no one moves.

Steve, Nancy says.

He looks at her, taken aback by the shock on her face. What are you doing, she says. But Steve isn't listening. His shirt dangles from her fingertips, a white flag. A death shroud.

Steve doesn't remember taking it off. He opens his mouth. Shuts it.

Eddie Munson looks at him with the kind of sharp, resigned knowing that makes Steve shrug. Clear his throat. Say, If I'm not back in two minutes, jump in after me.

Steve, Nancy says. Small and afraid, You can't go in. You're--

--Billy's in there, Steve snaps. No might. Leaving no room for argument. He can feel it, like that big clock in the sky, ticking.

Billy's in there, so Steve jumps.

Somewhere, in sudden, churning darkness

his skin starts to burn.

Something hits him, right under his temple. On his cheek bone. It sticks too the tacky landing of his skin and then falls.

Not. To the ground, Steve doesn't think. To the lakebed.

Into some great, terrible void that waits to swallow him whole because it has no teeth. No edge. No suffering.

"You're starting to burn," Someone tells him.

Steve jerks awake, eyes slamming into a bright blue sky. "Sorry," He says. "I fell asleep. I thought--"

"--You're gonna catch on fire."

Trees, nodding in the warm exhale of some far-away afternoon spring from the centerfold of himself. He's getting a sunburn but there's a tube of banana boat sunscreen on the beach towel next to him, hot to the touch.

"Did you throw that at me?" He demands. Steve's naked from the waist down. Flat on the earth, suddenly. Flat on a beach towel, gritting black sand into Miss Universe, '84's shiny blue one piece. He's seen this towel, before.

"You've gotta put it on," The voice says, "You don't have much longer."

Steve sits, blinking into the sunlight.

He's at the quarry. He's been here before.

"Who are you?" He asks.

The earth seems to exhale. Far below, laughter climbs the rocky face of memory. Steve hears children, playing. His children. Dustin's voice tugs at him. His heart. His mind.

Billy's in there--

"I'm looking for someone," Steve says, but he doesn't turn from the treeline. Doesn't peer below, either. Doesn't move. "I. I think I lost him. I haven't seen him in a long time but I--"

"Don't worry about that."

"I worry," Steve reports, but it feels like a lie. He considers the banana boat sunscreen but can't reach for it, afraid of what might happen if he sinks into its release.

The children keep laughing, far below, and Steve thinks he's seen this blue before. This shade. This sky.

"I don't want you to get sunburned," The voice tells him. Closer. Near enough that the breath from its lungs stirs the hair on Steve's head. Just out of eyesight. "You always look like shit when you're burned up."

"I was wondering if you could help me."

"You're gonna turn red, pretty boy. A fuckin' lobster."

Steve gasps. His heart shudders. Stops.

Stops beating.

Steve swallows. "I'm looking for someone," He says. Not particularly inclined to tear his eyes away from the peaks and valleys of the hill that grinds, pestle, all around him. He's safe. Nestled into the end. "Please, I. I think I lost him. I've been trying to find him for a long time but he's--"

"Hiding," The voice says.

Someone sits next to him in the sand. Naked from the waist down, golden.

Sunlight. Flame. The dawn.

Steve looks at him. "Billy," He says. Or maybe he doesn't. The word comes from everywhere, like springtime rolling over the earth. Flowers blooming and withering all at once.

"You don't have much longer," Billy stretches out along the beach towel, red trunks coated in dark black sand. "You're burning up. Why don't you go back?"

Steve remembers this.

Asking if there was an extra towel, if Billy wanted this one, why Billy gave it to him in the first place--

"Because I want to be with you," Steve says. Like Billy had said, then. That day at the quarry before. This and them and everything. It had opened a whole universe for them. It had changed everything and now Steve holds his breath, wondering if it will again.

Below, the children keep laughing.

"Billy," Steve says, because it tastes good. Like lemonade and iced tea. And cotton candy at the county fair. And cigarettes at midnight. And pancakes, burned by the man he--

"Look at me," Steve says.

Billy's hair billows, golden in the breeze. "I can't."

"Why?"

"You stare at me with those fuckin' eyes and," Billy shakes all over, "I'll get selfish. Ask you to stay."

"Don't have to ask," Steve tells him, rooted to Miss Universe '84. "I'm not going back."

"Yes you are."

"I can't live without--"

"Jesus Christ, would you listen to this bullshit? We sound like a play about star crossed losers, and not a good one, either." Billy sits up straight, tucking his hair behind his ears. "It's cliche. Don't say shit like that."

Steve swallows. "It's true."

"I know, pretty boy."

"So then why can't I stay with you?"

"Because it's not your time yet," Billy says, finally, finally looking at him. Eyes blue like the sky.

Steve exhales, watching as the earth moves with him. "Now who's cliche?"

Billy laughs, and.

Steve must crumble. Must catch on fire. Must make up his mind because he breaks.

"Don't cry," Billy tells him, weakly, "Harrington--"

"--I'm not going back unless you come with me."

"It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm dead," Billy tells him, turning in the sand until their knees press together. Solid and warm.

Alive.

"I'm not in the lake, sweetheart. I know you want me to be, but I'm not." Steve sobs. He can't help it, can't stamp it down, it slithers out of him with its fangs bared, full of fear and poison. It must get Billy in the heart. Must kill him a second time because Billy grabs at Steve, clutching Steve's face between his hands. "Hey, none of that, now--"

"--I'm sorry, Billy. So fucking sorry--"

Billy scrubs the tears away. "It's not your fault. Sometimes," Billy says, tugging fingers through Steve's hair, "Sometimes shit just happens, and people die, and it's a normal part--"

"--Nothing's normal anymore," Steve snaps, "I don't even know what normal looks like. And. Even before everything, before that night, I just. Something happened to me," Steve commit's the feeling of Billy's thumbs, rubbing circles into his sadness, to memory. "You happened to me, Billy."

The children aren't laughing, anymore. The sun dips low in the sky.

Billy turns from him, eyes scanning the treeline, "You don't have much longer, sweetheart."

"I'm not going back."

"You have to. I'm not arguing with you. This isn't a discussion." Billy says. Horrible and empty.

Steve snaps. "What, are you going to force me back into my body? Possess me like some fucking, ghost asshole and make me swim back to the surface?"

Billy blinks at him, shocked.

"That's where I am, right? Drowning at the bottom of the goddamn lake?"

Billy's face cracks open. "I can't watch you die."

"I watched you die."

"Bullshit," Billy says, "You couldn't see through the smoke--"

"--I love you," Steve says. Because it's simple. True. "And you love me."

Billy holds him tighter. Closer. "I know, baby."

"So let me stay here," Steve says. Holding on just as tight. Just as hard. "Let me come with you, and we can--"

"You have so much life stretching out in front of you, baby. So much love just. Fuckin' waiting for you."

"I don't care."

"You're going to have a family," Billy says, voice shaking, "You're going to meet someone. They're so good to you, I can. I feel it. Like sunlight," Billy blinks, lashes clumped with tears, "No. You already know him. Just met him."

"I don't want anyone else," Steve snaps, desperate. Wishing he could peel Billy's skin from the bone and sew himself up inside. Live there forever and ever and--

"I can't love anyone else, Billy."

"Yes you can," Billy says. "You will."

"What about," Steve asks, clutching Billy closer, "What about you?"

Billy smiles sadly. "I'm not going anywhere. Your whole life, I'll be here. I'll be waiting for you."

The sun dips below the horizon. The world burns.

Steve runs out of time.

#harringrove #anyway #this came out of nowhere #and i got bored of hearing myself talk at the end #lmaooo

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