eremin0109
gorogorogoro-chan
She/Her. 20. (Barely) Bisexual. Because have you SEEN girls??? Homoerotic, mutually destructive antagonism enthusiast. Aggressively Indian (Marathi).
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In a way, Hephaestion son of Amyntor was an icon of the younger members of Alexander’s army.
We don’t know when Hephaestion was born but it is believed that he was Alexander’s contemporary. If that is the case, he left Macedon not long after his twentieth birthday and spent the rest of his life – the next eleven or so years – fighting and resting, fighting and resting, fighting and resting until one day in Ecbatana late in 324 B.C. he died following a short illness.
Hephaestion never had time to dwell upon his share of Alexander’s riches; he never had time to settle into his wealth and power, to use it for good or ill, or to wake up in the morning and decide to do nothing. His whole adult life was work and service.
In Hephaestion we see the experience of the younger Macedonian soldiers who left their homeland with Alexander and who also died before they could return to their families with the fruits of their labours.
Those soldiers, and Hephaestion, lived very full lives but not complete ones. They had everything, and nothing. That is sad. What makes it tragic is that the perpetual nature of Alexander’s quest for glory denied them the ability to love without a care in the world – surely the greatest kind of love.
And in so far as Hephaestion was denied this ability, so was Alexander. From that point of view, maybe death and the chance to walk hand-in-hand through the endless fields of Elysium was the best thing to ever happen to them.
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dunno about the rest of Y8 but god, even after all these years apart Kiryu STILL bows down in front of Majima and calls him "Majima no nii-san". It's been decades since he's left the Yakuza and yet.
someone get me some tissues a bitch bout to sob her eyes out
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can't stop thinking about the iliad having the first lines "sing, goddess, of achilles's rage". his fatal anger, black and incalculable, and the goddess isn't singing of his prideful anger, the one that spurns agamemnon, no. it is the all-consuming rage of someone whose own actions cost them everything they hold dear. can't stop thinking of the fact that you can interpret the iliad without achilles loving patroclus but if you do, you lose every major theme of the iliad. can't stop thinking about the fact that achilles was meant to be invulnerable, but the entire point of the iliad is that invulnerability only exists if one is an island and achilles was not. achilles's rage that silenced the gods, rage that reads so flat without the context that it is also anguish and it is also grief and it is also guilt. doesn't matter how but the goddess can only sing of achilles's rage when you know that achilles loved his friend. in whatever way.
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PLEASE HAVE SOME RESPECT FOR OUR RELIGIOUS TEXTS.
They’re not mere pieces of literature for you to write whatever you want about them without understanding it properly. To us, they are holy texts connected deeply to our culture and history.
PLEASE DO NOT MOCK OUR GODS.
PLEASE DO NOT DENY OUR HISTORY.
PLEASE DO NOT INTERPOLATE OUR VEDAS.
They are sacred to us.
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I turn 30 next month so here’s what I learned in my 20s:
—don’t work for startups, they’re always one ‘innovative idea’ away adding ‘sell your kidneys on the black market’ to your job description.
—keeping a collection of basic OTC medicine on you will save your life one day. I recommend Advil, Imodium, and TUMS.
—those little single-use glasses cleaning wipes are 1000% worth the money
—overly self-depreciating jokes just make people uncomfortable, wean yourself off of them
—you can buy dehydrated mini marshmallows in bulk online and they’re a godsend for hot cocoa
—people don’t care if you have fidget toys on your desk they just want to play with them
—try to go to bed BEFORE the existential ennui kicks in
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varadha's motive.
so, it was obvious that varadha closing his eyes was a very particular action that carried a specific significance of him accepting what was happening, but i didn't completely understand the exact reason, within the cinematic context.
i thought at first that it was acceptance of either deva's actions or their eventual outcome
then i thought it was tied to deva's guilt after the massacre – maybe varadha didn't want to witness deva's violence, out of consideration for him, but that wouldn't make sense, since he himself fights by deva's side. violence has never been somthing they shy away from.
then it sort of struck me:
the fact that varadha had to stand and watch, as women were disrespected and treated in such a gruesome way, must be something he's deeply ashamed of.
with the way things were, and even though he had no fear of his own death, he did not have the means nor the power to defend anybody, especially when doing so would guarantee his brother's and everyone else's death
but when he complied with the order to fold his hands, and avert his gaze, he must have been repulsed by his own actions.
everytime they were asked to fold their hands, varadha bodily complied – they all did – but he obviously never did it with the intent the gesture was meant to have: deference to vishnu and the man's actions.
he always looked up at the girls who were taken, not closing his eyes to the barbarity of this ritual in the slightest:
but when deva walks ahead, varadha can finally close his eyes, and keep his hands folded in true deference to deva, because he knows, if deva steps up, justice will be enacted.
he cannot absolve himself of the sin of witnessing what has been happening to the women, but he can finally mean it when he keeps his arms crossed and looks away.
he can finally accept the events unfolding in front of him, knowing that deva will make sure those atrocities never happen again.
