#soroush

[boudex11]

(SOROUSH)

[anistg]

(SOROUSH)

[kokomody]

(SOROUSH)

[fatehtige]

(SOROUSH)

[vsk56]

(SOROUSH)

[palushiemalis-fr]

Dergtober -- Day 23 -- Mask

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

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

this one was a quick one to catch up lol

[chryso-poeia]

”I was born in a bed of blood” as he poses in front of a forest lot hunched down with a soft smile in the photo, the kind of smile that can emerge when you’ve come too close to death, too many times. When you’ve seen too much death. The kind of soft yet confident indifference that only young men can carry. And his eyes were disarmingly wounded. I remember when you told me that you had to travel back to your country to see your family, i tried not to let it show but the idea of it scared me. I also remember when we sat at that kitchen table and you asked me if i had ever been in love. 1095 days of silence and then… the way people leave you and you learn that you just have to rest in the learning and beauty of that meeting. And what i told him at the end was singular in nature, i let him see me.

”Quis tamen hoc potiusque mihi quam semper amavit, Dulcis amore suo, sinit uti dolor.”

-

I had a deep connection to someone on tumblr that i spoke to for years, and i told him about the subject of the aforementioned text too. That type of connection can only be really understood in this context by two people that share the same ’preferences’ thus similar in terms of life experience, i.e gay or bi. If you know what i’m talking about, you just do. But i lost that friend too. I remember the last message i sent him was a photo of a white wolf in snow. In some way the image felt like it represented our mutual sense of exile.

He said that my last messages and the photo made him cry by association. Then he deactivated. It wouldn’t have had such an impact if this last exchange hadn’t popped up so suddenly, also because i had distanced myself from this person months prior. And this person always wanted to remain anonymous. I suppose that was his wounding. He always said he admired my strength. It has always fascinated me, the dissonance between my perception of another in conjunction to myself and vice versa.

Again, the learning and the beauty of human connection. But it surprises me even now, that an anonymous string of messages like we shared over the years could’ve had such an impact on me. I just hope he’s well, he told me that he was going to leave due to declining health. Wherever you are. x

Hannibal (2013-2015)

[tyressoroush-blog]

"Keeping You Rolling, safely"

At Soroush Tyres, we keep you moving with confidence. Whether you’re after top-quality performance tyres, rugged all-terrain options, or affordable everyday solutions, we’ve got the right fit for your vehicle and your budget. Our experienced team is here to offer expert advice, fast fitting, and unbeatable service—because your safety and satisfaction are our top priorities. From wheel alignments to tyre rotations and everything in between, we’re your one-stop destination for keeping your drive smooth, safe, and reliable.

Need new tyres, fast? We make it simple and stress-free. With a wide range of trusted brands and expert fitters on hand, you’ll be back on the road in no time. We know your time is valuable, so we focus on fast turnaround times, no-fuss service, and guaranteed quality—every time.

CONTACT US

Address: 212 McIntyre Road, Sunshine, Victoria 3020

Number: 03 9995 1566

OPENING HOURS

Monday - Friday: 08:30 - 17:00

Saturday: 08:30 - 16:00

Sunday: 10:00 - 13:00

#TyreinSunshine#MechanicalrepairsinSunshine#RepairserviceinSunshine#BrakepadserviceinSunshine#3DWheelAlignmentinSunshine#SoroushTyresSunshineNorth#TireshopSunshineNorth#TirerepairSunshineNorth#NewtiresSunshineNorth#WheelalignmentSunshineNorth#TireservicesSunshineNorth#BesttireshopSunshine#

[lefkosahaberleri]

Persepolis, TS Tabriz'i 2-0 Yenerek Üçüncü Sıraya Yükseldi

New Post has been published on https://lefkosa.com.tr/persepolis-ts-tabrizi-2-0-yenerek-ucuncu-siraya-yukseldi-37367/

Persepolis, TS Tabriz'i 2-0 Yenerek Üçüncü Sıraya Yükseldi

Persepolis, TS Tabriz’i 2-0 yenerek ligdeki üçüncü sıraya yükseldi. Maçta sergilenen etkileyici performansla taraftarlarını sevindiren Persepolis, şampiyonluk yarışında iddialı olduğunu bir kez daha gösterdi.

https://lefkosa.com.tr/persepolis-ts-tabrizi-2-0-yenerek-ucuncu-siraya-yukseldi-37367/ --------

[graphicpolicy]

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

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

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

[fatehtige]

(SOROUSH)

[februarytrash]

soroush took us to his old trap house

[palushiemalis-fr]

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

Soroush & Abraxos. Grumpy Boy meets Grumpy Nurse C:

adoptable by @squeeblestudio

[delicatuscii-wasbella102]

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

[absence-gallery]

collage by me // poem from Sylvia Plath - Mad Girl's Love Song // photos from unsplash: vlad kutepov // matthew schwartz // annie spratt // soroush karimi // fuu j

[gingertumericlemon]

what can you tell us about snow 7?

Ohhhhohoho it is BIG and AMBITIOUS! There are some swings in format and [redacted] that I think are kind of fun and silly and sexy! I will say that Eddie (and the reader!) finally gets to breathe a little.

Here’s a lil clip!

“Eddie was coming to understand that the fantasy of a life pulverized so completely into shards that it might never be reassembled was just that. A fantasy. Because to tell yourself that your life was pointless and wasted and irreparable was to absolve yourself completely. Nothing more could be asked of you. Who could blame such a man for walking out of frame forever?

But Malibu had grabbed Eddie by the scruff of the neck and shoved his nose in the mess he’d made until there was nothing to admit but that the pieces of his life were not irreparable. They were scattered and lost and dented. Not broken. And all that could be done was to prostrate himself lower still to search on hands and knees until he had them all gathered into one place again.

This sucked! Accountability sucked!

The van was gone, the loft was gone; the Eddie Munson Attaché boiled down now to a milk crate of records and paperbacks, his duffel of clothes, and his two guitars which he sometimes wore cross-gartered over his back like the katanas of a disgraced shogunate in Feudal Japan. (This image had, despite EVERYTHING, been scribbled on the back of a cigarette packet and shoved into Eddie’s notebook. He understood now those stories about beavers who tried to build dams over tape recorders playing the sounds of running water. Pointless! FUCK! If only he could drown hope entirely he’d be unstoppable!)

Soroush allowed him to pick up extra shifts with WE HAUL U SAVE. And while Eddie’s absence and newly-cropped scalp and subdued requests for more work received no outward acknowledgement, he noticed that the quantity of Soroush’s homemade lunches began to increase until there were leftovers nearly every day. “You are doing me a favor,” Soroush would shrug, pushing a half-eaten Tupperware of pomegranate walnut stew into Eddie’s hands. “My wife. Her heart will hurt if I don’t finish.”

Quietly Eddie thanked him. So much these days he did quietly.”