#Traveling to India Best Time of Year

[arjunastic9]

Le Passage to India : Traveling to India Best Time of Year, Traveling to India, Nepal, and Bhutan

Introduction to Traveling to India, Nepal, and Bhutan

Embark on a journey to the mesmerizing lands of India, Nepal, and Bhutan, where every corner holds a tale of ancient civilizations, breathtaking landscapes, and vibrant cultures. Exploring these enchanting destinations offers a passage to an extraordinary world filled with diversity and wonder. Before setting foot on this remarkable odyssey, it’s crucial to understand the best time to visit and unravel the secrets each season holds.

Exploring the Mystique of the Indian Subcontinent The Indian subcontinent is a kaleidoscope of experiences, ranging from the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas to the sun-kissed beaches of Goa. Its rich tapestry of history, spirituality, and tradition captivates travelers from around the globe.

Overview of Nepal and Bhutan Nestled amidst the majestic Himalayas, Nepal and Bhutan boast awe-inspiring landscapes and ancient heritage. Nepal, with its towering peaks and serene valleys, is a haven for trekkers and spiritual seekers alike. Meanwhile, Bhutan, often referred to as the “Land of the Thunder Dragon,” exudes a mystical charm with its preserved culture and pristine environment.

Best Time to Visit India Understanding India’s Diverse Climate India’s vast geographical expanse results in varied climatic conditions across different regions. From the snow-clad Himalayas in the north to the tropical beaches in the south, each part of India experiences distinct weather patterns.

Seasonal Breakdown Winter (October to March) Winter marks the peak tourist season in most parts of India, offering pleasant weather for exploration. Northern India experiences chilly temperatures, making it ideal for visits to destinations like Delhi, Agra, and Rajasthan. Southern India enjoys milder winters, perfect for beach holidays and wildlife safaris.

Summer (April to June) Summer brings scorching temperatures to the Indian subcontinent, particularly in the plains and desert regions. Hill stations such as Shimla, Darjeeling, and Ooty provide respite from the heat, attracting travelers seeking cooler climates.

Festivals and Events India’s cultural calendar is brimming with vibrant festivals throughout the year. From the colorful Holi celebrations in spring to the dazzling Diwali lights in autumn, each festival offers a unique glimpse into India’s rich heritage and traditions.

[liesmyth]

Do you think the Nine Houses follow a Marxist, Keynsian, or Austrians economic model

this ask made me SO happy you have no idea! some vague thoughts

The Houses obviously have to do careful resource allocation. I doubt they have a free market economy, at least not on a system-wide scale. I could see some of the Houses — like the Third or Fifth Houses, which are by all accounts wealthy and with a very large population — develop some kind of internal capitalist economy within the House itself. Namely, private actors who control and own properties, wealth accumulation, competitive markets etc. But ultimately I think even those are subject to strong (local) governmental oversight because, again, they live on space installations in a situation of constant resource constraint. I bet there are quotas for everything.

However! No way ALL the Houses have a market economy. I'm thinking especially those Houses that are very small and/or have a "mission" which means that societal development is carefully planned, and probably the economy is also centrally planned. (Ninth, Eight, Sixth, maybe Second and/or Fourth).

On an overreaching scale (within the Home System) I don't think "the Empire" (as in, John) is overly concerned with the yearly economic development of the Houses, partly because he's been historically absent for decades or even centuries at a time. Verging sharply into headcanon territory, I think the closest thing the Houses have to a real centralised government is military leadership (High Command or the Fleet Admiral, who's the head of the Second House) and when it comes to issues that concern multiple Houses but are more "civilian" in nature, is kind of a free-for-all. I'm thinking about how Harrow thought that writing to ask for help would result in the Fifth or maybe the Third cannibalising the Ninth House — it looks like there's an informal council of House leaders, but no properly organised central government.

Trade: travel and commerce between the Houses is regulated. You can't just take a spaceship and move from the Eight to the Second, for example — movement of people as well as goods depends on a ship schedule that runs on "routes" and I'd bet there's an immigration/emigration quota that's maybe decided between specific House leaders, or maybe a third party. My best bet is that one of the Houses (possibly the Third or Fifth) OR an ad-hoc organisation (which includes multiple higher-ups from said well-off Houses) are the ones who regulate shipping and travel, and either have an ownership stake in the shipping system or administrate it in the name of the Emperor.

The shepherded planets: putting the "imperialism" in "Empire". The Houses definitely exploit their colony planet for resources, as per AYU (talking about the "contracts" that the Empire signs with the occupied planets). However, it's also worth noting that 1) for at least 5000 years, the House system was self-sustaining and hadn't made contact with any other population; and 2) stele travel is kind of a hassle, and only seems to be limited to Cohort ships that we know of.

What I'm getting at is that I think the economy of the Houses is not dependent on their war of conquest — imo it's more of a mission of conquest for conquest's sake, see Corona thinking that the economy of the Houses doesn't quite add up, and Augustine talking like the ongoing expansion of the Houses is a whim of John's and little else. Basically, it seems to be a way to oppress the occupied planet for occupation's sake, and I wouldn't be surprised if the resources the Houses extract from the conquered planets go straight into financing yet more war and occupation and very little (if any) of any wealth they may accumulate makes it back to the Houses.

It COULD be that there's a necromantic equivalent of the East India Company, and my bet would be on the Second administrating it — Harrow doesn't seem to rate them at all, which tracks because Harrow's primary concern is Houses that could be a threat to the Ninth, and the Second being focused on exploitation that's external to the Home System could be an explanation for that. I've also seen speculation that making money from colonialism is the Fifth House's purview (*) but EYE think it makes more sense if the House that are more strongly associated with running the war effort are also the ones making money from it. Or it could be a joint operation.

(*) never forget the iconic tag #we regret to inform you that spreadsheets dad is maybe running the necromantic East India Company @katakaluptastrophy here)

Anyway. Sorry I haven't answered your actual question! GUN TO MY HEAD, if I had to pick ONE economic model to map the Houses onto, I wanna say soviet type economy (think: centralised planning, no inflation, little to no unemployment, tendency towards black market, little to no innovation). I have thoughts about what the consumer needs market looks like in the Houses but nobody needs to hear that. Also, it's def very limited

If anyone has thoughts PLEASE feel free to jump in, I'm always thinking about the logistical side of space imperialism in the necro empire!

[waitmyturtles]

(Source)

The Lower House (House of Representatives) will be hearing Thailand’s marriage equality bill at 9:30 am Bangkok time (10:30 pm Eastern for those of us in the States). The bill, if passed, would still have to be approved in Thailand’s Senate.

(Source and source)

Below the fold is Bloomberg.com's report on the happenings (source):

Bill to Legalize Same-Sex Marriage in Thailand Heads to Parliament

Bill is supported by most major parties, needs king approval

Thailand would be first in region to codify marriage equality

By Patpicha Tanakasempipat, March 26, 2024 at 2:00 PM PDT

A bill to legalize same-sex marriage could face a vote in Thailand’s parliament as early as Wednesday. If it passes, the country will be the first in Southeast Asia to establish marriage rights for gay and lesbian couples.

The House of Representatives will take up the legislation, technically an amendment to the Civil and Commercial Code, for second and third readings when it meets at 9 a.m. Lawmakers may vote later in the day.

The bill would legalize marriage for same-sex partners aged 18 and above, along with rights to inheritance, tax allowances and child adoption, among others. Prime Minister Srettha Thavisin’s administration has made it a signature issue, and advocates say it would also burnish Thailand’s reputation as an LGBTQ-friendly tourist destination.

Taiwan and Nepal are the only places in Asia that currently recognize same-sex marriage, and recent efforts elsewhere in the region have had mixed results. Hong Kong has yet to comply with a 2023 court order to establish laws recognizing same-sex partnerships, and India’s Supreme Court refused to legalize same-sex marriage, saying it’s an issue for parliament to consider.

The Thai bill would change the composition of a marriage from “a man and a woman” to “two individuals,” and change the official legal status from “husband and wife” to “married couple.”

Thai laws have protected LGBTQ people from most kinds of discrimination since 2015, but attempts to formalize marriage rights have stalled. In 2021, the Constitutional Court upheld the law recognizing marriage as exclusively between a man and a woman. Last year, a bill to recognize same-sex civil partnerships failed to clear parliament ahead of elections.

Rights advocates have higher hopes for the bill pending now, noting that it has broad support from most of the major parties. If it passes, it will need to be approved by the Senate and endorsed by the King. Then it would be published in the Royal Gazette and take effect 120 days later.

Srettha’s government has also promised to work on a bill to recognize gender identity, and the health ministry has also proposed legalizing commercial surrogacy to allow LGBTQ couples to adopt children. Thailand is seeking to host the WorldPride events in Bangkok in 2028.

Legalizing same-sex marriage could have positive effects on tourism, which contributes about 12% to the nation’s $500 billion economy. In 2019, before the pandemic froze international tourism, LGBTQ travel and tourism to Thailand generated about $6.5 billion, or 1.2% of gross domestic product, according to industry consultant LGBT Capital.

Formal recognition could boost the reputation of a place already considered one of Asia’s best for LGBTQ visitors, said Wittaya Luangsasipong, managing director of Siam Pride, an LGBTQ-friendly travel agency in Bangkok.

“It will become a selling point for Thailand and raise our strength in the global stage,” Wittaya said. “It will create a relaxed and safe atmosphere for tourism and help attract more and more LGBTQ visitors. We could also see more weddings by LGBTQ couples, which could generate income across industries and local communities.”

[kriskukko]

Hi! *waves*

You have a lot of artwork set during the 1800s; I was wondering if you could recommend any "bibles" of the 1800s or the Georgian era, please? I have a project that I'm thinking of setting during the period but I'm not sure how to begin my research.

My story will be set in England initially, then go onto India and all over the world

Alright, so— Right off the bat I will admit my research has mainly focused on Finland in any given era, so I haven't read extensively or bookmarked resources as for England (let alone the rest of the world). BUT, I do have some for the purpose of filling in the blanks in the settings, since my country is small and material isn’t in abundance (not like when it comes to the big empires, anyway) sadly this list will be very brief, as I generally deal with my lack of knowledge on any given issue by browsing the web/library and piecing together stuff from multiple sources some of which are very granular (or worse, in FINNISH). I also deal in pictures and dialogue for the most part, which is why majority of this is imagebased.

A BOOK:

The Time Traveller’s Guide to Regency Britain by Ian Mortimer

probably goes into category of a ‘bible’ u mentioned, covers multiple bases as far as setting goes in an easily digestible manner (that list of contents looking pretty good yeah?). Ive the audiobook version and it was a pleasant listen too.

I also appear to have a book by the name The Regency Years by Robert Morrison in my audiobook library, but I have no recollection of actually listening to it. The reviews were good tho.

THAT ONE RANDOM LINK IN MY BOOKMARKS:

Prices and Wages by Decade (University of Missouri Libraries) what it says on the tin, spanning from 1700s-2000s, while us-centric, it does have subsections for different countries with dedicated resources to varying degrees

ART & FASHION:

Fashion History Timeline

goes over western fashion history from ancient to now, pleasantly detailed and starting from 15th century it goes decade by decade

The Met Collection

as the landing page says. I have looked in the costume institute section a bunch to understand garments or fill in what I cant find in fashion plates, like underwear

The Met Museum Costume Institute Fashion Plates

a digital collection of fashion plate illustrations that has pretty well spanned the 1800s and early 1900s wherein I mingle. Requires a bit of browsing, as the subcollection list is long and sometimes they span a bunch of decades at once, but at least the pictures are big and often have dates imposed in the corners of the illustrations

AND HEY, IF ANYONE READS IN FINNISH, ABOUT FINLAND:

Kristiina Kalleinen Valtioaamun aika : Suomen Suuriruhtinaskunta 1809-1863

Topi Artukka: Tanssiva Kaupunki : Turun seurapiiri sosiaalisena näyttämönä 1810-luvulla

Piia Einonen & Miikka Voutilainen (toim.): Suomen sodan jälkeen : 1800-luvun alun yhteiskuntahistoria

Hannu Rinne: Perinnemestarin tyylikirja : Talon osat aikakausittain 1700-1970

and whew HERE WE ARE AT THE END. i hope u will find at least some of this helpful and best of luck with ur project! <3 (and if anyone knows of more resources, drop em in responses or reblogs i would personally love to reference/bookmark more stuff in the future)

[beguines]

Whereas the election of Modi had already demonstrated that this new India was prepared to sacrifice Muslims and others for the purported chance to economically transform the country (read: corporatize it), it was only natural that Palestinians too would be discarded if it meant getting closer to Israel and the boon of global capital. By refusing to allow parliament to pass a resolution against Israeli aggression in Gaza and by abstaining from the resolution endorsing the 2015 UN report that called for accountability for Israeli crimes, India had shown that it was no longer prepared to provide Palestinians even performative support. Moreover, equivocating that both sides had an "equal responsibility" to lower tensions and prevent unnecessary loss of life, Modi's government had already amended the substantive nature of its foreign policy on the question of Palestine.