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The way three out of four Rajamannar siblings are some flavour of queer:
Radha Rama with her peculiar codependancy on Obulamma and blatant disinterest in her own husband.
Rudra, his fixation on Varadha that borders on antagonistic obsession, him letting Ranga drape himself all over him, hearing him whine and moan like a loud girlfriend and promising to solve his problems.
And finally, Varadha. His case doesn't even need to be elaborated. The entire film is based around his inability to let Deva go and the lengths he would go to keep him by his side, to keep him safe.
#Bacchi is the only token straight sibling#maybe that's why he's not a major player in the plot 😬😬😬#Neel really said this is a GAYS ONLY show and I respect him so much for that#Salaar is for the toxic gays yes but it's especially for toxic dysfunctionally gay siblings#Rajamannar is probably rolling in his grave#all of his (relevant) children are raging homosexuals#lmao okay i'll stop#salaar#varadeva
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Just watched Salaar on Netflix and HOLY FUCKING SHIT do I have THOUGHTS about the film. Will be back tomorrow with detailed shitposts I promise.
#Telugu cinema is a gift that just keeps giving in the category of “movies so macho they end up being the epitome of gay romance”#and I fucking LOVE it#salaar
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A Goodbye
Not beta read or anything. Literally the most self indulgent thing ive ever written. enjoy. inspired by @rambheem-is-real 's nsfw posts that got the horny wheels working.
Pairing: Varadeva
NSFW
*****
Khansaar, 2010
There it was. Laid out in front of them like an animal's carcass.
Love had never been easy for Varadha. Love had always been an enemy, a weakness and every other attribute that tainted that word. It ate away at him like a disease and spit him back out like phlegm. When love did not want him, it made him its weapon.
So he looked at its corpse. Beaten, ragged and dirty, as it was meant to be. He was the one who had ended its life, so why was he feeling like a gaping hole had been made in his heart?
And why did love look so alive in his eyes? Why did it writhe and dance and reach out and pull Varadha towards him? Why did it seem to want to live when he kept killing it? Why couldn't it just go?
"Varadha," said Deva.
"Go." A piece of his heart turned to stone as he said that.
"Varadha, listen-"
"Get out. If I ever see your face again, I'll put your head on a spike and hang it at Khansaar's doors. Go."
Well, it had achieved what he wanted it to. That writhing love stopped its dance in Deva's eyes. In its remains, all that was left was a rising anger.
Good. At least he would go out of this world in the wake of that love. No death would be more respectable.
But Varadha knew Deva more than he knew himself. That anger, so familiar to him, cooled down, replaced with another emotion
It wracked him to his bones.
Don't leave me, he wanted to say. I love you. Love me back. Please.
But he stood his ground.
Deva turned around, and walked out of the room. The entire place descended into silence. No one spoke a word. The sun set.
Varadharaja Mannar became King.
***
Khansaar, 2017
The corpses that lined the border of Khansaar reminded him of another time, when burning bodies were all you could see around you.
He could also see Deva on top of the cliff.
Love still felt like a punch to the gut.
How untamed could something be? How could it still be alive, with all of its guts spilling out? How could it be alive and fight to burn and writhe, when blobs of its blood had fallen for 32 years?
And why did it need to haunt him of all people?
Deva was just as beautiful as he had been all those years ago. Even as Varadha prepared for a proper death this time, he couldn't help but look at the one man who made him feel like he was at the heights of pleasure and in the depths of despair at the same time. How could he not when Deva looked at him with storms in his eyes?
Varadha wanted to ease them. Ease all of his worries away. He didn't care about that Aadhya girl, he didn't care about anything. He just wanted Deva to look at him with those eyes of his. He wanted to drown in them, lose himself in them and then kiss the man's head, caress away the lines on his forehead and love him like he had always wanted to.
"Get me his head," he said instead.
All the people at his disposal marched out, perhaps hoping for an intense battle.
Well, he had just sent a hundred men to their deaths. He made a silent prayer to Katteramma to forgive him.
It didn't take long for the men to be disposed of. Deva was quite singularly focused on murdering anyone involved.
As Varadha sat in his throne, the doors burst open, and in bulldozed the man.
He couldn't help it - he never could when Deva was near - he noticed Deva's minute details without even having to try. It was like a built in mechanism that couldn't be removed. A little scar there, a bit of rugged scruff here, a small mole that had been the highlight of his days during their childhood.
"Varadharaja Mannar," began Deva.
Varadha shook himself out of his little trance. What use was it being in cahoots with a dead love?
