#Indian Air Force books

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Provided facilities beyond requested: Tamil Nadu minister on air show preparations

After three spectators at an air show died in Chennai and over 200 were injured during the event, Tamil Nadu Health Minister Ma Subramanian claimed that the state government has provided facilities beyond what was requested by the Indian Air Force. A record 16 lakh people flocked to Marina Beach on Sunday to witness the fascinating air show on the 92nd anniversary of Indian Air Force Day, but…

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Cruise in Love: A Fake Marriage Romance (Indian Air Force Book 3)

Cruise in Love: A Fake Marriage Romance (Indian Air Force Book 3)

Price: (as of – Details) ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0B54KCGQ1 Language ‏ : ‎ English File size ‏ : ‎ 2697 KB Text-to-Speech ‏ : ‎ Enabled Screen Reader ‏ : ‎ Supported Enhanced typesetting ‏ : ‎ Enabled X-Ray ‏ : ‎ Not Enabled Word Wise ‏ : ‎ Enabled Print length ‏ : ‎ 210 pages Page numbers source ISBN ‏ : ‎ B0BNV3FB5X

[anika-ann]

Caught (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, fluff, they were roommates and idiots trope

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8,2k

Summary: You hadn’t exactly planned to get caught in the rain. Then again, people rarely do. But you did.

You hadn’t plan to get caught in the soft spiderweb of feelings for Steve Rogers when your friend had set you up as roommates. Then again, people rarely do. But you did. It was impossible not to.

Arriving at your shared apartment soaking wet sees Steve springing into action to warm you up… and send you falling deeper in love with him with every passing second. But hey – what else was new, right?

Warnings: tooth-rottng FLUFF, idiots-in-love trope, they were ROOMMATES trope, brief mention of PTSD and its symptoms, one gratuitous 'fuck' and French

A/N: cross-written for the Winds of Autumn challenge hosted by @the-slumberparty and for @elixirfromthestars ' writing challenge. Thank you ALL for hosting and breathing live into the community 💕 for WoA I chose 'caught in the cold rain' for the WChallenge I chose “ Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?” 

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @steviebbboi ;enjoy y'all 🥰

This was all your fault; it really was.

There was no one else to blame for your current state.

Soaking wet, hair and clothes dripping alike, shaking so hard you nearly dropped your keys when trying to fit it into the keyhole.

A few minutes was all it took.

And yes; it was all on you.

You had practically been praying for a sweater weather. You had been so fed up with the unbearable summer heat still gripping the reigns even mid-September that you prayed and begged and swore you might be able to kill a man for a single breath of autumn.

So clearly, you had called this upon yourself.

In all fairness, you had wished for Indian summer; the normal late September weather. The light sweater weather. You certainly hadn’t been hoping to be thrown into the weather of seasonal depression, the temperature drop equalling a time machine bringing the end of November to the air and people’s hearts alike. Unforgiving icy wind, endless downpours, poking umbrellas all around, ever-present grumbling as one’s coat brushed against another, the dampness and cold seeping into yours and everyone else’s bones.

Nothing nice and prayers-worthy about that.

The thing was, this had been a daily reality for about a week now – and so one would think you were well-equipped to deal with the weather at least.

Except like the fool you were, you left your waterproof jacket at home, because you had believed today’s weather forecast, confident that the desired sweet and slightly crispy autumn was coming at last.

You and the meteorologists had been wrong.

But that wasn’t the worst part, no – the worst part would be your giddy optimism in the face a sudden NY underground failure.

Taking the ride home from work, you had nearly slammed into people surrounding you in the train at the sudden slam of breaks. A system failure, apparently. Caused by the damage to the network due to previous intense rains. A mishap stopping the trains in their stations, forcing people out.

And like the optimistic half-wit, trying to find a bright side and making the most of a miserable situation, you had thought, hey, it’s only a few blocks from here! No rain on the horizon for a change. What an opportunity to soak in the lovely autumn weather! The buses and taxis will be packed, and walking is good for health anyway.

And sure it was. And you ended up soaking indeed.

The brutal downpour and icy wind caught you in about ten minutes after you had taken off to your brisk walk.

You seriously doubted there was any benefit to your health at all, safe for maybe points to your mental resilience and an excuse to stay in bed with a book and a cup of hot chocolate next week, because you were about to catch a grade-A case of cold.

By the time you got to your apartment door, you were ready to flop on the floor the moment you’d stumble inside, uncaring for the wet smack you’d make against the hardwood or the carpet should you make it further into the apartment.

Except you knew the floor would be unforgivingly hard either way, and cold and you first had to get out of your dripping shoes and then the drenched clothes sticking to your body like a second skin and it would take you forever to strip with how shaky and numb your fingers had turned, the only sensation being cold and stiffness bordering on pain and for god’s sake could you at least stick the damn key into the goddamn keyhole-

You finally opened the door with a gratuitous ‘fuck’ on your lips, practically throwing the door open.

And were met with a surprised sleepy supersoldier blinking at your owlishly, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his white sleepshirt crumbled, the perfect case of bed hair and confused expression completing the most telling startled-from-his-sleep-but-not-Avenger-level-alarmed look.

Even in your state you had to admit he was adorable in a way men built like mountains shouldn’t.

You stared at each other mutely for several seconds, as if both surprised by each other’s presence – or at least state – processing.

You, drenched from rain and puddles, cold-dried by the wind, shivering all over and barely keeping your teeth from clattering as to hold onto the last shreds of your dignity and sanity.

Steve, still slightly disoriented, having just been woken up. Woken up by you, most likely, you thought regretfully, cursing your life-choices again. He was a light sleeper – a mere jiggle of keys would have interrupted his slumber, let alone your endless fumbling around the lock.

You spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry for wak-” “What happened to you?”  

Your voice trailed off, a chuckle of irony echoing in the back of your head.

What happened to you?

That was a question a lot more loaded that it might seem.

What had happened to lead you to this place, facing a sleepy Greek-godlike figure with a concerned look on his face?

A whole lot of coincidences; a whole lot of fate, maybe.

Sam Wilson, a friend from childhood, with whom you had only reconnected a few years ago.

You, having been looking for an apartment ever since your landlord had announced he planned to sell the building to a huge corporation which would, from then on, only rent the apartments to its employees.

Sam again, looking to move in with his girlfriend, claiming he was leaving a roommate behind, who would appreciate a kind, trustworthy and reliable replacement.

Your ‘Gee, thanks’.  

‘Wait, no, he didn’t word it exactly like that,’ Sam had assured you. ‘I promise, he’s a real stand-up guy. Sure, a guy, but a respectful one and a neat one, with a sprinkle of a neat freak on top. He’s a great roommate and one of my best friends – I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t believe it could work.’

That was what your friend had said. And you believed him.

One thing led to another.

What Sam had conveniently failed to mention was that his real stand-up guy was a hulking drop-dead gorgeous supersoldier with the sweetest soul on the damn planet. Or maybe in the universe – what did you know? The universe had got a lot bigger ever since you found out it was perfectly possible for aliens to rain down from the sky through some kind of a hole in spacetime.

What Sam had conveniently failed to mention was that your future roommate was one of the heroes from the superhero band that had stopped these very aliens from taking over planet Earth.

After processing – even though you weren’t sure you’d ever finish processing – that you would share an apartment with Captain America, you accepted.

After all, you certainly weren’t one to look a gifted horse in the mouth; experience told you that could have done a lot worse than landing a person vetted by Sam Wilson and by a potentially world-ending event for a roommate.

In fact, you soon learned you couldn’t have done any better.

Steve was all the things Sam had promised.

And besides being the perfect person to share an apartment with, besides being the paragon of justice itself with a sprinkle of neat freak on top, he was also shockingly human.

Steve was a guy who had a routine until he didn’t, his schedule a little funny. He split housework with you in a way that left both of you content even as you felt he was doing a little bit more than his part whenever he could. He enjoyed cooking and baking and drawing and generally working with his hands, fixing any household issues before they could develop into a problem. Sometimes, nights found him in the living room with a book in his hand and quiet movie for a background when he couldn’t sleep. Sometimes, he left dirty dishes in the sink and a toothbrush on the basin instead of putting it into the holder and sometimes he forgot to put the toilet seat down. He was painfully respectful of your privacy and of your sleep alike whenever he was coming back at strange times, almost absurdly so for a man who seemed to barely fit in a doorway.  

He had a sharp mind and a subtle but deadly sense of humour on a good day and a quiet demeanour on a bad day, usually after a sleepless or nightmare-filled nights, which were always followed by him walking around the apartment with his sweats tucked into his socks because the draught and the cold on his ankles clearly bothered him. The list could go on and on and it was rather embarrassing for you, the idea for just how long you could keep listing things you observed about Steve and his habits and him; but the point was that he was a guy who was absurdly ordinary guy and extraordinary in about everything at once.

He had introduced as Steve the very day you had met, clearly not standing for any of your Captain, Sir, Captain Rogers nonsense.

He became Steve to you soon after.

He turned dear to you just as fast.

You weren’t sure when it happened; when your relationship shifted from sharing an apartment to sharing a life. It happened gradually, through dinners and breakfasts and films watched together; through nights he found you on the couch, barely awake or already sleeping after having been waiting for him even as he had told you not to; through late-night talks, about both things you were passionate about and things you wished you could forget.

You weren’t sure when this man, larger than life in both frame and heart, became your close friend.

You weren’t sure when the small butterflies that appeared in your stomach every time he smiled turned so all-consuming, spreading their wings through your whole body, circling around your heart.

It must have happened somewhere between his first smile and the sparkle in his warm blue eyes, between the tear-streaked cheeks when you found his shaking breathless body curled on the floor, between a hug and holding your hand when he drove you back from your wisdom teeth removal surgery because no one else was available, between every single minute you had the fortune to spend in his company and those you couldn’t, longing for him instead.

Somewhere in between, you must have fallen in love, the urgent feeling in your chest slowly turning unbearable and heavy. It burned, to stifle it inside, the one secret you wouldn’t share for the fear of breaking something as precious to you as your peaceful life with Steve the friend.

You weren’t sure when exactly it happened, but it got you there.

It got you here; into this very moment, just like many others, facing him and rendered speechless for a breath or two, because god, was he handsome and lovely and sweetly worried and an image of domesticity at once and you were hit with a sharp tug of a feeling whispering of coming home.

What happened to you, Steve had asked, his gaze turning more concerned by the second as you remained silent safe for the rustle of your soaked jacket you had started to strip at some point and the one clatter of your teeth you failed to stifle.

What did happen again?

“Got caught in a rain,” you rasped, stating the painfully obvious. “Underground broke down. Thought I’d walk…”

Steve frowned, sleepiness wiped off his face to give way to compassion and sternness at once, a sigh leaving his lips as he slowly neared you.

“Seemed like a smart idea at the time…” you continued when he didn’t say a word, just gently – always so gently dammit – pushed at the door to get it closed at last, his arms quietly coming around you, engulfing you in his embrace. Your heart startled at the gesture. “Steve, no, I’ll get you all we---wow okay, this is nice, you’re really warm-“

He chuckled sweetly above your head as you babbled, protests dying on your lips with a sound resembling a whine and moan as his warmth enveloped you, so relieving and inviting, prompting you to melt against his firm and yet painfully soft body.

His voice carried an admonishing note as you trembled against him, his warmth and pleasant scent of comfort seeping into your body while the cold and smell of rain soaked him in return. You did not care for the scolding; it was a kind one. And Steve still was still holding you – that was the important part.

And the most painful one.

"You could have called,” he said, like a sweet, even if already lost bargain. “I’d come get you.”

You pressed closer to him, clearly having a glutton for punishment.

Those few innocent words burned through you like the most tender wildfire. An inflection and tone that couldn’t have been good for your heart and yet you revelled in them; a statement that felt like an oath:

I‘d come get you.

I’d always come get you.

I’d do anything for you.