India had normalized relations with Israel in 1992 without Palestinians achieving statehood or self-determination. In 2014, New Delhi went one step further. It upgraded its public appreciation for Zionism and Israel and reduced its foreign policy to a contorted and performative "sympathy" for the Palestinian cause. It also began to illustrate a respect and intention to emulate Israeli policy at home. In 2014, the Punjab Police traveled to Israel for training on "security and anti-terror operations." A year later, the Indian Police Service (IPS) began an annual program in which recent graduates would spend one week studying "best practices in counterinsurgency, managing low intensity warfare and use of technology in policing and countering terror" with the Israel National Police Academy. In 2015, the Indian government began the implementation of a "smart border" along the Line of Control. These partnerships with Israel did little to deter the Indian foreign ministry from insisting that its commitment to the Palestinians remained unchanged. But the changes had arrived. And it had been a long time coming. India's decision to abstain from holding Israel accountable to the UNHCR resolution in 2015, was the surest sign that India believed in Israel's fundamental right to self-defense, and therefore, its right to exist as a settler-colonial state, unconditionally.

Azad Essa, Hostile Homelands: The New Alliance Between India and Israel

[jumpstart-if]

Jumpstart is a character-driven slice of life, containing drama and romance. It's mainly inspired by the show 90210 and the movie Mean Girls.

You had multiple sticky notes on your bedroom ceiling, bathroom mirror, and any other surface you were able to get it on.

How to be rich by 21:

1. Survive high school Survive the final year of high school 2. Move out and get a pet (finally!) 3. Become rich and famous (should be easy enough...)

This list has followed you ever since your eleventh birthday when you were suddenly bombarded with the dreaded question:

‘What is your dream job?’

Quite frankly, you didn’t dream of labour. At least not the regular kind. Call it psychic, but you knew you were destined for the easy life, filled with copious amounts of wealth, relaxation, and travels. You were are special.

Seriously, you had everything set out for your 'rags to riches' story:

You weren’t the most popular, but you also weren’t eating lunch alone in the school bathroom. ✔️

You made sure to work a part-time job, starting from the age of thirteen, so it would be easier for future fans to relate to you. ✔️

You were on your way to being crowned ‘Most likely to be famous’, which would have made for the perfect moment on ‘The Late-Night Phil Show’.✔️

Everything was going to plan… until it wasn’t.

Not only did your mother decide to marry some wealthy businessman, but she also packed up all your stuff and moved you hundreds of miles away from your home that screamed ‘humble beginnings’ and into a five bedroom (minimum) mega mansion.

Oh, and public school? Forget about that. From tomorrow on, you’ll be one of those rich private school kids. Goodbye 'rags to riches' background, and hello nepotism allegations.

Though, that’s a problem for future you...

Right now, you’ll have to adapt to school life the way the people at the top of the food chain do it. 

Get ready to ‘survive the final year of high school’ filled with gossip, betrayal, romance, angst, and social drama you could’ve sworn only happened in movies and TV shows.

Jumpstart is rated 18+ as there will be mentions of sexual themes, drugs, alcohol and violence.

Choose your MC's name and gender.

Decide your MC's personality, clothing style, and much more.

Get involved with 1 out of 4 romanceable characters.

Climb to the top of the hierarchy at Maplewood Private School.

Jumpstart your way into the life of stardom and wealth.

Isaiah/India (m/f) 'the high school worldwide heartthrob':

You could’ve sworn you saw them gracing the red carpet in some of the hundreds of magazines stashed in one of your moving boxes. Child of the famous celebrity make-up artist, Naomi Lawton and basketball star, Sean Lawton. Wanted by many, yet only successfully claimed by A. Though, judging by how many people I can be regularly spotted with, it begs the question: Does I care?

Appearance: Sepia skin tone. M! has short coily black hair, mostly styled in cornrows and decorated with some silver hair jewellery. F! has long bleached coily hair, currently styled in waist-length blonde braids.

Alison/Anderson (m/f) 'the school's number one':

Not quite like the ones in movies… they’re somewhat nice? At first, they can be straight-up vicious, ripping apart any and every little detail they can get their hands on, but once you earn their trust, you’ll learn that behaviour is much more of a façade than a true reflection of them.

Appearance: Olive complexion with sprinkles of freckles on their nose and cheeks. M! has short curly ginger hair that loosely hangs over his forehead. F! has shoulder-length ginger curls and bangs.

Tegan (m/f) 'the estranged childhood best friend'

You were eight years old, when their family decided to move someplace else, ripping your, what you thought to be inseparable, bond into two. At the start you tried to keep up, exchanging letters almost every day… then weeks… then months if anything, until complete silence. You’re not sure who stopped sending them first or when even, but one thing’s for certain: you were no longer friends. No, after ten years, you definitely weren’t.

Appearance: Brown skin tone. M! has black buzzed hair. F! has straight, waist-length black hair.

Levi/Leighton (m/f) 'wherever they go, trouble follows aka the school's bad boy/girl':

For someone with a big reputation, there’s next to nothing that can be found on them. And all your pestering questions are met with nothing but warnings, yet you can’t help but grow more curious about them with each passing encounter.

Appearance: Tawny skin tone, though you can’t help but notice the faded scar tainting their otherwise clear left cheek. They have wavy brown hair, reaching down to their shoulders.

Reblogs are more than welcome and thanks for reading!

DEMO TBA

[franklyimissparis]

hi there can i ask what are your favourite fics??

ahhhhhh this was so hard to narrow down since i think i have something like 300 beatles fics bookmarked on ao3 (plus a ton saved from livejournal but i’ve only included ao3 ones here). at first i was gonna pick a top 5 or top 10 but that was too hard so here are my top 24-ish i think? could have picked a lot more tbh. i only included fics that are completed, even though there are a lot i love that are either WIP or abandoned. also didn’t include any modern AUs though there’s a lot of those that i love as well! if anyone has any specific requests for other fic reqs i’m always happy to suggest more :)

on our way back home by kathleenishereagain

this fic has the most kudos in the fandom for a reason! old paul time travels back to the touring days and his relationship with john changes from there. love the way they integrated the magical realism into this and it’s just such a beautiful, touching story.

knowing that the sun is there by tarenas

john comes out after brian dies. lovely look at john’s individual relationships with all of the beatles and cynthia (but especially his relationship with paul of course)

cutting water with a knife by savageandwise

may’s perspective on john and paul. love love love. heartbreakingly realistic and so poignant. feels like it could have been a cut chapter out of loving john.

i’m so tired, my mind is set on you by dornfelder

god how i wish this is what would have happened in india. i’ve read this fic so many times, it just feels so real i keep coming back to it.

india, actually by inspiteallthedanger

jane notices that john’s india tapes are all of paul a la love actually. love jane in this and paul and john’s dynamic is great.

grow old with me by inherownwrite

john and paul in scotland in the 80s - paul breaks his arm and gives john a fright. such a tender picture of what could have been had things not ended how they did.

i was a younger man then (now) (post hoc) by fingersfallingupwards

using the time traveller’s wife premise in quite literally the best way i have ever read. the way it unfolds is…. stunning.

having coffee by dornfelder

old paul and john reflecting on life and being outed in the 80s through an interview. lovely.

to lead a better life by downtothelastdrop

1966 ringo mistakenly thinks john and paul are together, leading to a revelation of paul’s own.

going nowhere by inspiteallthedanger

fix-it where after surviving the shooting, john moves back to england.

if i could choose my own name, it’d be the one that falls best from your lips by kandakicksass

one of my favourite reincarnation fics ever. i really enjoyed how simple it was, how the pieces just slid into place so naturally.

the birthday party by merseydreams

everyone reunites for ringo’s 40th in july 1980. an excellent look at the dynamic between all the bugs and how things could have gone.

something old something new by inspiteallthedanger

john shows up to pattie and eric’s wedding causing a beatles reunion for the first time in years and some shenanigans and talks with paul. this fic is hilarious and THIS is my george, i love him so much

1967 by please_dont_wake_me

paul and john stay in paris after their 1961 trip. they return to liverpool in 1967 as a couple. this feels so real, the way every minor character is written… the dynamics between them all - every detail is excellent.

the beatles holiday au series by econhomework

an AU that follows john and paul (and george/ringo) being a committed couple in the 60s/70s and having their children via surrogacy. i’ve been subscribed to this series for years now and it’s a lot of fun getting an update that builds upon the last around every holiday, giving a little snippet into their lives as the kids grow up chronologically. (they also have other fics set in this AU in their beatles fic requests series)

the brother dearest series by javelinbk

jim and mimi get married, causing john and paul to become step-brothers (sort of). interesting premise and an even better execution of it. not to mention the idea of jim and mimi getting together will never fail to make me laugh (but also sort of makes a lot of sense???)

how much was mine to keep by mynamesbetty

paul is ‘unstuck in time’ and lives his life out of order a la slaughterhouse five (one of my favourite novels). done very well.

take a sad song and make it better by javelinbk

1980s paul moves his ex-boyfriend into his house because he’s an idiot but i love him. great fix-it.

christmas lights (keep shinin’ on) by distinguished_like

paul invites john to the mccartney family christmas party, leading to some discussions between the two. very cute early years fic.

here today by herspecialagent005

december 1980 except john and paul are hosting a dinner party for some friends in scotland, with magical realism elements. ugh loved this so much, especially linda and just all the little details of john and paul settling into a life together.

kissing the blarney by tikk

paul is the blarney - this turns into a superstitious ritual in the band which emotionally complicates things but ends very satisfyingly.

writing letters (on my wall) by 15clubsaday

70s paul writes to john under a pseudonym while they aren’t speaking. newly finished and wonderful!

the jumper by merseydreams

john sees denny laine wearing HIS jumper and flies back to england to retrieve it. this fic has everything: miscommunication, john being a dumb shite, jealousy, confused denny laine, paul in all his 70s glory, and lesbian linda. truly could not ask for more.

back to where you belong by sleeprettydarling

george on johnandpaul throughout the early years. i’m a big sucker for the george & johnandpaul dynamic and how complicated and devastating it can be so naturally i loved this.

[sea-owl]

Oh no sorry not the isekai AU. The AU where due to circumstances each of the Bridgerton’s lost their loves. An example I think Daphne lost Simon because she was too late to the dual and Anthony shot him in the shoulder. Simon left the country after that. All the Bridgerton’s lost their partners in similar ways (Anthony married Edwina and Kate left to go back to India, Penelope vanished after Colin found out she was Lady Whistledown etc.). Then somehow the siblings traveled back in time to Daphne’s entrance to society. I was thinking what if instead of keeping a cool head about everything and thinking about how they are going to approach their true loves slowly instead the siblings just snap.

I'm so sorry anon but I really don't know which au this is. It sounds like a good au, but if I wrote it out I can't find it. I have the vaguest guess but im unsure if it was one of mine or someone else's, but I have the vaguest memory of an ask that included a part that said Simon gifting Daphne a piece of jewelry that was actually an heirloom passed down to all Duchesses of Hastings before he left England but she was getting married to the prince instead. Again I don't know if that one was mine or someone else's, I feel like it might be @thekatebridgerton but I'm not 100% sure.

But we can start a new one!

So let's start with the bad endings.

