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[scr4n]

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[aeqghrwen]

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[triviareads]

Remembering how excited I was to see Oak Tree Road mentioned in a romance novel.

[bombaytribune]

"Bahut garmi hai...": Nitish Kumar ducks question over Uniform Civil Code

Patna (Bihar): Bihar Chief Minister Nitish Kumar evaded questions from reporters over the Uniform Civil Code (UCC), saying “Bahut garmi hai” (the weather is too hot), adding that the matter will be discussed later. He was speaking to reporters in Bihar’s Patna on Sunday. “Bahut garmi hai…sab baat hoga baad mein, abhi bahut garmi hai (It’s too hot. Let us talk about all matters later),” Bihar CM…

[flowerprincesscherryblossom]

kitty kookie

pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader word count: 1719 warnings: smut, explicit language, cat hybrid kook, scent marking, nipple play AO3 A/N: request - Can you do a Jungkook x reader where he is a cat hybrid and he is a obsession for reader's breast so he wants to suck on her nipples anytime he can? Hope you like it and that you have a wonderful day wherever you are💜

You once heard that cats were the most independent pet.

Your cat hybrid Jungkook tended to fall on this specter the majority of the time, he could take care of himself as any other cat or person could - he could cook; clean after himself; he'd play video games or watch television or whatever else he did online; and other shenanigans.

Honestly, sometimes if it weren't for the fluffy black ears and tail you had doubts about him being a hybrid.

Jungkook was a lot like this, especially when you first adopted him. He tended to keep to himself, barely talking to you, always in his bedroom or sitting on the couch, the only time you actually saw more of him was when you shared meals together.

At first, you thought it was because he still needed to get used to everything, but as the days went on and he kept the same attitude you grew to fear that maybe, he was uncomfortable in your house and that maybe you would have to return him to the shelter.

You told him as much one night - you didn't want to return him, you wanted him to feel comfortable and safe, that the house was his as much as it was yours and that if he couldn't then you had failed as an owner and didn't see any other option.

At your words Jungkook suddenly stood up and yelled a passionate 'No!', startling you and making you slightly jump in your seat. Seeing your wide eyes, Jungkook cleared his throat and retook his seat before sighing and explaining.

His previous owners had put him in shelters because sometimes he was a lot needier and attention-seeking - they really liked the independent side of him but when it came to the side that still needed care and love they hadn't signed up for that. He didn't want that to happen again so when you adopted him he decided to show a less needy side of himself.

Through all of his explanation you didn't utter a single noise, just patiently listening to his every word, your hand laying on his as your thumb softly grazed his knuckles. Once he was done you assured him that it wouldn't be the case this time and that he could ask for as much attention as he wanted.

Jungkook was still a little doubtful of you but that seemed to melt away once you started petting his head and ears, his tail flicking as purrs kept leaving him.

Afterward, his demeanor changed completely. He still his usual things but he also was around more and would often ask of pets and just wanting to be around you.

Jungkook was especially fond of using his cat form as a way to get attention. You would be fixing up dinner and suddenly hear meowing and feel him bunting against your legs, or you would be doing nothing in particular and the bombay cat would throw himself on the ground and begin to roll around. When you would tease him he would either lick your hands or climb in your lap.

But his favorite would have to be kneading. Jungkook especially loved doing that to your breasts. Every night since your conversation he would enter your bedroom, once he thought you were asleep, and would just knead your shirt, more specifically where your boobs were, doing it carefully so that he wouldn't wake you or hurt you with his claws before snuggling close to them as his purrs lulled you both to sleep.

You didn't know how to feel about it - on one hand, you thought it was cute, the small black cat using your boobs as pillows and, after research, you knew that cats would knead their owners as a way of expressing adoration. On the other hand, Jungkook was also a grown buff man with a fixation on your breasts, something that made you feel hot and bothered.

It wasn't like you would deny that Jungkook was attractive, multiple were the occasions where you had to stop yourself from gawking when he would walk around the apartment in something that puts a special emphasis on his arms or thick legs. And that's without counting the random moments where he would be shirtless and in sweats - those were images that haunted your every moment.

Laying on your couch, you were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt a sudden weight on your body, the black cat was sitting on your stomach simply staring at you as its tail moved relaxed from one side to the other.

"Jungkook," you said with a sigh. "We need to talk."

In a flash he was off of you and switched back to his human form and taking a seat next to you, tail swinging wildly and ears high on alert.

You reached out to pet one of his ears and hopefully calm him down. "It's nothing bad, just a simple conversation." that didn't seem to do anything but the two of you really needed to have this talk.

With a sigh, you began. "Jungkook, I don't have a problem with giving you all the attention that you need and I do think it's cute when you do those things…" you started playing with your fingers, not exactly sure how to go about with this. "B-but sometimes, certain things you do make me uncomfortable, for the lack of a better word."

"Oh! I, hum, I'm sorry you feel that way," his black ears dropped and his tail simply laid still beside him.

"I don't mean this as a bad thing," you reached for his hand and started to rub circles with your thumb. "It's just a bit weird when you knead me."

Though you had whispered those words, Jungkook's ears had picked them up and thus, perked up at them and his tail started swinging again with newfound curiosity. "Why?"

"W-Well, b-because…" you cleared your throat, beginning to feel flustered at the direction the conversation was going. "Because, well, you kept doing it on my chest." you kept your eyes away from him as the words felt your lips.

"Is that a problem?" you didn't need to look at him to know that he had a smirk on his lips. "It means I like you."

Jungkook scooted closer to you and started to nuzzle against your neck as his thumb rubbed circles in your thigh. "I-I know, b-but-"

"Don't you like me showing how much I like you?" his tail replaced his hand and wrapped itself around one of your legs as his hands started to slowly make his way higher up your body.

You felt him lick a stripe of your neck and you immediately bit your bottom lip to stop any noises from coming out.

"Now what's this?" he bit your neck, making you let out a gasp, before licking and sucking on the spot. "I show you how much you mean to me and you can't even let out a noise? I'm hurt."

Successfully laying you under him on the couch, Jungkook continued to lick, bite and scent your neck and collarbone, his hands under your shirt massaging and squeezing your breasts and tail rubbing the wet patch between your legs that started showing in your shorts.

