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artbyblastweave · 9 months ago

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Okay, Time for that belated Shrinking Rae post-

In the comics, Shrinking Ray's "arc" (bearing in mind an extremely liberal definition of that term, they had exactly one scene showcasing this) was that he was implied to be developing an inferiority complex; he's not necessarily incompetent, but he's out of his niche, his clever shrinking-based plans kept getting upstaged by brute-force solutions from the more conventionally powerful heroes like Invincible. He's the scrawny, nerdy little guy with the joke powers, he never gets a win, and in most fights he literally isn't visible. In the fight with the Lizard League his death is framed as pathetic and ineffectual- there's one or two panels between "I'll make you pay!" and getting eaten alive by Komodo. All of this is doing a couple of things- it's emphasizing that again, this is in fact a story and setting where superheroes sometimes just die really badly with limited fanfare- a thing that IIRC hadn't happened since the original Guardians team wipe in issue 7. Second, it's an indicator that the new Guardians are structurally kind of on the ropes. They're heavily staffed by second stringers, they exact second they have to split their forces they suffer a 66 percent casualty rate, and that's with backing from two capes who aren't actually part of the team. Grim! Anyway, when they do the adaptation Shrinking Ray becomes Shrinking Rae, because they want to tweak the gender balance of the cast and the pun is too good to pass up. But I think that there was a reasonable reluctance to transfer the "arc" from the comics one-to-one, because to be blunt, "Ineffectual Nebbish Glasses-wearer who whines a lot and dies pathetically," paired with absolutely nothing else, is gonna read as misogynistic if the character is a woman now. So in the adaptation Rae is markedly more competent. We're introduced to her taking down a much larger opponent by fucking around inside his ear canal, which becomes a favored trick of hers. There are traces of the self-esteem thing- the visual gag where she physically shrinks about a foot when getting chewed out in the briefing- but the overall throughline isn't "look at this loser who somehow ended up on the guardians." In the Lizard League fight, she doesn't get eaten- she's deliberately trying to execute a Thanus maneuver and just fucks it up, seconds after successfully killing a different villain the same way. And there's a second where it looks like it might work, too, before hope is cruelly yanked away. Which makes for a markedly cooler death scene- but who died? What was actually going on with her? Anything? In some sense she's cooler, but it's kind of an undifferentiated cool. She had what, Six lines? Seven? On balance I think Rae is still doing her fundamental job in the story, which is to pad the Guardians roster for a while and have someone who actually dies and stays dead as a result of the Lizard League fight- but I think they definitely missed an opportunity to give her some more texture than her comic counterpart had. Part of me thinks that the show would have been a good place to go even harder on Shrinking Rae being in over her head, but in a considered way, to emphasize that the Guardians aren't well managed- maybe tie it into the tensions between Robot and Immortal regarding sustainable team management practices. Part of me thinks you should go the other way, that if you're gonna do away with the idea she's underwhelming you should blow up her role, have her actually say and do some things that affect the story or the team dynamic in any noticeable way, because as it stands she's kind of visibly siloed as the designated mauve shirt. I'm definitely of one mind that this showcases something I suspected was gonna bite the show in the ass, which is that they're (laudably) diversifying a secondary and tertiary cast whose main role in the source material is often to die badly or fade out of focus.

#invincible #shrinking rae #invincible spoilers #thoughts #meta #invincible comic #invincible season 2 episode 5 #800 words of meta on a character with six lines and a brooklyn accent jumpscare

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lifewithdavefarts · 5 months ago

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DaveFarts - Episode 32 “A Worthy Opponent” [Episode List] Dave is back at the warehouse and filming another short “fart porn” clip for Greg. As he keeps blasting Tom, his co-worker and fart sniffer, a masked man steps into the set…

Greatly influenced by this suggestion.

Reminder: Tom was introduced in Episode 14.

POV: Dave

Alright, just like I did last time, it’s all good.

Getting paid to fart in someone’s face? Easiest money I’ll ever make in my life.

My friend Greg, the wannabe movie director, wanted me for another fart porn film.

Yes, that’s an actual thing, this is my life now… a small part of it at least.

You know me, I’m a chill dude, though before accepting such task some months ago I wanted to make sure there were some lines that we shouldn’t cross. To be honest, however, the more I worked with Greg, the more I got used to all of this gross kinky stuff.

I mean, that sounds hypocrite, I’m aware: I’m an incredibly skilled straight farter who continuously face-farts his friend and roommate, fully knowing the he has a fart fetish, and even before that I’ve always been a proud farter, and rightfully so.