Something so close to love, in your reach and yet untouchable, because he didn’t mean it – he couldn’t mean it, because Steve Rogers had a large heart, but surely would have told you if you had occupied space in it that way.

And yet he held your own heart in his palms and he didn’t even know. Was it wrong you let the gentle words wash over you and let them warm you just as much as Steve’s arms, even if they meant something different than you’d wish?

You gulped, a shiver that had nothing to do with cold running down your spine.

“You only got in like three hours earlier,” you reasoned, forcing yourself to focus on the practical matters as not to slip into whispering a true confession; and perhaps doing so anyway along the way. It was true, however; as per habit and your request, Steve had texted you he was home safe and sound barely few hours ago. Knowing that led you to immediately weed out the mere idea of calling him to pick you up as it appeared in your mind the moment the downpour started. You were aware, however bittersweet the knowledge was, that he would come – that was why you hadn’t called. For his benefit. “You needed to sleep.”

Steve sighed again. And you needed to be picked up, you heard in the weary and yet somehow fond sound.

He didn’t argue, however; his hold grew tighter, appreciative, his broad hand, oh so warm, running up and down your back, pressing a little stronger than he normally would in a hug; allowing the heat of his body sink deeper, into your very bones, sending you sinking deeper into the warmth blooming in your chest as well.

Pressed against his front, you couldn’t but breathe in, allowing everything that was Steve overwhelm over your senses. The woodsy notes and musk of his cologne, the soft material of his sleepshirt burning almost too hot as it clung to his body, the smooth movements of his rough hands, his warm breath brushing your scalp, the image of his minute smile behind your closed eyelids, his voice humming in his ribcage and filling your ears like honey.

“Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?”

His question was so genuine – and a little wavery in a way that made your belly tingle in response. Tell me what I can do and I will do it. Just say the word, it seemed to whisper in your head, your heart protesting and fluttering in your chest.

You already are, you almost replied as the shudders subdued slowly despite both of you now soaking. You’re back home. You’re safe. You’re with me. And you’re warm. And big. And strong. And you smell good. And you’re holding me oh so tight and gentle and it feels so profoundly nice and you really are warm and maybe this new shiver running down my back isn’t just that I’m cold, maybe it’s that naïve hope of which I should have let go of so long ago-

He noticed the fresh wave of tremble of whose origin you yourself weren’t entirely sure of – your weather escapades or the escapades of your poor heart – and the caress up and down your back grew faster, more of a rubbing to create warmth than a soothing gesture.

“Okay, doll, you’re getting into the bathtub right away. What can I do in the meantime?”

In spite of his words, a benevolent order one might say, he didn’t let go.

Despite his question sounding urgent, you took your time responding; because it took a huge portion of your willpower not to tell him to just keep holding you.

“…hot chocolate?” you suggested meekly, a shy but slightly mischievous smile tugging at your lips when Steve released you at last, those big warm paws of his settling on your shoulders for a moment. “And you should probably change.”

He glanced at his wet clothes self-deprecatingly, as if it was his fault – and in a way, you supposed it was. But you weren’t complaining. The wet fabric clung to his body in the most delicious way, no matter the scepticism he observed it with.

When his gaze met yours again, his smile was the sun itself; but you still missed the heat of his body against your skin.

“You got it, doll. Come on.”

Much to your regret and salvation, he released you completely. You still graced him with a grateful and once again shaky smile which you could and should blame on the loss of his body heat.

“Thanks, Steve. You’re the best.”

And he was.

And if that wasn’t becoming a bigger problem by the minute.

With some of Steve’s warmth lingering – mainly the one his actions and demeanour awoke deep within your body – you managed to get rid of your clothes with enough ease and patience to have the bathtub fill with steaming hot water before climbing in. Sinking into the water then felt about as pleasant as sinking into Steve’s embrace had been – except this time, it was the rest of your body which appreciated the heat, warming you from the outside, tension leaving your muscles, your brain relaxing and slipping into a mindless haze, an absent smile forming on your lips.

You soaked in the tub for long enough to almost fall asleep and slide under the water; the only thing convincing you to fight the slumber off – perhaps besides, well, drowning – was the premise of a delicious cup of hot chocolate made with utmost care and Steve’s company, all the more appreciated since you knew he’d stay for at least five minutes even as he was no doubt falling asleep on his feet himself.

Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, your climbed from the tub, rushed through your routine and emerged from the bathroom with steam following you, no doubt making for an image of cosiness with your blissfully dry comfortable clothes, complete with fuzzy socks.

Steve must have agreed with your assessment, because he greeted you with a grin.

He had left the two mugs of top tier hot chocolate with actual melted pieces of the treat and whipped cream on top on the kitchen counter, having brought two blankets for the couch, now fumbling with the tv remote. A quick glance around the apartment told you that while you were nearly nodding off in the bathroom, he had made a quick work of cleaning the mess you had left behind; electric shoe dryers already placed in your boots, your drenched jacket near the heating with plastic film spread on the floor as not to do any damage.  

You could kiss the lop-sided smile he gave you when you thanked him, your heart hammering in your chest with excitement and longing when he nodded towards the couch. To an outsider, the scene could easily appear as a quiet night in of a couple; a thoughtful beautiful man setting everything up for a date night full of seeking joy in simple domesticity and quiet intimacy.

One day, Steve Rogers was about to make someone incredibly happy.

The idea strung a sharp but brief note of jealousy in your chest, a lump growing in your throat as the rational part of you mocked you that the person wasn’t you. You would have known by now if you were; even though spending time with him did make you all kinds of happy.

You forced a smile through the light sting of tears, trying to stop your mind from racing and spiralling about the thought of having to move out to make space for the vaguely gorgeous and brilliant woman; or maybe sooner, just to put your heart at ease, because with every beat of it you felt yourself falling deeper into the trap of loving this man. It was beginning to hurt; and still, you approached him, smiling.

“Looking cosy. Feeling better?”

You nodded, unable to resist and placing your hand over Steve’s arm, his soft blues finding your gaze.

“Thank you, Steve. Really.”

The lopsided smile returned, his fingers brushing your shoulder. God, he was so close and all you’d have to do was to stand on your tiptoes. You’d kiss his cheek, a purely innocent display of gratitude of course, just to feel his smooth skin against your lips once-

You needed to get a grip. The brief hypothermia you had suffered was messing with your brain and was lowering your inhibitions and that was not good. 

“Anytime,” he assured you, nodding towards the screen. “We don’t have to, but I was wondering if you maybe wanted to watch a movie? I feel like we could both use that. But if you’d rather be alone-“

You shook your head quickly, your smile coming easier now because of the absurdity and thoughtfulness of his question at once. To be alone when he was there? No thank you. Who cared that the rational part of your brain huffed again, telling you that maybe that would be a better idea unless you wanted to torture yourself with false hopes.

Saying no was not an option.

You really must have had a glutton for punishment; but in some ways, you learned Steve suffered from the same condition. So maybe that was just his persona rubbing on off you… And thank you, brain, for the worst possible choice of words.

You cleared your throat.

“A movie sounds great,” you said, the mental image of you throwing its hands in the air, grumbling something about your poor old heart. Steve was still very softly holding onto your shoulder though, facing you, mere foot apart; who expected you to think rationally in these conditions? “Fair warning though, I almost fell asleep in the tub. Might fall asleep half-way through this.”

Steve grinned, stepping back to get the mugs and beckoning towards the couch again as to tell you to get settled. You obeyed without protest; you knew him well enough to be aware there was no point in trying to get your mug yourself.

He was the nurturing kind of friend.

“Does that mean I get to choose the movie so you can blame your social and cultural ignorance on my choices?” he teased.

He was also the loveable little shit kind of friend.

“Rude… and I would never,” you protested, accepting the offering of the hot chocolate, now indeed all cosy, tucked in a blanket, sitting comfortably and wrapping your hands around the mug to warm your palms further. “…but deal.”

Steve’s laugh was perhaps warmer than the mug and sweeter than its content, but you stomped at the thought as soon as it popped up in your head. You had no time nor capacity for nonsense. You had a nice evening ahead.

Better not to ruin it.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected, but this was not it.  

You had warned Steve about the possibility of you nodding off; after all, beyond having exhausted your body with the less-than-pleasant walk, nearly falling asleep in a bathtub and getting all comfortable on the couch, you had expected the large amount of sugar you’d consume to take its toll eventually and push you over the edge, the infamous sugar crash being the last straw.

You had expected to be out as a light in a matter of minutes, to be honest.

You had not expected the effect of all the warmth and sugars to evaporate much faster than that.

You were maybe twenty minutes into the movie and the anticipated sleep barely scratched the door of your consciousness; instead, the first reluctant shivers arrived. Blatantly ignoring Steve’s subtle side-eye and entirely obvious worry, you sank deeper into the couch, pulling the second blanket over yourself, tucking it all the way up to your chin, curling into yourself to preserve the warmth.

Thirty minutes in, you were shaking so hard Steve paused the movie, a crease forming between his eyebrows as he turned his upper body to you, right hand reaching out before pausing a few inches from your forehead.

“Can I?”

You hummed noncommittally, wondering yourself if maybe your grade-A case of cold was arriving sooner than expected and a fever already hit.

You were feeling just fine though; it was just the damn shivers which you couldn’t seem to stop.

Steve’s hand gently settled against your forehead, his frown deepening almost as if he could feel your heart speed up at the contact and didn’t approve. Which you knew was nonsense, because his whole mind was probably already consumed by the mission of assessing whether his inner Nurse Rogers should come out, but it worked well for cooling off your train of thought.

“It doesn’t feel like you have a fever, but we should probably check,” he hummed thoughtfully, shifting, prepared to rise his feet in search of the thermometer.

Your hand shot up from its safe warm haven, missing the target of his forearm but sending clear enough message to stop him.

He settled back down with a sigh, his hand sliding from your forehead over your cheek to the side of your neck, a delightful source of warmth spreading through your whole body and your suddenly deadly heartrate; a flicker of an image in which he’d place his hand exactly there and leaned forward, his lips brushing yours, nudged insistently at your brain.

You battled it with violent effort, refusing to even consider the soft look in Steve’s eyes was anything but concern for a good friend.

Because that was all it was: concern. What if you turned into an icicle, right? He had seen weirder things than that and he had spent whole seventy years frozen. He was naturally very worried about you having to endure the same.

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a smile that was shaky due to everything but cold. “Just my thermoregulation going haywire after all the excitement today--- Jesus how are you always so warm…”

Steve ignored your question, his hand still firmly set on your neck, the most delicious source of heat, his eyes roaming your embarrassingly shaking form.

“I’ve had a lot of practice with cold,” he said absently.

You could practically hear the wheels in his head turning, even as you were quite busy keeping your teeth from clattering. His eyes were so startingly blue, with the lightest speckle of green standing out for some reason, mesmerizing and warm as if to wreck the theory of these two colours normally belonging to the cold scale and you heart was positively about to beat your way out of your chest, because it appeared as if he was leaning forward a bit and maybe you were entering some kind of delirium, so it really was the time to move.

Move to kiss him, maybe, you bet his lips were warm too and yours were cold-

Okay, that was it.

“Okay, I think I’m gonna go for another soak-“

“Come here,” he muttered at the same time, effectively rendering you speechless when he released you only to scoot back a bit, his fingers beckoning lightly to himself, expression entirely serious.

What.

“I do run pretty hot and frankly I’d rather have you under supervision,” he said matter-of-factly, slipping into the Captain mode – managing to shoot your naïve hopes sky-high and shooting them dead in one sentence.

He was mission-oriented; that was all. He was worried, because frankly, your body was acting out and he was a good friend.

A good friend. A captain, responsible for his own.

There was nothing romantic about sharing body heat; he had probably done it dozen times on a mission.

He was simply concerned. And you should be and were grateful for that and for the practical and grounded approach to the matter at hand; you certainly preferred it to him rushing you to the doctor, because you were still pretty certain it was nothing to be worried about, nothing a good night’s sleep with loads of blankets on top of you wouldn’t fix.