You were biting your hard enough to draw blood, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but that was proving to be incredibly difficult with everything he kept doing to you.

"You wanna know why I love to knead your tits so much?" he pulled your shirt off and pinned your hands before you had a chance to cover yourself. He started trailing kisses from your neck to the valley of your breasts, leaving behind licks and marks in its wake. "Because I can't stop thinking how they would feel in my hands, how they would look with my mark on them and my cock between them, how much I want them in my mouth."

Jungkook started to slowly rub circles in your nipples and releasing his warm breath on them. Long gone was your need to keep quiet, moans and whines kept leaving your lips at his ministrations.

"That's my good girl." taking both of your wrists and holding them with one hand, his other hand pinching one of your nipples while flicking the tip of his tongue on the other.

Taking your breast into his mouth, he kept licking and sucking on your nipple while pinching, twisting, and pulling the other between his fingers. He didn't seem to get enough of your boobs.

"Jungkook!" you arched your back when you felt him nibble at your nipple, his eyes never leaving your face, taking great pleasure in knowing he was the one that was making fall apart.

With one last bite on your right breast, he then switches, licking and sucking on your left one while twisting and pulling your right one. With his tail still rubbing between your legs it wasn't long before you found yourself at the brink of orgasm.

"J-Jungkook, I'm g-gonna…" you couldn't finish as a loud moan left you when you felt him bite at your left breast.

"Do it baby." both of his hands on your tits and his mouth kissing your neck, all it took was a harder twist on both your nipples and a bite on your neck to push you over the edge, cumming all over your panties and clenching around nothing, a loud moan of his name that you were almost sure could be heard outside of your apartment leaving you.

As you worked on catching your breath you felt your black cat petting your hair, his tail now swinging behind him.

"You okay?" Jungkook took his rightful place and snuggled closer between your breasts while rubbing circles on your waist.

You let out a chuckle, your mind trying to associate that the shy and scared hybrid you adopted and the one that had just made you cum without being inside of you were the same. "Y-Yeah, just catching my breath."

"Now that we did this, I hope you know that it's going to happen again and again." gripping your chin and forcing you to stare at him, his voice an octave lower. "You're mine dear owner, just as much as I am yours."

[frannyzooey]

In The Dark: Epilogue

Pairing: Ezra x f!reader

Rating: None

A/N: We are finally at the end of this story - thank you to every single person who read it, who supported it, who sent in asks or reblogged or liked or lurked. I couldn’t have done it without you all. Dedications at the end, along with some bonus extras. Thank you all so very much - I love you, and Happy New Year!

Series Masterlist

--

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

“So, how is the new place going?” You rest your cheek on your knee, smiling at the immediate change in her expression on your screen. Your dorm room is behind you, warm and cozy in contrast to the starkness of her bedroom. 

“It’s okay,” Cee says. “It’s still kinda weird, ya know? Living with different people?” She shrugs, resting her chin in her hand. “It’s kinda cool, since they’re my own age and sometimes we have these amazing parties and there is this girl who is moving in next week who I am totally eyeing, but also the extra chores suck? No one ever does their dishes around here.”

You nod in sympathy, having been in that situation before. 

“I feel like it’s not that hard?” she continues, and you laugh. 

“It’s really not. How is that new class coming?”

Rolling her eyes, she launches into detail about her writing professor and the pain of her weekly workshop group and you feel a pang of longing to experience those things with her, so you could truly commensurate. Not that you couldn’t, since you were going through those specific pains in your own program right now, but it was different then - when you were going through it together. 

“Anyway, it’ll get better. I don’t wanna talk about it though.” She sits back, piling her fine blond hair on top of her head in a bun cupped by her hands for a moment, before letting it drop. “Tell me about next week. What are you doing again? How long are you off for?”

“Two weeks.” Just saying the words out loud makes you grin in relish, an eagerness for it to begin coming through in the dreamy tone of your voice. “I wanna see all the cheesy tourist spots for sure, but I am literally itching to get into some of those bookstores. And the museums, definitely those. And oh my god, the food.”

Shoreditch had all of these things and you had slowly been exploring them, but the vastness of London had been calling to you. Your workload too heavy to explore the way you’ve wanted to, you’ve been earmarking various spots for months and now that your break is finally here, you feel like you can truly tour around. And also look up from the screen of your laptop for a change - that would be nice.

You let out an aching groan of pleasure at the thought and she smiles on the screen. 

“After that, I don’t know? Don’t laugh, but I kinda wanna rent a car and drive to Cornwall? Don’t ask me about navigating while driving on the other side of the road because I don’t have an answer for you, but the views are supposed to be gorgeous and……”

“Poldark,” you both say at the same time, dissolving into giggles.

“God he’s gorgeous. I mean, I know he’s not there, but I’ll be able to sense him. I just know it.”

She sips her tea on her side of the screen while you list off the rest of your itinerary: Persephone Books, for their quaint, romantic store front and unique events, Dishoom for a bacon naan roll and to feel like you’ve stepped back into time into 1940’s Bombay, The London Eye to get some pictures, but first Gloria: a restaurant by your new place that you’ve been dying to try. You just knew the pictures online wouldn’t do it justice; the opulent, busy, lush setting of rich carpets and mirror paneled walls and greenery climbing down from the ceiling like sparkling, light strung ivy at the top of your wishlist. 

Eventually, your stifled yawns interrupt your spoken dreams, and she finishes her tea, stretching in her perch on her chair. She glances at the time in the corner of her screen and frowns. 

“Yikes, it’s gotta be so late there for you. You better get some sleep, so you’re not exhausted in the morning..”

You mirror her stretch, nodding. “Yea, I still gotta finish packing.” 

She leans closer to the screen, a look of affection stealing across her delicate features. 

“Well make sure you take a bunch of pictures, okay? I wanna see everything you’re seeing. Send me the view from the Eye on Snapchat or something and if you go see those guards, take a selfie with one of them just for me.”

You laugh, assuring her that you will and when you say your goodbyes and hang up, a smile lingers on your face. Just like her to ask for something weird like that. 

