#Soroush

[boudex11]

(SOROUSH)

[anistg]

(SOROUSH)

[kokomody]

(SOROUSH)

[fatehtige]

(SOROUSH)

[vsk56]

(SOROUSH)

[palushiemalis-fr]

Dergtober -- Day 23 -- Mask

meet Soroush, the clan nurse. He will get your ass for not doing self care.

Abraxos awoke with a throat tickle; his neck lunged out from the tight curl he had been sleeping in and hacked out a cough. He groaned, it was a fever. He knew he had felt ill the past week or so but had been ignoring it in favour of continuing his experiments. He shook out his sweaty mane and rolled onto his back with a huff. "Steady on!" A small voice squeaked. Abraxos looked down at his sternum. A Veilspun was clinging on to him, tiny claws dug into his scales. He was a tiny thing, all green and fluttery. His long mane braided back from his head. "Oh, err, apologies..." Abraxos managed hoarsely, too weary to question what he was doing in his chambers, "... who are you again?" "Soroush." The Veilspun gave a little bow, before padding up to his neck, "I am the clan nurse. I was informed you weren't the sociable type when I did my rounds of check ups when I first arrived. Nevertheless, Lassuarium sent me--" "Of course she did..." He muttered. "Don't interrupt. She sent me because she was alerted to the fact you were ailing." Soroush, pressed an upturned ear to his throat, presumably to check his pulse and temperature. "She never minds her own business." He grunted. "It is the lair's business when you insist on coughing and wheezing all night and waking up Marmaroth's little ones!" He snapped, "You have Alchemist's Pox. You must be kept warm and supplied hot peppermint tea." "I see." he said, raising an eyebrow, "That was a quick assessment--" "Are you doubting my qualifications? Because I'll have none of that. As I was saying, you're to rest and not leave this chamber. I'll see to it that it is well ventilated and remove the dust covering everything as it is no doubt exacerbating your condition." The idea of this tiny nuisance cleaning, and no doubt rearranging and changing the calibration, of his laboratory was a pox in itself. He had dwelled in the Wyrmwound as a hatchling, a pox couldn't hurt him. And, he thought, his chamber wasn't dirty, it was attuned to his exact liking! Dust couldn't do any harm to his tough lungs; it was just flecks and bits from his experiments. The truly toxic things were all kept in sealed jars and never opened for long. Besides... it was his room. His own chamber. No one bothered him usually why care now? He was about to protest when he felt another wretched tickle in his throat, he coughed and growled as the pain seized in his chest. Soroush fluttered onto his antlers and peered in him in the eye and put his cheek to Abraxos' huge brow. "...You promise?" "Promise. The dust in here is nasty stuff, I can smell it. Poor thing, you've been breathing it for so long you don't even notice it. I'll have it out in no time at all." "... Okay..." Abraxos sighed and laid his head down on his pillow, which Soroush took to plumping immediately. He felt the tiniest claw on his snout, petting him before he closed his eyes. He fell asleep to a small voice chanting a enchanted wind into the room; a warm but fresh breeze swirling around every nook and cranny. It tousled his mane and tail tuft, it cooled his throat and left him feeling adrift. As the wind caressed him, he soon fell deep asleep.

this one was a quick one to catch up lol

[thefailurecult]

[ahb-writes]