He lifted his hand to stop Deva - no, Devaratha - from continuing.
He looked at everyone else in the court. "Get out. All of you. This is between me and - Devaratha." His jaw clenched.
Everyone filed out in a few minutes. The court room, which had been filled with clamouring noise earlier, fell quiet.
Neither of them said a word. Both of them knew what the other was thinking.
Deva put his weapon down. He raised his arms up in surrender and walked towards the throne.
Varadha didn't move an inch.
His footsteps echoed in the courtroom as he made his way to the throne. Varadha's heart constricted just a little bit more with each step.
Deva stopped at the foot of the stairs. His gaze was laser focused on Varadha.
"Devaratha," Varadha said.
"Where is Aadhya?" asked Deva.
"It doesn't matter. She never did, did she?" Varadha smirked. "It was never about her."
"Then give her back." Deva's face contorted, fury radiating off him in waves.
Varadha let out a chuckle, humourless and dry. That fury would go back in again, simmer in his insides. Old habits.
"Come on, Deva. We both know how these things work. I can't give her to you, unless you give me something in return," he said instead.
Deva's fist clenched. "What do you want?"
"You."
Deva's expression went from fury, to confusion, to - something else, and then finally seemed to settle on a decision. Deva raised an eyebrow at him, as if he was asking something.
Varadha watched him squirm. In a twisted way, he felt a bit of triumph. He bet Aadhya couldn't decipher all these minute expressions.
"Come," he said.
Deva took a few cautious steps, wariness shrouding his form. Varadha, as usual, just watched.
One step. Two. Three. Four. Five.
The man was right in front of him. He could smell his sweat and the remnants of gunpowder. He could feel the heat radiating off of Deva.
Varadha's breath caught.
Deva seemed to register that, and a small smirk made its way onto his face. And Varadha, as usual, traced every movement that Deva made.
Eventually, their eyes met. They had to. It was inevitable for them to look at each other like the other held the answers to the universe. It was inevitable that they would search for the answers to their unspoken questions in each other's eyes.
Deva's eyes dissolved into something soft. Varadha - he was helpless. Even if he wanted the harshness of vengeance or past anger to take over his heart, Deva could simply look at him and he would forget everything.
That's just how it was.
God, he was gone. He was delusional. That was the only way he could explain - whatever this was.
How badly messed up it was that he was imagining Deva getting closer to his face, as if he was about t-
What the fuck.
***
Deva was kissing him.
Lips were pressed against his own, bearing down on them.
And Varadha's lips moved. He didn't remember it clearly. Perhaps it was the little bit of whiskey he'd had in the morning.
But Varadha moved. He put his arms around Deva's neck and kissed him back. He bit Deva's lips, opened him him up.
The sensation of his tongue felt sent a jolt through Varadha and heat pooled low in his groin.
He had longed for this. He had longed for it like a parched man in a desert for water. He wanted to be engulfed in Deva's scent, completely surrounded by it. He wanted to kiss this man to pieces, kiss him into submission.
He pulled Deva onto his lap, not leaving his mouth for even a second. The gasp that escaped his mouth just riled Varadha up.
He wanted the man to whimper. To moan and gasp and writhe against him. He wanted him to lose his control and give in.
Well, only one way to do it.
Varadha parted from his mouth. He pulled Deva by the ass and thrusted up, grunting as he did so. Deva gasped.
"Y-you fucking bastard," the other man gritted out.
"Mhm?" Varadha hummed as he rubbed their crotches once again.
Deva just kissed him again, forcefully parting his lips and biting down on them.
Varadha moaned, the pain mixing with the pleasure and making everything hazy around him.
That distinct smell of Deva clouded every other sense of his, and the only thing he could feel was the touch of his lips, the heat of his breath and that heady, heady pleasure.
Deva separated them, and a string if spit extended between their lips. Deva was breathing hard, and Varadha wasn't any better.
Deva's eyes were dilated, and the look in his eyes spoke more than he could ever express with words. Varadha's eyes trailed down to his lips, so plump and kissed. He caressed them and felt Deva suck in a breath.
God, he was beautiful.
He pressed a haphazard kiss to Deva's lips. He didn't move away after letting go. Instead, he let their temples touch.
It was a simple act, a simple touch. Yet it felt like he had finally come home, and had been laid to rest. The hand that had been on Deva's lips, now became intertwined with his hair, pulling them closer to each other. Deva sighed.
He didn't know for how long they stayed like that. Everything felt a bit hazy, and his cock wasn't in the mood for calming down either, throbbing as it was.
Deva seemed to have regained some of his senses. He leaned forward and kissed Varadha's temple. Then his eyes. Then the tip of his nose. The apples of his cheeks. The space between his upper lip and his nose. He peppered kisses across his jaw.
