#temples of bengal

[kaalbela]

Mural at Parashnath Jain Temple, Kolkata.

[bongboyblog]

A walk through Bengal's architecture

Bengali architecture has a long and rich history, fusing indigenous elements from the Indian subcontinent with influences from other areas of the world. Present-day Bengal architecture includes the nation of Bangladesh as well as the Indian states of West Bengal, Tripura, and Assam's Barak Valley. West Bengal’s architecture is an amalgamation of ancient urban architecture, religious architecture, rural vernacular architecture, colonial townhouses and country houses, and modern urban styles. Bengal architecture is the architecture of Wind, Water, and Clay. The Pala Empire (750–1120), which was founded in Bengal and was the final Buddhist imperial force on the Indian subcontinent, saw the apex of ancient Bengali architecture. The majority of donations went to Buddhist stupas, temples, and viharas. Southeast Asian and Tibetan architecture was influenced by Pala architecture. The Grand Vihara of Somapura, which is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, was the most well-known structure erected by the Pala rulers.

The Grand Vihara of Somapura

According to historians, the builders of Angkor Wat in Cambodia may have taken inspiration from Somapura. Bengal architecture became known for its use of terracotta due to the scarcity of stone in the area. Clay from the Bengal Delta was used to make bricks.

The temple architecture has distinct features like the rich wall decoration, often known as the terracotta temples, which was one of the remarkable elements of Bengali temple architecture. The double-roofed architecture of thatched huts was replicated by Bengali temples. Square platforms were used to construct the temples. Burnt brick panels with figures in geometric patterns or substantial sculptural compositions served as the temples' adornment.

Dochala style

These served as models for many temples that were built in undivided Bengal. Construction materials used in ancient times included wood and bamboo. Bengal has alluvial soil, so there isn't a lot of stone there. The bricks that were utilized to build the architectural components were made from stone, wood, black salt, and granite. Bengal has two different types of temples: the Rekha type, which is smooth or ridged curvilinear, and the Bhadra form, which has horizontal tiers that gradually get smaller and is made up of the amalaka sila. Mughal architecture, including forts, havelis, gardens, caravanserais, hammams, and fountains, spread throughout the area during the Mughal era in Bengal. Mosques built by the Mughals in Bengal also took on a distinctive regional look. The two major centers of Mughal architecture were Dhaka and Murshidabad. The do-chala roof custom from North India was imitated by the Mughals.

Jorasako thakurbari

The Rasmancha is a heritage building located at Bishnupur, Bankura district, West Bengal.

Influence of the world on Bengal architecture: Although the Indo-Saracenic architectural style predominated in the area, Neo-Classical buildings from Europe were also present, particularly in or close to trading centers. While the majority of country estates had a stately country house, Calcutta, Dacca, Panam, and Chittagong all had extensive 19th and early 20th-century urban architecture that was equivalent to that of London, Sydney, or other British Empire towns. Calcutta experienced the onset of art deco in the 1930s. Indo-Saracenic architecture can be seen in Ahsan Manzil and Curzon Hall in Dhaka, Chittagong Court Building in Chittagong, and Hazarduari Palace in Murshidabad.

Hazarduari Palace in Murshidabad

The Victoria Memorial in Kolkata, designed by Vincent Esch also has Indo-Saracenic features, possibly inspired by the Taj Mahal. Additionally, Kolkata's bungalows, which are being demolished to make way for high-rise structures, have elements of art deco. The 1950s in Chittagong saw a continuation of Art Deco influences. The Bengali modernist movement, spearheaded by Muzharul Islam, was centered in East Pakistan. In the 1960s, many well-known international architects, such as Louis Kahn, Richard Neutra, Stanley Tigerman, Paul Rudolph, Robert Boughey, and Konstantinos Doxiadis, worked in the area.

The Jatiyo Sangshad Bhaban

This iconic piece of contemporary Bangladeshi architecture, was created by Louis Kahn. Midsized skyscrapers dominate the cityscapes of contemporary Bengali cities, which are frequently referred to as "concrete jungles." With well-known architects like Rafiq Azam, architecture services play a key role in the urban economies of the area. Overall Bengal architecture was influenced by various contemporaries of their time and continues to evolve.

Gothic architectural style seen in St. Paul's Cathedral in Kolkata.

Zamindar era buildings in ruin.

Belur Math in Howrah

[okaycons]

📍Bishnupur, West Bengal

[timmurleyart]

Golden temples of Myanmar. 🇲🇲🟨🟩🟥

[youthchronical]

No right to pray: 130 Dalit households in Bengal fight an uneven battle to reach out to God

Threatened, ostracised and pushed to the edge, a group of about 130 Dalit families in West Bengal’s Purba Bardhaman district are pinning their final hopes on police and district administration to end a caste-based discriminatory tradition of three centuries and receive their Constitutionally-guaranteed right to worship their God. The families at Daspara area of Gidhgram village, all having ‘Das’…

[townpostin]

Kadma Durga Puja Preparations Begin with Bhoomi Pujan

Bengal artisans to craft elaborate pandal; enhanced security measures planned Kadma’s Durga Puja Committee has initiated preparations for a grand celebration with the completion of Bhoomi Pujan at Rankini Temple. JAMSHEDPUR – The Durga Puja Committee in Kadma kicked off preparations with a Bhoomi Pujan ceremony at Rankini Temple, promising an impressive pandal for this year’s…

[indiansareedesigns07]

Discover the Rich Cultural Heritage of Madurai's Handloom

Introduction

Madurai, a city in the western corner of Tamil Nadu, is not only famous for its rich cultural heritage but also for its fine cotton sarees and handloom weaving industry. The city has been producing some of the finest cotton sarees in India for centuries, and its thread is used for making not only cotton sarees but also other varieties of sarees.

Madurai Cotton: The Finest Thread in India

Madurai cotton is renowned for its fine quality and softness. The city and its vicinity produce some of the finest cotton sarees in India, and the thread produced here is used by tailors and other people for day-to-day stitching of clothes. In the olden days, mercerized cotton sarees were made with a silk border, but today the border is made of polyester or shining cotton. The body of the saree remains the same, made of the same material as before. The cloth is of very light weight and is ideal for summer wear.

Madurai Cotton vs. Bengal Cotton

Madurai cotton is slightly thicker than Bengal cotton but much more superior to Bengal cotton. The border and pallav make it ideal for summer wear, and in cities like Madras, Bombay, and Calcutta, it is wearable round the year since winter does not set in these places. The sarees generally have a contrast border and a pallav with the same work as in the border. Madurai cotton is highly affordable and is used for evening or day wear or for visiting anyone or attending a light evening tea or coffee party in the forenoon.

Madurai: A Hub for Designer Sarees

Madurai is famous for its fine cotton thread produced here used for making cotton sarees and also producing other varieties of sarees. It produces some very beautiful designer sarees of fine glazed cotton with zari border. The city is home to some very big saree shops selling many varieties of sarees, some of which are not available in Delhi and Bombay shops and not even in Tamil Nadu.

Madurai Handloom Industry: A Cultural Heritage

The handloom industry in Madurai is quite old, and the shops are by themselves quite old. Madurai also produces block printed sarees on fine cotton cloth known as Sungudi, though they might not be as famous as the block prints of Rajasthan and Gujarat yet they are very wearable in summer season. They are usually printed on fine cotton cloth and have small motifs on the body of the saree with single or double colour.

Conclusion

Madurai's handloom industry has inherited a rich cultural heritage from the city, which is 3000 years old. The city is home to some of the finest cotton sarees in India, and its thread is used for making not only cotton sarees but also other varieties of sarees. The industry is a testament to the city's rich cultural heritage and its commitment to preserving traditional crafts and techniques.