Standing, you close your laptop and leave it on your desk, walking over to your bed. The layout of your new place is tighter than the last; student housing always a bit cramped. You’ve never minded close quarters, liking the overall coziness it forces and resting your hand on the corner of a small bookshelf that already has a substantial collection growing on it, you crack the window, letting street sounds waft in on the night air. 

Changing into your pajamas, you switch out the light while yawning yet again and checking your alarm is set, you crawl into bed. Opening your white noise app, you select “city sounds” and closing your eyes, quickly fall asleep. 

–

Anticipation wakes you early, and similar to New York City, Shoreditch is alive with people already when you leave your flat. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, you slip into the crowd, making your way to the tube and as you walk, you run through a mental checklist of everything you want to do today, so as to not waste one minute. 

Not quite as many people on these streets as there had been in the city, the sights and sounds were so similar it was comforting: brightly scrawled murals over aged brick, trendy restaurants tucked into small store fronts, young people walking effortlessly down the sidewalk with their faces buried in their phones. Spotting the iconic circular sign that gave you a thrill when you saw it for the first time, you made your way down the damp stairwell, following the crowd to the platform. Getting on your train, you find a seat by the window and digging in your bag, you fish your earbuds and pull up a playlist, relaxing into your seat. 

The steady, smooth rock of the train as it pulls away from the station comforts you, reminding you of home after all this time. The transit systems are similar, the people that ride them even more so and watching scenery pass by, you think about your first time navigating The Underground. The thought, and the events planned for this morning, bring forth other memories. 

Your first night crawling into your new bed: slipping on the shirt he tucked into your bag, the longing for your apartment and all its familiar noises was a real, tangible ache in your chest. The ache for him was felt even deeper, the image of his face as he said goodbye only ten hours old and fresh in your mind at that point. A few tears slipped free into that new pillow of yours; the first of what would be many more. 

Your first weeks navigating your new surroundings: testing out the transit, finding your new travel paths, exploring the restaurants within walking distance.

The nervous hesitation you felt when sharing in your new workshop for the first time, the tiny tables in new restaurants where you sat alone on your computer, your delight at the discovery of East African food. 

Tea: something you never came around to. By your measure, it had nothing on coffee and for weeks, you would have killed for a latte from your favorite place, with a dash of cinnamon on the top. 

All the while, you had missed him. 

Your new surroundings had been seen through Ezra tinted glasses; a wash of him over everything you saw. Everything reminded you of him: the antique shop on the corner, the Persian restaurant you passed while walking to class, every bookstore or record shop or furniture gallery or men’s clothing shop or every dark haired man, your eyes searching for his confident gait everywhere.

At first, it was so intense you couldn’t hardly breathe, but with time, it lessened. Friends, routine, school, new experiences, dinners, parties. You still thought of him often, but it was no longer the crushing weight of a wave forcing you under. With each new day that passed, the waves calmed more and more; overwhelming, then bearable, then ripples that came and went.

Cee had eventually come around, writing you an email about your letter about a month after you left. When you replied, she replied back and it slowly evolved into more emails and then texts and then FaceTime, on your computer at night. She had reached out to you for writing advice, wanting your opinion on something she was going to turn in and it was like her story was an olive branch — which was fitting, for two people who first bonded over the words scribbled in her notebook. 

The two of you never had a formal discussion about what happened, but rather an acknowledgment through email about the roles you each played. Understanding that sometimes it was easier to talk about difficult things through writing versus speaking them out loud, you were thankful for it. She needed time to think about it, which you gave her, and in the end, she forgave you. 

Still, you never spoke directly about Ezra if you could help it. 

Four months into your new surroundings, you had just walked in the door after a late night library session when your phone buzzed in your bag. Pulling it out, the sight of his name on your screen made you freeze. You can still feel the heat you felt, your heart picking up as you hesitantly tamped down the excitement that immediately rose in your chest and when you answered it, he could hear it all in your voice. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Birdie.” 

He said those two words, letting the silence hang for a moment and you were immediately back in your apartment, the memory of when he used to call felt so strongly you shut your eyes.

He had been drunk and lonely, missing you. Trying so hard to keep his distance for your sake, he finally caved and called; his low, husky voice sleepy and quiet through the phone, but warm with affection. You talked to him for a long time: about the city, about your program, about what he had been up to. When it came time to hang up, he asked if he could call you again and when you said yes, you could hear the smile in his voice when he said goodbye. 

He did call you after that, and you stayed in touch a lot. It wasn’t as intense as it was before — no phone call every night before bed, no FaceTime videos, no partially undressed photos — but rather an easy intimacy between two really good friends. Ones who knew each other inside out, and had fond memories of the time they’d shared together. 

Not to say that you didn’t get yourself off to the thought of him still, after all this time. 

You tried going out and meeting people, tried going home with someone a few times but after you slipped back into your clothes and made your way home, you never felt that longing to be back in their bed and in their arms the way you always felt with him. Eventually, you stopped trying and just focused on school. 

The train slows and pulls into King’s Cross, and you rise from your seat, waiting your turn to alight. Stepping off, you make your way to the escalators and a sort of nervous anticipation thrums wildly through your veins, making your limbs jittery. You try to take a calming breath, checking the time on your phone - your train running a few minutes behind, you hope you’re not too late.

Finally stepping into the atrium, light floods the space. People are everywhere: gathered in clusters as they check maps in their hand with suitcases and backpacks at their feet, business people walking briskly around and between them, travelers and students and children and shop vendors; the murmur of the collective crowd a loud one. Your heart beats faster in your chest, your eyes scanning the room and they land on one person after another, trying to keep track as they move. A bright flash of yellow there, a brown mop of curls there and suddenly, you see him. 

The familiar breadth of his shoulders faces you, a backpack that you’ve never seen before only serving to make him look broader. For how long it’s been since you’ve seen the nape of his neck, you’d recognize his stance anywhere and you simultaneously want to stand there for a moment and admire him from afar, while also fighting the urge to run. 

Not being able to help moving automatically in his direction, when he turns and his gaze catches yours, he grins and you feel a sudden wave of emotion so strong you want to cry. He looks just the same - the unruly dark curls, the crumpled cotton t-shirt even more so from traveling, the face you know so well and that dimple. It had only just started to fade from your memory, and the sight of it makes your heart burst. 