So why the pang in your heart?

Why the regret and disappointment at him simply doing it to assure you’d feel better?

Because you were an idiot and you should have been so much more radical about forbidding yourself from catching feelings while living with Steve. But how could anyone blame you? He was just stupidly attractive and profoundly good and adorably ordinary in his extraordinariness, and you just wanted one touch, one taste, one moment of basking in his light and warmth and actual love.

Was that really so wrong of you?

You swallowed, voice set perhaps a little harsher than needed, the idea of him holding you out of pity making you a little sick to your stomach.

“Steve, you really don’t have to-“

“I want to,” he argued, voice so much softer in contrast to yours, and your body, that traitorous body acted, nearing to his despite your achy heart and hurting brain screaming at you to get to your feet instead, get to the bathroom or your room and lock the door and your heart and throw away the key to keep it safe.

“Steve-“

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he saw you wavering despite your verbal protest.

“Plus, I’m just doing my civic duty of protecting the innocent. You shake any harder, you’ll cause an earthquake.”

Deadpanning, you managed to stop your progress; in turn, your heart fluttered at the sparkle of mischief in Steve’s eye, that stupid muscle in your chest humming with fondness.

Godddamn him.

He knew exactly how to disarm you completely, to have you do his bidding, and he must have known of this power of his, blatantly abusing it for your wellbeing.

What a criminal behaviour.

With a sigh, you lifted your blanket a bit, scooting over to his open arms, carefully laying to his side as his arm slid under the blanket around your shoulders and pulled you closer; his warmth enveloped you in an instant, his hand rubbing gently at your arm, while his other busied itself with tucking the blanket around you to create a safe cocoon.

You felt yourself relax despite your better judgement, cheek laying on his chest, a steady thump-thump of his heart bargaining with yours:

How could you be short with him? Mad at him? He was just being the nicest person in the world, taking care of his friend, radiating warmth and smelling of comfort, selfless and without seeking anything but a simple thank you in return, if even that. And the charming bastard he was, he even tried to make you laugh.

It wasn’t his fault you had gone and fallen in love with him; it wasn’t fair to hold it against him that he was the best person you knew and your feelings were hurt just because he couldn’t think the same about you. Your mind understood that; it was your heart that was foolish.

You chased the thoughts away, only an echo of the ugly empty feeling remaining, giving way to a much more tender and insistent emotion; but mostly to sensation of your shivers subduing, almost as if they had been the trembles of an addict seeking their fix – Steve’s touch – rather than those of someone with messed up thermoregulation.

Maybe they were. But that wasn’t for Steve to worry about.

“Har har… how about your civil duty of being a sassybag…” you muttered in appreciation of his attempt, his chest shaking lightly with a chuckle.

“Oh, I’m taking that one most serious of them all.”

That he was.

The grin in his voice was infectious, however; you smiled against your will, poking his side lightly with your index finger.

“I noticed… but I forgive you.”

Because you’re really warm and sweet and for a moment, I guess I can indulge in the unhealthy delusion of you doing this because you like me close, postponing the ache of sobering up to reality for later.  

“I’m glad. How’s that feel?”

Like I want to stay like this forever.

Like I want you to want to stay like this forever.

You shushed the traitorous voice.

“Warm… comfy,” you added after a while, rewarded by a rub to your shoulder, being pulled impossibly closer. And it felt so good.

“Good.”

Simply holding you and sharing his heat indeed for a moment, he let you soak in the comfort. Seconds passed, maybe minutes; you didn’t count the beats of his heart, but heard every single one of them, soothing, whispering the little lie that maybe some of them were for you.

You didn’t argue; you didn’t quite give in.

When Steve lowly asked you if you wanted to continue the movie, you just nodded, grateful for the distraction of how incredibly right you felt in the little fantasy of yours that this, you being here in Steve’s arms, was exactly where you belonged.

As he reached for the remote, you whispered a soundless ‘thank you’.  

His ‘you’re welcome’ was softer and warmer than the blankets.

It was a herculean task to accomplish, fending off sleep, but having being in Steve’s company had rubbed off of you; you were anything but determined. Not knowing what the movie was about and what had happened on the screen in the past minutes – since the movie started, really – you still tried not to doze off at least.

You had a creeping suspicion Steve knew, deducting so from your silence or from the way your body was completely pliant against his, but he didn’t call you out, like the gentleman he was. Instead, he had simply stopped moving, safe from the periodical rise and fall of his chest, serving you as the most comfortable pillow you had ever had a chance of laying your head to, soft and warm and solid all at once.

And he seemed perfectly content to serve as one.

Just for that, you had stopped caring a while ago about his motivations. Had this been just a mission to keep a fellow human warm, so be it. He seemed pleased enough to do so and in your hazy sleepy mind, you knew one thing with absolute certainty – and that was that you did find this all kinds of pleasant too. Should the contentedness of yours come from a different place than his, well, you could deal with that later.

Or never.

You were just… happy and at peace.   

You weren’t sure when exactly you had closed your eyes, but you had; your voice was slurring a bit too, your determination to fight your exhaustion clearly not enough to win over sleep.

“Thank ya’ for takin’ care of me, Steve.”

At that, the soft statue under you shifted the tinniest bit, Steve’s thumb brushing your arm gently as his arm had remained around your shoulders. His heart was beating a little fast, you thought absently, lulled back into obliviousness by the vibration of his voice.

“You already said that…” he reminded you, humour and something else, sweeter, laced into his voice. “Anytime.”

You hummed in response, sinking deeper into the softness enveloping you.

“Hey… I mean it, okay?”

“Uh huh,” you muttered again, the dreamland already calling you, insistent and so inviting. “Same… arenchya sleepy? ‘m sleepy.”

Silence only sweetened by his still rapidly beating heart settled, another slow caress to your arm, Steve’s voice reaching you from tender proximity and endless distance all at once.

“Then sleep, doll.”

Mmm.

The dreams wrapped around your wrists like tender ribbons, coaxing you to follow them, pulling gently.

You could give in so easily. Letting the dreamland take you felt as simple as breathing; comfortable and warm, and feeling so damn safe that your heart, while peaceful, was aching a little.  

And maybe it was the tone Steve had spoken with earlier – so much emotion weaved into a few simple words, so much meaning – maybe it was the subconsciousness forming your dreams, but the memory of one of your favourites book which you had read multiple times flickered through your mind, making you smile. Or maybe it didn’t – you weren’t sure if you moved a single muscle, your body already floating.

Le sommeil partagé était le corps du délit de l'amour, the line read. A pondering of a man to whom sleeping with women meant nothing but entertainment, no feelings attached; not until he held a woman truly dear to him through the night, having fallen asleep peacefully, at last realizing that what he was feeling was love.

Sleeping with someoneor sleeping with someone, that was at the centre of his dilemma; the sharp contrast, one much more meaningful than the other. One a display of desire; the other, display of trust and love. A corpus delicti of love.

It was never like that for you – to you, the physical only came along with emotional, deep trust necessary to both. Having been learning about who Steve was, your mind argued lazily, there was no doubt in your mind Steve felt the same way about his relationships.

But the fact you could fall asleep right there, in his arms, and it felt like the safest place in the world…

It brought along a different memory; a memory of Steve’s large body curled into itself next to you on the couch, three blankets on top of him, your hands holding his, the contact seemingly somehow chasing away the demons of his past that had come to haunt his dreams. You had found him, lost in his own home, trapped in his own mind. He had agreed on a movie even as it had taken a long time to convince him that you weren’t going to back to sleep in your room while he’d try to fight off the invisible enemies his mind had created alone; so you had settled on a movie marathon instead. He had relaxed eventually, the dreamland taking him again, soft snores a lullaby to you – and you had never spoken about it again besides his quiet, ashamed and painfully genuine thank you the next morning. He had trusted you then, maybe feeling just as safe as you were now, despite you being nothing but an ordinary unenhanced human protecting him from evil.

It was a mirror image to how you were at this moment, you mused sleepily; you made him your pillow and a space heater and the source of comfort, while you tiptoed the line of reality and dreams.

His heartbeat thundered softly in your ear, calming but so vigorous and fast; and it slowly dawned to you that his body had stiffened under yours, the sensation nudging your consciousness and pulling you back, away from sleep.

Before you could voice your concern and confusion, his chest vibrated softly under you; his voice caressed you, tender with a hint of a rasp.

“…oui, c’est toujours vrai,” he whispered slowly, the words not making any sense.

Yes, that is always – still – true, you understood despite not being able to grasp at what he was saying truly or why, even as you knew French nearly perfectly, could probably speak it even in your sleep-

Your eyes snapped open, your heart jumping in your chest so fiercely it hurt.

Yes, that is always true.

It is true-

You had spoken out loud.

You had quoted one of your favourite books to him, out loud, speaking of shared sleep and love, and he had read that book too, you knew as much because you had talked about it before, he knew what that line meant, what it meant to you.

But it couldn’t be. He couldn’t be saying what you meant he was saying-

Except that tone. That soft, soft inflection to his voice, his thumb brushing over your arm again, reluctant but firm, his breath having hitched, awaiting your reaction to this… revelation?

And he got it; all sleep evaporating from your body, realizing you were basically lying on top of him – gods, you had no inhibitions in your semi-sleep state – your heart pounded so wildly your ribcage just might set it free. You gulped, shifting so you could look at him, the world slowly coming back to focus as your mind kept echoing the same words, over and over.

Corpus delicti of love. Corpus delicti of LOVE, c’est vrai-

You found Steve with his head bowed, observing you with patient and nervous anticipation, still holding you close to his body, something softly hopeful shimmering in his irises. Shadows of the evening had fallen over the living room but you could still see his perfect face so clearly, the depth of his blue eyes, the two beauty marks on his cheek, the pink lips looking so soft even as they were lightly pressed in a line – expectant of your response.

Your response to him indirectly confessing to---

Was he in love in you too?

The flicker of something you’d never dare to truly believe was real, because it appeared dangerously like adoration, lit up his eyes at your barely audible ‘really?’, a shadow of anxiety building behind the brilliant speckles of green in his irises when he nodded and waited.

As you processed, Steve never took his gaze off you in a display of bravery you were sure you would never have been capable of.

He had nodded. He had nodded.

Unless you were reading it completely wrong, unless--- unless this was just your fever actually taking over, Steve loved you, or at least was on his way to do so.

The overwhelming euphoric feeling rushed through ever nerve ending like a livewire, lighting your body up, your breathing hitching and expanding in your chest, something prickling in your eyes.

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed, gaze flickering over your face, appearing almost desperate to read your reaction since you couldn’t seem to verbalize how you felt.

But how could you let out a single word? He had romantic feelings for you too.

“We… we can talk later, if you’d like. You need your rest too…” he argued in a reluctant whisper.

There was no universe in which you were going to fall asleep, ever again and frankly you admired his self-restraint and willingness to wait after having just confessed he was interested in more than friendship and roommate-ship.

Steve Rogers, your Steve, was holding you in his arms, your bodies aligned, and he had feelings for you.

The soft expression – and the nervous energy radiation off him – whispered urgently of you not having read too much into his gestures, of your naïve hopes not being all that naïve, of all of this being true even as it left like a dream.

Maybe it was. But if it was, you’d cling to it and never let go.

And if it was by some miracle true, you sure as hell would never ever let sleep take you, because then… well.

The corners of your lips twitched minutely in an incredulous self-deprecating smile.

You were thoroughly warmed up, all shivers having subdued a long time ago, but something inside you trembled more than your voice.

“I can’t sleep now... I’ll think I’d dreamed all this up. That it wasn’t real,” you whispered hastily, “I… I want it to be real.”

Tension melted from Steve’s body at last, muscles having been tight as a bowstring easing into their mere usual firmness. His lips, those inviting lips, curled up in a smile, an echo of his eyes twinkling with something soft and exciting.

“Sounds like a dream to me too, yeah,” he admitted, your pulse nearing the speed that would sooner or later surely lead to cardiac arrest, your mind screaming with dozen of swirling thoughts.