[kvetch19]

x

[mytravelnama]

Reliving Bengal’s Rich Heritage & Spirituality at Hangseshwari Temple

Prologue The people of the then Kashi-Benaras were mesmerized by the spiritual bliss and vibrancy of a sage from Bengal. With his melodious, soul touching voice the sage was chanting the holy the blessings of the Eternal Mother – Maa Mahashakti!! His disciples were lost in the trance of his holy chants, the melody of his voice and the narration of the glory of the Eternal Mother – Maa…

[starsinthesky5]

What’s their night routine like? Glasses on and books

───────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────

their night routine is soft and quiet and so them it almost hurts to think about. it usually starts with her in the bathroom, perched on the counter with her legs swinging while she does her skincare, clay mask on, headband holding her hair back, humming whatever song is stuck in her head. joe walks by brushing his teeth, gives her a little nudge with his shoulder or leans in to kiss her temple even though her face is covered in goo.

they both wear glasses by the end of the night, hers big and a little crooked from being tossed in bags or on nightstands, his always slipping down his nose because he forgets they’re on when he lays back in bed. she opts for one of his old shirts, maybe a bengals tee or an lsu long sleeve that’s two sizes too big, and he’s usually in boxers and nothing else, hair damp from the shower, skin warm, clean, and smelling like her rose bodywash.

before bed, he always does his little walk-through. checking that the front door’s locked, that the stove is off, that all the lights are out. only now, he does it with her wrapped around his back like a koala, arms slung over his shoulders, giggling as he carries her room to room like it’s the most normal thing in the world. she whispers commentary like they’re on a nature documentary—“and here we see football superstar joe burrow in his natural habitat, checking if he accidentally left the pantry light on again while grabbing a s’mores pop-tart for a midnight snack,”.

they crawl into bed with their books, hers would likely be a romance novel and his some science book she ordered for him, legs tangled, her head on his chest. the tv’s usually on in the background—muted news or some random show they’ve seen a dozen times. she reads until her eyes get heavy and the book slips from her hands, and he gently marks the page and sets it aside for her. sometimes they fall asleep like that, glasses askew, limbs overlapping, hearts full.

it’s not fancy. it’s not anything overly complicated. it’s just love. soft and simple and steady. their favorite kind of ending.

[rafeysvenicebitch]

-‘๑’- Happy Birthday Joey!!! -‘๑’- •·.·'Joe Burrow x sweetheart!reader'·.·•

It was a crisp December morning, and Joe Burrow’s birthday had arrived—though he wasn’t one to make a big deal about it. You, however, had other plans. Knowing how busy his life was, especially during football season, you wanted to give him a day that felt personal and special, no matter how simple.

Joe woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon rolls baking in the oven. The faint sound of music played in the background as you moved around the kitchen, wearing one of his oversized Bengals hoodies, carefully icing the rolls.

“Good morning, Birthday Boy,” you said with a warm smile as Joe wandered into the kitchen, his hair a mess and his expression soft with curiosity.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep. But the way his lips quirked into a smile made it clear how much he appreciated the effort.

“I wanted to,” you replied, setting a plate of warm cinnamon rolls and scrambled eggs in front of him. ��It’s your day. Let me spoil you a little.”

The morning passed lazily, filled with laughter, lighthearted teasing, and the occasional stolen kiss. After breakfast, you handed him a small, neatly wrapped box. His eyebrows raised slightly as he unwrapped it, revealing a custom leather-bound notebook with “JB9” embossed on the front.

“I know you’re always jotting down notes or ideas,” you said softly. “I thought you could use something special.”

Joe flipped through the pages, running his fingers over the cover, and smiled. “This is perfect,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “Thank you.”

Later that evening, after Joe returned from a light team workout, you whisked him away to a private dinner you’d arranged with his closest friends and family. The evening was filled with good food, laughter, and even a custom cake shaped like a football, complete with “Happy Birthday, QB1” written in orange and black icing.

As the night wound down, you and Joe ended up back at his place, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights. He pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you both sank into the couch.

“You really outdid yourself today,” he said, his voice warm as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “This is probably the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You smiled, resting your head against his chest. “You do so much for everyone else, Joe. I just wanted to make sure you felt how loved you are.”

Joe tightened his hold on you, his voice soft. “You do that every day.”

In that quiet, intimate moment, surrounded by warmth and love, Joe couldn’t imagine a better way to celebrate his birthday and his win than with you by his side.

A/n: Happy Birthday joeyyyyy!!!

Taglist: @heavyhitterheaux @joeyfranchise @joeybsboo @funnyjb @nami-swannn @blackynsupremacy @ikeepitlight @iknowdatsrightbih @inmyfeelingsgnocchi @burreauxpop @platinumsim @tylerjeauxburreaux9

[townpostin]

Buddhist Golden Temple Replica to Grace Durga Puja Celebration

Praveen Seva Samiti Plans Unique Myanmar-Inspired Pandal in Adityapur Innovative design aims to blend Buddhist architecture with traditional Durga Puja festivities, promising a cultural spectacle for devotees. JAMSHEDPUR – The Praveen Seva Samiti institution in Adityapur has begun preparations for this year’s Durga Puja, featuring a unique pandal inspired by Myanmar’s Buddhist Golden…

[honeydippedfiction]

Can we get some subby Joe with Angel? (body worshipping, arms over their head, mouth gaping while they groan, pressing and thrusting themselves up into you. "Just, like that, oh.. god.")

Anon you fucking legend, god I could kiss you all day for this!!

1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents

body worshipping & arms over their head, mouth gaping while they groan, pressing and thrusting themselves up into you. "Just, like that, oh.. god."

Joe Burrow x Angel

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

The November air in Cincinnati was bitter, the kind that bit at the skin and settled into the bones. Outside, the last leaves clung to black branches, shivering in the wind. Inside the Burrow home—a sleek, modern house tucked just far enough from the city to feel quiet—Joe sat on the edge of the couch, left wrist heavily braced, eyes fixed on the muted television screen.

Another replay.

Another slow-motion loop of that moment. His hand hitting the helmet, the wince, the way his shoulders slumped as he walked off the field. The commentators’ voices still rang in his memory, even with the sound off: “This could be devastating for the Bengals.” “You hate to see it—Joe Burrow, down again.”

The volume wasn't necessary. The look on their faces said enough. Disappointment. Pity. Doubt.

He gritted his teeth and turned the TV off with his good hand.

In the silence that followed, the house felt larger than usual—empty in a way that had nothing to do with space. His phone buzzed again beside him. Another alert. Probably another headline. Another hot take from someone who hadn’t touched a football since high school.

He ignored it. Again.

From down the hall, he heard the faint clack of keys. Angel was working late—again—hunched over her laptop in the spare bedroom she’d converted into her little production studio. She was editing a segment for a local sports show, or maybe preparing questions for her next sideline report. He couldn't keep track these days.

Once upon a time, they’d stay up for hours, talking about the future. Now the future felt more like something to brace for than to look forward to.

He leaned back and closed his eyes.

Angel paused her editing and rubbed her temples. Her eyes flicked to the framed photo beside her desk—LSU’s Tiger Stadium, lit up under a night sky. Joe stood beside her in the photo, both of them in purple and gold, both of them younger, leaner, a little less tired. He had his arm slung over her shoulder. She was holding a press mic. Neither of them knew what was coming.

She heard the television go silent out in the living room.

She saved her file and stood, padding down the hallway in socks. As she approached, she saw him sitting there—head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth drawn into a line that hadn’t softened in days.

“Hey,” she said gently, her voice cutting through the quiet like sunlight through blinds. “You eat anything today?”

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking as if surfacing from underwater. “Not hungry.”

Angel leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at him.

“I know that look,” he muttered, avoiding her eyes.

“What look?”

“The look that says you’re about to give me a speech.”

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No speech. Just checking in on the man I’m supposed to marry.”

That landed heavier than she meant it to.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, tousling it absently. “I’m fine, Angel.”

She let out a breath through her nose. Calm. Controlled. “You keep saying that. But I’m starting to think you’ve forgotten how to mean it.”