“Hey, Birdie,” he smiles when you reach him, opening his arms and you step right into them, like no time has passed. 

So solid, so strong, so affirming in his touch - your hello is muffled against his shoulder as you breathe in the familiar musk of his warm skin and when you pull back, you can already see the possibilities of these next two weeks in his warm, albeit travel worn smile: his laughter in a dimly lit restaurant, the weight of his arm across your shoulders when he pulls you in for a selfie, his profile as you drive through the country, the firm slide of his skin against yours every one of those nights. 

He looks like he wants to kiss you and your mouth longs for the same, but you both stand still, savoring the beat of anticipation; the crowd moving around you. 

“You ready?” you ask, lacing your fingers with his. 

He tightens his hold, grinning. 

“Ready.”

The End 

--

Bonus: Birdie’s Travel Pictures 

I have so many people I want to thank for this story:

@mourningbirds1​, first and foremost, who sat with me through every single one of these chapters and who is the world’s best and most patient teacher. You made my writing better with every single soothing message you sent, every comment you left on the document, every lesson you taught me in your kind and patient way. This story wouldn’t be nearly what it is without you, nor would I have had the courage to tackle it in the first place without your constant validation and support and I love you so very, very much. Having one of your favorite writers as a mentor is the literal dream come true, and you did that for me. <3

@krissology​ and @charnelhouse​ - without our group chat and your constant support, I wouldn’t have made it through this. You both inspire me in so many ways every single day, and you’re always there when I need to rant, vent, work out a plot line, hash out an idea, and I am so grateful to have both of you in my life. I love you <3

@highsviolets​ @imaswellkid​ @dazedrhapsody​ and @psychedelic-ink​ - thank you so so much for your constant enthusiasm and your magnificent playlists for this story. They inspired me in so many ways - a number of scenes in this story were directly inspired by your songs, dreamt of while I was working or driving, and I am forever thankful for you sharing them with me. They are beautiful, just like you all. I love you <3

To anyone that made art, to anyone that sent me a message, to anyone who was patient and kind and validating while I tried to take my time and try new things and grow - thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you all, and this community. I love you <3

[pfhwrittes]

riffing off the poll i reblogged re: your blorbos doing top surgery. so these are some vague headcannons on how the members of tf141 would look after a reader post top surgery.

pairings: gaz x reader, soap x reader, simon x reader (romantic), john price & reader (platonic).

warnings: gaz refers to reader as babe and calls the reader handsome.

note: i’ve written this reader to be a trans man but can be read as anyone who wants top surgery. also i am firmly in the camp that you DON’T have to have surgery to be considered transgender or to have your gender respected. fuck knows it’s a hard enough process here in the UK, i can’t imagine my healthcare being stuck behind what is essentially a paywall.

gaz would be a sweetheart. he’d get you drinks and painkillers. he’d move your cushions/pillows around as much as you wanted. he’d pretend not to see when you burst into tears over pain/relief/a weird sense of mourning and fear. he’d even help you to the bathroom and linger outside the door (unlocked, he’d insist on it being unlocked) in case you need help with anything. the man gets your favourite takeaway and doesn’t make a fuss when you only eat a little bit of it because you’re feeling a bit nauseous from the meds you’re on. checks on your drains and dressings and soothes you when you catch sight of the swelling. he reassures you with forehead and cheek kisses when you’re upset and reassures you with a gentle babe you’re so handsome and brave, i can’t wait for you to show off your chest when you’re feeling better.

price would handle it from a more professional perspective (i am not saying reader would be in the military but i am saying that the man deals with paperwork most of the time anyway so he’d handle it for your work). he’s already sent off copies of your medical note from the surgeon, he’s filled in the paperwork to get sick pay. less hands on than gaz (but that’s only because i can’t see price with a trans man in a romantic or sexual way) so he doesn’t overstep but as your friend he’ll bring you food if you ask and painkillers too. checks in with you and sends you book recommendations, music recommendations and the occasional meme (don’t try to tell me he wouldn’t send you memes. that man is a millennial he knows what a fucking meme is) when you’re well enough to complain about being bored.

simon would be kind of a dick about it. listen i don’t make the rules but he would. he’s supportive enough. he’d give you a ride back from the hospital and get you to wherever is the most comfortable but he’s a bit shit at looking after you (the man has no practice outside of emergency medical care). you’d have to text him to get you a drink or painkillers. healthy nutritious food? no. what flavour pot noodle do you want? never mind you’re getting a bombay bad boy because that’s all he’s got in the cupboard. emotionally he’s not great at expressing how he’s feeling about your recovery so he comes across as gruff but that’s mostly because he’s repressing a whole bunch of trauma and fear that things won’t go well. he won’t touch you apart from holding your hand when you ask because he’s worried he’ll mess up your stitches but still it comes across as a bit cold.

soap the darling man is just so fucking excited for you. it’s a bit much actually while you’re still recovering and yeah you end up snapping and it hurts his feelings a little but he’ll try to play it off as not a big deal. he’s just so happy for you (and for himself because he cannot wait to get his hands on you now that you’ll let him because your chest is the way you want it)! super affectionate, peppers you with kisses all over your face. he’s similar to gaz in that he’s all about making you as comfortable as possible and tries to preempt any requests you have (gets you bottles of water and can of irn-bru because that’s what he always wants when he’s feeling under the weather, grabs you as many snacks as you want). unlike gaz he’s enough of a freak to insist on being in the bathroom with you when you need to go, he says it’s to make sure you’re safe but he’s definitely using it as an excuse to touch you as much as possible until you’re fully healed up.

[sammy-hammy]

hi! Do you take requests? If so, could you do one where luis practices the waltz for the readers quince with her and then skips to the party?

𝐌𝐢 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧

“Ow…” Luis winced and groaned for the millionth time.

“Ah! Sorry!” you panicked as you stepped back.

“Yn you have to stop watching your feet! You aren’t going to see them with your dress on so it shouldn’t matter.” your choreographer, aka Luis’s mom, shook her head. “The same goes for you, Guy. You’re supposed to be taking the lead, not Connie.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Mendoza.” Guy’s face turned red as Connie and the other Ducks laughed.