Also, I spend too much time on the Internet, so I’m well-versed in gross stuff.

With Tim, however, it’s different.

Here there are cameras, people telling me how I need to fart (seriously!), people I barely know but, truth to be told, who gives a shit? It’s just business, a business that revolves about farting, so you could say that my ass shits gold, almost literally.

Plus, I already got a Tim in my fart-victim collection: a Tom always sounded like the next logical step, the next Infinity Sniffer. You can starting calling me Thanus at this point.

So here I am, back at the warehouse, in this fake living room, wearing a pair of shabby grey sweatpants, cautiously sitting on Tom’s face.

Tom, my co-worker and professional fart sniffer.

He was lying on this couch in the middle of the set, face up, his nose perfectly aligned with my asscheeks already.

He didn’t say a word or move a muscle: this guy is a pro for real. I still don’t know if he actually has a fart kink or not. What I do know is that I did blast him even when we weren’t working once.

What can I say? My farts are too good to be wasted!

As of now, I sat on him and adjusted my position, spreading my legs wide, to ease the next fart out and, according to the script, “to showoff my manly bulge”. Thanks, I guess?

I lean just a bit and I effortlessly rip the first fart of the session, a natural blast I’ve been brewing for a couple of minutes. The warm gas passed through the fabric of my sweatpants and soon Tom’s face was imbued with my poisonous flatulence.

“Fuck yeah.” I said, as the loud blast kept going. “Don’t choke on that you fag.”

Hey, I didn’t write the script!

I could feel and hear Tom taking deep whiffs of that fart. I wiggled my ass in response, an improv which he seemed to enjoy, both professionally and… kinkly?

This blast lasted around 6 seconds. A good one don’t get me wrong… but you know what I’m truly capable of…

I noticed Greg from behind the camera giving me a thumbs up, mouthing my next line.

“Alright you filthy slave, you better open up.”

Tom obeyed. I leaned once again and spread my legs even wider, my anus aligning with my co-worker’s mouth.

Another home-run, another loud fart, I didn’t even need to push that much. I’m ridiculously good at this, I swear. It feels stupid to brag about farting skills but trust me, as soon as I finish ripping one of my huge farts, my body is already brewing the next one. I got a quick reload.

Tom’s face was shaking and this time, for real, he almost choked on my gas, as I felt him move. And when even Tom, who’s usually stone-cold while working, flinches, I know I did a good job.

I saw Greg talking to his assistant: he seemed angry. In that moment, behind me, the fake door of the fake living room opened without warning. Was this an unscripted moment?

I stopped farting and turned around, kind of forgetting that I was sitting on Tom’s face.

Someone stepped into the set, another man, around my age, tall and skinny. I couldn’t see his face as he was wearing some kind of black ski mask. His clothes were as casual as mine (a red t-shirt and a pair of blue skinny jeans).

He didn’t look friendly, yet the moment he saw me, he kind of froze on the spot for a few moments.

Is Greg making a farter-slasher movie all of the sudden? Not that I’d complain! Sounds camp-y enough to me.

I gave an inquisitive look to my director-friend, who promptly stopped filming.

“C-cut!” he yelled. “Alright, we got our first farts.” he said, as he walked towards me. “N-now, make room for the other farter of this session.”

I gave him a puzzled look. “Other farter?”

“Duh!” Greg replied, as he pulled me out of the set, impatiently. “You thought you were the only person capable of ripping ass?”

Honestly, kind of?

I mean, I don’t think about farts 24/7, but I do know that I’m pretty good at it. Ask Tim.

“Are you replacing me?” I bluntly asked.

Not gonna have a fight over… farting, that’s for sure. And I’m not even mad, I was just taking those extra bucks for granted.

“Don’t be jealous.” he replied, as he let me sit next to him, next to the director himself, as if I was one of the crew.

I watched as this masked guy stepped on the couch and squatted over Tom’s head, just as the poor guy was getting used to fresh air again. I guess this is his lucky day, assuming that he does have the kink.

“Action!” I almost went deaf when Greg screamed that.

The masked guy was basically another master and he acted accordingly.

“Here you go, fag. Got something for you to taste…”

The fart that followed was very loud and echoed in the whole warehouse. On one hand, when I’m not the one torturing a poor soul with farts, yeah, it’s pretty gross. On the other, as a man, I gotta tip my imaginary hat to a fellow talented farter. The blast was nowhere as long as mine, but holy shit.

This other “master” was way more dominant than I was, way more natural I’d say.