He didn’t respond. His gaze dropped to his hand—the one wrapped in white bandages, the one that betrayed him.

Angel walked over and sat beside him, her tone softer now. “I’ve seen you fight through pain before. I was there when you blew out your knee, remember? I watched you go from crutches to comeback without blinking. But this time’s different. And not just physically.”

Joe didn’t look at her. “It’s not about the pain. It’s about the timing. About how every time I get back up, something else hits me.”

He finally turned to face her. “They’re already talking like I’m made of glass. Like I peaked two years ago. Like I’m just... unreliable now.”

“You think I care what they say?” she shot back, eyebrows raised.

“I care,” he said, voice tight. “Because it feels true.”

Silence stretched between them. Angel reached for his hand, carefully avoiding the injured one, and laced her fingers with his.

“I get it,” she said softly. “You’ve spent your whole life being ‘the guy.’ The leader. The winner. And now the world’s pointing at you like you’re broken.”

Joe closed his eyes again, but this time, it wasn’t to escape. It was to hold back the sting behind them.

“I feel useless,” he whispered. “Every time I walk into the training facility, I feel like a ghost. I can’t help my team. I can’t even throw. And I keep thinking… what if I never get back to where I was? What if this is it?”

Angel leaned closer, pressing her forehead gently to his. “Then you’ll find a new way forward. And I’ll be there—every step.”

He opened his eyes. Hers were right there, clear and fierce.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “I didn’t fall in love with Joe Burrow the quarterback.”

He gave a weak smile. “No?”

“No. I fell in love with Joe Burrow, the guy who used to bring me coffee during my internship at LSU SportsNet. The guy who stayed up late quizzing me before my first real segment because I was too nervous to sleep. The guy who watched The Notebook with me and pretended he didn’t cry at the end.”

“I didn’t cry,” he said, deadpan.

“Your nose was running.”

“It was allergies.”

Angel grinned, brushing a hand against his cheek. “My point is, I fell in love with you. Not your stats. Not your jersey. You. The way you listen. The way you care. The way you never quit, even when it hurts.”

His jaw clenched. “It just feels like it’s all slipping away.”

“No,” she said, firm now. “It’s changing. And maybe that’s scary, but you’re not slipping away. You’re still here. You’re still you. And we’re still us.”

Joe looked down at their hands—hers warm and strong in his. He’d always thought of himself as the protector, the anchor. But maybe love wasn’t about taking turns holding each other up. Maybe it was about learning to lean, too.

“Joe,” she said, her voice softer now, stepping closer. “Do you trust me?”

That pulled him out of the fog. He blinked, looked up at her.

“Of course I do,” he said immediately.

She nodded, then extended her hand. Her palm was warm, open, inviting.

“Come with me.”

He hesitated, but only for a second before placing his hand in hers. She laced their fingers together—carefully, gently—and reached for the remote, turning the TV off with one clean motion. The silence that followed felt profound, almost sacred.

Joe let himself be led, their fingers still intertwined. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to. He followed her through the dim hallway toward their bedroom, the scent of lavender and cedar lingering faintly in the air. The lights were already low, golden lamplight washing the room in warmth that contrasted the chill just beyond their windows.

Angel led him to the full-length mirror in front of their closet. “Stand here,” she said softly.

He obeyed, watching her reflection as she moved behind him. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then his neck, her arms circling to rest over his chest. Her touch was light, but present, grounding him in the moment.

“Tell me what you see,” she murmured against his skin.

He looked up—really looked. His eyes were still weary, dark circles faint beneath them. His hair was shorter now, neat. His shoulders still broad, if not as heavily muscled as they had been before. He saw the brace on his wrist, the marks of surgery faint beneath it. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” Angel whispered, her lips brushing his jaw. “Strong. Even when he’s broken.”

She began to undress him then, her hands gentle and sure. She knelt behind him, fingers working the buttons of his jeans, her touch deliberate but unhurried. When they were loose enough, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband, easing them down over his hips. He stepped out of them, watching her in the mirror as she pressed kisses to his calves, his knees, up his thighs.

When she reached the bend of his knee, she paused, turning her head to trail kisses along the inside of his thigh. He felt her breath against his skin, warm and soft. She took her time, each press of her lips light and lingering. When she reached the crease between his leg and hip, she lingered there, her mouth open against him.

“Angel,” he breathed, the word almost a plea.

She hummed in response, the sound vibrating against his skin. Her hands slid up the backs of his legs, her palms warm and smooth. She turned, trailing kisses down to his ankle, then back up again, slower this time. When she reached his erection, she didn’t pause, her mouth skimming over it with deliberate care. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hips twitching involuntarily. She smiled against his skin before continuing up, over his hip bone, his abdomen, his chest. Each inch of skin she exposed received the same treatment—soft kisses, whispered words of praise.

His shirt came off next, and again she worshipped him—each scar, each mark, every line of muscle and sinew. Her hands and mouth moved in tandem, mapping his body with a reverence that made his breath catch. When she finally reached his neck, she pressed a kiss there, then another, until she was peppering his skin with them, her lips warm and insistent.

“You are,” she whispered between kisses, “still so beautiful.”

She turned him then, guiding him to face the mirror again. Her hands slid down his arms, fingers intertwining with his. She stepped back, pressing her chest against his back, her cheek resting between his shoulder blades. Her reflection smiled at him in the mirror—a soft, knowing smile.

“Now you,” she said quietly. “Touch yourself. For me.”

His breath hitched, but he obeyed, his free hand moving almost hesitantly to his chest. Angel’s hand tightened around his, encouraging.

“Like this,” she murmured, guiding his hand over his own skin. She followed his movements with her own, their joined hands mapping his body together.  When they reached his groin, she didn’t hesitate, guiding his fingers to his length. He was already hard, aching for her touch, and when their hands wrapped around him together, he groaned softly.

“Good,” Angel whispered, pressing a kiss to his spine. “That’s it. Feel it.”

She set the pace—slow, deliberate, her grip firm but not tight. She watched him in the mirror, her eyes dark with desire, her lips parted slightly. He felt himself responding to her touch, to the sight of her behind him, guiding his own hand over his cock.

“That’s it,” she repeated, her voice a soft cadence of encouragement. “You feel that? You feel how good it is?”

He nodded, unable to form words. Her hand tightened fractionally around his, increasing the pressure just enough to make him gasp.

“Look at yourself,” she commanded gently. “See how beautiful you are. How strong.”

She let go of his hand then, but only long enough to reach around him, her fingers finding his nipple. She rolled it between her fingers, pinching lightly, and he arched into her touch with a groan.

“Angel,” he breathed. “Oh, god, Angel.”

She smiled against his back. “Keep going,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He kept stroking himself, his rhythm faltering slightly as she continued to tease his nipple, her breath hot against his skin. When she switched to the other side, he bit back a moan, his hand moving faster now, driven by her touch and her words.

“That’s it,” she murmured. “You’re doing so good, Joe. So good.”

He was close now, he could feel it—the tension building in his gut, his breath coming in sharp pants. Angel must have sensed it too because she pressed closer against him, her free hand sliding down his abdomen to rest just above his own.

“Not yet,” she whispered. “Wait for me.”

He whimpered softly but slowed his hand, though his hips twitched with the effort of holding back. Angel’s hand slid lower, her fingers brushing lightly over his balls before moving further back. He tensed slightly, but she didn’t push, just kept her touch light and teasing.

“Relax,” she soothed. “It’s okay. Let me take care of you.”

He nodded, forcing himself to breathe deeply, evenly. Her fingers moved again, more insistent this time, and when she found what she was looking for, he couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped him.

“That’s it,” she praised. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

He nodded again, his head falling back against her shoulder as she worked him with both hands now—her fingers massaging him from behind while her other hand guided his over his cock. The dual sensations were almost too much, and he felt himself teetering on the edge, his muscles tensing with the effort of holding back.

“Angel,” he panted. “I’m close. I’m so close.”