He liked you. Steve like-liked you, perhaps maybe, just a little, on his way to love you, shared sleep, trust and love, he had dreamed of this too, he-

“How about…” he hummed, hand slowly cupping your cheek, tilting your head up and guiding you to lift it off his chest, causing your head to spin sweetly.

You could have easily escaped the tender touch; but you didn’t want to, not in a million years. You leaned into it instead, a pleasant twist deep within your belly, a shaky exhale leaving your parted lips, air swiftly drawn back as Steve leaned down, eyes roaming your face for any sign of protest. Finding none, his eyes earned a new kind of glow that warmed you up like no blanket or shower could, his lips neared dangerously, a silent wishful sigh as your fingertips stroked lightly over his chest.

“…we share a moment so real there’s no doubt left?”

There was no doubt left; and not a second of hesitation.

It occurred to you how absurd the reasoning was, to have a real moment, what a feeble excuse; as if you hadn’t dreamed of this before, as if the images of kissing Steve hadn’t haunted your nights, so vivid and so tangible morning had felt like razor tearing the masterpiece of a canvas apart; but that thought was but a silent voice in the very back of your mind and you did not care for it in the slightest.

On the other hand, Steve was right here and you’d do just about anything he’d suggest.

“Yes.”   

The second the breathless sound left you, Steve’s lips were pressed to yours, soft and warm and real, an electrifying sensation of right rushing through your very being, proving Steve’s damn point; your dreams could have never done justice to this.

Not to the way his lips moulded against yours, the tentative touch turning eager the very moment you pressed against him.

Not to the way he felt so perfectly solid and soft under your palm, against your side, against your thigh.

Not to the way his hand on your arm curled around your bicep and squeezed when your lips parted for him with a choked whimper.

Not to the way his fingertips caressed along your jaw to your chin, tipping your head back further to truly kiss you.

Not to the way you couldn’t get enough of it, of his touch, of his taste, chocolate and sugar and home, of his scent, invading your senses in the most wonderful attack you’d yield to with delight.

When your lips parted with a gasp, your name like the sweetest endearment on his lips, his forehead rested against yours, sharing your breath, your space, the wild beats of your hearts.

It seemed that some of those beats of his heart truly might be for you; just like quite a few of yours were for him.

And it was beautiful.

An unwitting chuckle spilled from your lips, the euphoria coursing your veins spilling over, rewarded by a soft stroke of Steve’s thumb over your cheek, a deep inhale, your eyes fluttering open to his soft but blinding smile you couldn’t but mirror.

God, he was the most stunning man you had ever seen in your life.

Had you not been rendered speechless by the kiss, his beauty would have done the job.

And if that hadn’t been enough, the way he was looking at you, as if you had hung the moon and the stars and he would have hung them for you if you had just asked – how had you never noticed it before? – now that would have done you for.

You had no words; but it seemed that for the moment, neither did he.

And so your gaze flickered down to his lips, now more tempting than ever, and you let action speak louder than words.

Cupping his face in return, you kissed him again, and let the coincidence or perhaps fate, that had led you to spill your secrets at the precipice of sleep, take reigns again, not at all protesting when Steve’s hands roamed to your waist, a silent invitation for you to move closer in any way you wished.

You let the moment take you wherever it would lead, quite happy if the half-wit you had called yourself earlier that day lost all her wits to Steve’s softly demanding mouth.

Maybe next time you’d get caught in the rain, he’d be there soaking with you; and maybe just like he hadn’t cared for getting his clothes wet earlier either, you’d both stand there in the downpour in an embrace of lovers, caring little for the water dripping all over you.

As long as he’d keep kissing you.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Happy autumn, everyone 💕 I know I should be working on my longfic but my brain seems distracted by various short-fic ideas, often fullfilling writing challenges...

I really enjoyed this one 🥰 and I hope that so did you!

Have a lovely autumn!🍂

P.S. - For those interested, the quote comes from Milan Kundera's novel Unbearable Lightness of Being (L'insoutenable légèreté de l'être or Nesnesitelná lehkost bytí).

[hussyknee]

I accidentally deleted this ask yesterday but fortunately had a screenshot. Ngl I'm kind of ??? about it because...why would you single out Hinduism to pick the most fundamentalist, cultural and political aspect of it, that's not even practised in most the Hindu minorities outside of India? Nearly every community in India has a caste system regardless of religion. Within Hinduism there's no just one caste system either. Eelam Tamil Hindus have a caste system, but it's not as violent as India's (although of course still violent and oppressive). Sinhalese have a caste system too, and the ones still invested in it would swear blind this was related to Buddhism somehow, a doctrine that preaches against inequality of any kind. Caste systems are literally haram in Islam and yet some Muslim communities managed to rationalize creating one because they wanted to assimilate into the worst of us I guess.

I know fuck all about Hinduism to tell you the truth, but my sister is a convert and devotee of Durga Matha. I asked her about it and she sent me this:

There are as many variants of Hinduism as there are varieties of grass. The only thing they have in common is the Vedas which is a bunch of hymns and stuff. It doesn't really go into detail about caste.

The caste system comes from a book called Manu Smriti. Some accept it as a Hindu text, some don't. Hinduism isn't even a religion actually. It's a bunch of similar belief systems that the Britishers lumped in together for ease of classification. Within Hinduism there are many sects- Saivism, Shaktism, Vaishnavism, etc. So to define Hinduism as some sort of oppressive religion doesn't make sense because it isn't a religion as Westerners define it. Anyway, truth is everyone cherry picks the parts of religion that suits them and discards the rest. Some think that's being dishonest. I think that's just common sense.

This makes sense to me. It's very colonial to monolithize belief systems that evolved from the disparate religious texts and syncretic practices of dozens of kingdoms and dynasties over 4000 years, just because it shares the unique character of belonging to the Indian subcontinent. (Which is precisely why its propagated by Hindutva nutcases. They're imperialist colonizers permanently snorting Indian manifest destiny crack.)

Bestie. Friendo. My guy (gender neutral). Ideology doesn't shape society. People wrap ideology around what they already want to believe and do. This is how you get Zionists (both Christian and Jewish), Wahabi/Salafi Muslims, Hindutvas and... whatever we're supposed to call this current iteration of Theravadin Buddhism that is also characterized by ethnosupremacy and genocide. Religion takes the character of the individuals and ideologues that choose to follow it. There are no exceptions.

To reiterate the point that inspired this ask: Some LGBT folks's queerness is inextricable from their religious identity. Stigmatising and ostracizing religion in queer spaces is alienating, racist and violent. Just like no one should force religion on you, no one should force secularism on people either. There is enough air for us all to breathe free.

[talonabraxas]

I greet thee, thou that fillest the whole structure of the air, spirit that stretchest from heaven to earth... and to the confines of the abyss... spirit that also penetratest myself and leavest me again. Thou, the servant of the rays of the sun, that enlightenest the world... a great circular mysterious form of the universe, heavenly spirit, ethereal spirit, earthy, fiery, windy, light... dark spirit, that shinest like a star... Lord, god of the Aions... Ruler of everything.

'Zurvan Akarana' Talon Abraxas

ON ZURVAN AND SORCERY from my forthcoming book on the Black Mass.

Magic and Sorcery are two different knowledge traditions, where Sorcery by definition implies black magic, or perhaps even more red magic. It is the magic of fire, eroticism and blood, directly linked to what India is referred to as tantra and kundalini yoga. The word has etymological connections to "blood" and the color red, but is derived from the Latin sors, "fate", and is the knowledge to free oneself from the web of Fate and learn to rule over the cosmic web.

The goal of the LHP has its roots in the Persian Zurvan religion in part. Zurvan is a First Principle, the primordial creator deity who put the principles of good and evil, the twins, and Angra Mainyu and Ahura Mazda, also known as Ormudz and Ahriman (who has little to do with Rudolf Steiner's concept of Ahriman). By putting these principles in place, Mankind could choose to do good or harm. This is the manifestation of Karma, or Cosmic Law. Ordinary people are either connecting to good or evil. This is not pretending to be good, but doing good in actions. Zurvan is beyond time and space, beyond good and evil. Zurvan is the "one", the "alone, the Singularity with all multifold inside. The name Zurvan derives from the Middle Persian name derives from Avestan zruvan-, "time". Zurvan is Time but also because of that not under the control of Time. Zurvan is like Kali, or the gnostic Aeon and Abraxas, it is Sorath, also spelt Zurath, The Deity whose number is 666. When reaching the aura of Zurvan you become a True Sorcerer that is not trapped by the Web of Fate, but becomes The Spider. This is in the Draconian Tradition known as the mysterious NOXXON: Zurvan is The Ultimate Twin, but with the dualism united, and thus a form of both Thaumiel and Thagirion.

While white Magicians work with the circles of nature, the Sorcerer goes beyond black and white, into the Royal Color of Atlantis, the color Red that transcend beyond the dualism of our common world. The Sorcerer is on a a journey to the Existence free from the influence of The Zodiac, The Zodiac keep us in chains, but can be used by The Sorcerer. Red is also synonym to Gold,and this is an Golden Alchemical Art. Both the name Zurvan and Sorcery derive from words with connotations “time”, “fate” and “red” although perhaps from different etymological sources. To emphasize the connection Dragon Rouge sometime spell it Zorcery.

In the mysteries of Hellas Zurvan is associated with Saturn and Pluto, and to some extent Chronos , He lives in primordial Chaos, in Bythos ("depth or profundity", Greek βυθός), Proarkhe ("before the beginning", Greek προαρχή), the Arkhe ("the beginning", Greek ἀρχή), "Sophia" (wisdom). Another name for him is Zoe, which means “life” itself. Zurvan is the pure “Existence”, “Vital Force”, what is known as Kundalini by the Indians and the same as Vril and Odic Force. Zurvan is however not an abstract principle, but one of the most advanced, powerful Intelligences in Existence, far beyond anything we humans normally can grasp. A famous picture of Zuravn/Aeon/Abaxas is Leontocephaline, The Winged Lion-Serpent Son, the being that rules Thagirion, The Black Sun.

When I was in my twenties I woke up one night and as a physical manifestation Zurvan, or Abraxas as I knew the name, was rising above me. The wings were raised and the serpent around him was black and red and coiling around him looking at me. The serpent wound around the body seven turns and was radiating with the colors of the seven planets and chakras. The lower one was connected to wrought iron, which shows Zurvan's role as a figure who gives man knowledge and tools, like the Fallen Angels. At his feet I saw a rod of Caduceus shining with the light of the kundalini. He carried a staff and two keys, behind him he had a stone tablet that I could not read. The face was surrounded by a blinding strong light and I heard a weird sound as it came from the depth of the Universe and beyond. Zurvan spoke straight into my consciousness:

“You've seen me before, I have chosen you, but you do not remember our first meeting. You have entered my hall in the Black Sun with its 12 rays and 1001 gates. Take my staff, my keys and the stone tablet. In time, you will know how to use it.”

“The Fire that I am, burns all the debts and mistakes of Mankind, all guilt and all the burdens of Time. I am Fire! I only serve The Red Dragon, no one else. I am the key bearer and The Angel and Beast in one, and my number is 666. My appearance you know from ancient statues and drawings, but I am the Primal Picture, The Winged Lion-Serpent Son. That is the riddle to know me.”

“People must gather to fulfill the Prophecies, otherwise Mankind will end itself without my help. Then they are devoured by Angra Mainyu and lost in a Hell that is forever pain. Do good! Do to others whatever you would like them to do to you! Never forget The Golden Rule.

“Free yourself from both good and evil, from my angels Angra Mainyu and Ahura Mazda. Be free. Do good. Be a warrior. And I will show you how to use these keys and open the Door of Knowledge and the Door of Life. Go forward into The NIght and gather the lost and scattered people and help them find their True Self. Direct the path to the Black Sun and The Daemon with this staff. And follow the Sacred Law. It is The Law written by Lucifer.”