“If you wanted a master, you could just ask…” I whispered into Greg's ear, sounding way more flirty than I intended to be, which almost made me laugh.

“You can’t be a master like him.” he firmly replied. “You’re too nice.”

Should I be offended? I really don’t know anything anymore at this point.

“Fire in the hole!” the masked master yelled, just as he ripped another loud fart down Tom’s throat.

I admit this guy’s voice sounded quite familiar, despite his best effort at trying to sound much deeper.

“Do we know this guy?” I asked Greg. The question almost startled him.

“Uhm. No idea.”

Ok, liar ahead. Clearly we know this guy then.

I will get to the bottom of this… after I put this masked guy to his place.

POV: Tom

Fuck.

Dave’s farts were already impressive, but this masked guy’s blasts are really hard to endure, really pushing the limits of my kink. Those farts sound utterly gross, almost wet, and they smell horribly. I like working with Dave because, among other things, his roaring ass is loud but when it comes to stench, I can easily inhale those.

This guy… I have no idea who he is, Greg refused to introduce us for some reason, but I decided to trust him: I think I made a mistake. The rough surface of his skinny jeans is almost scraping my face.

Another fart erupted right into my nostrils, renewing the already terrible stench. It smells like… spoiled milk? I don’t know, it’s nauseating, I feel like I’m drowning in a sewer. I’m always very calm and composed when I’m… working, but I wasn’t ready for this I admit it.

“You’re such a bitch, I knew you couldn’t handle it.” the man said, ripping another loud, short rip.

If this guy doesn’t get up soon, I’m probably gonna choke in my own puke.

“Alright, that’s enough, get the fuck out of here.”

I heard Dave say, walking towards us, and I was relieved.

The masked man got up, my eyes adjusting to the spotlight shining over the set. I took a deep breathe of (relatively) fresh air, but anything was better than that.

I managed to recognize Dave’s silhouette, towering over me.

“That was cute. Now let me show how a pro does it.”

Great. I’m basically the city you see in the background of kaijū movies while the monsters fight each other. You know the city, right? The city that usually gets completely leveled by the huge creatures?

I guess that’s my role for today.

Let’s get it over with.

As I said, Dave’s farts are huge but I’d take anything over that other guy’s gas.

I quickly took more deep breaths… before letting Dave sit on me again.

POV: Dave

“That was cute. Now let me show how a pro does it.”

I don’t know who this guy is, but if he really wants to do this, a fuckin’ fart challenge, then he’s gonna get blown away.

Well, not him, rather, my good pal right here on the couch.

“Alright…” I whispered to Tom. “Get ready bro. I’m gonna rip some huge ones and act like an asshole for a bit.”

I earned a puzzled look from him. “An asshole?” he paused for a moment. “But… you’re too nice.”

Oh great, now the sub tells me how lovey-dovey I am, perfect!

I stepped on the couch, not caring how my feet was crushing Tom’s chest, and squatted over his face, my fabric-clad anus tickling the tip of his nose. As I said, I’m always brewing a big one, and having a quick cheeseburger before coming here surely helped.

Once again, effortlessly, my ass started roaring, loud and unstoppable. As I kept pushing this one out, I maintained eye-contact with the mysterious masked challenger, who could only watch haplessly as I showed him what real talent looks like.

“Open wide, fag. This is far from over.”

Tom took it like a champ, inhaling deeply for the camera -I don’t even know if we started filming again.

All I know is that my farting skills are a sight to behold… and to sniff, in Tom and Tim’s case at least.

Ahah… I’ll never understand this gross kink, but I gotta admit, if I had this fetish, and my best bro and roommate was, well, me, I’d probably be as thirsty as Tim is. So yeah, in a disgusting way… I get it.

And just like that, 12 seconds passed. Long, but not as long as my best ones, I can do even better than this… but I play fair so, after brushing my sweaty sweatpants ass on Tom’s face, I stood up and crossed my arms, eyes glued on my rival.

“Your move, beanpole.”

It’s ridiculous how seriously I’m taking all of this, but I can get quite competitive.

The masked master laughed and… lied on the floor. He held one leg up… that’s a position I’m quite familiar with. Surprisingly enough, he started sucking air in, right through his jeans. That’s a great talent I gotta say, I thought I was the only one who could fart on command so easily.

A worthy opponent, at long last!

After a few seconds, the man stood up, proud and tall and, just like I did earlier, treated Tom as if he was part of the couch, and sat on his face. His eyes glued on me, I could tell there was a smug mile making fun of me under that ski mask.