“Ok from the top everyone!”

★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

Ok do not mess this up. Do. Not. Mess this up.

Luis leans in to whisper to you, “Relax querida, we’re gonna de great.”

You smiled as the music started playing. You felt your face heat up a bit when Luis held your waist. He smiled as you two danced and he spun you to your next partner.

Your childhood friend, Averman, gave you a smirk before fake sniffling, “My little girl is all grown up.” You laughed quietly as he spun you again.

You danced with the male members of your court until you were with Luis again. As you waltzed you saw your family members tearing up. You looked back at Luis and saw his soft expression.

“You look gorgeous, love.” You once again felt your face heat up. A little voice in the back of your head was worried about dealing with your nosy tias later, but now, Luis took up most of your thoughts.

The music was approaching its end and you both took a deep breath. “Get ready,” He whispered. he gently grabbed your waist and lifted you up.

You clutched his shoulders as you stared into each other’s eyes. He set you down as your court made a semi-circle around you and Luis. You bowed to each other as the music ended.

The guests clapped and your court bowed before going to talk with the guests. Luis gave you a kiss on the cheek and went to talk to his mom.

“You did great sweetie,” Your dad smiled and gave you a hug. “Now go with your friends.” He gave you a kiss on the forehead before you walked towards the Ducks.

“With how aggressive you are on the ice I’m shocked to see you all glammed up, Ln.” Goldberg swung his arm around your shoulders. “Shut up, Goldie. You should all be grateful my cousins agreed to be your damas. I doubt all of you would’ve gotten dates.” You rolled your eyes.

“I am so offended, Ln!!!” Kenny had a false pout on his face. Goldberg backed up while wiping away fake tears, “Guys, it’s still our girl Yn.” Averman also wiped fake tears, “It’s a miracle!”

“Oh look, here comes Mr. Loverboy,” Dean, your dearest cousin, smirked. “If they get all lovey dovey I’m leaving.” Jesse fake gagged as Luis hugged you from behind. “Hey I think it’s sweet.” Dwayne said smiling at you.

“See he’s the only supportive one.” You shook your head. Fulton shrugged, “You guys make it very hard with stupid lovey dovey stuff. We already had to deal with Guy/Connie and Charlie/Banksy then you two decided to get together.”

“Aw come on. We’re not that bad.” Luis complained. “Hey are you saying we’re bad? Have you seen how Banksy and Charlie act?” Connie defended. Guy nodded in agreement. “Oh come one there is no way we compare to you guys.” Charlie scrunched his nose as Banksy held back a laugh.

“Ok, ok. Enough arguing, guys.” Coach Bombay walked over. “I’m glad you could make it, Coach.” You smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Ln. Now let’s get a picture of all of us!” Bombay called over the photographer and all the Ducks, including you, got ready.

Luis kissed your cheek as the photographer snapped the picture, leaving the moment as a permanent memory.

᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥

𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍, 𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾. 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗂'𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍.

𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝗐𝖺�� 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗎𝗉:

𝗀𝗎𝗒 - 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖾

𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗂𝖾 - 𝖻𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗌𝗒

𝖽𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗇𝖾 - 𝗃𝗎𝗅𝗂𝖾 (𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌)

𝗄𝖾𝗇𝗇𝗒 , 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗌 , 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗀 , 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇 - 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗌

𝗃𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝖼𝗎𝗓 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝗌

𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗇, 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇, 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗒𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗈𝗇

𝖺𝗅𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇. 𝖼𝗒𝖺!

𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

[springstarfangirl]

The Bizarre Genetics of the Todoroki Family

Following a discussion with @greenmoons in which she was about to get mad about MHA blood types, I decided to bring my research here as well. This is gonna be a long one, so continuation under the cut.

Let's start out with the basics. Blood types! There shouldn't be something too controversial here, right? WRONG.

Shoto Todoroki, as listed on his character profile, has type O blood. His father, Enji Todoroki, has type AB. According to fifth grade biology class and the Punnet squares we used to learn about dominant and recessive genes (not that those are the only types by a long shot, there are also codominant and incomplete dominant genes), this should be impossible.

See, here's the thing. Fifth grade biology is incredibly simplified, and you never know what's possible if you don't go looking for it. Not only is it possible for an AB parent to have an O child, there are actually two ways it can happen.

First off, the cis-AB gene.

Everyone remembers how ABO blood types work, right? O is recessive, and if you have the genes for both A and B, you have type AB blood.

Turns out it's not that simple. In East Asia, found most frequently in Koreans (3 in 100,000 people) and Japanese (1 in 100,000 people), there is a gene variant called cis-AB, which codes for both A and B at once. If you have this gene variant, you will have type AB blood no matter what the other gene codes for.

This means that if someone with AB blood has this gene, they could carry any other gene along with it and it could be expressed in the next generation.

Back to Enji and Shoto.

If Enji has type AB blood due to the cis-AB gene, it means he could be a carrier for the type O gene, which he could pass on to his son.

The second option is what's called the Bombay blood type.

ABO genes can code for two proteins, right? A and B.

So it turns out that's not entirely correct. Those genes actually code how to turn another protein, H, into A and B.

The Bombay blood type is caused by a mutation in the gene that produces the H protein, causing it to not work and creating a phenotype of type O blood. This means that no matter what your genes code for, whether you're actually type O or type A or B or even AB, you will wind up presenting with type O blood.

The biggest problem with Bombay type blood is that because the problem is with the H protein, the bloodstream carries antigens not only for the A and B proteins like regular type O blood, it also carries an antigen for the H protein. This means that Bombay type blood, while it can donate to the entire ABO blood spectrum, can only receive from other Bombay types. And Bombay type blood is incredibly rare, at a 4 per million occurrence rate in most places in the world.

Note that I said most places, though. The Bombay blood type is named for the city of Mumbai, India, where the occurrence of the blood type can be up to 1 in 10,000.

In this case, both Enji and Rei would need to carry the recessive gene for this blood type. It apparently appears more frequently in inbred families, which we know the Himuras are, so that answers one or two questions. Shoto, having received two copies of the recessive gene, would present with Bombay type O blood.

Funnily enough, even the Wikipedia page for the cis-AB gene calls this out as a possibility.