I was surrounded by a cloud of light in all colors and Zurvans words were absorbed right into my heart. I proclaimed: This is a Path with a Heart”

Zurvan was gone and the rest of the night I was in a state of half-sleep and lucid dreams about the objects Survan had handled over to me.

[abandoned-mars]

humanstuck names + more ! :]

john - ivan greenfield; korean/english; comic book store employee + shifty mom & pop restaurant waiter/support staff

rose - lavender buchanan; vietnamese/dominican?; sells custom clothes on depop + nsfw tumblr writer/artist

dave - dominic santiago; puerto rican/dominican; audio tech store employee + local club dj + aspiring rapper

jade - dahlia flores; pacific islander; unemployed, works for family farm

aradia - gabriella diamanté; japanese/mexican; texas road house type restaurant kitchen expo/dishwasher

tavros - antonio ‘tony’ noquez; spanish; works at dad’s animal shelter

sollux - niko park; korean; probably unemployed or sells nfts or some shit

karkat - donnie santos; black/colombian; mexican restaurant busboy + movie theatre employee

nepeta - june bernard; french/irish (white); dairy queen employee lol + volunteers @ pet shelter

kanaya - harper norris; african; sells custom clothes

terezi - quinn nephus; greek/italian (white); unemployed

vriska - viktoria ‘vikki’ huffman; russian (white); rue 21 cashier (is about to be fired)

equius - sterling rudd; black/native american?; training to be a mechanic at dad’s auto shop

gamzee - jordan scott; black/mixed; little caesar’s cook

eridan - cory reynolds; russian/scottish (white); unemployed

feferi - josephine galette; black/indian?; diner waitress + volunteers @ pet shelter

jane - janet greenfield; korean/english; pastry shop employee

roxy - macy buchanan; vietnamese/black; shitty dive bar bartender

dirk - diego santiago; puerto rican/dominican; burger king window worker/cook

jake - fletcher flores; pacific islander; texas roadhouse waiter + works on family farm

hal - alex santiago; puerto rican/dominican; thrift store cashier + furry tumblr artist

damara - anastasia ‘ana’ hoshi; japanese/mexican/filipino; hotel maid + fancy-ish restaurant waitress

rufioh - richard ‘richie’ noquez jr.; spanish; works at dad’s pet shelter + grocery store bagger

mituna - tatum ‘tate’ park; korean/welsh?; pizza delivery boy + aspiring twitch streamer

kankri - marcus santos; colombian/egyptian; diner waiter

meulin - lauren ‘laurie’ bernard; french/irish (white); coffee shop barista + tumblr writer/artist

porrim - elle norris; african; high end fashion store employee

latula - presley nephus; greek/italian (white); bowling alley attendant + dive bar bar back

aranea - leah huffman; white; restaurant hostess + interning at mom’s job

horuss - kade rudd; black/native american; dad’s auto shop mechanic + welder

kurloz - jesse scott; mixed; mexican restaurant dishwasher/cook + drug dealer

cronus - trent reynolds; white; works at dad’s company

meenah - natasha galette; black; new wave fashion store + aspiring hair braider

handmaid - hanna hoshi; japanese; house cleaner

summoner - richard ‘rich’ noquez sr.; spanish; owns the local pet shelter + personal trainer

psiioniic - jonathon park; korean; data entry manager + fixes computers for extra money

signless - derrick santos; colombian; preacher/missionary?

disciple - lizette bernard; irish; elementary school teacher

dolorosa - rosa norris; african; interior decorator?

redglare - monroe nephus; greek; lawyer

mindfang - marina huffman; russian; runs her own business (it’s a cover up for some illegal shit)

darkleer - darius rudd; native american, owns an auto shop + army weapons coordinator

ghb - grant scott; black; club bouncer

dualscar - dylan reynolds; russian; chief of surgery at hospital?

hic - cora galette; black; ceo of large cooperation (somewhat in cohorts with marina + dylan)

dad - david greenfield; white; 9-5 sales businessman

mom - lorelei buchanan; vietnamese; retired (used to be a scientist but found the cure to something and retired at like 35)

bro - drew santiago; dominican; club bouncer/dj/bartender + drug dealer + probably has an only fans

grandpa - jake flores; pacific islander; retired air force

calliope - caroline ‘callie’ umbridge; mixed; librarian assistant + stage manager at local theatre

caliborn - caleb umbridge; mixed; unemployed (reddit sub moderator)

i might go back and edit some of these bcus im not in love w all of them but i also don’t give a fuck abt most of them

[stellarcharmconstellationbattle]

Story: Battle strategy cards;‘Stellar Charm’ One Tree Hill

One Tree Hill

‘Angel Casablancas’ and their twin sister ‘Cassidy Casablancas’ are the reigning ‘Stellar Charm Card’ champions of the city. Why? From all the students and inhabitants of the city ‘One Tree Hill’ named after the ominous forest from which the entire town surrounds, the mythos and legends surrounding the condemned huaunted forest and tree upon the top of the highest mountain in the city seems to share a grim tale about a series of suicide that concerned the towns ever budding congregation that used to meet weekly for church gatherings at the foot of the ominous tree at the very top of the ecclesiastical tree, now condemned the fellowship now meets else where disbanded and scattered after the horrific events that were the result of students jumping from the top of the building, tree and mountain falling to the their deaths at the bottom of the city beneath the mountain. Walled off and forbidden territory as the signs and gates proclaim on the walls of the forbidden forest students constantly enter in hopes of finding the lost cards of a popular card game that once reigned within the town. ‘Stellar charm cards was a game of unique personal skill and talents that required one to sing, dance and use personal talents to summon your cards constellations the power from which the cards drew from. Unbeknownst to some of the students and card users, some had more than others and the more you possessed the more powerful you were compared to some who only possed two if only even one. The losers of these card games tragically forced if not pushed to end their lives from jumping to their doom amused the congregation leader who sought posses and collect all the cards. But the two twins, secretly would go from card user to card user in private consoling them and confiding within them in order to collect their card in secret, then adding their card to their book of protection, thereby spearing that student or card user from having to suicide. If one didn’t run the Forest deadly maze a deadly obstacle course of doom and make it out alive then there was no way for one to enter the condemned forest in hopes of connecting with one of the ‘stellar sacred tree’s’ one would find in hopes of connecting their soul with a sacred trees constellation of power. Thus, how the card game was born from the now candy factory that would harvest the strange fruits the trees would produce in order to create their sacred foods the town would consume in order to bring forth the unknown power within them. 

88 Officially Recognized Constellations

Latin Name

English Name or Description

Andromeda

Princess of Ethiopia

Antlia

Air pump

Apus

Bird of Paradise

Aquarius

Water bearer

Aquila

Eagle

Ara

Altar

Aries

Ram

Auriga

Charioteer

Bootes

Herdsman

Caelum

Graving tool

Camelopardalis

Giraffe

Cancer

Crab

Canes Venatici

Hunting dogs

Canis Major

Big dog

Canis Minor

Little dog

Capricornus

Sea goat

Carina

Keel of Argonauts' ship

Cassiopeia

Queen of Ethiopia

Centaurus

Centaur

Cepheus

King of Ethiopia

Cetus

Sea monster (whale)

Chamaeleon

Chameleon

Circinus

Compasses

Columba

Dove

Coma Berenices

Berenice's hair

Corona Australis

Southern crown

Corona Borealis

Northern crown

Corvus

Crow

Crater

Cup

Crux

Cross (southern)

Cygnus

Swan

Delphinus

Porpoise

Dorado

Swordfish

Draco

Dragon

Equuleus

Little horse

Eridanus

River

Fornax

Furnace

Gemini

Twins

Grus

Crane

Hercules

Hercules, son of Zeus

Horologium

Clock

Hydra

Sea serpent

Hydrus

Water snake

Indus

Indian

Lacerta

Lizard

Leo

Lion

Leo Minor

Little lion

Lepus

Hare

Libra

Balance

Lupus

Wolf

Lynx

Lynx

Lyra

Lyre or harp

Mensa

Table mountain

Microscopium

Microscope

Monoceros

Unicorn

Musca

Fly

Norma

Carpenter's Level

Octans

Octant

Ophiuchus

Holder of serpent

Orion

Orion, the hunter

Pavo

Peacock

Pegasus

Pegasus, the winged horse

Perseus

Perseus, hero who saved Andromeda

Phoenix

Phoenix

Pictor

Easel

Pisces

Fishes

Piscis Austrinus

Southern fish

Puppis

Stern of the Argonauts' ship

Pyxis

Compass on the Argonauts' ship

Reticulum

Net

Sagitta

Arrow

Sagittarius

Archer

Scorpius

Scorpion

Sculptor

Sculptor's tools

Scutum

Shield

Serpens

Serpent

Sextans

Sextant

Taurus

Bull

Telescopium

Telescope

Triangulum

Triangle

Triangulum Australe

Southern triangle

Tucana

Toucan

Ursa Major

Big bear

Ursa Minor

Little bear

Vela

Sail of the Argonauts' ship

Virgo

Virgin

Volans

Flying fish

Vulpecula

Fox

Stellar Charm-A card game:

[playermagic23]

BREAKING: Veer-Zaara to re-release in more than 600 screens overseas on November 7, making it the BIGGEST Bollywood re-release ever; Shah Rukh Khan-starrer to release in Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and Oman for the first time

Last week, Bollywood Hungama was among the first to report that Veer-Zaara (2004), starring Shah Rukh Khan and Preity Zinta, will be re-released in foreign markets on November 7. Additionally, the song 'Yeh Hum Aa Gaye Hai Kahaan' has been included to the print. The song was omitted during its original release, therefore this is the first time it can be experienced in its entirety on the big screen. Bollywood Hungama has recently revealed more, intriguing facts about the re-release, which will take place just 5 days before its 20th anniversary.

Bollywood Hungama has heard that Veer-Zaara will debut in Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and Oman. The producers, Yash Raj Films (YRF), have even published a poster commemorating this accomplishment.

And that is not all. A source told Bollywood Hungama that YRF has gone all out with Veer-Zaara's re-release. It will be shown on over 600 screens in international countries. This is perhaps the biggest re-release of a Bollywood film overseas."

Apart from Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and Oman, Veer-Zaara will be published in the United States, Canada, the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, Kuwait, the United Kingdom, Ireland, Germany, Austria, France, Australia, New Zealand, Fiji, Singapore, Malaysia, and South Africa.

Interestingly, the re-release of Veer-Zaara has sparked excitement among fans of the film. Bookings for the film in Germany began a few days ago, and the response has been positive. As a result, it will not be surprising if Veer-Zaara draws large numbers around the world this weekend.

November 2024, it appears, will be a big month for Shah Rukh Khan. On November 2, he turned 59. This will be followed by the re-release of Veer-Zaara overseas, and on November 22, his other outstanding picture, Karan Arjun (1995), will be re-released worldwide, that is, in India and foreign regions.

Veer-Zaara, directed by Yash Chopra, tells the story of a Squadron Leader in the Indian Air Force who falls in love with a young Pakistani girl while visiting India. Things take a turn when he travels to Pakistan to meet her and is detained on incorrect accusations. He spends 22 years in prison before receiving assistance from a fierce Pakistani lawyer. The epic love drama also starred Rani Mukerji, Divya Dutta, Kirron Kher, and Manoj Bajpayee, with extended cameos from Amitabh Bachchan and Hema Malini.

[fangirlshrewt97]

Story Summary - RamBheemJenny Canon Remix

Ok again with story summaries, this is a story that can be much longer, but I do not have the energy to write it. If any of you feel inspired, feel free to run with it. I initially brainstormed this story with @ronaldofandom who wanted a love triangle story. (Except I hate love triangles, so I came up with this instead).