He reached Varadha's neck, and that is where he chose to stop. Varadha looked to the side, and caught Deva staring at him. A small smile came into Varadha's vision.
Oh.
Oh.
Next thing he knew, Deva was kissing his neck, licking it, biting it, loving it. All he could hear around him were little gasps and moans. Deva was grunting as he played with the sensitive skin on Varadha's neck.
Varadha ground against Deva, craving that sweet release. He kept thrusting and rubbing, Deva's erection an acute reminder of his arousal. He wanted this just as much as Varadha did. A little bloom of possessiveness occurred in his heart.
His hand, which had been around Deva's neck, now made its way to his crotch. He palmed the man's erection.
Deva bucked up against his hand, and the moan that came out of his mouth went straight to Varadha's cock. He pressed down on Deva further, bringing out more of those.
Not once did Deva let go of his neck. At one point, he did something with his tongue that almost made Varadha come in his fucking lungi.
He pulled him away from his neck. Deva looked dazed and was about to dive back in, but Varadha pulled at the man's hair. Deva let out a moan.
He looked so fucked out. They hadn't even put each other's cocks inside each other. Something warmed in Varadha's heart at that.
Deva got up. Varadha stopped himself from whining at the loss.
Deva kneeled in front of him.
"What-"
"Shh. Let me do my thing." He placed a finger on Varadha's lips.
This is probably the last time I'll love you went unsaid, but they both understood it.
He took away his hands to work on Varadha's lungi. He untied it, and looked him in the eyes while doing it. Varadha didn't shy away.
Deva looked down at Varadha's twitching cock, the thin cloth of the boxers the only thing separating it from him. He licked his lips.
Varadha palmed his cock through his boxers, little moans escaping his throat.
Deva looked mesmerised by it all. It made Varadha feel a certain type of way.
He placed a hand on Varadha's. They moved together, touching where the other didn't, rubbing where the other didn't, caressing where the other didn't.
"Don't look at me," Varadha breathed in between gasps.
"Where else will I look?" Deva murmured.
Varadha didn't know what to say to that, so he concentrated on Deva.
Deva pulled down his boxers, and Varadha's cock sprang up. He hissed at the sudden sensation of cold wind.
His - whatever - seemed to notice and came to his aid.
"It's aroused," said Deva.
"Shut the fuck up and suck it," replied Varadha.
And Deva did just that.
***
Aftermath
"Did you just have sex with him?" asked Aadhya, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. She had the most incredulous expression on her face.
Deva, to save his ass and reputation, did not reply.
"You did," she said in disbelief. "Oh my god, you went and fucked your fucking ex. What the actual fuck."
Deva stayed quiet.
"Unbelievable," she said.
After a few minutes, though she asked, "Was he that good?"
*****
ummm so that was that. i just wanted an excuse to write porn yall. i hope its not all bad. i hope u find some alright things!
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Big scary yakuza man, y'all
A normal day at Club Sunshine
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Scenes From A Marriage | 💏🏻 HONEYMOONERS
Felix & Oliver · dir. Emerald Fennell · Saltburn (2023)
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losing a final is heartbreaking. but losing a final when your team dominated the entire tournament, won every single match, broke records, stayed on top of the table and entered the finals with a smashing 10/10 win is next level traumatizing :( this is breaking me like nothing 
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The camera man was absolutely bonkers for this btw
that 5 second focus on ishan. yeah
#like what was the reason 😭#they showed Sara when Shubman hit fours and then gave Ishan a full 5 sec cameo when Shubman hit a six like??????#they know everyone knows lmao#ishan kishan#shubman gill#cwc 2023
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Listen, I love everything about Ishan and Shubman's relationship off-field, they're just so cute! But I don't think we realize just how well they complement each other (as openers) in the field as well.
Shubman is a 6 ft 1, right-handed batsman who takes his time to settle on the pitch before smashing the big boundaries. He either plays really long innings (8 fucking centuries at 24!) or gets out before even reaching double digits. He's generally calm and composed on the field.
Whereas there's a reason they call Ishan the "pocket dynamite". He's a 5 ft 5, left-handed wicket-keeper batsman who hit the first ball of his debut T20I and ODI for a four and a six respectively. He's also the only player in the world to convert his maiden century into a fucking double ton, in just 126 balls no less! He's someone who usually plays short, explosive innings and needs an anchor on the other end to convert them into bigger scores.
So you see where I'm getting at???
#i really want to see them as an opening pair in the future#i understand there's other options rn like yashasvi and ruturaj and that ishan is flexible enough to play across the middle order#but he's said that he prefers to open and good GOD i want to see him as a long term opener for the team#(preferably with Gill but you know I'll take what I can get Lmao)#shubman gill#ishan kishan#indian cricket team#cwc 2023
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