Saphne: For this one I'm thinking the duel happened just a bit earlier. Anthony and Benedict knew that Daphne would go to Colin to get any information so they purposely gave him the wrong time for the duel. This led to Daphne arriving after Simon losing the duel and getting shot in the shoulder. Daphne tried to chase after him but her brothers dragged her home instead. Per their agreement Simon left the country after that. Daphne did end up getting married to the prince but she was never truly happy in that marriage, she was content at best with a few moment of happiness with her children here and there. She never did fall in love with the prince, and moving so far from her family did make things harder at times but like most things in her life Daphne learned to adapt to the cards that were handed to her.

Kathony: Anthony and Kate could never let themselves stop putting duty first. Anthony could also never get over his fear of dying young. In the end Anthony had married Edwina and Kate had left back to India. During their marriage Edwina and Anthony were cordial at best but when Edwina heard of her sister leaving a part of her blamed herself and another part blamed Anthony. They both did their duty and had one son, but after that they both came to an agreement where they would find pleasure and possibly happiness outside the marriage. So long as they were discreet. Edwina had met her true love in one scholarly Mr. Bagwell who she would later remarry once she was widowed. Anthony threw himself even further into the role as the viscount, though there were times he would look while ridding to see if a familiar rider would appear out of the mist just like she did all those years ago. Kate on her side did return to India and cut contact from her family. She bounced around from governess job to governess job, keeping herself busy so she does not dwell on thoughts of the past, and people she loves but would prefer not to remember for her own emotional sake.

Benophie: The news of Sophie's arrest had been brought to Benedict's attention later that day. Had he been a little bit faster, or had the news got to him just a little bit sooner, he would have been there when Posy took the blame for the item Sophie was said to have stolen. Araminta, who was losing control over both Sophie and Posy did not like that and both ended up getting sent to Australia where they stayed after their sentence was done. While they could have gone back to England if they raised the money for it neither wanted to risk facing Araminta again. They ended up changing their names when starting over. Benedict always kept a close eye on any news of former convicts returning to England. Praying any of them will lead him back to Sophie.

Polin: Things were getting heated on both sides of Penelope's life. The hunt for Lady Whistledown continued, becoming even more intense. More guards were haunting the print shop where she used to go, and she has heard more than one whisper of spies keeping eyes out in ballrooms. Meanwhile as Penelope someone had found out about her Irish Catholic heritage from Portia's side. Prudence and Philippa were spared due to them being married already and Felicity was still young enough they could hide her away until it blew over but Penelope and Portia took the hardest blow. Despite the fact that Portia converted years ago for her survival and Penelope was never raised catholic. To be honest she should not have been that surprised when Colin finally caught her in that church, dressed as a maid. They argued, screamed at one another, which turned into a very intense kiss. After Colin said he needed to think. Penelope had thought he hated her now and surely he would turn her in? Colin legit just needed a moment to think, he was given a lot of information in one day, and he was already protective over Penelope when news other family broke out, now it was just intensified. He was going to propose marriage the next day. What Colin did not know that the column Penelope was going to send out would be her last one. She later disappeared into the night, and he spent years looking all over the world for her, chasing down any lead, not knowing that she had hidden herself away in America.

Philoise: After her conversation with Anthony, Eloise lets her fear of commitment win and decides to return to London without marrying. Phillip takes the rejection gracefully, quoting that he did invite her to see if they suit. They did not, and he was not going to push her. Eloise's heart broke, though, when the twins asked why she was leaving tears in their eyes. In London, life continued on, Eloise found things to occupy her time, movements that she wanted to help move forward, and while she enjoyed pushing for change, she still felt her life was rafher lonely. She was never truly happy in London, never was, and often found herself itching to run just like when she was younger. Then, one day, many years later, during a society event, she would rather not be at a Sir Crane was announced. Eloise was taken aback because her Sir Crane wouldn't be caught dead in London. And it wasn't her Sir Crane, rather it the son of her Sir Crane. Oliver didn't say much to Eloise but did stop by to call on her the next day. He gave her a bouquet of medow cranesbill. "A final gift from my father," Oliver told her.

Franchael: After the death of John, both Francesca and Michael had mental breakdowns. All Michael could think to do was run while Francesca dug her heels in at Kilmartin estate and kept it running. When they reunited years later, both refused to talk about John and what happened to their friendship, despite the fact that's what they needed to do. Being reunited, Francesca became aware of this sexual tension that has been simmering between her and Michael. Still upset that her husband and unborn child were taken from her, she found herself wanting to walk down a wicked path. Well widows are more ignored by society so why doesn't she have some fun? She falls into bed with Michael. They still don't talk. Not only is Francesca discovering her physical intrest in Michael but some feelings she rather ignore are emerging too. They still don't talk. Francesca discovers that Michael has malaria and has attacks from it every so often. They still won't talk. One of these attacks ends up taking Michael's life and Francesca ends up right back where she was all those years ago. The man she loves is dead and she's pregnant. Only this time Francesca has to hide away, but her baby makes it. Thanks to Janet and Helen they organize papers so the boy is considered legitimate and the new earl of Kilmartin. Francesca loves her son sometimes she wishes his father were there so she could tell him she loved him too.

All the siblings have regrets in their lives by the time they pass on. None of them ever really found that love match Violet used to describe what she had with Edmund. Oh, they had their great loves, despite how fleeting they were. Some did marry, some chose to remain unwed. But none of them expected to wake up on their past selves bodies. After poking around they discovered the year is 1813, Daphne is in her on third year in the marriage mart and the Duke of Hastings has just passed, leaving his title to his only son.

Several thoughts hit at once.

Simon was due to return to England soon. Kate would follow a year later. Sophie was currently trapped with Araminta. Penelope was debuting this year. Phillip was currently at Cambridge. Michael was in the army.

Their loves were so close. They lost them once but never again.

[thekatebridgerton]

Today on another episode of stories I'm too sleep deprived to write: Jekyll and Hyde Bridgerton boys au

Since the Bridgerton boys tend to get so bipolar around their love interest, what if it was actually a day/night curse that only true love can... blend in.

Take Anthony, Benedict and Colin, respectable gentlemen by day, rakes by night.

During daylight, Anthony is respectfully courting Edwina and trading barbs with Kate, but during any night time ball he's cornering Kate in dark libraries and whispering sensually in her ear about all the things he wants to do to her. Kate finds him distasteful at first, easily cluing in that during daylight hours, Anthony is too rational to attempt to seduce her, and running away from him during night time balls, but his changes in mood are getting out of hand, she's taken to staying at home for the past number of balls and Edwina swears that Viscount Bridgerton is beginning to scare her. The less of Kate he sees at night, the more his ungentleman side wants to have her. And Kate is running out of options to avoid him, she's falling for him and if she doesn't do something drastic she's going to end up ruined, or worse, married to the insufferable man, so in a last ditch attempt to save herself she's just announced she's going to India... Now Anthony's unrestrained side has started blending in with his good one in an attempt to stop Kate from leaving him and it's not good, not good at all

Benedict thought he was spared the most unsavory sides of the curse, some night time debauchery here and there was a small price to pay for keeping his reputation as the ton's darling. That until he met the lady in silver, and for the first time the wild side of the curse got out of control. The one that got away drove his nocturnal self mad with want. For 2 years he fought against it only for Sophie Beckett to bring it out of him more strongly than before. Sophie Beckett isn't scared of anything, she should be scared of Benedict, who gets her a job in the morning, then demands she be his mistress at night. But she's figured that even at his worst she can push him back and he won't hurt her. Sure he's determined to help her establish herself independently during daylight and demands she depend only on him during his nighttime adventures, but Sophie is strong, she's dealt with worse. At least until gentlemen daylight Benedict starts seducing her in a very rakish way. And wild untamed nighttime Benedict starts romancing her like a gentleman in love

Colin... Well Colin has always known he's cursed. He learned to work around it, keeping his darker nature under control with decadent food and debauched travels and the occasional gambling. Until Penelope Featherington asked his nighttime self for a kiss and got in the way of his neatly laid plans. Penelope is clever, too clever, his daylight self might hate her, but oh his nighttime self can't live without her and she thrives on it. Truly it irks Colin to know that she prefers him at his worst during the night and rejects his at his best during daylight. She with her lady Whistledown secrets, smiling as she indulges his every hungry whim during secret nighttime meetings and then pretends the man she's taken for lover is not Colin Bridgerton. If she didn't frustrate him so, he might think himself inlove with her. Penelope Featherington knows Colin's secret, truthfully she doesn't mind if he knows hers, as lady Whistledown its only fair that he knows she can ruin his life if he dares to ruin hers. His nighttime self is fun, savage, and completely enamored with her body, nothing like daylight Colin. Penelope adores that side of him. Part of her doesn't even want to admit they're the same person because Daylight Colin is the popular charmer of the ton who can't even look her in the eye and calls her his dear friend. But nighttime Colin is hers and he doesn't demand anything out of her as her lover, truly its the best arrangement in the world... That is until an overprotective Colin Bridgerton ravishes her in a carriage and proposes marriage in front of all her family, all in the same morning. Could it be his two personalities are blending??

And Gregory Bridgerton, he's seventeen and afraid, very afraid about when he'll reach a point where his curse will be triggered and what that will mean for his best friend Lucy Abernathy. Because Greg knows he's going to respect Lucy till the day he dies, but he also knows he can't live without her and he can almost feel the want in his bones, how little it would take for his Lucy to be his undoing and the reason he needs to lock himself up at night... It's going to happen eventually but Gregory hopes it takes longer than a few years, for Lucy's sake and for his own.

[srbachchan]

DAY 5799

Jalsa, Mumbai Jan 2/3, 2024 Tue/Wed 6:28 AM

🪔 ,

January 03 .. birthday wishes to our Ef and greetings to all ..

Ef Himanshu Srivastava .. Ef Nandkeshor Dattatreya Paatil .. Ef Omnia from Egypt 🇪🇬 .. Ef Anuradha Raheja from Madurai .. and Ef Megha VJ from USA 🇺🇲 ..

.. ✨

🌹

Babuji .. a prominent member of the Freedom Fighters for Independent India .. and how his modest home was opened for secret meetings and a place to hide, for the freedom fighters ..

In one of his conversations with me he did describe how the great freedom fighter Chandrashekhar 'Azaad' had sought refuge at his home and remained rolled up in a 'bistar band' .. बिस्तर बंद .. the 'HoldAll' of my times, a canvas type rolled packaging with straps to tie it up, inside which was laid a mattress, pillows, your shoes and other essentials for travel .. all then rolled up and tied in leather straps, which then became an essential baggage element during travel .. it would and was opened up by releasing the straps, unrolling it and viola, a ready made bed - mattress pillows and all .. open it up on the bed or floor or a train berth .. most convenient and the most important baggage material for travel .. well on train and cars and bus travels .. until the airplane arrived as the more, now common mode of travel ..

So 'Azad' remained rolled up in the 'holdall' - a most convenient and descriptive word coined for this kind of baggage essential - and secretly spent a night there at Babuji's home .. rolled up in a holdall !!

The dedication and will of the freedom fighter ! Incredible !!

Chandrashekhar 'Azad' later took on the British forces, a large contingent, in the famous Allahabad park, then known as Alfred Park, alone, hiding behind a tree, firing bullets from his pistol , until when his ammunition was exhausted and when he felt he would be caught, he ended his life behind that tree, by shooting his last bullet .. at himself .. not wanting to give himself up to the British ..

The park has now been renamed in his honour .. The Chandrashekhar Azad Park ..

I spent a large amount of time at this park, for picnics etc., and this was where the popular Allahabad Flower Show used to be held, where I went with Ma .. she won several cups for Best Garden, and Best Flower, the rose, competition !

I remember seeing that famous tree, behind which Azad took shelter and fought the British contingent ..

The park was a large expanse of green and flowers and trees right almost in the centre of the city .. a canopied structure in the middle of the park, was inhabited by a Band, every Sunday, playing old tunes of the time ..

The park also had a most well kept grass tennis court, where I saw some great International players during their tournament, organised by the Allahabad Civic authorities .. I cannot remember their names .. was too young for that .. but they were from Britain, and some European countries , I think ..

They were invited for a tea reception at Justice Mootham's residence, the then Chief Justice of the Allahabad High Court ..