Now that the blood types are explained, I'm gonna go on a side tangent about genetic chimerism because I can.

I believe that Shoto Todoroki is a twin chimera, resulting from the fusion of a pair of fraternal twins in the womb.

Quirks don't always make sense. Neither do the hair colors in MHA, for that matter. How did Denki and Kyoka get their hair streaks in the shapes of a lightning bolt and the pulse of a heartbeat? But it's anime, so I'll roll with it.

Shoto, on the other hand, is a different story. It's not just a streak of another color like his classmates or even multiple streaks like Fuyumi. It's not even Marie Antoinette syndrome (looking at you, Touya.) No, his hair is split right down the middle. And his eyes too- he has complete heterochromia iridium, one turquoise eye like Enji and one brown/gray (depends on the image) eye like Rei.

Genetic heterochromia iridium can be caused by simple genetic inheritance, but that clearly isn't the case here, as it is caused by an autosomal dominant gene, which means that either Rei or Enji would have heterochromia as well. And they don't. The other option is mosaicism, which is when the two eyes have different genetics.

Now, why is he a twin chimera and not just a mosaic? That comes back to the hair. The eye colors align with the hair colors such that they match the parents. Shoto is split entirely down the middle. Mosaicism doesn't do that, and the possibility of absorbing just a few cells making it possible to combine such powerful quirks as Hellflame and Frost doesn't make sense.

Now, if there were twins, one with Enji's red hair and turquoise eyes and one with Rei's gray eyes and white hair, and they merged in the womb... The body would have adjusted to being able to utilize both fire and ice, and it would create the possibility of the split hair colors like Shoto has going on.

Yeah, genetics are weird, and the Todoroki family? Even weirder than most.

[sasukeisawake]

BODYLINE; a @derridaspectres wip intro

genre: sports drama, pulp, murder mystery, noir 

status: drafting 

cws: violence, death, blood and gore, self-harm, alcohol abuse, unhealthy relationships, discussions of classism, casteism, and anti-indigenous and religious discrimination

elevator pitch: whiplash (2014) meets raymond chandler, expect they’re all talented and deeply obsessive sapphic cricketers. 

summary: 

The river water had had its way with Ekta Munda by the time the cops found the body. The thick-dark spill of her hair was knotted through with water hyacinth and her flesh was marbled white. Her face, they said, lay frozen in a death-rictus smile...

Kriti Sinha and Ekta Munda were once a devastating, inseparable batting duo. On the cricket pitch they terrorised opposing bowlers, racked up unthinkable run totals, and for a brief and glorious moment lay siege to the impenetrable walls of the ‘gentleman’s game’. But when they were both sixteen, a fateful match and a keen-eyed headhunter sent their lives hurtling in different directions: Ekta’s to the fame and fortune of franchise cricket, Kriti’s to the unspeakable mundanity of assistant coaching her old (and patently terrible) high school team. 

That probably would have been the end of it, too, if Ekta’s dead body hadn’t been found floating in a river days after her most successful franchise season to date. And while the rest of the cricketing world seemed content to express, ad infinitum, their deep sorrow at the death of such a promising young player, her old partner suspects foul play. Grieving and paranoid, Kriti makes a desperate bid to wrangle her way into Ekta’s old team in order to conduct a private, off-the-books investigation. 

But Kriti soon realises that the glamorous face of franchise cricket has an underbelly darker and seedier than she could have ever imagined-- to keep her wits, and indeed her life, about her, she can’t trust anyone. Not the team’s glamorous and stunningly beautiful actress owner; not the sainted playing eleven their seethingly jealous substitutes; and certainly not Arya Pandey, the icy and prodigious opening batsman whose contempt for Kriti is only matched by their incredibly effective partnership on the pitch together. Arya bats like a dream and behaves like a living nightmare, but there’s something about her that Kriti just can’t ignore-- something dark and compelling... and maybe even murderous? 

what to expect from this wip: long, loving descriptions of bombay, cricket and playing cricket in bombay | complicated relationships | unreliable narration | meditations on sport as nation and sport as religion | the dehumanisation of fame | corruption, conspiracy and scandal | prose that’s just seven raymond chandler impersonations in a trenchcoat | ‘they’re all gay but trust me, that’s the LEAST of their problems’

please ask if you would like to be +/- from the taglist! 

tagging some people who’ve expressed interest in this wip: @battlelitanys | @dallonm | @phantomnations | @mellifluas | @goose-books | @thelittlestspider | @artbyeloquent | @thepixiediaries | @retrogayyde | @sageblogsthings | @keen2meecha | @transwizardwrites | @analogued | @khufiya-khaufnak-antariksh | @crookedway​ 

[fatehbaz]

Natural history as the basis for trade and commercial agriculture mediated the link between overseas expansion and the development of European scientific thought. By virtue of its strategic location in the moist tropics, Peninsular Malaysia made a significant contribution to natural history and, thus, to colonial science. [...] Botanical and zoological collections from insular Southeast Asia were of seminal importance, for example, to the pioneer studies of Charles Darwin and Alfred Russel Wallace. [...]

The search for economic produce was actively promoted by both the English and Dutch East India Companies [...]. Modern European plant science had its roots in [...] the creation of physick and, later, botanic gardens, established [...] in Pisa, Padua, Florence, [...] Leiden, Oxford, Cambridge, [...] and Edinburgh. Among other functions, these gardens served, as institutions for training physicians for service in the colonies. The lead role they played in discovering and inventorying plants [...] forged a crucial link between botanic gardens and the quest for products, territory and empire.

Garcia D’Orta (c. 1501/2-68), a Spanish physician who served several viceroys in Goa, established the botanic garden near Bombay [...]. His Aromatum Historia (1563) [...] has been described as ‘a landmark in the history of civilization’. [...]

Hendrik van Rheede’s ground-breaking 12-volume Hortus Malabaricus (1678-1703) [was] based on [...] Ayurvadic knowledge and the services of Ezhava collectors and tree climbers in the Malabar. [...]