She pressed a kiss to his neck. “I know,” she murmured. “I’ve got you. Let go when you’re ready.”

It was all he needed to hear. With a guttural cry, he came, his body shuddering with the force of his release. Angel held him through it, her hands never stopping their gentle motions, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until he finally collapsed back against her, spent and sated. She held him there for a long moment, her arms wrapped around him securely, her lips pressed against his temple.

When his breathing had slowed, she shifted, moving to stand beside him again. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before turning him to face her. Her eyes were soft with affection, her smile gentle.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded, his throat still tight with emotion.

She reached up, cupping his face in her hands. “Good,” she murmured before leaning in to kiss him—a slow, sweet kiss that spoke volumes without words. When she pulled back, she kept her hands on his face, her thumbs stroking softly over his cheekbones.

“Okay to keep going?” she asked quietly.

He nodded again, this time with more fervor. “Please,” he whispered.

She smiled, love and something deeper lighting her eyes. “Good,” she said, “because I plan on going all night if that’s what it takes. You’re going to see yourself through my eyes by the time I’m done with you.”

Angel guided him back toward the bed, her movements slow and deliberate. She paused just long enough to hook her thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, easing them down his legs. He stepped out of them automatically, his eyes never leaving her face.

When he was fully undressed, she dipped a finger in the semen still glistening on his abdomen. He watched, transfixed, as she brought the finger to her mouth, sucking it clean with a soft hum of appreciation. The sight of it made his spent cock twitch with interest, and she smiled knowingly.

Angel turned to him as they crossed the threshold. “Sit,” she said softly.

Joe obeyed, sinking to the edge of the bed, uncertain, his posture guarded. His shoulders were hunched, muscles tight with the weight of weeks he hadn’t unpacked. But she was already moving—calm, graceful, purposeful.

She knelt before him.

Without a word, she reached for his left hand, lifting it slowly. She brought it to her lips, kissing each finger—soft, reverent. She trailed up his forearm with her mouth, her breath warm against his skin.

“Joe,” she whispered, “you didn’t lose yourself.”

She kissed the crook of his elbow, then the inside of his bicep.

“You’re still here.”

Another kiss, just above his clavicle. Her eyes lifted to meet his.

“You’re so much more than this injury.”

His breath caught as her lips lingered. She moved to the other side—his injured arm. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t pause. She handled it with intention and care, her touch light at first, almost asking permission. When he didn’t pull away, she began again—each finger kissed slowly, every knuckle traced with the tips of her lips.

“This body…” she murmured, “this body has fought. Has endured. It’s strong. And it’s still beautiful.”

He swallowed hard, eyes on her, emotion welling behind them.

“You think I see you as broken?” she continued, rising to her knees between his legs. “I don’t.”

Her hands slid up his thighs slowly, grounding him.

“I see the man who carried a team through hell. I see the man who never once backed down. I see my man. And I worship him.”

Joe’s jaw clenched again—but not from tension this time. He looked down at her, her skin glowing gold in the low light, and something in him broke open. Not a shattering, but a release.

“You make it sound easy,” he said, voice low, rough with unshed emotion.

“It’s not easy,” she replied. “But it’s real.”

Angel rose slowly, guiding him backward until he laid down against the pillows. She curled up beside him, her body fitting effortlessly against his. Her hand rested lightly on his chest, over his heart.

“You’ve always carried everything on your back,” she said. “Let me carry you for once.”

Angel leaned in then, her lips finding his. She kissed him softly, slowly, pouring every unspoken thing into it: I love you. You’re enough. You’re still my Joe.

When she pulled back, he reached for her, hand cradling her face. His thumb brushed over her cheek, his gaze softer now, less guarded.

“Tell me what you need,” Angel whispered.

He didn’t answer immediately. She felt him breathing, his chest rising and falling beneath her palm. The weight of the past few weeks seemed to settle over them both.

“I need…” he started, then trailed off.

She waited. Patience in her silence.

“I need to feel like myself again,” he finally said, the words coming out quiet, almost vulnerable.

Angel nodded slowly, understanding. She sat up slowly, her eyes never leaving his face.

“Okay,” she said gently. “Lie down.”

He complied, settling back against the pillows as Angel shifted to straddle his hips. She could feel the heat of him even through the fabric of her shorts. His gaze flickered up to her face, then down to her hands as she reached for the hem of her shirt. She lifted it slowly, peeling it up and over her head. Her curls fell around her shoulders as she tossed the shirt aside, leaving her in nothing but a lace bra.

“Angel,” Joe said, his voice rough, “you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupted softly. She ran her hands down her body, over the swell of her breasts to her stomach. “I want to show you what I see.”

Her fingers hooked beneath the waistband of her shorts, and she lifted herself enough to slide them down her legs. When she was left in nothing but her bra and panties, she leaned forward, bracing herself over Joe. Her hands came to rest on either side of his head as she hovered just above him, her hair falling around their faces like a curtain.

“Look at me, Joe.”

He did, his eyes locking with hers. There was heat there now, along with the love that shone bright. She let him see both.

“Your body is beautiful,” she murmured. “Every scar, every muscle, every inch of you is beautiful.”

Angel kissed him then, deep and slow. Her tongue slid against his, and she could feel him hardening beneath her. She broke the kiss and began to move down his body, pressing soft kisses along his chest, her hands tracing every line of muscle. Her touch wasn’t teasing, she was mapping. Memorizing every single detail of him, every so called imperfection.

“Angel,” he said again, his voice strained with desire and emotion.

She shushed him gently, placing a finger against his lips. “Just watch me, Joe. Watch how I see you.”

She started at his feet, kissing his ankles, his shins, the muscles of his calves. Her lips trailed up his thighs, and he tensed slightly, his hands fisting in the sheets. Angel glanced up at him, her eyes meeting his. She didn’t say a word, but her gaze held a silent promise: I’ve got you. Her breath fanned over his hardened length, and he groaned, his head falling back against the pillow.

“Angel, please…”

“Just let me take care of you,” she whispered against his skin.

Her tongue darted out, tracing the vein on the underside of his cock. Joe’s hips jerked involuntarily, a guttural sound escaping him. Angel took him into her mouth slowly, inch by inch, her hand coming up to stroke what she couldn’t fit. She bobbed her head, setting a rhythm that had Joe’s hands tangling in her hair.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his thighs trembling. “You’re so beautiful.”

She pulled off him with a wet pop, smiling softly. “So are you,” she said, kissing the tip of his cock. “You’re everything I ever wanted.”

She took him deep again, her eyes flicking up to his. She kept her gaze locked on his as she worked him, her mouth warm and wet. She didn’t need to rush. It didn’t need to be rough. This wasn’t about that. This was about taking him apart slowly, methodically. This was about showing him how worthy he was of love, of pleasure, of care.

Joe was slipping slowly into a submissive state at this feeling. Not once ever had he been shown this kind of love. Sure people praised him, but that was all for football. He had never had anyone just worship him the way Angel had done in that moment, and it was throwing him into a space where he just had to give up control.

Angel could feel the change in him. His breathing was deeper, more controlled. His hands, which had been fisted in the sheets, relaxed. When she glanced up at him again, she saw it in his eyes—that softening, that trust.

 She doubled her efforts, swirling her tongue around the head of his cock before taking him deep again.

“Angel…” he breathed out, his hips barely moving now.

She hummed around him, the vibration making his back arch slightly. She could feel him getting closer, his muscles tensing, his breathing hitching.

“Let go,” she murmured against his skin. “Just feel.”

It was like a dam broke. Joe’s orgasm hit him hard, ripping a groan from deep in his chest. Angel stayed with him, her mouth gentle as she guided him through it. When his body finally relaxed, she lifted her head, wiping the corner of her mouth with a delicate swipe of her thumb.

“Good boy,” she whispered.

Joe’s eyes opened slowly, meeting hers. In that moment, he was raw, vulnerable, completely stripped bare. And Angel, she saw it all. She saw the weight he’d been carrying, the doubt, the fear. She saw the strength it took for him to let go, to trust her with his vulnerability.