///

Ok so the start of the movie stays the same. Malli is captured while Bheem is absent at the village, the British perpetuate their violence against the tribe, and leave with a child already traumatized beyond belief. Ram is still pig headed about his ideals, so sure they are right, and that there is no other way but brute force against his fellow brothers and sisters. Despite the emotional and physical toll, the promotions are al given to White soldiers. But. Come on. An Indian THAT willing to beat up other Indians and THAT brutal about it? That CO was sweating buckets, and definitely reports the incident to Scott.

Who is dumb and arrogant and so sure of British supremacy but also not a complete idiot. He has a niece visiting, and he does not trust her among the mongrels of this country. He meets Ram, and well, at least this brown monkey knows how to talk civilized. As much as he would prefer Jenny stay in the palace, she is coming on holiday to see the country, so keeping her sequestered makes no sense. He tells Ram he is getting a special job: Bodyguard to his niece.

Ram grits his teeth, blanks his faces and salutes the man. Inside, he is seething. He has better things to do than to babysit a child. Babai advises patience, tells him how getting to spend time with the Scotts will still let them get valuable intel, if not the guns Ram so desires. Ram begrudgingly accepts, even as he snarls at having to take a snobbish brat around the country and hearing them whine about his country. Hopefully the girl is just stupid enough to let Ram manipulate her.

Except...when the girl arrives, she is nothing like Ram expected. She doesn't have the vicious air her uncle and aunt do. She seems naive beyond compare, and is clearly way over her head and unaware about it. She's also so full of questions, and barely spends time at the mansion, which means Ram does not have the time to snoop that he had been hoping for. Some of her questions make him grind his teeth, forcing himself to breath, instead of demanding if she expected India to be a country of beggars.

He also sees as a little girl, barely 10 or 11, clearly kidnapped. He eventually learns her name is Malli, and sees how the "lady" of the house uses her as a singing toy doll, brought out for the amusement of her friends. The first time his opinion of Jenny changes is when he sees her sneak a piece of cake to the girl. He can't remember the last time any Britisher showed that kind of thoughtfulness towards one of his people. He spends the night punching the sandbag until his knuckles are all split open as punishment for his traitorous thoughts.

And yet, it keeps happening over, and over. He realizes Jenny's questions are not mean spirited, but genuine curiosity. That this is the first time she has been away from her parents, the first time she has had her own taste of freedom. Jenny notices Ram's boredom whenever she goes to the city outskirts to paint, and brings him to the mansion's library. It's the first time she notices his eyes widen in wonder. From then on, she always makes sure he is armed with a couple of books during their excursions. She laughs when she notices he has an even mix of adventure stories and military tactics books.

There is also Jake and his special posse to consider. Jenny ... doesn't like them. Finds them callous and doesn't understand how they cannot see what a lovely country they're in, why they always choose to complain about things. She also notices how ... overt Jake is about his position as heir to a small duchy and how Uncle Scott always sits him next to her. She wishes she could have Ram as a conversation partner, at least he lets her speak, instead of Jake who barely lets her express her opinions, or ridicules them when she does. The first time Jenny notices Ram is a good looking man (really notices, beyond the first impression) is when he easily shows up Jake but does it so professionally, even Jake cannot take offence without admitting he lost to him. Jenny's heart skips a beat when she notices the twitch at the corner of Ram's mouth.

Their friendship deepens. Instead of each doing their own thing during their excursions, conversation is more open. Jenny pours her heart out, her growing love for this country, sadness at the thought of having to return home. Ram doesn't share much, but he listens and he also starts to see the girl beyond the position.

He forces himself to remember just who they are to one another.

Of course living in the Scott residence, he hears all about the trouble that they are having with the elusive Gond Protector, and launches his own private investigation in his free time (yes because he hopes that capturing him will get him the promotion, but a smaller voice that he tries to shut up also tells him the singing girl is the same age as Chinna, and what would his mother say if he let a child continue to suffer and then also took away her only chance at freedom?).

Jenny notices Ram being more distracted and distant, and tamps down the disappointment in her heart.

The next few events happen quickly, with Ram chasing after Lacchu, getting caught up in that freak train accident, meeting Akthar, and befriending that man. Dosti happens, and Ram has not had many close friends, only Seetha really, but Akthar means so much to him.

Jenny notices Ram is smiling more nowadays and asks if it's a girl. Ram laughs it off and says he's made a new friend.

One day, Scott calls in Ram to ask about how Jenny is doing, and general status report type of situation. Jenny had planned to go to the market, and debates abut waiting for Ram, but honestly its only a couple things... in her car it will barely take an hour...

Bheem is still terrible at flirting but that is cause he is really not thinking of romance at the sight of this white girl. She lives in the house where Malli is. Bheem could use her to get inside. But she isn't cruel like the others, and Bheem has always been able to make friends within a few heartbeats, so what's new here?

Ram panics when he notices Jenny is missing, and Officer Harry is all too happy to rub it in his face as he brings her back.

Let's push back the timeline so instead of that very afternoon, it takes another two weeks for the garden party. Ram smiles more freely around Jenny now, and she has to control herself not to blush when she stops rambling about the party to notice him looking at her with something akin to fond indulgence. She of course wants to invite her new crush, because if Ram is pretty, the other man, Akthar is stunning. Broad and wide and strong and kind. So unlike the arrogant English boys and men she is accustomed to. She also knows that Ram is a safe fantasy that will never amount to anything, but with Akthar...she'd like to at least be able to talk to the guy! She asks Ram to start tutoring her in Hindi/Telugu, and Ram is confused but agrees.

Two weeks also gives times for a few more encounters between Bheem and Jenny, conveniently when Ram is not around. It's not that Jenny does it intentionally, but ok she doesn't want Ram to tell her uncle. More importantly though, she doesn't know how she'd react if both her crushes were in the same room together. She invites Bheem to the party anyways.

Anyways, the party happens, and two events take place. 1, the trio realize they all know each other and have a minute of tension that is thankfully interrupted by a belligerant Jake, annoyed that Jenny is more excited about two brown men than him. 2, Naatu Naatu.

In this iteration, Ram was not aware of Akthar's affections for Jenny, and he is wary but hey they are both sweet souls, and deserve happiness, even if it is temporary. He doesn't think about why his heart feels like its breaking twice. He takes comfort in the pain, uses it as a wake up call about his mission, and his promise to his father.

On his day off, Ram is walking around the city and spots Lacchu, gives chase, still tortures him, and ends up with a snake bite. Bheem saves him, reveals his identity, causes an existential crisis for Ram, and goes off to invade a party with a truck full of dangerous animals.

Ram wants to kill. Even more, he wants to die. He thought the worst the universe could do to him had already been done with the death of his family.

He was wrong.

The interval fight happens, with even more angst because at the end of it, Jenny looks just as betrayed and disgusted. Whatever bit of soul Ram had left shrivels up and dies.

Next is Komuram Bheemudo. For Ram it is the realization that he has been approaching everything through one small narrow way of looking at things. That words and ideas and spirit can serve as inspiration and weapons just as much as weapons.

If only this epiphany did not come at the cost of the life of the best man he has ever known (and the best friend he has ever had). Jenny throws up as soon as she returns to the room, summarily tells her uncle she never wants to see Ram again, and spends the next few days in bed, crying.

How could Ram have done such a thing to Akthar...Bheem? Akthar-Bheem. He was only trying to save Malli.

Except.

Except Bheem didn't die? He saved Malli and they have escaped? Ram aided and abetted them?

Jenny's head spins at this turn of events and she wishes desperately to talk to either man but is not given the chance, instead questioned thoroughly about Ram. She truthfully says she has no idea about anything about him.

Ram is scheduled for execution. Jenny makes plans to return home. She cannot stay here. Cannot watch him die.

She convinces the guards to look the other way for a single night, and goes to see Ram. Is horrified by the beatings and injuries he has sustained. She asks him why he captured Bheem. Why he let him go?

Ram doesn't give her his whole backstory. Just says he was tired of seeing his people and culture being erased by the British and he couldn't sacrifice his friend. He's ...somewhat redeemed in Jenny's book (aka she sees him as a friend again).

And when Bheem approaches Jenny (with Sita in tow), revealing the whole story, she immediately joins them in breaking Ram out. Sita gets her far from the city, so she is only distantly aware her only family in this land is dead when she sees the smoke from the debris of the mansion. Eventually the boys rejoin them all, and Bheem fulfills his promise of reuniting Ram with Sita.

(We haven't really spoken about Bheem's feelings in this iteration, but I think it's because it is the most consistent of them all. He always falls for Ram, and is betrayed, and then finds it in him to forgive his friend.)

Now which romantic and which platonic relationships spring from there, I'll leave to your indulgence. Personally, I'd like for Jenny to realize that a relationship with either is only ever going to be a fantasy. And for RamBheem, I want them to find a true friend in Jenny, beyond just her use as an ally. RamBheem themselves? Well, theirs is a bond forged in the heart of a star, born suspended over the Yamuna with an exploding train over their heads. Their souls and hearts are intertwined. Romantic readings are up to reader's discretion.

///

@rambheem-is-real @budugu @bromance-minus-the-b @hissterical-nyaan @obsessedtoafault @hufhkbgg @yehsahihai @rorapostsbl @fangirl-from-discord @fadedscarlets @alikokinav @chaotic-moonlight @rambheemisgoated @rambheemlove @jaganmaya @burningsheepcrown @lovingperfectionwonderland @rosayounan @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @thewinchestergirl1208 @dumdaradumdaradum @ronaldofandom @jjwolfesworld @jrntrtitties @kashpaymentsonly @jeonmahi1864  @stanleykubricks @m3gs1mps4a @tulodiscord @teddybat24 @sally-for-sally @ssabriel @jadebomani @stuckyandlarrystuff @veteran-fanperson @ohfuckoffpls @bheemaxrama @chaidrivenwhore @gifseafins @keyhunter04 @umbrulla

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Today in Christian History

Today is Thursday, February 22nd, 2024. It is the 53rd day of the year in the Gregorian calendar; Because it is a leap year, 313 days remain until the end of the year.

1072: (or the 23rd) Death of Peter Damian, in Faenza, Italy. A reforming monk of the Benedictine order, he will be remembered chiefly for De divina omnipotentia which questioned the limits of the omnipotence of God (e.g.: can God change the past?) and will be declared a doctor of the church in the nineteenth century.

1225: Hugh of St. Cher dons the habit of the Dominican order. He will become a notable Bible scholar and head a team that will create the first really useful Bible concordance.

1297: Death in Cortona, Italy, of St. Margaret of Cortona, a Franciscan tertiary, who had established a hospital for the poor.

1632: Zuni Indians (tribe pictured above) kill Francisco de Letrado and dance with his scalp on a pole. He had been among Spanish missionaries attempting to impose a Christian regime on the Pueblo Indians.

1649: The Westminster Assembly adjourns, having held one thousand one hundred and sixty three sessions over a period of five years, six months, and twenty-two days. They were known for their solemn fasts and long hours of prayer.

1703: General Codrington bequeaths two plantations in Barbados for medical mission work to the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, on condition that professors and scholars be maintained there to study and practice medicine, surgery, and divinity in order to “endear themselves to the people and have the better opportunities of doing good to men’s souls whilst they are taking care of their bodies.”

1822: Samuel and Catherine Clewes Leigh sail into a New Zealand Bay to begin work among the Maori. Samuel’s Ill health will force them to leave the following year, but the mission will continue under other workers.

1845: Death in London of Rev. Sydney Smith, wit and literary critic, author of The Letters of Peter Plymley. He had once tied some antlers to donkeys to pretend they were deer when an aristocratic lady was visiting. His daughter wrote, “My father died in peace with himself and with all the world; anxious to the last to promote the comfort and happiness of others. He sent messages of kindness and forgiveness to the few he thought had injured him. Almost his last act was bestowing a small living of £120 per annum on a poor, worthy, and friendless clergyman, who had lived a long life of struggle with poverty on £40 per annum.”

1870: Missionary James Gilmour sails from Liverpool to work in China and Mongolia. Made chaplain of the ship on which he is sailing, he shares the gospel with every member of the crew during the night watches.