If my memory does not fail me .. Justice Mootham ! yes that name is correct in memory ..

7 :00 AM

a bit misleading the time , for I have been up since 4 .. loitering about in my room, nursing a muscle pulled back in spasm, unable to sleep or rest .. so a selective spray, that boasts of 'pain relief' within minutes - they all do - was generously applied and ..

And ..

Well, the discomfort remains .. ahahaha ..

🤣🤣🤣

The greetings of the New Year, the greetings for the Birthday have all been overwhelmingly large, and this has provided an enormous amount of space occupation on the mobile .. which as I try to address, is becoming a most arduous task ..

SO ..

may I just acknowledge all that have sent their wishes and greetings here and express my inadequacy in making personal responses ..

PLEASE ..

my gratitude then and my love for this ..

❤️

Laziness persists .. and that induces a temperament , which is difficult to describe ..

The absence of routine may sound odd, but routine puts and gathers the body in a way that keeps it going .. else , one never has a solution as to what can be done to occupy time .. and several essentials loose their essentiality !

Making sense ..

No ..

Well then too bad ! 🥹

Was going to suggest, you get lazy to experience and endorse my words, but that would be so ethically incorrect ..

Hence its a wish for the effervescent day ahead .. and my love 😍

Amitabh Bachchan

PS : I was right .. 👇🏽

Orby Howell Mootham

Sir Orby Howell Mootham (17 February 1901 – 19 July 1995) was a British lawyer, legal writer, and judge who was the Chief Justice of the Allahabad High Court from 1955 to 1961, the third-last British judge to serve in India.

[indigoraysoflight]

“Spicy food in India” | Caryl prompt

requested by @that-left-turn ❤️

~

Cardamom & Curry

Carol stared at the fish. They’d been in Munnar for three days, and Carol had already gathered three South Indian recipes to take home. She decided to try making fish curry for lunch instead of finding a local restaurant, but there was one problem. Carol had never filleted a pomfret before. Daryl was the one who always filleted fish in their home, but he was asleep, so she was on her own.

Henry and his dad, Ezekiel, had planned a trip to Kerala, South India and wanted Lydia to go with them. Lydia and Henry had been dating for three years, and Carol adored Henry. He was respectful – if a little spoiled – and he loved Lydia. She knew Daryl liked him too but was extra grumpy around the boy who was dating his adopted daughter. Henry and his dad travelled a lot and often took Lydia with them. But Daryl refused to let their kid go across the world by herself, even though their kid wasn't really 'a kid'. So, Ezekiel generously extended the invitation to Lydia’s adoptive mom and her adoptive mom’s platonic best friend, who also happened to be Lydia’s adoptive father. To say their first dinner together had been awkward would be an understatement. 

They’d been saving up for a big vacation for a year and a half now, so the timing worked out. Her catering business was going well this year, but Carol doubted they’d ever be able to afford this expensive rental. The luxury cottage was built with rustic stone and wood, and nestled on top of a hill, surrounded by tea and cardamom plantations. Ezekiel had given them the tour when they arrived, but the space was too big for her taste; she would’ve preferred a cozy but comfortable cottage with a view of the rolling hills. Still, she’d smiled graciously every time he pointed out an expensive feature on the property while Daryl sulked in the back. There was an odd tension between Daryl and Ezekiel, and she'd figured out why after what happened yesterday. Carol thought it best to stay with Daryl today and take some time to think–

“You tryna fillet the fish with your mind? Just gotta use a knife.” 

Carol blinked, realizing she had zoned out and she was still staring at the pomfret. “Is that how it works? I thought if I stared at it sternly, it would fillet itself.”

“Gimme.” He limped over and started filleting the pomfrets with impressive precision. 

“Show off,” she muttered under her breath.

His hair was dishevelled, and he wore cargo shorts and a faded tie-dye t-shirt that Sophia had made for him years ago. She pushed his fringe back to examine the cut on his face, held together by butterfly bandages. They'd been more generous with their touches lately – especially since they got here – but she didn't mind, and she didn't think he minded either by the way he leaned into her touch.  

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch,” he said without looking up at her. 

“You’re lucky you didn't need stitches.” He looked up at her then, his eyes intense as they flicked down to her lips. She realized she was just running her fingers through his hair now and stepped back. 

She and Daryl woke up before dawn the last two mornings and, in a jetlagged daze, walked along the path through the tea plantation to catch the sunrise. They didn’t expect it to rain on their way back yesterday. She slipped and would’ve tumbled down the path, but Daryl steadied her, lost his balance, and landed in the tea plantation. Besides a large cut on the left side of his face, tea leaves stuck to his elbows and knees, and a sprained ankle — he was intact. His eyes held a fear she hadn’t seen in five years –  fear and something else – as he frantically checked her for injuries and then held her in his arms for a solid minute in the rain.  

“This fish isn't going to marinate itself,” she said in a chipper voice and mixed the spices in a bowl to calm her heart rate before smearing a generous amount of the paste on the fish. 

“That’s enough. Dunno if I need more spice.”

Carol smirked and batted her eyelashes at him. “But I thought you liked it when I’m spicy, Pookie.”   

“Stop.” 

They fell into the rhythm they had in their own kitchen. She sauteed the onions with the spice mixture while he squinted at the recipe she’d scribbled on a paper pad and started cutting the tomatoes – stopping every few seconds to pop a slice in his mouth. Carol took a deep breath and focused on the onions. Something had viscerally shifted between them on the long flight over here. She’d clung to him on the plane during turbulence, and after they landed, they kept reaching for an excuse to touch each other. She’d been so unguarded in the way she leered at him that Lydia and Henry had given her a knowing look more than once.  

“Where’s the royal family? I’m guessing Lydia is with them?” Daryl casually fed her a slice of tomato and then sucked the juice off his fingers. 

They’re gone, and I’m in trouble. Carol steadied her voice. “Lydia, Henry, and Zeke went sightseeing; they won’t return until after dinner.” It’s just us, and you keep doing that thing with your mouth, she thought.

Carol let the curry simmer while they stepped onto the balcony and lounged on the chairs, staring at the green expanse. The air was dewy and perpetually scented with a hint of cardamom. Sophia would’ve loved this place. She would be perched on the balcony with her sketchbook, scribbling away and absentmindedly picking at her nails. 

“Why didn’t ya go with them? I’m sure Henry’s dad will miss you.” Daryl growled and picked at his nail. 

The tension between Daryl and Ezekiel got worse when he limped on their way back yesterday, and Ezekiel offered to pay for a doctor to take a look at him. Carol knew he would refuse, and thankfully she had packed some first aid supplies because she knew this man too damn well.

Carol rolled her eyes. “I wanted to stay and take care of Lydia’s dad, so he understood.”

Daryl’s lips quirked up, summoning a flutter in her belly. What are we doing here, Daryl? She wanted to ask. They’d been tip-toeing around each other for years now. Or she thought they were. Maybe this is all they’d ever be – platonic best friends who lived together, who raised a daughter and lost another. Two people who let their touches linger too long, reached for each other when they were afraid, longed for each other when they were apart, and sometimes slept in each other’s arms but never crossed that line. Always something more, but never quite enough. 

“Surprised he hasn’t asked ya out yet.” 

Carol blinked at Daryl, wanting to point out the irony in what he’d said. Irritation coursed through her as the curry burbled away, and she decided to come clean about what had happened the previous evening. 

“He did after dinner last night.”

“What?” Daryl looked like he’d been punched in the gut; Carol tried to ignore the twinge of guilt and failed. 

Ezekiel had helped her load the dishwasher in the kitchen and asked her out before they retired to their rooms last night. He’d been a perfect gentleman – charming, respectful, and chivalrous. But all she’d thought about was how Daryl’s eyes had lingered on her lips before dinner when he’d told her she looked beautiful. 

“I told him I’ll think about it.” They weren’t in a position to anger their host, even though she felt that Ezekiel would accept defeat graciously and not put them in an awkward position. 

“Why didn’t ya say yes?”

“Why does it matter?”

Daryl’s behaviour was giving her whiplash. He practically undressed her with his eyes last night and almost launched himself at Ezekiel for complimenting her at dinner. Now, he was pushing her to date the man.

Daryl peered through his fringe, his eyes earnest. “He’s real charming, rich, generous, and clearly has a thing for ya.”

Carol crossed her arms. “If he’s so great, why don't you go out with him?”

“Pfft. Ain’t my type.” 

“What is your type?” Carol raised her eyebrows, ignoring the heat that crept up her cheeks as Daryl’s eyes roamed her face and lingered on her lips before he pried his gaze away.

“Don’t change the subject. He’s corny and a bit pretentious, but he doesn’t seem like an asshole.”

“So, that’s what you want then? For me to date Ezekiel?” Her voice wavered, but she held his gaze, her anger now simmering to the surface and prickling at her eyes. Is that what he wanted? Then why did he look at her like that all the time — like he was afraid of losing her? Had she gotten this all wrong? Did she spend years pining after a man who was finally telling her he was not interested? 

Daryl looked away. “I want ya to be happy. He’d treat you like a Queen and-”

“-I should get started on the appam.” 

Carol went to the kitchen before the tears formed in her eyes, hating the open plan of the cottage where she could feel Daryl’s eyes follow her. Her hand reached for the pink bauble pendant resting on her chest. After Sophia died, they’d grown closer and built a wall between them at the same time. But when Lydia came into their lives, the wall started breaking down. She hoped, in time, they could pick up where they left off. Now, she didn’t know why she thought this vacation would be a new beginning for them. Daryl was never going to see her as anything but his best friend. She’d waited too long. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl loved watching her cook. Her hair was tied up in a bun; she wore a loose Bowie t-shirt, baggy sweats, and soft fuzzy elf socks Lydia got for her last Christmas. The aroma of cardamom and chilli lingered in the air as she poured rice batter on a pan to make the rice crepes they called appam. He wished he could walk up and wrap his arms around her, kiss the nape of her neck and see if he could taste cardamom on her skin. I bet Ezekiel didn't think this hard before he made his move. He sighed. 

Daryl didn’t know how many days he had left to savour her presence, reach for her hand when they walked up a crooked path and watch the sunrise wash over her freckles. She looked radiant last night in the blue dress that hugged her form and illuminated her eyes. He knew sooner or later, she’d meet a man who deserved her. I didn’t think it would be this soon. To think he’d hoped this vacation would give them time to figure out what their future looked like. Even if Daryl selfishly wished to be with her, Carol deserved someone who could offer her the world. Ezekiel sure as hell checked all the boxes.

Carol deserved all of this. Lavish vacations, a charming partner, and children who adored her – who were safe and in her arms. She deserved a comfortable life after everything she’d been through.  

Daryl’s work as a contractor was unpredictable, and renting a cottage of this size for twelve days was out of the question. He thought the trip he’d taken her and Sophia on to the Grand Canyon had been extravagant because he’d spent a chunk of his savings to upgrade them to a big cabin with a mini-pool. Now Henry’s rich father entered the picture and showed him up with one effortless, generous gesture and an offhanded “We vacation here every summer”. The universe could’ve kicked him in the balls, and it would’ve hurt less. 

Daryl walked into the kitchen and started slicing some red onions to soak in lemon juice because he needed something to do before his thoughts choked him. Carol’s eyes were far away when she held up a spoon so he could taste the curry; the heat from the spices hit him straight in the back of his throat and lingered on his palate. 

“Why did you stay after Sophia died?” 

Daryl coughed. “What?”

“You heard me.”

It didn’t even occur to him to leave after Sophia died. When he’d rented the basement apartment in Carol’s house all those years ago, he only wanted a cheap place to rest his head as he went through trade school. Daryl hadn’t expected to fall so deeply in love with Carol and co-parent her child with her. Before he knew it, he'd moved upstairs into the spare room, and he walked the kid to school every day and helped with her homework. He’d come to love Sophia like she was his own daughter. When she died, he and Carol had anchored each other through their shared grief over the loss of their little girl. Then, another kid walked through the doors, and they were given another chance.  

“I loved that kid. I know Sophia wasn’t mine, but she was.” He didn’t expect his voice to break as his eyes lingered on Carol's pink bauble necklace. 