Comics Review: ‘Kings of Nowhere’ #2

Kings of Nowhere, Vol. 2 by Soroush Barazesh My rating: 4 of 5 stars The social and ethical dilemmas facing the hybrid animal folk of the Kings of Nowhere comics leap forward, as repeated sparks of gang violence threaten to burn away more than the usual foolhardy thug. In this world, life is only easy if someone much stronger than you is in a position to make life easier for you. Otherwise, you scratch and you save and you keep your wits and you pay your dues. For an old mechanic and his impulsive grandkid, the truth of this conceit runs deep. KINGS OF NOWHERE v2 makes good on the comic's larger themes of witnessing the many ways urban violence tends to converge and coalesce the lives of innocent or unrelated parties. Kiyoshi is an old dude known for running an honest body shop. He has to fend off the occasional idiot from the Tundra Renegade group, a local gang, but otherwise, he's a solid businessman. His grandson, Dante, age 11, follows suit, but would honestly rather take up a sword in defense. Both nudge their way through life, despite their troubles. Neither expect a run-of-the-mill customer, a monkey named Bass, to bust a thug's nose, drive the guy's face through a coffee table, and challenge the senior leadership of the Tundra Renegade group to a brawl. But then again, that's the kind of world these characters live in. The enduring irony of urban gangsters extorting small businesses for protection money, only to require a bit of protection themselves when circumstances shift, has been tread many times over. For readers interested in where this comic book differs, then one need only consider the author's integration of extraordinarily well-drawn fight scenes, affection for back-biting and sarcastic character dialogue, and knack for the fundamentals of plotting. On the surface, readers may not see much new in KINGS OF NOWHERE v2, but they'll find plenty storytelling that's fun and engaging. The previous volume of the comics series is a vibrant primer. The current volume kicks things up a notch. Bass is a guy with a dark past. He tries to avoid trouble. But his temper often catches up with him. And he's not so foolish as to ignore the consequences of his actions. It also helps that he's a ridiculously skilled fighter who knows how to put his body on the line, if need be. The book focuses on characters whose actions or behaviors stand as representative vanities of violence as it moves, shakes, and unmakes the urban environment. Bass is quiet and ruthless and doesn't like talking to idiots, but he'll admit when he's made a mistake. Giovanni, a foot soldier of the Tundra Renegade group, is an incompetent dreamer who reasons bigger guns are better because that's always worked for him before. Stone, a rockhopper penguin hybrid guy, adores alcohol, adores things that explode, and rarely hesitates to kiss up to his gang leader; his nonchalance is both humorous and unsettling. And Dante wants cold-hearted revenge, despite his lack of experience, lack of knowledge, and lack of strength. Few of these characters get what they want out of life, much less what they expect. But all of them have forged some passable relationship with violence that enables them to scrape by for yet another day. KINGS OF NOWHERE v2 is written and drawn exactly how action comics are meant to be written and drawn: the point of view shifts reader attention to details that factor into play (e.g., bloody nose, dropped weapon, glass of milk); weapons are only as functional as their operators are competent (e.g., wine bottles, ice grenades, katana swords); and the best fights make use of everything imaginable (e.g., lane-changing cars on the highway, comically weak thugs who pass out, a vantage point for the Shakespearean chorus to provide running commentary). It's no surprise the best martial arts films of the past decades have integrated these features as well; good action storytelling with engaging fight scenes requires extraordinary attention to detail and an ardent affection for characters with more to lose than they care to admit. In KINGS OF NOWHERE v2, Bass's 20-page fight scene with Jo, an arctic hare with telekinetic abilities (and a misguided sense of fatalism), is a fight that's all kinds of insane; it's also incredibly fun. KINGS OF NOWHERE v2 is the type of comic book that's a blast to read because it's all parts chaotic and clever and ridiculous. The current volume is more subtle in its moralizing of the limits of human resilience in the face of urban decay, but with characters who deliver on these conceits on every page, the book's pulse refuses to fade until the final panel.

Comics Reviews || ahb writes on Good Reads

[forzamentis]

The Ape and the Dragon, by comic artist Soroush Barazesh.

Soroush Barazesh: Instagram | Twitter

[deliandiver]

Я не знаю ни слова на Фарси, но как бы там ни было... Никто не сможет устоять. Вокал: Мухаммад-Реза Шаджарян Музыка: Соруш Камалян

[graphicpolicy]

Return to the Golden Age of the Jedi in Star Wars: The High Republic Adventures Phase III

Return to the Golden Age of the Jedi in Star Wars: The High Republic Adventures Phase III #comics #comicbooks #starwars #highrepublic

The Force is strong in the latest Dark Horse Comics and Lucasfilm Publishing team-up, beginning with Star Wars: The High Republic Adventures Phase IIIissue #1. In this new comics chapter, the marauders known as the Nihil have claimed numerous sectors of space for themselves. Worlds are trapped in this insidious Occlusion Zone. And so are the Jedi. But is there still hope? Find out in the latest…

[ceffelkalem]

...

1-

Zifiri karanlık.

Bir ağacın dibinde, gökyüzünü izlerken,

Geçmişe dair ne varsa aklında labirentlerinde dolaşıyor.