Angel leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his thigh. She pulled back just enough to look at him, her thumb brushing over his hip bone.

“You’re still you, Joe,” she said quietly. “You’ll always be you.”

​​Angel waited, giving him space to come down completely. When his breathing evened out, she shifted, moving up his body until she was hovering over him again. 

She shifted, her body sliding up his, until they were chest to chest. She could feel his heart pounding, the rapid rise and fall of his breath. She kissed his collarbone, his neck, the hollow of his throat. She worked her way up to his mouth, capturing his lips in a slow, deep kiss.

“Okay to keep going?” she whispered, pressing kisses along his jaw, down his neck. She bit softly at his earlobe, then whispered, “Can I ride you, baby?”

Joe nodded, his arms coming around her waist. “Please,” he managed.

Angel kissed him again, deeper this time. Joe could taste himself on her tongue, and he moaned softly into her mouth. She broke the kiss, looking down at him.

“Need words, baby,” she said, tracing his lower lip with her thumb.

“Please,” Joe said again, his voice cracking slightly. “Please… I need you. Need you to…”

Angel cocked an eyebrow, her expression soft but expectant.

She shifted, moving down his body again. Her lips brushed over his chest, his abdomen. She left a trail of soft kisses, her breath ghosting over his skin.

“Please, baby,” Joe said, throwing his head back against the pillows, exposing the long line of his throat. “I need you to show me. Make me believe who I am again.”

Angel paused, her mouth hovering just above his hip bone. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. He was vulnerable, open in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. It made her heart ache, made her want to pull him close and hold him until the uncertainty faded away.

Angel’s heart swelled with love and determination. She nodded slowly, then sat up, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. She slid it off, letting it fall to the floor before hooking her thumbs in her panties and sliding them down her legs.

“Okay,” she whispered. She pressed a soft kiss to the sharp cut of his hip. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, she lowered her head, taking him into her mouth again. Joe’s hips jerked slightly, a soft groan escaping him. Angel worked him gently, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock, her hand stroking what she couldn’t fit.

“Fuck, Angel,” Joe breathed out, his hands tangling in her long, dark hair. “You’re perfect.”

She hummed around him, taking him as deep as she could. His hips were moving now, thrusting gently. Angel let him guide her, let him fuck her mouth in shallow strokes. She could feel him hardening again, recovering from his earlier release.

When he was fully hard, Angel pulled back, licking her lips. She climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips. Her hands splayed across his chest as she looked down at him.

“I’m going to ride you,” she said, her voice low, “and you’re going to watch. You’re going to watch me take what I need from you. And when I’m done, you’re going to tell me what you see.”

Joe swallowed hard, his eyes dark with desire. “Okay.”

Angel reached back, gripping his cock and guiding it to her entrance. She sank down onto him slowly, inch by torturous inch. When she finally bottomed out, she paused, adjusting to the feel of him.

“So good,” she breathed, her head falling back.

She started to move, lifting herself on trembling thighs before sinking back down. Her pace was slow, deliberate. She wanted Joe to feel every inch of her, every clench of her muscles around him. She wanted him to see her falling apart on his cock.

“Angel,” Joe groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.”

Angel leaned forward, changing the angle. She took him deeper, hitting a spot inside her that made her gasp. She ground down against him, circling her hips.

“Tell me,” she said, her breath coming faster now. “Tell me what you love about your body.”

Joe’s eyes were locked on her, taking in the sight of her moving above him. His hands slid from her hips to her thighs, squeezing gently.

“I love…” he started, his voice strained, “I love how strong I am. How I can hold you, protect you.”

Angel’s pace quickened slightly, her muscles starting to burn pleasantly. “That’s good,” she murmured, encouraging him. “More.”

Joe’s gaze never left her face. “I love… how capable I am. How I can still pick you up, still make you feel good.”

“Yeah,” Angel breathed, her movements becoming more fluid, more desperate. “You do. You make me feel so good.”

“I love…” Joe swallowed hard, his hips meeting her thrusts now, “I love how I can give you what you need. How my body can still be enough for you.”

“It’s more than enough,” Angel gasped, pleasure curling tight in her lower belly. “It’s perfect, Joe. You’re perfect.”

“Angel, please,” Joe begged, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs. “I need… I need to come.”

“Not yet,” Angel said, her voice rough with exertion. She slowed her pace, grinding against him in slow circles. “Not until you tell me the truth.”

Joe groaned, frustration and pleasure mixing in his voice. “What truth?”

“The truth about your arm,” Angel said softly. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest. “Tell me how you feel about it. How it’s changed you.”

Joe’s breath caught, his eyes squeezing shut. “I… I can’t.”

Angel lifted herself almost completely off him, pausing with just the tip of his cock inside her. “You stop, I stop,” she said, holding his gaze.

Joe opened his eyes, looking up at her. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his hair sticking to his temples. Angel could see the conflict in his eyes—the desire to keep going, to chase his release, warring with the fear of facing the truth.

“I…” he started again, then stopped. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I feel… I feel like less.”

Angel didn’t move, didn’t rush him. She waited, her body trembling slightly with the effort of holding still.

“Less of a man,” Joe continued, his voice breaking. “Less capable. Less strong.”

Angel’s heart ached at his words. She could see the pain in his eyes, the uncertainty. Without thinking, she slid back down onto him, taking him deep. Joe’s breath hitched, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

“No,” Angel said firmly, leaning forward to kiss him hard. “No, you’re not. You’re still the same man, Joe. Still strong, still capable.” She pulled back, holding his gaze. “Your worth isn’t in your arm. It’s in here.”

She placed her hand over his heart, feeling its strong, steady beat.

“And here,” she continued, moving her hand to rest on his temple. “You’re still you, Joey. Still my fiance, still the man I fell in love with.”

Joe’s eyes searched hers, looking for any trace of doubt, any hint that she might be lying. But all he saw was truth, pure and unwavering.

“I…” he started, then stopped. Emotion welled up behind his eyes, and for a moment, Angel thought he might cry. But then he took a shuddering breath, blinking back the tears.

“I’m still me,” he said softly, more to himself than to her. “I’m still here.”

Angel nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him again. “Yeah, you are.”

When the kiss broke, she sat up then, her hands on his shoulders as she started to move again. Her pace was still slow, still deliberate. But there was a new heat to it now, a new intensity. She rocked against him, taking him deep with each thrust.

Joe’s hand came up to her hips again, guiding her, encouraging her. His eyes were locked on her face, taking in every expression, every sound she made. She was beautiful like this, her skin flushed, her hair wild around her shoulders.

Angel shifted, reaching for Joe’s left arm. She guided it up, stretching it above his head. Joe went willingly, his body pliant beneath hers. She pinned his arm there, her small hand circling his wrist.

“Angel,” Joe breathed, his mouth falling open on a groan. His hips pressed up into hers, thrusting himself deeper. “Just like that. Oh, god.”

She smiled down at him, a small, soft thing. “You’re so good, Joe,” she murmured. She leaned forward slightly, changing the angle, hitting that spot inside her again. “So good to me.”

Pleasure built between them, growing with each thrust, each rock of her hips.Joe’s breathing became harsher, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Angel’s muscles were starting to shake with exertion, but she didn’t stop, didn’t slow.

"Come on Joey. You can let go." She whispered as she leaned down to nip at his lip. She knew he was holding back, waiting for her, needing her to find her release first. She loved that about him, loved how attentive he was, how caring. But right now, she needed him to take what he needed. She needed him to trust that she could take care of herself.

Joe groaned into the kiss. He could feel himself getting close, could feel the heat building at the base of his spine. Angel shifted again, lifting herself until he almost slipped out of her, then dropping down hard. She did it again, setting a new rhythm that had him seeing stars.