“I know. But that’s not what I asked.” her voice was soft, her eyes crystal in the afternoon light – she was crying in the kitchen when he was busy leering at her. He wanted to kick himself for being an idiot again. 

Carol pinned him with her gaze. “Why’d you stay?” 

“Why didn’t ya say yes to Ezekiel?” he deflected.

“I’m not interested in him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t love him.” Carol’s voice was a desperate whisper. “Ezekiel wasn’t the one who held me through my grief. He didn’t take my daughter trick-or-treating or scour ten game stores to find the obscure video game she wanted. He didn’t make her chicken soup with alphabet pasta when she was sick. He didn’t treat me and my daughter like we were the center of his universe-” Carol’s voice broke, and she wiped her tears. 

“Carol-” 

“-I thought we were on the same page, Daryl, and hoped we’d have a stroke of luck with the change of scenery, but I guess I was wrong.” 

Did she really not know? Had he not been clear enough about how he felt? He loved her so much he’d let her walk into a pretentious rich guy’s arms—shit. As he played the thoughts over in his mind, he realized how they must’ve sounded out loud. I fucked up. Words chased each other in his mind as he struggled to explain. 

“Our luck’s run out,” Carol sighed and turned to leave.

Before he could think too hard, he pulled her close and kissed her. Her lips tasted of cardamom, and her. Carol. A small part of his mind worried about her shoving him away, but instead, she melted in his embrace and drew him in for more. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His lips were softer than she’d imagined. He kissed her deeply and slowly like he had all the time in the world. His hands were everywhere – caressing her face, gripping her waist, tangled in her hair – like he was tracing her silhouette in his memory. When they came up for air, her mind was molasses, and her thoughts returned to her slowly. He traced her jawline with a featherlight touch and looked at her like he worried she would disappear. Carol blinked away the tears and ran a finger alongside the butterfly bandages on his face. Their eyes met, and he held her hand to his cheek and kissed it. 

“Why’d you stay?” she asked again. 

“I stayed because I belong with you.”

There was nothing else she could say but kiss him again and wonder why she hadn’t done it sooner. 

“Why did you tell me to date Ezekiel?” she asked between kisses. 

“I’m an idiot.” He kissed her back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After their make-out session, they took a quick break to catch a breath and have lunch – a bowl of fish curry with rice crepes or appam. They’d been eating spicy food for days, and he always regretted it in the morning, but that didn't stop him. He dove in immediately, savouring every bite as the sharp taste of chilli and cardamom hit his palate. Sooo good. He could still taste the fish, and it melted in his mouth. He couldn’t slow down if he tried, so he helped himself to a red onion slice soaked in lemon juice and hummed as the acid cut through the savoury richness of the curry.

Carol watched him with a smile – her gaze soft and open. Most of her hair had escaped the bun, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips looked swollen and kissable. His brain short-circuited; he didn’t know whether to continue eating the curry or kiss her. She solved his problem by scooping some fish with the appam and feeding it to him; Daryl held her gaze as he ate and licked the pads of her fingers with his tongue. 

He didn’t know which one of them closed the gap. He didn’t care because he was kissing the woman he loved. His hands pulled her close, and her fingers grabbed his hair as they stumbled toward her bedroom. The taste of cardamon and curry lingered on his tongue as he pressed openmouthed kisses to her neck.   

“Your lips taste spicy, Pookie.” 

“Thought you like it when I’m spicy.”

Her laughter bounced off the walls as he kicked the bedroom door shut behind him. 

_________________________________________________________

A few notes: 

Munnar: Munnar is a hillstation in India’s Kerala state. It's surrounded by rolling hills dotted with tea, coffee, and cardamom plantations.

Appam: Appam is a thin and lacy fermented rice pancake. Traditionally, it’s eaten with stew or coconut chutney. 

Pomfret: This delicate white fish is a staple in coastal regions of India.  

Fish curry recipe for the curious minds (if you plan on making it, please don’t forget to marinate your protein). 

[ducktoonsfanart]

Donald Duck as Napoleon Bonaparte, Scrooge McDuck as Gaius Julius Caesar and Louie Duck (Quack Pack) as Alexander the Great - Conquerors - Real Ducks in History - History in Duckverse

I've always wanted to do a special project called Duckverse in History and my plan is to draw my favorite characters as redraws from famous works of art as well as famous historical figures. And since history is my favorite science, and my favorite field, I definitely wanted to do something related to it and related to one of my favorite historical characters. Since I don't want to complicate the situation, I will gradually publish a drawing related to that historical figure from time to time. I started this last year for Duckvember only to finish at the end of last month.

The first drawing is a redraw from Jacques Louis David's famous early 19th century artwork depicting Napoleon Bonaparte crossing the Alps in 1800 before the Battle of Marengo. Napoleon Bonaparte was the most famous French military leader, general, consul and emperor who waged war with all of Europe at the time and managed to subjugate it in its entirety except for the Ottoman Empire, Russia and Great Britain. He is from Corsica, but he left a lot for France and proved that France is not worth messing with easily. He also gave many reforms and his Civil Code which spread throughout Europe and brought order in France after the French Revolution. Napoleon's nature is very similar to Donald Duck and I drew Donald as Napoleon since he was created for that role and I drew him riding his horse Marengo in my own style, but in a realistic way and that Donald has five fingers.

The second drawing is a redraw of a statue made by Nicolas Coustou at the end of the 17th century for the decoration of Versailles, which depicts the greatest Roman, Gaius Julius Caesar. Although he was not an emperor, certainly many presented him, but he was a dictator, consul, general, writer, historian, engineer, constructor, and a great military leader who changed the Roman Republic into an almost Roman Empire. His fights against the Gauls, as well as the conflict with Pompey and his love with Cleopatra, are known, but he also changed a lot in Rome and was extremely rich. And he lived during the first century BC. That's why I drew Scrooge McDuck as Gaius Julius Caesar since Scrooge is a great leader and he also strived for fame and fortune and to be remembered in the future and he plays the role of the best Roman. Behind it are the Colosseum (built a century after him), the aqueduct (then irrigation) and the Pantheon (built two centuries after him), as well as a Roman temple that symbolizes Rome at that time, as well as the roads themselves. In addition, Topolino (Italian comics) are showed Scrooge as Caesar two or three times so that's where my inspiration came from.

The third drawing shows Louie Duck (the Quack Pack version, not the Ducktales reboot) shows Alexander the Great, another brilliant conqueror from the fourth century BC and I drew it as a redraw from the mosaic of Alexander the Great from the battle of Issus in which he confronts the Persian king Darius III from Pompeii, probably from the first century BC. Alexander the Great was the son of Philip II and the king of Macedonia who united Greece and fought against Persia and managed to conquer an entire empire in his twenties. He traveled through the Persian Empire and reached India and wanted to continue, but his soldiers did not want to continue, so he returned to Babylon, his new capital. He certainly changed the world at that time and introduced a new culture, called Hellenism, as a combination of ancient Greek culture and the culture of the Ancient East and ancient India. I drew Louie as Alexander because as a young man he is a great adventurer and rides his black horse Bucephalus and is eager for extremes, yet unlike Alexander, Louie shows a bit of his shyness, but is still brave enough to take on new challenges. I also added a helmet as worn by Alexander III in his time. Behind Louie are the pyramids from Egypt, the Ishtar Gate from Babylon and the imperial palace from Persepolis where the Persian rulers lived and it actually shows the lands that Alexander the Great conquered.

I certainly hope you like these drawings and these ideas and that these characters have such historical roles. Of course, Duckverse in history I combine mostly everything related to Duckverse (Donald Duck comics, OG Ducktales, Three Caballeros, Darkwing Duck and Quack Pack) and it's mostly my version and my idea. By all means if you like this and support these ideas, feel free to like and reblog this, but please don't use these same ideas without mentioning me and without my permission. Thank you!

[thesevenstarfoxes]

Daphne is the patroness of married people, all grace, kindness and elegance. It is known that when a young and unknown woman with wisteria flowers braided in her long chestnut hair appears at a wedding, the married couple must show her respect and listen carefully to her blessings, because the patroness of marriage likes to appear at weddings and bless the bride and groom, and her blessings will always come true. One day, her elder brother Anthony, the patron of elder brothers, tells her about a young warrior named Simon whom he met when he responded to an older brother's prayer that he would protect his younger brother in battle, and among other things notes that Simon does not believe in marriage and does not want to get married. Daphne is shocked by this, and decides that she must meet the warrior who was special enough to attract her brother's attention despite being an only child, and make him believe in marriage. She doesn't expect to fall in love with the handsome young man, and Simon doesn't expect to fall in love with her either…

Anthony is the patron of elder brothers, as befits the eldest son of the goddess of motherhood and family and her human lover. Over the centuries and thousands of years of its existence, it has helped older brothers ensure a good life for their younger and beloved brothers. When his brother Gregory, the patron of lovers, tells him excitedly about a beautiful girl he met in a small village in India who refuses to marry her sister will not approve the match, Anthony is impressed, and decides to help the sister, Kethani Sharma, find a suitable match for her sister. Just like Anthony, Kate Sharma believes that her existence has no meaning except as the big sister, and that she does not deserve happiness on her own merits. When the strange man, who as far as she knows owns no property and shows a terrible disrespect for the rules of the ceremony, appears in the village and asks about Edwina and her, she automatically assumes that he wants to marry Edwina, and decides to do everything to prevent that.

Throughout her childhood, Sophie, the illegitimate daughter of a rich businessman, heard stories about gods and monsters from the workers who took care of her, but more than anything she was fascinated by the stories about Benedict, the patron of artisans who had countless lovers. Her fondness for art grew as she grew older, and stayed with her even when her new stepmother began to abuse her. The best night of her life was the night she managed to sneak into the opening gala of a new art gallery, even without the charming young man who stayed by her side the whole time, flirting with her and talking so passionately about art. He disappeared at the end of that night, and the last thing Sophie expected was for him to appear two years later when she sneaks out of her house to paint graffiti, takes one look at the painting, and reveals himself as Benedict, the hero of her childhood stories, to offer her to come with him to the world of the gods and join his many lovers of all kinds . The offer is tempting, even Sophie will appreciate it, and it's probably her best chance of escaping her stepmother, but she has more self-respect than joining the harem as a concubine to a god, thank you very much.

Penelope Fetherington, Baron's third daughter, is a shy wallflower who writes to herself about what she sees and meets around her. She certainly doesn't think her writing is good enough for the patron of writers Colin, who occasionally uses his powers to read what people write for themselves, to be impressed, but Colin stumbles upon her writing and reads everything she's ever written in one day, then disguises himself as a gentleman (and a travel buff, to explain his many mysteries) connects with her, and waits patiently until she accidentally tells something about her writing. Then he encourages her to write more, helping her publish what she writes in a gossip paper under the name Lady Whistledown. He doesn't know that Penelope is in love with him, but he certainly values ​​her friendship very much…

part 1/2

[terrence-silver]

Also I had the best idea the other day after seeing Nick Marini Silver in the camo(?) with young Kreese in the cave.

Post 'Nam Terry Silver, with his new little ponytail, going back home to Cali only to somehow meet innocent hippie Beloved whose all about love and peace and hope- all the things Twig was concerned with- until it was purely just survival and he had to evolve into a Cobra. Yet, he can't help but become obsessed with Beloved...

Summer of Love.

Twig!Terry Silver x Reader.

―

You had a ‘make love not war’ badge pinned to your jacket and Terry Silver thought that was the funniest thing he’s ever seen.

Of course, you weren’t the only one; that year in California there was an abundance of these smiling, airheaded cockroaches drifting around aimlessly with handmade embroidery featuring their empty, meaningless slogans — jeans patches, spray paint backpacks, sharpied on mud-crusted sneakers, assholes hand painting Yoko Ono’s likeness on their shirts thinking they’re making some big statement, vans decorated (if it could be called decoration) with corny, one-word mottos in the likeness of ‘Peace’ and ‘Love’ that made Terry’s gut lurch up in amusement at the vapidity. Must’ve been easy. Ranting about peace and love from the comfort of home, the easy summer of the West Coast washing away all problems with a warm, seaborne salty breeze, not doing anything at all but slum around in the heavy shade, but regardless, in spite of all their comforts, they all gave the impression of being dirty. Unwashed. Something the ocean couldn’t exactly scrub off considering it was internal as much as, often times, external. He thought you were the dirtiest of all. Not physically, but something about your manner as you spoke enthusiastically about your plans to go overland, on a trailer from one end of Europe, all the way Bangkok, through the Silk road along the Hindu Kush mountain range gave him the irresistible urge to wash your mouth out with soap and make you swallow the bitter, soapy load.