---

[T]he connection [Linnaeus] established between natural history and national wealth was widely influential. It struck a cord with Adam Smith (1723-90) and other political economists [...] who placed their faith in agricultural improvement [...]. These developments put a premium on naturalists and [...] Sir Comte de Buffon [...] and Joseph Banks [...] served as agricultural and medical consultants to sovereigns. [...] [T]he concept of environmental determinism informed Adam Smith’s philosophy of the superiority of Western nations, endowed with temperate climes, over the people of the tropics. [...] The person who brokered the link between desire for material wealth and the search for its location and procurement overseas was the indomitable and widely influential [Joseph] Banks, President of the Royal Society (1778-1820) and, from 1773, de facto director of the Royal Botanical Gardens. Also a member of the Privy Council Committee for trade – the organization most directly concerned with augmenting wealth and self-sufficiency -- he used his influence with the Royal Institution and the Board of Agriculture to forge a successful link between science and empire. [...]

Carolus Clusius who held the Chair of Botany in Leiden (1592-9) reputedly obtained ‘Malaysian’ specimens from Sir Francis Drake.

Again, following the death in 1695 of the VOC [Dutch East India Company] botanist, Paulus Hermann, his notes and manuscript [...] were acquired and used by William Sherard (Sherwood), founder of the Chair of Botany in Oxford.

---

In 1778, the English East India Company (EIC) appointed J.G. Koenig, a pupil of Linnaeus, as ‘Professor of Botany and Natural History’ in Madras. [...]

His appointment, believed to have been initiated by Banks, firmly established colonial science within the purview of imperial economic policy. [...]

Koenig worked in the private gardens [...] in Melaka and conducted the earliest and largest botanical survey of the west coast of the Peninsula (1778-9). Bengkulen (Bangkulu), [...] where pepper cultivation was extensively researched, was declared a Presidency [...] with the express aim of developing its full economic potential. To help fulfill this objective, Philip and Charles Miller, sons of the well-respected gardener at the Chelsea Physick Garden, were engaged as botanists [...] Charles Miller was entrusted in ‘the greatest secrecy’ with the experimental planting of nutmeg and cloves, using seedlings that visiting Bugis traders were encouraged to smuggle from Maluku. [...] [T]he EIC envisaged expanding the range of Benkulen’s exports by the introduction of tea, ginger, turmeric and mulberries. [...] These efforts prefigured experiments in spice cultivation at the Calcutta Botanic Gardens [...].

Newbold took his knowledge of the tropical environment in the [Malayan] Straits Settlements to Madras, where he earned a reputation as a naturalist and an Orientalist [...]. His lecture to the Bengal Asiatic Society in 1846 [...] was hugely influential and put the Peninsula at the heart of the emerging discourse on tropical ecology. [...] [T]hose [tropical botanic gardens] established by the EIC in Penang (1794) and Singapore (1822) were integral to its commercial aims for extending the chain of ‘tropical Edens’. As centres for the [...] assemblage of exotic crops [...], botanic gardens were perceived as symbols of scientific progress and imperial might.

---

All text above by: Jeyamalar Kathirithamby-Wells. "Peninsular Malaysia in the context of natural history and colonial science." New Zealand Journal of Asian Studies Volume 11 Number 1. June 2009. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[aeqghrwen]

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[triviareads]

Things I Learnt at Nisha Sharma and Xio Axelrod's book event:

Xio started her writing career writing Buffy fix-it fanfiction AND as a tumblrina

Nisha does, in fact, believe Moghul Express has the best Indian food in Jersey (which… LIES, the correct answer is Bombay Talk) and she's found a way to incorporate it in every one of her romance novels

They spent a solid 5 minutes hyping Sierra Simone (as they should) and apparently, Sierra has a lipstick case shaped like a dildo (God bless her)

Xio also has a band and writes music, which is amazing (one of her newer series is about a girl group)

Nisha started her romance career as a Nancy Drew/Frank Hardy shipper (because fuck Ned)

Nisha is also a childhood friends-to-lovers skeptic

Katee Robert uses Barbie dolls to recreate sex poses for her sex scenes and this is semi-standard practice in the industry apparently

Also, everyone please check out the #23for23 challenge here: https://www.23for23.net/

It's all about putting your money where your mouth is when it comes to reading and supporting BIPOC authors who are writing BIPOC characters and even if you can't read 23 more books this year, I urge everyone to think harder about the diversity of the authors and content you are consuming and consciously try to diversify your bookshelves. I've technically met the challenge this year already, but I'd like to be more intentional about seeking out diversity in my romances.

[unforgottcn]

@bikmui from here.

Yone watches them move across the room in some loser (Jake, of all people's) house; aloof expression resting upon otherwise ghostly gaunt cheeks. He bites his bottom lip piercing, stares dumbfounded- unaware of how stupid he feels until he's chasing his embarrassment with a shot of liquor. He stands there for a second as they leave; where their presence no longer lingers. The further they get, the more his throat closes up- swells up like he's going to die right then and there. He feels his eyes look around- feels stuck in place as the party moves on without him, not even paying no mind to his childhood friend trotting off like he wasn't about to cry. Yone doesn't ever get the chance to see the tears fall, because he's being forced to turn to face his older girlfriend- the one he had thought he loved. After all that younger drama happened when he moved away... After they grew up, and drifted apart in middle school- and thus, haven't been friends online since High School. Now was different, and Yone feels uncomfortable at the reminder of his girlfriend because once upon a time, Bikmui had been the one he so adored. Now she was leaving his arms for Jake- and god knows how much he hates him- the boy off Yone's sports team.

"What's up?" He momentarily looks to her, and listens carefully to the words that fall from rosy lips. She tells him her and Jake are going to the store, that they'll be buying more liquor before the store closes. Be back soon, she lies.

And that hurts him, but makes sure he doesn't acknowledge the way she looks at their former classmate a little too long. He forces dark russet eyes away to where Bikmui had been- and now some random freshman is waiting for their chance to shine. He simply ignores the ache in his chest- ignores the boy drunkenly singing to him right now- knowing deep down he will never be enough. No pretty voice would help that. If not for Bikmui- and not for this older woman in his college class, than... Yone fears he would never be enough. Had spent so long trying to fill the void in his own heart- now left in fractured state. The only remedy he had learned from Bikmui was this: alcohol.