“Angel,” he gasped, his fingers flexing on her hips. “I can’t… I need to—”

“Let go,” Angel said, her own breathing harsh now. She was close, so close. She could feel her own release building, coiling tight inside her. “Let go, Joe. I’ve got you.”

Something inside him snapped. Maybe it was her words, maybe it was the feel of her around him, the taste of her on his tongue. Whatever it was, it broke the last of his resistance. His hips jerked up against hers, meeting her thrust for thrust.

“Angel,” he groaned, his head pushing back into the pillow. “Oh god, baby. I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” she hissed, her own pleasure cresting. “Come for me, Joe. Come for me now.”

Her words were like a trigger. Joe’s body tensed, his back arching off the bed. He came hard, pumping into her with short, sharp thrusts. Angel rode him through it, her own release hitting her seconds later. She ground down against him as she came, her muscles clenching around him.

“Joe,” she cried out, her fingers curling into his chest. “Joe, yes…”

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, their bodies connected, their breathing ragged. Angel collapsed against Joe’s chest, her head fitting perfectly in the curve of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

Joe’s arms circled her waist, drawing her in. His forehead rested against hers, their breaths slow and synced. He felt different—lighter, unburdened. Like something old and tight inside of him had cracked open, making room for something new.

“Thank you,” he murmured into her hair.

Angel stirred, lifting her head just enough to meet his gaze. There was something there now—softness, yes, but also the distinct shimmer of vulnerability. His guard was down. His eyes, those glacier-blue eyes that often gave away nothing during press conferences or post-game interviews, now brimmed with emotion.

Her fingers found a sweat-damp strand of hair clinging to his forehead, brushing it gently aside. “For what?” she asked, her voice as soft as her touch.

Joe’s hand came up, thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip, slow and reverent, as if rediscovering a part of himself through the sensation of her.

“For seeing me,” he said quietly. “For making me feel like myself again.”

Angel’s heart clenched in the most beautiful way. She didn’t speak right away, didn’t need to. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him—soft, slow, and lingering. A kiss that said I’m here. A kiss that wasn’t about comfort or lust, but something deeper: restoration.

When she pulled back, her smile was gentle but full, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Anytime,” she whispered.

Joe let out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. His forehead pressed back against hers, and they lay like that in silence for a few more minutes, listening to the rhythm of their joined breathing. Angel’s fingers absently traced lazy circles on his chest, just over his heart, while his hand rested at the small of her back, keeping her close.

And as they lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, their bodies warm beneath soft cotton sheets, Angel knew—deep in the quiet center of her heart—that they would be okay.

She didn’t know what the next week would bring. Or the next month. Rehab schedules, trade rumors, team meetings without Joe at the helm—none of it was guaranteed to go smoothly. But what was certain, in the soft stillness of their bedroom, was this: they wouldn’t be alone. Not anymore.

No matter what came, they would face it together.

Joe was breathing steadily now, one arm curled around her waist, the other—his braced wrist—resting lightly on the pillow beside her head. The tension in his body had ebbed, replaced by something quieter, more fragile. Not defeat. Not resignation. Just the honest weight of vulnerability, held without shame.

Angel reached up, brushing her fingertips along his temple, then down the side of his cheek. His stubble rasped gently under her touch.

“You still awake?” she whispered.

He didn’t open his eyes, but a smile tugged at his mouth. “Barely.”

“I like you like this,” she said softly, resting her chin against his shoulder. “Quiet. Real.”

Joe cracked one eye open, just enough to see her looking up at him with that same deep steadiness she always had—the kind that undid him more thoroughly than any blitz ever could.

“I’m always real,” he teased.

She smirked. “No, you’re not. You do that thing where you pretend nothing gets to you. You disappear into your own head.”

His smile faded into something more introspective. “I think I forgot how to not do that. I’ve always been the guy who pushes through. The guy who shrugs it off, says the right thing, does the right thing.”

Angel shifted, her bare leg sliding over his, anchoring him with her presence. “You don’t have to be that guy with me.”

He was quiet for a moment. “It’s not easy to unlearn.”

“I know,” she said, kissing his collarbone. “But you’re doing it. Right now.”

His eyes searched hers. “Does it scare you? Seeing me like this?”

“No,” she said without hesitation. “It makes me love you more.”

Joe blinked, and for the first time, Angel saw it—the understanding begin to settle. The belief. It wasn’t fully formed, not yet, but the seed had been planted.

He exhaled slowly. “You’ve always believed in me more than I believe in myself.”

“That’s how love works,” she murmured. “When one of us forgets, the other remembers. We take turns holding the faith.”

He kissed her then, slow and grateful, his fingers tracing along the curve of her spine.

“I don’t want to lose this,” he whispered. “No matter what happens with football, I can’t lose this.”

“You won’t,” she said firmly. “We’re not just surviving the hard moments, Joe. We’re choosing each other through them.”

They held each other in that small promise. Not a grand vow spoken beneath a church dome or written into a contract, but the real kind—the kind that lived in late-night whispers, shared fears, and the intimacy of showing up completely, without armor.

The lamp on the nightstand flickered softly. A wind brushed against the windows, rattling the panes just enough to remind them of the world waiting outside.

Angel shifted slightly, her cheek against his chest now, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“You know,” she said after a while, “this isn't just your story. It's ours. You're not alone in this comeback.”

Joe’s arm tightened around her. “You ever think about how different things could’ve been if we hadn’t met at LSU?”

“All the time,” she admitted with a small laugh. “I was supposed to intern in New York that semester. Took the LSU gig last minute when the housing fell through.”

Joe grinned, eyes still closed. “Fate?”

“Fate,” she agreed. “Or maybe divine interference.”

“You mean Coach O yelling down the hall because his mic was off?”

Angel snorted. “Exactly that. Romance at its finest.”

Their laughter faded into a quiet hum of contentment.

Angel looked up at him once more, her eyes soft. “Do you remember the first thing you ever said to me?”

He furrowed his brow. “No way I remember that. I was probably awkward as hell.”

“You were,” she confirmed, grinning. “You said, ‘Hey, are you supposed to be in here?’ Like I was breaking into the media room.”

Joe groaned. “Wow. Smooth.”

“But then you brought me coffee the next morning,” she said, nudging his side. “And spelled my name right on the cup.”

“You have a beautiful name. Of course I got it right.”

“You were also watching me from across the field every time I was filming a segment.”

“Guilty,” he said, chuckling. “I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Still do.”

Angel’s smile faded into something more serious then—tender, reverent. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. “And I thought you were brave,” she whispered. “Still do.”

Joe looked up at her, emotion rising again, and this time he didn’t push it away. Didn’t bury it.

He let it rise. Let himself feel it.

And in that moment, he understood something he hadn’t before: healing didn’t always start in the training room. Sometimes, it started in the quiet hours after midnight, in a bedroom that smelled like lavender and felt like safety. Sometimes, it started when someone held your broken parts like they were precious instead of flawed.

Sometimes, it started with being seen.

They didn’t speak again for a while. They didn’t need to. Outside, the city turned in its sleep, another night giving way to morning. But inside the warmth of their home, beneath a tangle of sheets and love and whispered truths, time seemed to pause just for them.

And as Angel drifted off against his chest, her breath steady and soft, Joe stared at the ceiling, a quiet peace blooming behind his ribs.

Because in the end, that’s what love was—seeing each other. Truly seeing. Through pain. Through doubt. Through change.

And choosing each other anyway.

[miyuki-fenn]

Junglavara Dorm Info

ஜுங்கிலவர/Junglavara

The dorm that reveres the Beast of the Wild's spirit of Strategy. 

Junglavara is composed mostly of beastmen, many of whom have come to feel at home in its wild, territorial atmosphere. Within their own ranks, Junglavara students operate like a tight knit pack, all while being at odds with one another. They’re efficient and quietly competitive. Strategy games, tests of strength, and evening sparring matches are common pastimes.