-"Kabul, Peshawar, Amman. I guess I wanna see these ancient, hallowed places before they’re irrevocably changed."-

You explain, engrossed in your own imagination like a child, a colorful crochet blanket sprawled out beneath you in the back of an open van, your legs hanging and dangling from the edge. Terry had learned you didn’t exactly have an address in the classical sense. Heck, hilariously enough, you didn't even drive the very vehicle you were laid up on, considering the act somehow backwards and harmful, a notion that made you inherently comical, ; you came to California and by extension joined your traveling troupe, to, as you put it, see the world. Go wherever the path took you. For all you were concerned, he was just some guy with the same goal in mind and not someone who just rotated back to civilization a couple of months ago. Who’s already seen the world, alright. Who’s already walked paths you could scarce imagine. Who’s already witnessed the change you were babbling on about firsthand. He left one country behind and came back to a totally different one. A country filled with people like you. You were everywhere, one way or another. Unavoidable. Reflected in every face. Every person. Every sight.

-"You know? Everything is eventually changed, usually for the worse and it’s good to grab the chance and see stuff while they last, in their original form."-

You continue, leaning on your elbows and smiling, your enthusiasm and zest like a biting into something way too sweet; both addictive and slightly disgusting. So. You wanted to go to Goa, Bangkok and India. What was next? Go to Vietnam too? Carry a transparent that said ‘Americans go home’? Was that it? -"Oh, I know exactly what you mean."- Terry interjects, feigning innocence, watching you idly twirl one of the suede leather frills on your shirt, not in a manner deemed seductive, because no, you weren’t out to seduce him or anyone. He could tell as much. He could tell someone who had insidious intentions from someone who didn’t. You merely thought you’ve made a new friend in him these past couple of weeks in the grand soulsearch called life, feeling relaxed enough to act whoever you wanted to act in front of him — he cultivated that atmosphere for you on purpose, wanting to have you trust him, wanting you to be relaxed, right before…right before — well, Terry wasn’t entirely certain what he wanted to do to you just yet, but he was certain it would hurt. -"I just recently came back. And the place isn’t the same."- He tells the truth by effectively lying; things have changed, yes, you just weren’t privy exactly how things changed for him. So naive and wide eyed, he told you he was part of the Peace Corps and you believed him because you had no reason not to. You didn’t think people were fundamentally bad, just occasionally misguided at worst and that was a worldview so alien he thought it should be placed in a jar and examined under a microscope for good measure. You went by Beloved around these parts, after all, instead of your actual name. That alone deserved to be scrutinized and laughed at in the line up of all the other facts about you that were funny all on their own. But then again, Terry found he strangely enough didn’t mind. He knew your actual name, and he recently discovered he didn’t want to share it with anyone. -"All around Asia, yeah? Right on!"-  You beam up, a light visible in your eyes. The light of admiration. Heavy, omnipresent, addictive. He wanted more. Needed more. Revolted that he did, yet still craving it. He wanted to take that light and crush it in the palm of his hands like a puny ant. But, he needed to separate you from everyone else here first; separate you from all these cockroaches mingling around with too many eyes that could potentially be on him. So far, nobody suspected him to be a returning vet. Especially you. That was your fatal flaw, Terry figured; the fact you trusted anyone at all.

Least of all him.

He supposed, irony of all ironies, that the handful of hair tied at the nape of his neck helped the overall impression and image you had of him. Half of the bums here had long hair. None was like his, of course. Unlike theirs, his hair was sacred. But, it helped perpetuate a certain look. Even the Cobra ink on the side of his ribs; you were convinced it was an aesthetic statement and no more than that.

-"I really respect that, Terry. I wish I could go too. You’re so lucky!"- 

You sigh dreamily, throwing your head back under the shade of the van’s roof.

Lucky?

He was lucky?

Sure, why not, so long as you keep bearing your neck to him the way you were.

-"Yeah, Cambodia, Thailand, Korea."- Terry keeps perpetuating a half-lie, seated on a low wooden lawn chair in front of you, his blue Ford pick up truck he procured for the occasion parked nearby, neglected and busted up just enough to give him the visage of some working class schlub mingling with other schlubs, the fan from inside your the van blowing in a cool breeze his way; he’s been to all of those places, that much was true, you just weren’t aware of the context he was there in; admittedly, you didn’t hate returning army men either like he initially was convinced you and all of your ilk would, finding roundabout ways to question you of your worldviews — no, you merely thought they were deluded, lost souls someone took advantage of, which was somehow only ever more infuriating than plain old hate. Humiliating. Pitiful. Like a disgustingly sympathetic nod nobody asked for causing him to feel a bit like a stray street dog someone threw a dry bone to chew on. Terry Silver preferred death rather than for someone to feel sorry for him, fueled to an even darker place every time you were hideously empathetic, towards him and the whole world, hit with a flash of greed, wanting your stupid kindness for nobody but himself. So, he keeps on lying. Anything to momentarily distract him from the violence brewing around in his mind like a tempest. -"But, my favorite experience has to be with the Peace Corps in ‘Nam, hands down. It was life changing."- Terry allows himself to smile, finding the urge irresistible. He’s told you so many made up stories about his volunteer work abroad that he almost felt bad for you and how desperately you believed him. Almost. All those hours spent on various lawns, picnic blankets, on the backseat of a car, walking along the beach, spinning made up scenarios you ate up like a child full of wanderlust, eager for someone to tell them a story of how the world is full of possibilities. Hope. Terry leans forward suddenly, his elbows pressed against his knees and your body moves, matching his, engrossed in the conversation, looking at him like he was about to share with you the answer to life itself. -"Would you like to go one day?"- Terry asks, all figuratives and future tense, chuckling, and oh, he would take you down a path unwalked before. That’s what you said you wanted after all. Go wherever the road took you, no? You nod vigorously, smiling wide, a warm twinkle in your eyes. Trusting. Pliant. Unspoiled.

He returns the gesture, bearing his teeth in the visage of happiness.

So, you wanted to have a Vietnam experience and that could very well be arranged.

But, thing is, he doesn't.

The thought remains firmly lodged in his head, all the things he could to do to you, make you suffer, take that sweet, sparkling light in your eyes and ensure it is a dimmed, lifeless thing after all the various methods through which he could cause you pain. Make you suffer again and again until you're a husk and your lesson has been learned; a remainder forever that life isn't just travel and seeing pretty places, instead, he's laid up with you in a pretty place all of his own, thinking he deserves his Summer of Love too, perhaps more than anyone else --- after all, he's fought for it. Toiled for it. Seen his friends murdered for it. He spent months in a cage for it. He's earned his place in the sun tenfolds over. And he enjoyed the game. He enjoyed this role he played in front of you. If Captain Turner could see how now he'd say he's 'gone native' and the idea only serves to amuse Terry doubly so --- the notion his commanding officer would be mad at him for anything only intensifying him further, supposing he wanted to spite the man from beyond the grave, if possible --- your head in Terry's lap, the foliage of the palm tree casting a long, heavy shadow from above obscuring your face, your jacket riddled with badges cast to the side in the beach sand at the foot of the tree. Thank fuck. -"You know, I always thought my travel companion wouldn't be anyone but myself."- You sigh, keeping your eyes closed only to flutter them open suddenly, looking at him engrossed in the task of smoothing the top of your head, fingers drawing patterns along your scalp. The thin layer of skin atop of the skull, potentially so easy to peel. -"As in, that I'd mostly be hitting the road on my own."- You continue; Terry spots the odd bit of hesitation in your voice. You lean up because he lets you, your weight prepped up on your elbows. -"All these others, they have someone other then themselves. Not me, though."- You glance further down the beach and the ramshackle collection of vans parked up along the coastline, the distant sound of music echoing through the seaboard. Beatniks making a barbeque and someone strumming a sappy guitar tune. Your tribe. The punks that drove you around. Dragged you from place to place. Occupied your time. Perpetuated this way of living you took to heart. Not for long, though. -"But, I think that's changed now."- You remark, forlorn. Of course it has changed. You were less and less a part of them and more and more a part of him than you could imagine. That's the way he liked it too.

-"When I leave here, I'd like you to come with me, Terry."-

You ask sweetly, halfway pleading, as much as he relished the notion of you begging him for anything, imaging you doing so on your knees, he had to concur internally that as much as you were convinced of the opposite in this very moment, you weren't in fact going anywhere. Where would go anyway? San Francisco? Out to Mexico? The thought made him want to throw his head back cackling. No. You didn't realize it just yet because Terry didn't want you to realize, but you'd be staying put, right here, with him. Indefinitely. Instead, he gives you the softest look he could muster to camouflage his intent, something within him melting and bleeding forth like warm, overly sugary pus, as he nods slowly, that desire to scrub the inside of your mouth out with soap every time you talked about leaving for somewhere else subsiding for a second, taking a backseat, overtaken by a certain gentleness, the assurance it was all just make belief on your part anyway because you wouldn't be going no matter how badly you were convinced of the opposite and no matter how badly he was convincing you of it. -"Yeah. Sure thing."- He says, absentmindedly, deliberate in his choice of words, deciding to never say 'yes' or 'no' decidedly, but you never notice, falling back on his back momentarily content and closing your eyes once more, seemingly enjoying the ocean breeze, choosing to trust the way you always did so far and when you're not watching, he weighs his options between tossing the 'Make love not war' badge he took off of your jacket into the sea and keeping it for himself as a memento and deciding it belonged to him rather than the depths of the rolling waves. After all, in Vietnam, they always had the tendency of collecting trophies. Sometimes it was ears. Sometimes it was chopped fingers. But, in your case, the notion of separating you into pieces he could keep starts becoming less and less alluring compared to the idea of having you whole and this thought hits Terry helming the steering wheel with you beside him on the passengers seat, all tender smiles and quiet warmth. During the war, he always daydreamed of someone writing him the way Betsy wrote to John --- the way all the other boys had sweethearts, wives and fiancées writing them too, wondering what it would be like if it was you who wrote to him, filling every page with your idealism and this puny belief in a better tomorrow. A field opens up in front of him. A coastal superbloom spreads as far as the eye can see. He figured you'd get a kick out of this shit, and just as he thought, you do, sighing deeply. -"Words can’t describe how pretty this is, Terry, so I’ll say nothing."- You turn to him, appearing serene, shrugging simply, your hand on his shoulders, touching him. He allows the gesture, leaning into it. Of course it was pretty. Desert Lillies, Verbenas, The Indigo Bush and Dune Evening Primroses spread on for miles. That's why he privatized the place. That's why he owned it. For you to indefinitely do what you liked with it. A gift you didn't even know was a gift just yet. -"Lets just enjoy it together, okay? Take in the moment."-

Terry feels his lips spread and a smile form in place of his stoicism so far.

He couldn't help himself. He brought you to a field of flowers and you were convinced he was the best of men. You were wearing a jacket riddled with pins, a weaved wicker purse, the birds chirping and your face was sunkissed with light; the fact he had to ruin this moment and squash the innocence of it both filled with blood with heat and made his gut lurch out in pain. Terry allows his himself to cackle quietly ---- at first as a slow rumble emanating from the back of his throat and then open, into his own chin. You give him a confused look. You were going to hate him so much for what he was going to right now and he both relished and reviled the fact.

-"What’s wrong?"-

You ask.

-"This is really funny."-

He manages. And it was. It genuinely was.

-"What is?"-

You prod on, scooting closer like you were worried for him, your fingers squeezing and kneading his shoulder and the concern shoots his blood down into his groin; at this point, he's outright laughing. How could he not?

-"Peace Corps."-

Those two words alone provide him with enough humor for him to barely contain it.

-"I was in Vietnam, but not with the Peace Corps."-

Terry shakes his head, feeling his own mouth pucker up comically, like he was teasing a child for believing his elaborate story about the toothfairy, and still, your trust stands there unshaken, your expressions lost and confused. You really bought into this crap.