1892: W. T. Satthianadhan, a leader of the Church Mission Society in Madras, relapses into a serious medical condition and will die within days. He had been a representative to Anglican councils in England, author of books in Tamil and English, an educator at Madras University, vice-president of the Tamil Central Church Council, and founder of benevolent associations.

1901: Charles and Lettie Cowman arrive in Japan where they will become co-founders of the Oriental Mission Society.

1911: Death in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, of Frances E. W. Harper, an African-American woman who had labored in the anti-slavery cause alongside workers such as Julia Ward Howe and Frederick Douglas. She had published a volume of poems when twenty-one years of age.

1930: Soviet agents arrest more than sixty Orthodox clergy and laity in Tomsk for “counter-revolutionary agitation” and “grouping of church people.” They will execute fifty of these individuals.

1954: The first “Voice of Tangier” program airs over a 2,500-watt transmitter. Programming is broadcast in Spanish and English. Within two years, the station will be broadcasting in more than twenty languages.

[triviareads]

this is a weird ask but do you know books that are kinky but don't have dom or daddy kink and aren't in s club?

Hi! Not a weird ask— excluding books with a D/s dynamic, daddy stuff, and set in sex(?) clubs, here's what I'd recommend:

Tastes Like Shakkar by Nisha Sharma: An Indian-American enemies(ish)-to-lovers romcom (and the only romcom in this list); Benjamin is into bondage and he does tie Bobbi up a couple times during the course of the book. I think about when he tells her he's going to hog tie her AT SOME POINT (which we do not see in the book, sadly) a lot....

I also appreciated that he was written as being very frank and matter-of-fact about it and there's no traumatic origin story; he likes what he likes, and Bobbi ends up enjoying it too.

Inside Bet by Katie Porter: A romance between a fighter pilot and an accountant (the series was billed as sexy Top Gun but Air Force instead of Navy pilots); The thing about Jon and Heather is that there is something of a power struggle between them for a lot of the book and they love one-upping each other and pushing their sexual boundaries— so there's multiple exhibitionism moments, there's some choking, and not that this is necessarily kinky but there is a butt plug used. On him.

Sinner by Sierra Simone: Zenny is a postulant (nun-in-training) and asks Sean to teach her how to have sex and Sean goes about it in a very teacher-teaching-his-student kind of way, and it definitely works for Zenny because she asks him to do the teacher thing when he finally re(?) de-flowers her. Also, the fact that he's fucking a wannabe nun.... definitely brings out his corruption kink.

Minx by Sophie Lark: An escort romance; There's pet play— Blake puts on a catsuit and ears and becomes "Minx"— but it isn't the kind with the intent to humiliate; it's more a way for Ramses to play out his caretaker fantasies. They also have an exhibitionist streak (elevator, somehow, and a road head scene that was actually EXCELLENT).

[skumburgers]

text from Pir Zia Inayat Khan's essay Persian & Indian Visions of the Living Earth in book Spiritual Ecology: Cry of the Earth

photos: Portrait of Shaikh Mu’in al-Din Hasan Chishti / The magical bird Simorgh / Shahnama / Amesha Spentas & Chakras / Shahnama cover Ferdowsi / Bhagavata Purana / Hazrat Inayat Khan

Ideas do not occur in a vacuum, and spiritual ideas are no exception. Sacred visions emerge from the disposition of human personalities, from the shape of historical events, and from the momentum of hallowed customs, but perhaps most fundamentally (transcendental sources aside), they emerge from “airs, waters, and places,” from the character of the landscapes in which they are born.

When epiphanies are redacted and passed down, the loamy pungency of their genesis frequently fades away, so that an abstract doctrine is perpetuated in place of an embodied insight. Such, however, is not always the case. Spiritual traditions are often the deepest repositories of a culture’s knowledge of the ancient bond between person and planet, soul and soil.

[...] The forces of light will thus gain ground, advancing in ascendancy, dispelling malevolence, and speeding the long-awaited day known as the frashkart, when the whole of creation is to be purified, redeemed, illuminated, and rendered immortal.

[...] All that exists is of light, for light is existence itself, the very essence of apparency. God is the “Light of Lights,” and as light kindles light, creation proliferates as a cascade of illumination poured into the dark abyss of nonbeing. In this great chain of being, the angels are links, uniting the manifest world with the infinite brilliance that is its source.

[...] There follows a long, though not infinite, series of Intellects, each receiving light from the Light of Lights and its predecessors, and bequeathing light to its successors. By this causal chain the starry sky is lit up.

[...] Nothing exists on Earth without an underpinning in the world of pure light.

[...] In like fashion, Suhrawardi’s cosmology envisions a universe that is intensely alive and inherently sacred. All existence is the effusion, in pulsing waves, of the holy of holies, the Light of Lights. Transpiring in every clod, puddle, flaming wick, and fluttering breeze is an angelic presence, a sentient and radiant delegate of the cosmic order.

[...] The Qur’an begins, “Read in the name of your Lord” (96:1). What must be read are the ayat, the signs of God. The verses of scripture are signs, but so too are the verses inscribed ”on the horizons and in themselves” (41:53). The holy books of the prophets, Earth’s rapturous geography, and the interior landscapes of the human soul are all of a piece, all pages in a single book, the book in which God’s own story is told. This is a story without end, for, “If all the trees on Earth were pens and the ocean ink, with seven oceans behind it to add to its supply, yet the words of God would not be exhausted” (31:27).

[...] As widely different as were the theological views of Muslim Sufis and Hindu yogis, they had two spiritual perceptions fully in common: the vital livingness of the elements and the status of the human form as a microcosm encapsulating the breadth, depth, and range of the whole universe.

[...] The Vamana Purana sings, “Let all the great elements bless the dawning day: Earth with its smell, water with its taste, fire with its radiance, air with its touch, and sky with its sound.”

[...] Hindu acts of worship are traditionally preceded by bhutashuddhi, the ritual purification of the elements in the body and in the landscape. In this manner the inner and outer dimensions of the universe are brought into symmetry, and the human being is sanctified as an epitome of the surrounding totality. The human heart contains fire and air, sun and moon, lightning and stars, pronounces the Chandogya Upanishad.

The Chishti Sufis share this perception. In the Sum of Yoga attributed to Khwaja Mu’in al-Din Chishti, the entire cosmos is mapped onto the human form:

Know that by His power God Most High created the human body to contain all that He created in the universe: “We will show them Our signs in the horizons and in themselves, until they see …” (41:53). God created the twelve signs of the zodiac in the heavens and also in the human body. The head is Aries, the neck is Taurus, the hands are Gemini, the arms are Cancer, the chest is Leo, the intestine is Virgo, the navel is Libra, the phallus is Scorpio, the thighs are Sagittarius, the knees are Capricorn, the shanks are Aquarius, the soles of the feet are Pisces. The seven planets that revolve beneath the zodiac may be located thus: the heart is the Sun, the liver is Jupiter, the pulmonary artery is the Moon, the kidneys are Venus, the spleen is Saturn, the brain is Mercury, the gall bladder is Mars. God the Glorious and Most High made 360 days in the year, 360 revolutions in the zodiac, 360 mountains on the face of the Earth, 360 great rivers, and in the human body, 360 segments of bone (like the mountains), 360 arteries (like the rivers), 360 epidermal tissues (like the days of the year). The motion of the stomach is like the sea, hairs are like trees, parasites are like beasts of the jungle, the face is like a built-up city, and the skin is like the desert. The world has its four seasons, and these are also present in man: infancy is spring, youth is summer, quiescence is fall, and old age is winter. Thunder corresponds to the voice, lightning to laughter, rain to tears.

To bring microcosm and macrocosm into harmony, yogis and Sufis practiced, and still today practice, kriyas, or meditations, corresponding to the four elements. In his Secret of Love, the twentieth-century Chishti Sufi ‘Aziz Miyan describes the elemental kriyas in this manner: “Earth kriya: Meditate while incrementally burying the body in the ground, from feet to head. Water kriya: Meditate while sitting underwater, lying in the rain, or pouring water over the body. Fire kriya: Meditate before a fire, uniting first with the smoke and then with the flame. Air kriya: Meditate standing on a tree, hill, or roof, wearing a single cloth, facing the wind. Breathe in and out slowly and deeply, inducing the sensation of flight.”

[...] Hazrat Inayat Khan conceived of the Earth as an animate, and in some sense sentient, whole. He wrote, “If the planet on which we live had no intelligence it could not have intelligent beings on it.”9 If Earth possesses a kind of sentience, it follows that the planet may be susceptible to suffering, and Hazrat Inayat Khan made just such an assertion when he wrote, “My deep sigh rises above as a cry of the Earth, and an answer comes from within as a message.” The message of his talks and writings was a call to contemplate the moral and spiritual interconnectedness, and ultimate ontological unity, of all life.

[...] The sacred texts of Mazdaism, Hinduism, and Islam provide a profusion of illuminating perspectives on the nature of embodied existence. While there are undeniable differences in the worldviews communicated in these texts, certain key principles emerge as common understandings. Foremost among these is the insight that the manifest universe is a marvel of providential grace. Following on this is the perception that not only humans, animals, and plants, but all material forms partake of the pervasive light and power of creation, and bear recognition as spiritually alive. Further, the texts make clear the error of imagining human life as hovering autonomously above the natural world. Mystical contemplation of the human form conduces to the realization that the body is profoundly embedded within the wholeness of nature, a totality that each human physically and spiritually personifies. The Indo-Persian prophetic traditions agree: the Earth is alive, we live in and through her, and as we are in her keeping, so is she in ours.

[o-craven-canto]

Ea: Our Second Chance (6b)

6b. The Commander

(< 7. Ean biochemistry) (> 8. Fuscophyta: Ea’s black plants)

(This chapter, set several decades into the future, should not be taken in any way as endorsement of the current Turkmen government.)

« Make no mistake: we are all soldiers in the war against entropy. We were conscripted before our birth; and we will win, compact and resolute, or we will all die. Which do you choose? » – “Gene Taylor”, Hypertopian Manifesto, finale

« A long life is the most pointless of goals. Compared to eternity, living a year or a million is the same. Sooner or later, you will go down. Go down fighting. » – advisor Parashurama Khand, Thoughts and Memoirs

« Father, I did it. You always told me to fly, and six months from now I will fly higher than anyone else ever did. I am the first of the Ten Thousand. They told me yesterday, and this is the first moment I can sit down and think. No, only write, I'll need sleep before I can think. So many tests, so many interviews! They must know me as well as you, now. Tomorrow I'll have to talk to the press. What will I say? What could anyone say?

I don't envy the paperpushers in Geneva. The Indians wanted to put in charge one of their own, that Chinese billionaire tried to buy a way in for her friends, West China forbid it, Europe had riots in the streets, East Africa and the Four Lions were at each other’s throats. They proposed one from Japan and there was anger, one from Israel and there was anger, one from Ghana and there was anger. Even the Swiss couldn't be trusted. Agents of India and the UN, they said. That's why they chose me in the end, I imagine. Even now, after all that happened, Turkmenistan has no friends and no enemies.

So is this what everyone will think about me? The last resort, the winner by default, the safe choice? The compromise candidate? To the devil with them – there is something greater in action. The spirit of humanity rolls no dice. I've always known something like this was going to happen, ever since I applied for the air force. No, ever since you bought me that book on Gagarin when we were in Ashgabat. No, ever since I've seen the stars over our home, the Great Blue Heaven. I've always known, I've just never believed, until yesterday.

Could you believe it? Ten thousand people, the best of humankind. (Or the best that humankind can afford to send away.) You told me I could do anything because I have the blood of Amir Timur in my veins. You didn't tell me that so do ten million other people. That's good, though, because I will need as many strong and capable people as I can get. Ten thousand! I look at my badge, and it says "0001". Whatever I tell them to do, they'll do; and it will be history.