Housewarden Sarhan Khar is a tiger beastman with an ever-watchful gaze. Though his temperament can be cool and distant, it’s his intense protectiveness of his dorm that really defines him. Sarhan holds a deep distrust for those from other schools, and even other dorms. Under his leadership, Junglavara has become fiercely insular, with most students adopting similar sentiments. To be deemed an outsider is to be met with cold indifference, if not outright hostility.

Vice-Housewarden, Kaabera Python, a peckish python beastman that serves as Sarhan’s counterbalance. Where Sarhan is firm and commanding, Kaabera is silky and observant. He’s usually the face– or tail you’ll be greeted with should you wander into Junglavara uninvited.

I also finished it's dorm page! Go check it out here

The main structure of the dorm is an ancient temple, a grand complex of stone cloisters, intricately carved spires, and open rooms and courtyards that are overgrown in foliage yet still tidy, much like the wilds it resides in. Vines creep along moss-stained pillars, and traditional lanterns light the paths after sunset. This structure houses common areas, study halls, and even a communal hot spring!

The Beast of the Wilds is a noble Bengal tiger, known to be the protector of the Vanavine Wilds. When a reckless child of man wandered in, bringing fire and fear, the Beast rose not out of hatred, but out of duty. He warned the jungle of the danger this boy posed, knowing fire would consume all if left unchecked. Though painted as a villain by those who feared his power, the tiger was the jungle’s silent guardian. He was willing to be feared, if it meant the jungle could remain untouched by man’s destruction.

Dorm Uniform

[chasedeys]

i've decided to lump all my shippy rpf au/non au thoughts together so. some nsfw btw, some non bengals, and like several ships you'd maybe have to brace yourselves for idk.

(also feel free to ask abt/share your thoughts on these or even other ships hehe maybe i'll get inspired! there's like 15 ships here goodness)

joemarr:

avatar au - airbender jamarr, firebender joe i knowwww some of you would think its the opposite but no i am finitely correct. the way jamarr would be bouncing around leaping around that man is an airbender!! not of the acolyte variety though 😭 while the deadset focused single mindedness of joe is for sure giving firebender hiding his scalding inner feelings. highly talented jamarr running away from the air temple in a very its-not-a-phase-nobody-understands-me-esque way and joe never getting the due diligence over his abilities in the fire academy so post graduation he's training hard under some obscure master (coach o lol) and getting outrageously good at his bending from sheer petty stubbornness and need to prove himself. they team up for that avatar korra organized bending fight thing i can’t recall and kick ass. and make out etc etc.

time travel au - old and greying married joemarr heaved with fresh out of the oven just won a natty joemarr. jamarrs tearful face clutching his ball staring in shock at ja’marrs unimpressed face clutching a margarita bowl in the middle of his and joes fucking kitchen. baby joes on top of the kitchen island bc somebody high up fucked up the calculations. older joes in the back trying to water their honestly dying plants. comfortable in their skin older joemarr reminiscing their years together tangled on a love couch while ten feet apart in the L shaped couch baby joe and jamarr red in the face just would not look in each other's direction like at all. jamarrs still clutching his ball. they’re still wearing their gear. joe would not stop staring at their gigantic ass framed wedding photo on top of the fire place. the emotional rollercoaster of being faced with the reality of possibly not playing together again steamrolled by the slap of imagery of them being married. being in one team. being a team. being more than what they thought they were together. and that time travel is real joes nerdy ass quantum mechanics enjoyer would be pissing himself in excitement probably. some crazy 'im gay for my qb/wr?' dilemma.

joemarr endgame with jjmarr fuckbuddies fwb extraordinaire :) except jamarrs very obviously to everyone but joe in love with joe, but he’s a slut (affectionate) so him and justin fall into bed very easily. one morning joe randomly dropping by jjs apartment greeted by justin making coffee etc he’s sitting in the kitchen island and jamarr walks out of justins room in just boxers yawning scratching at his belly with marks all over his body very obviously having gotten laid (pressing his hands against his eyes so he doesn’t see joe he just smells coffee and asks aloud if he can suck justins dick as a treat this morning lmao). cue horrific faces all around! cue misunderstandings! angst! why would you two hide this from me me! feelings realizations! tee having to suffer through joes breakdowns!! justin being exasperated through it all as joe be his stupidly loyal self congratulates him for his and jamarrs thing before cutting the man off by saying he’s in love with his coach fuck of jb fr. joe avoids jamarr for a hot minute before suddenly getting pushier and handsier with jamarr and that somehow leads to a cinematic fight and subsequent Great Big Confession in the middle of nowhere in a field of orange and purple flowers and green grass and hiding peeking woodland creatures and rain falling down heavy on them when they’re yelling only for it to suddenly clear and a rainbow to shoot right above them when they kiss end scene. cut scene to them sitting on a couch knees touching very bravely telling an unimpressed tee how they got together as tee shits on them for getting the flu of all things.

others (bengals/bengals or /nonbengals):

23 rookies poly - suchhh interesting dynamic between them alllll. drunken night of celebration of their touchdowns calling each other little tiny baby leading to chase getting spitroasted. waking up horrifically sticky and spent the next morning but charlie just goes right for the kill and climbs on top of yoshi for round four. social admins favorite targets yoshi and charlie being scrutinized heavily by the admins the next day wondering if they should be on that days segment 😭✋ (they really shouldn’t)

tee/justin - that one vikings vs bengals game where justin points/pokes at tee saying that his insane tuddy was crazy. that he was crazy for that one (it was. he was. tees sooooo). help me. help meeeee. (justin jamarr competency kink do you feel me) I’m thinking sonnets and ballads here guys they just talked and complimented each other for 1 (one) minute but I’m hearing wedding bells. no but okay so they just casually like each others posts and reply emojis to each others stories and start dming cute shit like hey heard u like this guys music or hey whyd u make a face like that in this one ad lol or hbd bro keep grinding or joe and jamarr said this insane shit abt u is it true or hey u in la right lets link up etc etc finally having each others numbers and texting near 24/7. joe and jamarr get suspicious when justin knows exactly what they’re talking abt tee when they have their random catch up sessions with him before it clicks like hm. theyd be good for each other huh. justin erratic yet pin straight demeanor vs tees calming affectionate accepting nature huh. both their outrageous babygirlism. huh. the two promptly get down to business (setting them up) but like all their efforts are literally already done by those two. making and faking cancelling plans only to find out they carpooled together and were planning on spending the night together anyway etc etc.

joemartee oughhuhguhhuhhh secret established relationship joemarr being disgustingly in love but nobody knows they just think they’re like that or like oblivious and bets running around if they’re actually together/getting together/Very Good Friends etc while tees Going Through It falling for joe that one year first (on no he's a hot jock nerd) and getting close with his paramour the next year (oh no he's a hot semi-stereotypical jock) and they're both just oh so sweet and just genuinely going through the wringer with these insane feelings and joemarr oblivious asses oohing and aahing and blushing over tee higgins crying as i picture this i lvoe them your honor. it ends with them holding hands together in the middle of their home field on top of the tiger print b logo (which they all were in college. tigers that is. in college. where they faced each other for a natty. crazy).

tee/tb - both too pretty not to be obsessed with each other tbh. the angst aspect of ducking out of the bengals is there lol but what i want is tb pure class of dining and wining tee higgins like he deserves!! except he’s also a freak so tees constantly getting hit with random sensual touches and the dirtiest innuendos he’s ever heard of in his 20+ years of living.