-"Wait, what do you mean?"-

You scoot in your seat, fidgeting a bit, poor, beautiful idiot, your bag and all its many jiggling keychains and ornaments firmly clutched against you like a subconsciously protective barrier, your body facing him. A man just comes along, tells you a story and you go with it because your philosophy in life and first instinct was to not think someone just went along lying for its own sake, but see, that's where you were wrong. Terry supposed he loved and hated you for it, envying and coveting you and how unpolluted your mind was. Anyone could've come along and sold you on some bullshit and the idea of that momentarily infuriates him and relieves him --- he was infinitely glad it was him and that he was the first.

-"And I lied because you provided me with such wonderful sensations. Hated to see it ruined."-

He continues, ignoring your previous queries, the budding shock on your face positively delicious; the way it spontaneously grew in scope in real time as you sat in his busted up car surrounded by a meadow of flowers like a scared fairy or a deer caught in the headlights about to be trampled --- he could have the image and the whole scene commissioned and painted, framed and hanged above the mantlepiece facing his tub so he could have the vision of your naiveté collapsing in on itself for all eternity, admiring it while he bathed, had his mourning champagne, took calls. Touched himself underneath the searing hot water. Squeezing his cock in the palm of his hand. -"What sensations?"- You mouth, more breath than words at this point.

Your body language changing slightly. Skittish. Uncertain.

-"Friendship."-

Terry smiles into the word.

-"Hope."-

He adds leisurely, chewing on those four letters like they're bones.

-"Love."-

Finally, his hand grips the place where your shoulder blades meet your neck, caressing and squeezing there, ensuring his own body is distant; he was touching you and you weren't to touch him. Not when you were so close to realization and then, with in an instant, it hits you. The light from your eyes is gone and he feels the space in his trousers tighten. His teeth digging into his lower lip. -"You were in the army!?"- You gasp, like your lungs lacked the oxygen necessary for you to actually raise your tone and yell out, your voice crackling your throat as you tried to move backwards, further into your seat and the door on the passenger's side --- Terry doesn't let go, his hand still ever-present on your neck. A lover's touch transforming into a vice grip within seconds. He shrugs, deliberately mocking, paraphrasing and twisting every hippie-dippie bullshit talking point he's ever heard ever since he's stepped back on American soil.

-"What can I say, I was a demographically exploitable, impressionable youth and the big mean man from the poster tricked me into killing Gooks. I wouldn't have otherwise. I'm strictly anti-violence."-

Terry senses his own brows shooting up in a make-belief mask of feigned, parodied innocence only for your own to furrow and you look offended. Angry, for once in your life. Beautiful enough to consume. -"You're making fun of me!"- You cry out, desperately as he grabs you, both hands, and you struggle, to no avail. Your running days were over. You'd stay put for a change and you'd stay down. -"Don't you love me?"- Terry cocks his head only to find you quelled. Hesitating. Oh, you loved him alright. You just loved the pacifist idiot listening to you how you wanted to be a nomad backpacking in every backwater dump on the surface of the planet and not the man with the past and you couldn't immediately reconcile the two without betraying everything you stood for. -"I ---"- Your mouth falls open and he feels you shiver, your words caught on the precipice of your mouth. -"You said you wanted to see ancient places before they're changed, but do you think they were built on notions of peace? Every empire you'd like to travel to with me was built on war and conquest."- He shakes you, only slightly, hoping it'll make you come to your senses. You thought Xerxes in the remnants of Persia you wanted to see was a pacifist with a flower garden atop of his head or something? Did your beatnik friends tell you that? Your eyes shimmer, horrified, glossed over with suppressed tears he wanted to lick off your cheeks. -"God, what else did you lie about to me."- Your voice is barely audible, raspy, like the gravitas of the situation only just started settling in. If he wanted to mess with you further, now would be the ideal time, so he does just that, pointing his nose across the field, towards the skyline of the city and the tallest tower visible from plain on the outskirts of the highway. Impossible to avoid, juxtaposed like a distant fortress against the blue sky vista. Terry points the tip of his nose towards it, feeling rather triumphant of Dynatox's expansion. -"That compound. I own it. Along with half of the real estate in the country. Content?"- He snarks, tilting his head at your outrage. Not only was your lover a war criminal, he was an eco-terrorist mass profiteer as well. He's fucked you and you loved it too. -"I don't know you. Jesus. I don't even know you."- You murmur, wiggling out of his grip and moving because he lets you, very well intending to give chase once you practically jump over the closed door of the van, and unto the grass. Sure, why not. He'd get to fuck you knee-deep in flowers next. It was perfectly in-line with the life you led. He steps out of the Ford, slamming the door shut, his arms open and inviting once he finds you hastily walking down the meadow, no doubt intending to hitchhike your way back to the city. He couldn't allow that.

-"Why are you running? You've got it all now! A ticket away from backpacking your entire life away with a bunch of aimless bum punks!"-

He speaks plainly then; the jig is up, he tells himself, and playing games as only as fun as the revelation of true intent. His true intent being, taking you, his diamond in the rough, cleaning you up and separating you from those who'd get you hooked on a life of slumming it on every street from here to India. His wild blossom needed to be plucked, re-planted, placed in a hothouse, tended to, domesticated and copiously watered until it bends or breaks for him. You're practically running at this point, glancing back at him, face radiating ire. You were pissed the fuck off. Nice. Perfect.

-"Maybe I'm an aimless bunk punk too! Have you thought about that!? But, at least I didn't kill anyone! And I don't lie! Get away from me!"-

You yell, and Terry doesn't recall the last time he's seen you this angry, if ever, but the vision makes him smile and this point, he's so hard he can practically feel himself pulsate as he follows after you at a brisk pace, allowing you enough leeway to have you stupidly think you can just walk away from him while he's right there only to come up from behind you, always in your shadow, grab your forearms from the back, stop you in your tracks, spinning you to face him. Chest to chest, face to face, there was no escape. Why should his well-earned Summer of Love ever end? Have you asked yourself that?

-"See, that's where you're wrong, baby."-

He practically giggles, steadying you in his grip.

You're slippery, like a bar of soap. Luckily, he's stronger, not intending to let go.

-"You aren't an aimless bum punk. You're mine."-

He states the fucking obvious, grinning at the levels of your vexation growing.

-"And you are lying. You're lying to yourself when you refuse to fess up that you care about us."-

He inhales your scent, the tip of his nose dragging itself against the outline of your neck, inhaling all that sweat, the aroma of the great outdoors, the pollen of the field caught on your skin, smiling against you as he spoke, feeling you dig your fingers and nails into his arms, the jab of pain a relish, like an injected aphrodisiac in his system. His hand travels down, cupping you between your legs and on instinct, he hears your breath hitch. You liked that, didn't you? He rubs up against the side of your thigh, craving raw, dry friction. -"When you pretend that targets living in mud huts halfway across the planet getting napalmed matter to you as much as they do."- He presses his mouth next to the lobe of your ear, caressing the shell with his lip, feeling a slight shiver there, like your body spoke out in confirmation instead of you, even as you pushed and struggled, spilling words of venom when it was so clear your very nervous system craved to shout out a definitive 'yes'. -"You murderous son of a ---"- You seethe, trashing only to get hooked even more firmly against him, until he's practically embracing you not unlike wrangling a slithering Cobra, attempting to tame it. What's wrong? Were you afraid your friends will exclude you if they find out you've been getting fucked by a vet? Will they label you as less progress for it? Take your hippie credentials away? The continues massaging the seam between your hips, swearing he could feel the warm sensation of moisture and heat through the fabric, watching your mouth part even as you struggled. Bodies don't lie. He finds your zipper and the material of your panties underneath it, soaked to the very flesh. Ah, yes. There it was, all your political philosophies flying out the window proven just by how wet you were for him. -"You don't care about it that much."- Terry whispers laced with giggles, finding the bare skin of your cunt ready for his touch. Suddenly hungry, he devours your neck with kisses in-between words, pushing you backwards, hands all over, on the small of your back, around your waist, coaxing you down into the bed of flowers. He was going to have you, right here, right now. He's slept under the open sky and the wilderness for months and months only up until recently before rotating back to civilization, so for all intents and purposes, this should've been true return to form. -"You care about how good my fingers feel inside of your cunt much, much more and the thought of not being morally upstanding while getting fucked kills you on the inside."- He laughs, on top of you, finding you were no longer fighting it, maybe just barely, enough to make it interesting for him. The faintest spice of struggle with his hand up your leaking hole.

-"It kills you that your lizard brain rules you when I'm near."-

His hand propped up underneath your head, pillowing your contact with the bare soil underneath you, he admires you, all of you, cooing to you surrounded by flowers bent and broken at the stem through the impact of you both laying down in the bosom of the meadow, or more like, crashing into it; he supposed he despised the natural world as a whole --- a distaste he cultivated in Vietnam, in the jungle, overgrown, deep, impossible to traverse, during six months of monsoon rain, the perpetual, sinking moisture of the ground and the insects, centipedes as long as his arms, snakes, scorpions and things stemming forth from the muddy, slick bowls of the earth that would make any man's skin crawl, mowed down, culled and leveled, sprayed from above with an orange dust, the brainchild that birthed everything he wanted Dynatox to be --- a great equalizer of nature. The big, final X. But, you? Seeing you surrounded by the natural world? He supposed the only way he could ever tolerate nature is if it is in relation to you personally and no other way at all. Terry found no use for it unless it was in connection to you. That was his own lizard brain working overtime when you were near and he wanted you, needed to hear it from your own mouth that you were much the same as him. Weak around the resolve where he was concerned. -"Say it."- He demands it, firm lipped, his hand fishing around his trousers, pulling his cock out, hard, dripping precum, entirely ready for you. You shake your head, avoiding eye contact, pinning your gaze up at the sky; he could swear he spotted the faint, pale glimmer of suppressed tears. -"No."- You mouth bluntly. No? That just wouldn't do in this dojo. -"Say. It."- Terry repeats himself, insisting, annunciating every syllable, not intending to do it a second time, pulling your trousers down to your knees and spreading you. You could've shut your knees, but you never do; not that it would've stopped him, if anything, it would make this all the more profoundly enjoyable, but he reads desire, guilty, transgressive, hidden between the lines, yearning to burst forth. You wanted him too, but it went against your core values. Were you really as free as you thought you were, though? If you couldn't even fuck who you really wanted? Sounded like a miserable way to live. You moan and sob up at the same time once he's inside of you, bucking your hips up against him, managing a single word.

-"Yes."-

-"Yes, what?"-

-"It kills me ---"-

You stutter, attempting to repeat his words back to him beat by beat, only to stop, cutting yourself off once Terry picks up a pace, back and forth, back and forth, his fingers long since having undone your blouse, your tits and nipples bare, kneading them, greedy, wanton, unsure of what he'd do first, what he'd rather touch and when, finding he wanted all of you at once, no waiting, no hesitation, on a plot of land he owned, fucking someone who belonged to him.

-"What kills you?"-

He encourages, kissing along your jawline, biting, all spit, lack of decorum.

Finally, you break, and the tears flow like a river, your hands pinned above your head.

Complete defeat. Complete surrender.

-"You do."-

You whimper under the warm breeze, giving up even the faintest notion of finishing your sentence the way you should've; but he didn't mind this subversion. Actually, he rather prefered it, finding your mouth and kissing it deep, longer and hard, separating himself if only just a moment mid-trust to admire his handiwork and the pink bruise left behind on the side of your perfect lips that promised to grow blue by tomorrow --- a punishment for his tiny lack of control. Punishment for you not parroting his words back the way he ordered. But, you weren't going anywhere anymore, the final destination being right here, in this very city, so he'd have all the time in the world to train you as he liked. Teach you as he wanted and he feels his own throat hum in contentment, his cock lodged deep inside of you, remembering your badge and how he still had it somewhere in the inside pocket of his jacket left behind on the driver's seat of his truck; claiming one thing and then claiming another and ultimately, claiming everything you were, piece after piece, part after part, from the smallest, most insignificant pin, to the biggest, most crucial segments that made up who you were.