The fart that followed was quite impressive and loud, but still not as massive as the ones I’m able to produce. This guy was good, no doubts about it. I’m pretty sure Tim would fall in love with him (the thought of that made me visibly laugh, putting a dent in the menacing aura I was trying to convey).

You know what, fuck this. It’s not worth it.

But since I’m already here, and I’m able to rip huge farts both naturally and on command, I guess I could simply… well… join the fun, you might say.

I’m sure Tom will understand.

POV: Tom

The masked guy’s fart, despite being on command, was as foul as the one before. Dave’s blasts weren’t a cakewalk by any means, and they’re still much louder, deeper and stronger overall, but whatever this guy ate was doing numbers in his stomach. He was wearing a pair of skinny jeans but he could very well be naked for how much my nostrils were burning.

The stench of Dave’s previous farts mixed with the rotten eggs-flavored gas this guy’s anus was blowing in my face and, truly, I started to think that this was a big test that Greg set up just for me, for some insane reason. If I survive this, I’m gonna kick his ass.

After around 9 seconds, the flatulence’s loudness faded out, essentially turning into a classic silent-but-deadly.

The man raised his ass just a bit, to make sure I could breath a bit of fresh air before the next one.

I turned my head and I could see Dave approaching the couch again.

Okay, it’s the other kaijū’s turn I assume.

Funnily enough, this is actually good ne-

...

Wait.

Why isn’t the other guy stepping aside?

“If it’s a show you want, Greg, a show you’ll get.” Dave boasted.

The farter above me finally moved, but just a bit, his ass still covering half of my face, hovering over my mouth.

The reason he moved, however, wasn’t altruistic by any means: instead, he had to make room for Dave’s ass, which ended up being planted directly onto my eyes instead.

Just... just fuckin’ do it you gassy bastards.

“Hey fag, it’s your lucky day.” the masked guy said.

“Good thing you have two nostrils: one of each anus.” Dave said.

Whether they were improvising or not wasn’t important, because their asses certainly weren’t.

Dave’s ass started speaking first, erupting his deep warm gas into my eyes. Mere seconds later, the other ass started talking as well, its fart being more high pitched. The sounds mixed together like a symphony and after a few moments I couldn’t tell which anus was being louder, ‘cause they both were.

I became part of the couch as those two asses kept crushing me, farting loudly. My face couldn’t endure that barrage of farts any longer, as the farters kept cycling between either loud series of farts, or single long ones. The stench... I felt like they were taking a shit on me, I could taste that thick gas and even guess what they ate for lunch.

It was getting hot, too hot, and I started breathing more heavily, which only meant I got to ingest more of that poisonous gas.

And yet, my massive boner betrayed my disgust.

While my eardrums were getting crushed by those farts, I could still manage to recognize Dave’s fart being the loudest: the man found a worthy opponent, sure, but he still owns the crown, no doubts about it.

“And for the big finale…” I heard the King say.

Dave lowered his sweatpants, exposing his sweaty bare ass (the masked farter kept his jeans on instead), and ripped a short, yet very loud toot, drops of sweat being blown onto my face and teary eyes (for the smell).

The two remained there for a few seconds, finally in silence from both ends, letting me inhale those last particles of gas, even though I’m pretty sure my skin merged with their farts on sub-atomic level, then they finally got up and shared a high-five.

Much to my surprise, the two men then turned back to me and helped me sit down, and they both high-fived me as well.

I guess a fart master is nothing without someone willing to sniff it all.

I appreciate the respect.

The mutual respect.

POV: Dave

After taking a much-needed shower and putting my civilian clothes back on (my usual dark brown hoodie and a pair of loose jeans), I cleared things up with Greg.

He admitted he messed up things up with the schedule, and that indeed there was another “master” audition today, but he really enjoyed our improv and filmed everything, and thus the editors are pretty satisfied with what we managed to film today.

He also told me that, indeed, the mysterious farter is “a common friend” who didn’t want to be recognized.

No hard feelings with Tom either, obviously.

Now, time to tie up one last loose end.

I went outside, on the back of the warehouse, where I knew I could find my masked rival. He was checking his phone sitting on a shabby couch, an old prop that the crew moved here after they bought a new one for the set.

Basically, glorified comfy garbage.

“Hey, fire-in-the-hole-guy! I knew I’d find you here… that’s there they put the trash after all.” I said, with a smug smile.

The man shook his head and laughed. “Greg told you?” he asked.

I walked towards the couch and sat next to him, wrapping my right arm around his shoulder.