joe/evan - the afc smoooocchhh being all that evan could think about 😭 joe being absolutely enamored by evans competency and confidence (that guys crazy he’s like looks like we're going to the afc championship or smtg i forgot but joes smile talking abt him is burned into my gyri) while on the other hand evans in his head thinking joes with jamarr and like am i really going to go for a man clearly in with his college bf only to be bamboozled by jamarr barging into his hotel room one night and yapping abt joes adoration for him and how all his 'why doesn't he like me' woes annoy the ever living shit out of him so he drags evan to joes room and locking them in together (how he does it nobody knows)

bayou trio poly - THSI SI SOOOO. there’s actually so many thoughts abt them but i cannot for the life of me even begin to word them out. joe being very obsessed with his receivers is like the entire precursor to this if I’m being honest because this man just would not shut up about jj and jamarr like that one interview about olympics flag football and his first thought is he’s playing with his guys shutttt your faceee. but just him relentlessly pursuing his guys and them fucking with him right back and with each other is so <33

trey/ja’marr - this bitch/bitch pairing has me by the throatttt trey being outright fucking wooing the shit out of jamarr but also unable to keep his smartass comments to himself and jamarr getting his feathers absolutely ruffled but the wooing he’s actually kind of oblivious to is working so well 😭 trey making an effort to be interested with jamarrs likes interests and hobbies, semi perfect gentleman because again he can’t help himself he has to be a smartass, one scene in my mind i can’t let go of is of trey dragging jamarrs plate of chilli he was handed off by someone unknowing for himself and giving his own plate filled with jamarrs favorites to him and that shit flusters jamarr bad but trey just has to make fun of him for his anti chilli agenda. he complains to tee and joe they each have to hold his hands very gently to tell him that that giant man is trying to wife you up and the world rearranges itself in jamarrs head so the next day he flirts disgustingly shamelessly outrageously with trey who’s flustered as all hell when jamarr actually just puts his entire hands all over his belly and waist. tee and joe 20 feet away from jamarr shamelessly feeling his man up with hands over their faces because oh my god jamarr be normal would you.

mims/erick - i don’t actually know them that well but their one instagram interaction, the fact they’re both rookies, and their beauty compels me so.

keon coleman/ja'marr i know this makes ZERO SENSE but let me tell you something x3 😭😭😭 the fact that jamarr stingy ass follows him on insta??? from like a single training (?) session??? this notoriously unwilling to just follow anyones ig followed keon from when is probably the first ever interaction they had together????? adorable. both from nola!! keon being such a sweet emotionally and intellectually intelligent sweetheart people on tiktok calling him dumb just from the way he talks (sincerely and honestly, yall nasty people wouldn't get it) get behind me 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚. no do you get me jamarr getting lowkey obsessed with keons cute ass funny ass 6'4 ass goofy chill ass self and keon slightly starry eyed at jamarr guahagauahuh hear me outttttt (this is literally all i have in me to say sorry)

others (non bengals)

micah/cj - i keep getting these twos interviews and events together in tiktok its crazy micah says the most delusional shit and cj has to stop himself from cussing him out in disbelief its sooo funny. getting ‘casually fucking’ from vibes alone, the sexy way they debated on an imaginary cj offense vs micah defense play in micahs podcast (?) was also very compelling lol. like cj definitely fucked this man from annoyance of his bullshit but also of his brain and also bc he's hot okay.

cj/bryce - watching glimpses of their high school (?) lore and now the black magic shit going on….insane….the angst…..have they met up or talked at all this season. what would they say to each other. the tender angsty horny aspect of it all. haunts me i won’t lie.

bryce/andy - the panthers qb disasterland angst aside, bryce went after that old man like crazyyyy. the ethics of fucking a much younger man youre mentoring whos looking up to you for guidance and going through a very vulnerable moment in his life while you're also weighed down by a franchise calling for blood is so. soooo.

fred/brock - lowkey into the 49ers but their situation rn is. very dire. i wish them the best truly. heal quick and completely. but freds suchhh a gorgeous man and all his mic'ed up moments are adorable and brocks lore of being the absolute last pick and outperforming the other qbs drafted before him just stokes the fire in me and theyre just so. the slight curdle knowing youre the last pick the sudden responsibility shoved into your hands the star player backing you up relentlessly. learning each others ways during training camps and on the road trips gradually realizing theyve talked more about anything and everything that theyve ever talked to anyone before, brock freaking the fuck out while fred gets incredibly down with everything etc etc

koc/jj - constantly getting the vibes of ‘he fuckeddd that old mannn’ when i see gifs of those two with jj just being 🥰😘💞🎀💓🌸💖💝🩰🌷 aughguhgh outrageous levels of besotted he’s WORKING he’s GETTING HIS MAN he’s FLIRTING hes using EVERY weapon in his disposal (competency, beauty, babygirlism, etc) you have to respect that shit. stupid fic idea that won’t leave my head is of them getting into a scandal caught by paparazzi romantic ass dinner holding hands and ending the night clubbing close but they really aren’t anything at that time but ahaha you get where I’m going with this right FAKE DATING!!! except this isn’t really feasible bc lets be real a coach dating his player = fired. period. or the player traded to a different team which. WHICH. but theyre both like invaluable to the vikings so they just go ok fake dating have at it (that makes zero sense but whatever). anyway super fun idea can’t lie justin upping his cutesy lovey schtick and koc quietly dying from it. joe legit reaches out like 'ur not being coerced or anything right' while jamarrs like 'get that silver dickkkk' (hes like 39 but whatever) etc etc.

stosh - i can’t say it. i just can’t 😭😭 the point is stef is definitely vicious as all hell and josh is rightfully protecting himself and post week 5 game they fucked one last time racing against time before joshs flight back to ny and there were tears bitten back words and just like a final goodbye for both of them. for good. forever. or is it. (it is.) (they still think of the other.) (josh sees the ghost of him in every corner of his stadium. in every stool in his kitchen. in every tightened smile around him when he says he's practicing throwing to a receiver.) (stef feels the ghost of his touch every time he throws a ball perfectly to a fan in the stands. when cj tells him to snap his wrist correctly when he jokingly plays the quarterback. thinking of faking not being able to throw just to feel his touch in a crowd of people.) also stef saw that is it in ad meme and has a visceral reaction he barely stops himself from tweeting heinous shit about joshs dick game

okay so brace yourselves:

lamar/ja’marr - LMAOOOO don’t come for me but jamarrs competency kink. the shit he said about playing lamar in madden. lamar being witness to the sexy as all hell 82 yard td and 70 yard td annoyance against his team and being driven to do SOMETHING about it. guys see my vision. see beyond team sports for a minute and seeee myyy visionnnn. but yeah that’s the thing that compels me abt them lol

pat/ja’marr - HEAR ME OUTTTTTT the sheer distaste jamarr has against the chiefs is sooo ???? them randomly meeting each other one day and ja’marr instantly has his hackles up -> pat responding right at jamarrs vibes and annoying ass heckling the shit out of jamarr (his intentions were playful. jamarr does not see it that way) -> ja’marr fight mode activated -> straight up making out and fucking dirty in the backrooms -> never speaking of it again. the narratives!! that’s basically it

joe/pat - lowkey compelling 😔🤚 just imagining absolutely disgustedly affronted ja'marr in the back as joe and pat do a shy blushy demure 4 feet for jesus between them vanilla ass flirting light hearted 'haha i beat you' jabs 'good game bro pal buddy' dance is so 😭😭😭 jamarr spritzing water at pat pushing joe away behind him 'really. right in front of my salad. get the fuck away i swear.' joe trying to advocate for his feelings while jamarr shoots them down saying thats the most toxic shit hes ever heard (its not even remotely toxic hes just saying shit) somehow getting roped to helping set them up and he burns (slight insane thoughts of him and pacheco working together and then ehehe etc bc of that one time pacheco gassed up the crowd to the background of jamarr Going Through It and like. pachecos fucking gorgeous yall look at him. pacheco needling at jamarr like ‘u in love w joe or smtg’ asking semi seriously bc jamarrs like super funny and cute and absolutely incapable of being chill about his team wow and jamarrs dying everybody quit asking if hes in love with his qb he swears esp this gorgeous ass annoying prick)

joemarrpat. no i will not elaborate. (dirty hate fucking. jamarr right in the middle btw shut upppppp)

ok bye

[xatmaa]

Dakshineshwar Kali Temple (Kalibari) Kolkata, West Bengal India