-"Good. Perfect."-

Terry murmurs victoriously, smiling, caressing the hair sticking to your forehead slick with sweat.

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Roll Up with the Sacred Scarab

The sacred scarab (Scarabaeus sacer) is perhaps the most famous of all dung beetles as a symbol of worship by ancient Egyptians. Outside its godly role, this species can be found throughout northern Africa, as well as southern Europe and into western Asia as far as India. In Africa it inhabits both deserts and scrubland, as well as agricultural areas where food is abundant, while in Europe the sacred scarab stays more towards the coast in dunes and marshes.

Aside from its well-known association with religion, the sacred scarab is known best for its association with dung. When a source has been found, individuals roll it into tightly compressed balls known as telecoprids, which can weigh up to ten times their size. These telecoprids are then rolled with the hind legs to an underground chamber where S. sacer strains out and feeds on nutrient-rich fluids, molds, and undigested particles from the ball over several days. In addition to its role as a nutrient recycler, the sacred scarab is also an important source of food for many small mammals, reptiles, and birds.

In its native range, the sacred scarab will mate year-round provided food is abdunant. Males and females work together to form and move a dung ball back to the underground nest; it is during this stage that males will fight each other for control of the ball, while the female will simply follow wherever the telecoprid goes. Once in the next, male and female briefly copulate before the male departs to search for another mate. The female then sculpts the dung ball into a pear shape and lays a single egg in the narrower end, which is then sealed. Her job done, she too leaves to seek out another partner and repeat the process, laying over a dozen eggs in her lifetime.

After a week or two, a single larva emerges from the egg and begins feeding on the dung around it. Over the next 3 months, it will molt up to three times before forming a pupa. About a month later, a fully mature adult emerges and burrows its way to the surface to find a fresh source of food and potential mates. Unlike many beetle species, the sacred scarab is an adept flyer, and will often use its wings to travel between food sources as opposed to walking.

Though the sacred scarab may seem ornate in Egyptian hieroglyphics and jewelry, the species itself is quite plain. Individuals are completely black, and both sexes are indistinguishable from each other. Individuals can range from 1.9 to 4.0 cm (0.7 to 1.6 in) long, and weigh up to 2 g (0.07 oz). One interesting feature is their front feet; unlike other dung beetles, S. sacer doesn't have any. Instead they only have a vestigial claw-like structure that can be used for digging.

Conservation status: This species has not been evaluated by the IUCN, but due to its large population size and adaptability to urban and agricultural expanstion it is considered relatively stable.

If you like what I do, consider leaving a tip or buying me a ko-fi!

Photos

Amadej Trnkoczy

Kev Gregory

San Diego Zoo

[valiantstarlights]

Chef Hob's family and the food truck's origin story

Hob is half-English and half-Indian. His father, Mr. Gadling, is from London. His mother, Mrs. Dandekar-Gadling, is from Mumbai. Hob was born in the UK.

Unfortunately, Hob was orphaned at an early age. And since his father had no remaining living relatives, (his paternal grandparents died a long time ago and his father was an only child), Hob was taken in by his maternal uncle's family in Mumbai.

His uncle, Sanyam Dandekar, is the current head of the family-owned and operated restaurant in Mumbai. It's small but thriving, and is well-regarded in the community. As the restaurant is on the ground floor of the building where the Dandekar family live, it's hard to escape the tantalizing smell of food wafting constantly from below.

It's from Sanyam that Hob learns to love food, to cook well, and to love making people happy through his cooking.

His aunt, Priya, always encourages him to go after his dreams. She was there for him every step of the way when he applied for a scholarship to go to a fancy culinary school in the UK. When he was accepted, she was the first person he told the news to, and she was so proud of him that she immediately called up her friends to share the good news with them. (Hob had had to endure maybe half a dozen aunties trying to introduce him to their daughters and nieces.)

His female cousins, Kala and Daya, love Hob very much and treat him as their older brother.

Kala has always been very intelligent even as a child, and she got bullied for it at school. Hob was quick to put an end to that and told her to reach even higher so she can leave everyone in the ground while she sails among the stars. Kala shyly told him she would build a spaceship for their entire family so she wouldn't have to sail the stars alone.

Daya was the more easy-going sister. She tried her best to teach Hob to dance, and never made fun of him even when he eventually accepted that he had two left feet. When she was rejected by a boy who told her she was so ugly that she'll never find anyone who'll love her, Hob got in trouble for beating the shit out of him, but he has no regrets about it. (Kala did not get in trouble for setting the boy's schoolbag on fire because she didn't get caught.)

Hob was so afraid when he found out that he was bisexual, but his family accepted him and treated him the same as they always did. His aunt Priya even promised not to matchmake him with anyone even though he's such a catch. They'll all just wait and see who he brings home. No judgment or pressure whatsoever.

He misses them fiercely when he gets to the UK. Especially when Kala gets married and he couldn't travel back because he had back-to-back exams, both theoretical and practical.

Still, he pushes himself to study hard, graduates with distinction, and eventually becomes a professional chef at a fancy hotel.

Hob's family are very proud of him and always call him to tell him so. Daya begs him to return and cook for them. Hob says he's still saving up enough vacation days. Rajan, Kala's husband and the current CEO of a major pharmaceutical company, offers to pay for his transportation. He graciously accepts because he's not an idiot.

After a couple of years, he finally accumulated enough vacation days to travel back to India for a long visit. The first thing he did is to cook a feast for his family (which now includes Rajan). He cooks traditional Indian food as well as food from other countries that he thinks they'll like.

(He adjusts the recipes to fit into their religion-based dietary restrictions, and adjusts some more when some ingredients are not readily available. He's a professional chef, after all.)

Daya is all about the taiyaki. Kala is in love with the vegetable lumpia. Rajan has strategically rearranged the dishes on the table so the plate of jollof rice is always close to him. Priya asks him to give his uncle his recipe for the vegetable moussaka. Sanyam is in tears because of how proud he is of Hob and how delicious everything is. He tells Hob that when he dies (far, far into the future), Hob is welcome to take over the restaurant.

Hob spends most of his time in India in the restaurant's kitchen with his uncle, and they experiment and add new things to the menu. Hob gets to talk to customers he's known ever since he was a child. They are all very proud of him and sing praises for the restaurant's new menu items.

Hob leaves India a month later with a much lighter heart.

When he returns to being a chef in the fancy hotel though, he finds that he is increasingly frustrated and unsatisfied. He feels like he should be happy and grateful. Instead he feels burned out.

He calls Kala, who is the closest to him age-wise, for advice. She simply asks him, "What do you want?"

He sighs and says, "I thought I wanted to be a chef. But now that I am one, I feel lost."

Silence. Then Kala says, "May I say something potentially controversial and not have you hang up on me?"

Hob chuckles and tells her to go ahead and say what she needs to say. In fact, maybe he needs to hear the potentially controversial thing to snap him out of this wretched state.

"I don't think you really want to be a chef."

Wow. "So far, so bad. Go on."

"No, listen: you have always loved cooking for us. You and dad. It's how you show your love. But where you're working currently, it's like you're a machine. Day in and day out, you're just completing orders. How many times since you started working there did you go out of the kitchen to talk to the guests? How often do you get to experiment with new culinary creations without anyone trying to stifle your creativity?"

Kala's tone implied that she knew the answer. "You might say that it will get worse before it gets better, but will it really? If I ask you now what your happiest memory is of your workplace, what will you tell me?"

"I--" Hob clears his throat and blinks away the tears that had snuck up on him. "When the hotel called me to tell me they had accepted my application. I immediately called home and all of you were so proud of me. I even heard Uncle announcing it to the entire restaurant in the background."

"Oh, Hob..." And now Kala sounded like she was gonna cry too. "I wish I were there so I can give you a hug."

"Virtual hug accepted. Is that the end of your controversial pep talk or is there more?"

"I think that's enough controversial things for now," Kala says. "Rajan and I are going to London in a couple of weeks for pleasure. We should meet up so you can show us all the good spots to eat at and then we can talk more."

They said their goodbyes soon after. Hob spends a lot of time that night just looking at the ceiling, not wanting to go to work but inevitably has to when his alarm goes off.

Kala was right. Being a chef granted him all sorts of qualifications and symbolized that he is a master in the field, but he isn't in it for the title. His uncle isn't a professional chef, yet Hob wouldn't claim to surpass his skills. And between the two of them, he knows who the happier one is.

Rajan and Kala arrived with a couple of bodyguards named Vikram and Wolfgang. Hob remembers them from his visit to India. Vikram is as stoic as bodyguards come, but Wolfgang has a different, more dangerous kind of intensity.

Hob shows them all the good dining spots he has discovered over the years, and all five of them eat well.

It was during their outing that Hob notices the food vendors on the street. They look...happy. They work just as hard as the other chefs in the hotel, with the main difference being that the customers are right in front of them, and they get to see their reactions.

It was very heartwarming to see tourists trying the local street food and seeing their faces light up after their first bite.

At the end of the day, Hob tells Kala of his food truck idea. It's almost embarrassing how excited he sounds, but Kala is excited too. She grabs Rajan and tells him about it. Rajan grabs Wolfgang and asks him about it. Hob almost expects Wolfgang to grab Vikram too, but Vikram just looks on, looking amused.

In the end, Wolfgang shrugs and says it's doable, and just like that, they're drawing plans and trying to come up with names.

("What about 'Gadling's'?"

Kala hummed. "I guess...I mean, that is your name. No one can argue that."

"I feel like you just insulted me, my father, and my paternal ancestors."

"Hob, our family restaurant's name is Dandekar. We are all basic here.")

("Glad Tidings?"

Wolfgang huffed a laugh. "No, Rajan."

"I think it's a good name."

"I think you need to go to sleep. How many hours has it been since you slept? Forty-eight?"

"Are you the sleep police now, my wolf?"

"Kala, I'm taking Rajan to bed."

"Alright," Kala says distractedly. She is currently looking at the kitchen plans, specifically the stove set-up. "Have fun. Don't hog all the blankets."

Hob's eyebrows have migrated to the ceiling. He doesn't think they quite know what they let slip, but he isn't going to pry until they're ready to talk to him about it. He looks at Vikram to see his reaction, but the man just looks like this is a thing that happens often and isn't bothered in the slightest.)

They videocall six people all over the world--mutual friends, Kala says--and all of them put their heads rogether to make Hob's food truck idea into a reality.

Hob is overwhelmed by their support. Rajan has promised to fund everything if Hob lets him eat for free when he's in town. Sun from Korea seconds him and agrees to lend monetary support as well, and to help him expand to Korea if the venture is successful. Capheus, the matatu driver from Nairobi, is flying to London to help customize the food truck. If possible, he sounds even more excited than Hob himself. Nomi from San Francisco and Will from Chicago volunteers to get the papers and forms sorted. Actual famous actor Lito Rodriguez from Mexico promises to promote his foodtruck when he goes to London to shoot a movie.

"When and where did you meet and befriend all these people?" Hob asks Kala. They all sounded like old friends and had inside jokes that Hob didn't understand. (What in the world is a tequila-squared?) Kala just smiles at him and says, "The internet exists for a reason, you know."

"Let me guess," Hob said in a low voice so the others won't hear. "An online dating site?"

Kala shrieks with laughter and hits him with a throw pillow.

Soon, the food truck is ready and Hob is in awe of everyone who pitched in and helped. He literally could not have achieved this so quickly without any of them.

Kala hugs him tight. "You deserve to be happy, Hob."

Hob hugs her back. Every person they videocalled (and Wolfgang's brother Felix) is coming to visit with their plus ones and twos to try out Hob's menu to taste-test before opening, and will stay until the grand opening a week later to help in promoting the foodtruck. They even have Riley from Iceland going to DJ for them.

"Should we invite aunt and uncle and Daya?"

"Do you really think we could stop them if they want to be here?" Kala asks him incredulously. "Have you met our sister?"

Hob has handed in his resignation notice as soon as the food truck's kitchen had been operational. That had been two weeks ago. He feels like a huge burden has been lifted from his shoulders the moment the e-mail was sent.

It can only get better from here.

--

P.S. I'm basic as hell at naming, so if you have ideas on what Hob's food truck should be called, speak now or forever hold your peace.