“You thought I woudn’t recognize your beautiful eyes, Adam?” I joked, acting all flirty (and hopefully annoying).

He punched my shoulder and took his mask off.

Indeed, it was Adam all along.

He laughed a bit more.

“I didn’t know you were working with Greg.” he said. “Finally, you can make money from the one thing you're good at!"

“Very good at.” I corrected him.

I was going to fart to prove my point, but Adam seemed worried about something.

“I kind of needed those extra bucks you know...”

“Why is everything gravitating towards farts lately…” I thought out loud.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing, forget about it.” I quickly said. “Extra bucks you said?”

“Yeah, as gross as it sounds, I thought I could make some quick money out of… whatever Greg’s doing here.”

“Hey, not judging bro!” I reassured him. “I mean, I’ve been doing this for a couple of months.”

“Does Dana know?” he asked.

“Nah, I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Tim, he’d probably be jeal-“

I bit my tongue just in time, even though I didn’t really think he’d get jealous. I was just trying to make a joke I swear!

“Jealous?” my friend inquired. “Jealous of what?”

“…Uhh… jealous of my success, obviously!”

Adam didn’t seem too interested in the conversation anyway, luckily enough, so he didn’t find anything suspicious about my not-so-harmless joke about my roommate.

“That’s envy, not jealousy, you idiot.” he observed.

Never mind.

A few dozens of seconds of silence followed. Adam wasn’t exactly a talkative guy, and he does have a job and all, but if he needs extra bucks, maybe I could help.

“I’m sure we can arrange something with Greg.” I stated.

“Mh?”

“Yeah, you can fart on Tom on Tuesdays, while I can do it on Wednesdays.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“I can’t believe we’re talking about this.” Adam admitted.

“Yeah.” I patted his shoulder. “From great farts, come great responsibility.”

We remained there, on that smelly (not because of us) couch, for a few more minutes, as if all that fart-talk was the most mundane thing in the world.

“Doing something tonight?” Adam asked.

“Dana and Tim are out of town, so probably nothing. You?”

“There’s a good pub a few blocks from here. Care for a beer?”

“Always.” I simply said, as we both stood up, and started marching towards our new destination.

“Easy bro.” Adam said. “I’m not gonna drag your drunk ass back home.”

“I can handle way more beer than you, pal!” I said.

“Yeah, in your dreams maybe.” he replied.

“Alright. Ready to lose against me for the second time today?” I threatened him.

“Lose?” he scoffed. “It was literally just far-“

I cut him off by ripping a huge, natural blast, staring at him with a smug grin. The fart easily echoed in the alley and I’m pretty sure they heard it downtown. It was short and sweet, you might say.

4 loud, proud seconds.

“I’m sorry.” I said. “You were saying?”

Adam laughed in response. “Fine, you won whatever that was back in the warehouse.” he admitted. “But I’m still not gonna drag your sorry drunk ass back home later.”

You know me, I’m a chill guy, but if you tease me, I can get very competitive.

I again wrapped my arm around his shoulder: “If it’s a show you want, Adam, a show you’ll get.”

Nah… maybe I’m too nice.

The End

#eproctophilia #fart kink #fart story #malefarts #davefarts

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blogadrianaleite-blog · 2 years ago

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🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

#Marvel #thanus #prince william

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vishnavishivaa · 10 months ago

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Chapter 2: Picturesque (Sambandham: War of Hearts)

i am late, but here is chapter 2!

******

Chennai, India

The fire of the Sun had settled into the white of the clouds, spreading through it, burning with a fiery passion, yet much like a nurturing flame, filling the white, the sight enthralling, though some melancholy was attached to it. Arun mused on what it could be, as he painted the view in front of him, having been suddenly inspired after a heavy work day. He had gone through a lot, and had realized, if he kept himself occupied only in his work, he never got any relaxation. Despite his once upon a time thought that work only relaxed him, he had come to realize how burnt out he had become after some months of working almost every waking moment.

His grandmother had suggested he try his hand at any art at that stage, and he had chosen painting, which became his go-to relaxation, though he did often sing as well. Music was a passion of his, one his elder brother often told him that he should pursue, at least on and off, and he kept wondering if he should try to officially make covers of songs he loved. He sang them often enough for his family anyway.

As he finished painting the orange sky, his thoughts travelled to the doe-eyed, gentle woman who he had rejected, harsher than he had ever rejected anyone. Much harsher. Which had caused Kshithija to break away from the entire family, aware that none would really find fault with him, or even tell him he was wrong. He had seen his sister as well as Lokeshvari in tears when they discussed old memories, and the old guilt resurfaced.