Yone relied on validation- after all, you crave what you never get- and love is just that. A foreign object which sits in Yone's throat and threatens to spill on the floor to stain the carpet wine red. Even the burning of sapphire Bombay would hurt less than the feeling of guilt. Of envy, of every man who looked at them walking away.

By the time Yone starts to feel the anxiety slip through otherwise drunken state, he hesitates to look at them when he hears their shoes clack, and feels their presence in the room. They could make even the sun look away in fear of being seen. He can hear their voice- hears their cute giggle at some terrible joke for some nobody... and Yone snaps back to reality- finds himself moving towards the older guy grabbing onto their waist, gently knocks his hands off to replace him.

"Hey." He says calmly, but not before grabbing their hand, and dragging them gently outside. As soft as he can: so that if they desired and really wanted to- they could let go... they could let Yone go.

"What the hell, what do you think you are doing?" 'I was worried about you' but the man feels anger dust his cheeks in firey red.

"You made me look like a fool." He hisses as though it was the first time, and yeah, a little drunk. Regardless his brows forced together as he glares- the light catching his dark hair as he glares. "What's going on? Are you being stupid as a joke? It's not a cute look on you, Bikmui." when he knows damn well they could be asleep and still look so beautiful: without ever trying. But he's so mad- and it hurts his heart so bad to see what's become of them.

[diana--williams]

Every Hindi Movie I remember watching

2022 TO 2013

Brahmastra: Part 1 Shiva

Gangubai Kathiavad

Toolsidas Junior

Gehraiyaan

Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2

HIT: The first case

Badhaai Do

Major

Darlings

Plan A Plan B

Ek Villain Returns

Shabhash Mithu

Dasvi

Dhrishyam 2

Chandigargh Kare Aashiqui

83

Hassena Dilruba

Roohi

The White tiger

Saina

Pagglait

Sardar Ka Grandson

Mimi

The Girl on the Train

Tribhanga

Ajeeb Daastaan

Meenakshi Sundareshwar

Tuesdays and Fridays

Madam Chief Mininster

Chhichhore

Malang

Tanhaji

Laxmi

Kalank

Street Dancer 3D

Khaali Peeli

Bulbbul

Love Aaj Kal

Guilty

Gunjan Saxena: The Kargil Girl

Thappad

Class of '83

Jawaani Jaaneman

Jai Mummy Di

Yeh Ballet

Serious Men

Maskaa

Panga

Shimla Mirchi

Axone

Sir

Badla

Mardhaani 2

War

Dream Girl

Ek Ladki ko Dekha To Aisa Laga

Lukachupi

Student of the Year 2

Drive

Article 15

Super30

Manikarnika

URI: The Surgical Strike

Panipat

Kabir Singh

Bala

The Zoya Factor

Good Newwz

The Sky is Pink

Mission Mangal

The Tashkent Files

Kalank

Chopsticks

Romeo Akbar Walter

Saand Ki Aankh

Mard Ko Dard Nahi Hota

Sultan

Stree

Badhaaii ho

Lust Stories

Aiyaary

Raazi

Andhaadhun

Simbaa

Baaghi 2

Pad Man

Hichki

Sanju

2.0 Robot

Zero

Namaste England

Dil Junglee

Love per Squarefoot

Once Again

Padmaavat

Raabta

Half Girlfriend

Badrinath ki Dulhania

Machine

Ittefaq

Shaadi mein Zaroor Aana

Mom

Qarib qarib singlle

Jab Harry met Sejal

A Gentleman

Ghazi

Guest in London

Rangoon

Toilet: Ek Prem Katha

Secret Superstar

Naam Shabana

Newton

Haseena Parker

Ae Dil hai Mushkil

Dear Zindagi

Fitoor

Sanam Teri Kasam

Airlift

Wazir

Rocky Handsome

A Flying Jatt

Sanam Re

M S Dhoni: The Untold Story

Neerja

Fan

Dangal

Sultan

Saala Khadoos

Baaghi

Kabali

Rustom

Pink

Befikree

Mohenjo Daro

Dishoom

Te3n

Akira

Baar baar Dekho

Azhar

Houseful 3

Force 2

Kapoor and Sons

Udta Punjab

Ghayal Once Again

Mirzya

Kahaani 2: Durga Rani Singh

Dear Dad

1920: London

Parched

Ek Paheli Leela

Dum Laga Ke Haisha

Hero

Roy

Dilwale

Shaandar

Tamasha

Dhrishyam

Dolly Ki Doli

Katti Batti

Mr. X

Gabbar is Back

Baby

Phantom

Dil Dhadkane Do

Manjhi- The Mountain Man

Alone

Bajirao Mastani

Prem Ratan Dhan Payo

Talvar

Bajrangi Bhaijaan

Welcome 2 Karachi

Brothers

Love Exchange

ABCD 2

Piku

Rahasyaa

Shamitabh

Jazbaa

Nil Battey Sannata

Waiting

Hamari Adhuri Kahani

Singh is Bling

Singham Returns

PK

Heropanti

Kick

Khoobsoorat

Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhania

Main Tera Hero

Hasee Toh Phasee

Mardaani

Yaariyaan

Jai Ho

Ek Villain

Gunday

Bang bang

Happy New Year

Finding Fanny

Action Jackson

Mary Kom

Haider

Entertainment

Bewakoofiyan

Total Siyappa

Shaasi ke Side Effects

Purani Jeans

O Teri

Bobby Jasoos

Pizza

Boothnath Returns

Sonali Cable

Ungli

Super Nani

Gang of Ghosts

Holiday: A soldier is never off duty

2 states

Gulaab Gang

Queen

Hawaa Hawai

Vishwaroopam

Zanjeer

Ramaiya Vastavaiya

Madras Cafe

Commando

Akaash Vani

R..Rajkumar

Special 26

Yeh Jawani Hai deewani

ABCD: Any Body Can Dance

Himmatwala

Jolly LLB

Race 2

Raanjhanaa

Krrish 3

Chennai Express

Once Upon a time in Mumbai Dobaraa

Bhaag Milka

Kai Po Che

Bombay Talkies

Dhoom 3

Lootera

Fuckrey

Gori Tere Pyaar Mein

Jayanta Bhai ka Love Story

Gippi

Phata Poster Nikla Hero