2-

Dostoyevski'nin roman karakterine dönüşmeden önceki son merhale,

Güle ulaşmadan dikene katlanırken vazgeçmeye ramak kala, hayır, anlatamadım. Yeşilırmağın kenarında duran banklardan birinde dünyaya neden geldiğini sorgulayan bir edayla suya dalmalar..

3-

Ve son.

Gecenin son otobüsü duraktan ayrıldıktan sonra peşinden uzun uzun bakmalar.. Giderken kalmanın verdiği çile, kalırken gitmenin sunduğu pişmanlık.

Şairin bir dağa bakarken hiç birşey hissetmemesi gibi birşey.

Ey kemankeş.. Avazın çıktığı kadar sus.

...

[februarytrash]

soroush took us to his old trap house

[fatehtige]

(SOROUSH)

[delicatuscii-wasbella102]

"Iran’s Hormuz Island, Majara, by Zav Architects built by local workers using the Superadobe construction technology, plaster, sand soil, and minimal concrete and steel to reduce the project’s environmental impact. Photography by Soroush Majidi."

[palushiemalis-fr]

Abraxos awoke with a throat tickle; his neck lunged out from the tight curl he had been sleeping in and hacked out a cough. He groaned, it was a fever. He knew he had felt ill the past week or so but had been ignoring it in favour of creating additional imbued sulphur for the clan's supplies. He shook out his sweaty mane and rolled onto his back with a huff. "Steady on!" A small voice squeaked. Abraxos looked down at his sternum. A Veilspun was clinging on to him, tiny claws dug into his scales. He was a tiny thing, all green and fluttery. His long mane braided back from his head. "Oh, err, apologies..." Abraxos managed hoarsely, too weary to question what he was doing in his chambers, "... who are you again?" "Soroush." The Veilspun gave a little bow, before padding up to his neck, "I am the clan nurse. I was informed you weren't the sociable type when I did my rounds of check ups when I first arrived. Nevertheless, Lassuarium sent me--" "Of course she did..." He muttered. "Don't interrupt. She sent me because she was alerted to the fact you were ailing." Soroush, pressed an upturned ear to his throat, presumably to check his pulse and temperature. "She never minds her own business." He grunted. "It is the lair's business when you insist on coughing and wheezing all night and waking up Marmaroth's little ones!" He snapped, "You have Alchemist's Pox. You must be kept warm and supplied hot peppermint tea." "I see." he said, raising an eyebrow, "That was a quick assessment--" "Are you doubting my qualifications? Because I'll have none of that." Soroush snapped, before drawing himself back up on his hind legs to glare at him eye to eye, "As I was saying, you're to rest and not leave this chamber. I'll see to it that it is well ventilated and remove the dust covering everything as it is no doubt exacerbating your condition." The idea of this tiny nuisance cleaning, and no doubt rearranging and changing the calibration, of his laboratory was a pox in itself. He had dwelled in the Wyrmwound as a hatchling, a pox couldn't hurt him. And, he thought, his chamber wasn't dirty, it was attuned to his exact liking! Dust couldn't do any harm to his tough lungs; it was just flecks and bits from his experiments. The truly toxic things were all kept in sealed jars and never opened for long. Besides... it was his room. His own chamber. No one bothered him usually, why care now? He was about to protest when he felt another wretched tickle in his throat, he coughed and growled as the pain seized in his chest. Soroush fluttered onto his antlers and peered in him in the eye and put his cheek to Abraxos' huge brow. "I'll send for some honey tincture..." His voice soothing, "You're a strong thing, but you need to sleep. From the look of this place and the sound of your phlegm, this has been a long time coming, hm? Please trust me, I shan't move anything out of place, you'll thank me in the long run." "...You promise?" "Promise. The dust in here is nasty stuff, I can smell it. Poor thing, you've been breathing it for so long you don't even notice it. I'll have it out in no time at all." "... Okay..." Abraxos sighed and laid his head down on his pillow, which Soroush took to plumping immediately. He felt the tiniest claw on his snout, petting him before he closed his eyes. He fell asleep to a small voice chanting a enchanted wind into the room; a warm but fresh breeze swirling around every nook and cranny. It tousled his mane and tail tuft, it cooled his throat and left him feeling adrift. As the wind caressed him, he soon fell deep asleep.

Soroush & Abraxos. Grumpy Boy meets Grumpy Nurse C:

adoptable by @squeeblestudio