He had destroyed the relationships, had he not? The fault was all his. If allowed, he would try to bring Kshithija back into the fold of the family, so that everyone got time with her.

Though, given Aditya's wish to date Nila, Kshithija's cousin, he had no doubt that she would return. However, what made him think she would be close with the family? He knew, better than most maybe, that Kshithija had this way of being friendly without giving much of herself away. And he dreaded the day that would happen with his whole family. It had already happened with him, at least partially.

Taking a deep breath, he searched for his phone, finding it and turning on a random playlist, freezing when the song started playing.

Thelimanam mazhavillin niramaniyum neram Niramarnnoru kanavennil theliyunna pole Puzhayoram thazhukunnee thanu neeran kaattu Pulakangal izhaneythoru kuzhaloothiya pole

He he had to smile at the irony the Universe was throwing at him. Kshithija was a prolific painter, her artwork still hung all over the house, memories of him watching her paint coming to the forefront of his mind and eyes.

For someone who did not like her romantically, he sure had way too many memories of her, and moments with her. It was a given at first that they would interact, given how close his elder sister Iramathi was to Kshithija, but he had not quite expected to get along with her as much as they had. Which made him feel even guiltier for having rejected her so harshly.

What had magnified that guilt was the still gentle and sweet behaviour from Kshithija, though more formal than ever. When she had left, he had felt almost suffocated and relieved all at once, which only confused him further. Who feels such a weird paradox of emotions about a single person?

He, that is who.

Arun sighed, knowing he had gotten deep into his head again. But he could not help it. Recently, he had been thinking a lot, reflecting, and he was displeased, with himself and even many in his family. Definitely not with his mother, because she had pulled him up, and set him on the right path. But he wondered, why had his elder siblings not stopped him? His younger ones had been angry, though not for long. But Ira was supposed to be Kshithija's best friend. And how did Aditya expect Nila to say yes for a date when he had not bothered too much about Nila's cousin sister?

Had his screwup messed up everything for his whole family?

But his mother had told him that every issue cannot be his fault either. He should not take the responsibility for the fault of others. His faults were his, and others were theirs. Even if he was in the wrong, the mistake another chooses to make is theirs. Plus, he also had made enough mistakes that he burned to rectify.

So much so that he had pushed himself to text Nila and ask after Kshithija. He had to, for his heart hurt at the memory of her devastated eyes, dark and at one time shimmering with flecks of gold. He had taken away that brightness, which made him feel worse than he already did. Gulping heavily, as if swallowing huge breaths of air, he continued painting, allowing his heart, veins and feelings to take over.

A short time later, he stared at what he had painted, shocked at the woman who had graced his canvas. This was the first time he had painted a human figure, and somehow, he had painted her. Somehow, his self seemed very familiar with a woman he did not like romantically.

What was going on?

"Anna! Anna!"

Paavai's nightingale voice brought him out of his head, propelling him to hide his painting. He had no desire to show it to anyone without understanding why he had made the painting.

"Yes little one?" he called out teasingly, making her pout at him for a moment, a common expression when the inside joke was brought up.

"Nila Akka just called. Thija Akka is returning to Chennai permanently!"

*****

Translation of song (Malare from Premam):

Thelimanam mazhavillin niramaniyum neram When the sky is decorated with colors of rainbow. Niramarnnoru kanavennil theliyunna pole A colourful dream is blossoming in me Puzhayoram thazhukunnee thanu neeran kaattum Wind blowing through this river side; Pulakangal izhaneythoru kuzhaloothiya pole Is like the tunes from a flute weaved with thrill.

---------------

@thelekhikawrites @nspwriteups @whippersnappersbookworm @ragkee @chemicalmindedlotus @dr-scribbler @willkatfanfromasia @balladedutempsjadis @freeunknownwasteland @ramcharanobsessed @gemmusings @vijayasena @thirst4light @hollogramhallucination @chiyaanvikram @moon-880 @sakhiiii @thereader-radhika @ambidextrousarcher @celestesinsight @yehsahihai @thegleamingmoon @dumdaradumdaradum @rang-lo @ragkee @vijayasena Please let me know your thoughts!

#ponniyin selvan #vanathi #kundavai #arulmozhi #aditha karikalan #ponniyin selvan 2 #vanthiyathevan #vanathiarulmozhi #vanmozhi #writing #writers of tumblr #writers of the world #ponniyin selvan fanfiction #modern au

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