But I didn't sign up to rule, I signed up to do my duty. To my family, my country, and now my species. To you, who gave me so much. But when we leave this planet, I'll have to think always of the future, never of the past, and so I'll never be able to think of you again. So I write, now that I still can.

So many tests and trials, and one is worse than all others. Did you know they wouldn't pick someone who has living family? Not as Commander, not as mission officer. Apparently this is so they will always be focused on the mission and never look back at what they left.

I was angry at you, when you left me alone. But now I see that maybe that was your last gift. So that you could make me fly even higher.

Wherever you are, father, fly with me. »

– Colonel Arslana Samirowa, commander of the Seeding mission, private journal, March 2069 (Ean Historiographic Archive)

[bouqetofmemes]

unfortunate guest

Warning:Theres gore Here I think but like it’s gonna be in like every chapter I think 🧍‍♂️

“Mistress, it is time to wake up." "Oh, it's morning already?"

"Today, you will accompany Ciel for what he does today." "Don't I always do that?" *chuckle* "Why yes you do mistress."

"Good morning Ciel." Said Y/n as she walked into the dining area "Good morning Y/n."

"OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW!" "WHAT WAS THAT FOR MASTER?!" "What did I do?" "Nothing, I don't need to justify my actions."

You heard Sebastian talking to the others about something

"SO GET TO WORK!" Sebastian yells at the others

"Well, Ciel, how do you think our guest will act?" Y/n says worriedly while caressing Ciel's hand and sitting next to him on his chair in the study "I don't know." Ciel says looking bored

"He's here." Y/n said looking out the window spotting the carriage

You we're watching Ciel play a board game with your guest by the window

"Perfect... expanding the company... force..." 'I wonder, what happened to Ciel before we met.' 'I was stuck living with this family that kept me but insulted and abused me everyday.' 'What if... what if Ciel thinks that I'm a bother to his work, what if he thinks that I'm imperfect in every way, shape, and form!?' As Y/n thought this she subconsciously bit her thumb hard "Sister, is something the matter?" Ciel says "Oh-, no brother I'm fine, I just need some fresh air." Y/n says assuringly while walking out the door 'Bloody hell, what if he doesn't even love me, am I a mistake of a sister to him?' Y/n thought this while tearing up and then deciding to run to her room.

                   As she gets in she slams the door and starts bawling her eyes out 'GOD DAMN IT, WHY DOES HE EVEN WANT ME?!'

Nearing the end of Y/n's crying Sebastian knocks on Y/n's doors *sniff* *clears throat* "Come in!" Y/n says cheerfully "Mistress, dinner is ready." "Oh, already? Well that was quick!" Y/n said walking(running) out the door

While Sebastian was going all out about dinner to the guest Ciel nudged Y/n "Hey, what were you thinking about earlier?" Ciel whispered "Oh, uh- I was thinking about a complicated problem to solve, I managed to solve it after I looked for guidance in a book."

"Sebastians watching me I can't do it!" Mey-Rin said *gasp* 'Oh dear, she's spilling the wine, THE FUCKING WINE!' Y/n was having a panic attack in her head *whoosh* 'And there goes the table cloth.'

"That man, he's weird." Said Y/n "We didn't finish the game yet." Ciel pouted as he rested his head on Y/n’s "He's probably wanting the money." Y/n said 'He's probably going to get seriously injured...'

"MAMA MIA!" *chuckle* *giggle* "What an unattractive scream, he sounds almost like a pig, taken off the slaughter." "What presumption" "First, he sells the East Indian factory without telling us, and then he dares to ask for more money." "Did he think to retain our trust?" "I'm afraid once something is truly lost..." Ciel started "One can never get it back again..." Y/n ended sitting next to Ciel and hugging his side staring off into the distance

Bro everything looks random I feel like I got dyslexia just reviewing this 

https://at.tumblr.com/bouqetofmemes/so-are-we-gonna-get-cake-still/h8d329fx7mwl

[volkswagonblues]

2022 in review - my fave books I read this year:

[a subjective list]

In the Dream House, by Carmen Maria Machado

I was surprised when I flipped back in my notebooks and realised I really did only read it this year. A brief summary: Machado wrote this as a sort of autofiction about an ex-girlfriend. It was not a good relationship, to put it simply. It was a very bad one. The dream house that Machado imagined for herself became a prison. I think it captures the heart of abusive relationships, which is that it fucks with you so much that its nearly impossible piece it together in a clear narrative. Every incident of rage, cruelty, deceit -- it boils down to a “they said, I said” event, which Machado captures deftly by making every chapter a different genre. I wish I have the brilliance to do justice to how smart and how “crafty” this book is, but let me put it this way: I once lent this to a friend on vacation, and she blew off a day of waterfall watching and hiking in Yosemite to finish reading.

Sea of Poppies trilogy, by Amitav Ghosh

Trilogy of historical novels set around the First Opium War. Ghosh is an Indian writer with an interest in the lives of how the opium trade affected the lives of Indian and Chinese people at the time. It’s just -- really nice to read a historical novel that’s not from a white POV, but that’s also not afraid to paint the Indian and Chinese characters a comedic brush. There are crossdressing mystics and conniving merchants and campy oil painters, and so even though the subject matter is depressing as hell, but I would still describe it as a hilarious picaresque.

The Lying Life of Adults, by Elena Ferrante

It’s one of those books that I didn’t really enjoy reading, yet I couldn’t put it down and thought about for a long time afterwards. Ferrante has a knack for creating this very specific type of female character who sits in their world like a massive planetary body, pulling everything else in the narrative into their gravitational field. I like that a lot. It’s one thing to write a strong/interesting/3d blah blah blah female character, but another to write a female character who moves the entire book’s people and events through her sheer force of presence.

Ducks, by Kate Beaton

Dude. Just read it. READ IT.

-- “Ambrose--were you a fisherman, before?”

-- “I’m still a fisherman. I’m just here.”

Landing, by Emma Donoghue

Very cute queer love story about a Dublin air hostess and a butch small-town Ontario museum curator. What can I say, I think Slammerkin or The Wonder are objectively better writing, but this one is just cuter and hits me with that fresh early 00′s nostalgia.

Orwell’s Roses, by Rebecca Solnit

“Plants made the world, over and over...Think of the Carboniferous as a sixty-million-year inhale by plants, sucking carbon dioxide from the sky, and the last two hundred years as a monstrous human-engineered exhale, undoing what the plants did so long ago.”

The Woks of Life cookbook

Okay, first time that a cookbook made it to my top of the year list. But my god, it’s more than a cookbook -- the whole Leung family wrote it together, and there’s pages and pages of their family history, including the dad’s recollections of growing up working in a Chinese restaurant in the Catskills, driving home every week from New York as an adult to help with the weekend rush. I’ve made the stirfry cabbage and drypot cauliflower and the shrimp thing with the frozen peas and DAMN. no joke people think im a cooking genius

The Memory Police, by Yoko Ogawa

It’s not a pyrotechnic novel, but a gentle, haunting one. On an unnamed island, things faded from the islanders’ memories: photographs, roses, perfume, birds, lighthouses. After awhile, people themselves start to fade away. I think of it as a COVID novel, even though it was written in the mid 90s.

[lilywrites9]

Top 5 Out of the Box Sonam Kapoor Movies

Sonam kapoor Indian actress Ahuja performs in Hindi-language movies. She has received a National Film Award and a Filmfare Award, and from 2012 to 2016, she was listed among Forbes India's Celebrity 100 based on her popularity and earnings.

Fashion and Sonam Kapoor go hand in hand. And enjoyment too. It's no secret that we enjoy Sonam Kapoor's choice of entertaining films to act in. Her films frequently have a carefree, sunny, perfect day feel. Popcorn movies at their very best.

Aisha

Rajshree Ojha is the director of the 2010 Hindi-language romantic comedy-drama Aisha. Sonam Kapoor, Abhay Deol, Ira Dubey, Cyrus Sahukar, Amrita Puri, Anand Tiwari, Arunoday Singh, and Lisa Haydon are all part of the ensemble cast in this comedy of manners. It is a version of Jane Austen's 1815 novel Emma and is set in the upper-class society of Delhi, India. It has the same tone as the cult Hollywood movie Clueless (1995), which is also an adaptation of Austen's book. Aisha, which debuted on August 6, 2010, had a mediocre box office performance. Critics gave it mixed to favourable reviews. She characterised her persona as an intrusive diva with a penchant for playing Cupid and matchmaking.

2.Neerja

The 2016 Indian biographical thriller film Neerja, which was written by Saiwyn Quadras and Sanyuktha Chawla Shaikh, was directed by Ram Madhvani. The narrative is based on a true incident: the attempted hijacking of Pan Am Flight 73 by the Abu Nidal Organization, which was supported by Libya, on September 5, 1986 in Karachi, Pakistan. The head purser of the flight, Neerja Bhanot, who stopped the hijack attempt by warning the pilots and forcing them to ground the aircraft, is portrayed in the movie. Bhanot lost his life while attempting to save the 359 survivors among the 379 passengers and crew. She played the role of the air hostess Neerja Bhanot, who perished in 1986 while attempting to save the passengers of Pan Am Flight 73, which had been hijacked.

Since the project is based on actual events, Kapoor felt a sense of responsibility towards it. As part of her role preparation, she met the Bhanot family. The movie received a lot of positive reviews, and many critics thought that Kapoor gave her best performance to date. According to Raja Sen, her performance was a career-defining moment, and Rohit Vats of the Hindustan Times observed that "she carries entirely on her shoulder." She conveys a mixture of sincere, fear, goodwill, and boldness. Rajeev Masand invited Kapoor to his yearly best actresses roundtable, and Sen named Kapoor the best actress in Hindi film of 2016. In addition to numerous other honours, Kapoor received a Special Mention for a National Film Award and a Filmfare Award for Best Actress (Critics).

3. Raanjhanaa

Beloved One, also known as Raanjhanaa, is a 2013 Indian Hindi-language romantic drama film that was written and directed by Aanand L. Rai. Kapoor played the part of Varanasi-based Muslim student Zoya Haider, who becomes involved in politics as a result of the murder of her Sikh lover. Kapoor met with students, went to workshops, and practised with theatre groups affiliated with Jawaharlal Nehru University in order to get ready for her role. Additionally, she looked at Jaya Bachchan's performance in Guddi (1971), which she thought was "ideal" for the part. In response to a question about her role in the movie, Kapoor gave the following explanation of her acting style: "I have always tried to do diverse films and… I strive to be different for every character. The film was superhit at box office.

4. Delhi 6

Rakesh Omprakash Mehra is the director of the 2009 drama film Delhi-6, which was made in Hindi. Abhishek Bachchan plays an NRI in the movie who travels to India with his elderly grandmother (Waheeda Rehman) and starts learning about his ancestry before becoming involved in a religious issue involving an unknown attacker who resembles a monkey. After receiving its world debuts at the Museum of Modern Art and the Dubai International Film Festival, Delhi-6 was finally released on February 20, 2009, to critical and box office acclaim. Although it did poorly financially, it earned mixed reviews from critics, who praised the soundtrack and the cast's performances while criticising the plot, writing, and pacing. Best Production Design went to Delhi-6 at the 57th National Film Awards (Samir Chanda).

5. Veere Di Wedding

Female buddy comedy Veere Di Wedding is a 2018 Hindi-language movie that was produced by Rhea Kapoor, Ekta Kapoor, and Nikhil Dwivedi and directed by Shashanka Ghosh. Starring Kareena Kapoor Khan, Sonam K. Ahuja, Swara Bhaskar, and Shikha Talsania as four friends attending a wedding, the movie is loosely based on the 2015 movie The Wedding Ringer. On June 1, 2018, Veere Di Wedding was released in theatres to mixed reviews. The movie, which had a budget of $28,000,000, ended up earning over 139,000,000 globally, making it the highest-grossing Hindi film of the year and the biggest for a movie with female leads. At the 64th Filmfare Awards, it garnered three nominations, including Best Supporting Actress for Talsania and Bhaskar.