#anyway I am having the cultural moon thoughts because I sat down this morning and just spontaneously finished a distinctly Aedyran myth

[stylishanachronism]

Ugh I need to play White March again

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 6 - zuko x fem!reader

The thing about forever is that it's a fucking lie

part 5 | masterlist | part 7

a/n: you all know whats coming lmao i got nothing to say for myself

wc: 3.5k

warning(s): pakku's usual sexism, typical siege of the north stuff, mostly angst but a lil bit of fluff in there

chapter title comes from forever is a lie by bea miller!

“I can’t believe that your tribe doesn’t teach waterbending to women!” Katara fumed, the snow beneath her feet packed tightly from her continuous pacing. “I mean, how can they even do that? Master Pakku’s all about ‘his culture and his teachings’ but his teachings are completely sexist!”

Y/N just nodded along as she listened to Katara — Master Pakku had refused to teach Katara, and after a disappointing healing lesson she had found Y/N to rant. “Yep. It’s unfair, but there’s not much we can do about it.”

Katara frowned and stopped in her tracks. “Don’t you want to learn how to fight too? I love being able to heal and help people, don’t get me wrong, but healing isn’t all I want to do.”

A shaky sigh fell from her lips and she shrugged, adjusting her position on the platform of ice she had made to sit on. “Well… yeah, I guess. I know a couple of martial moves, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to know more. But Katara, I—”

Y/N was silent for a moment as flashes of the past played behind her eyelids. “I’m not like you. I’m not the kind of person to challenge the rules. Not anymore.”

Katara shook her head, already back to her pacing. “I think you’re selling yourself short. I saw your healing during your class — you’re really talented, Y/N, and I know that skill will transfer over to fighting.”

“Thank you, but— but it doesn’t matter how good we are. Master Pakku is just as stubborn as he is talented, and I think he’d rather die than be a decent person. It’s a shame though. I’d really like to see someone knock some sense into him.”

“Yeah…” Katara sighed. “Hopefully Aang is having a better time than I am.” She looked up at the sky then fixed Y/N with a wry smile. “Speaking of Aang, I should probably get back to him and my brother. Sorry for talking your ear off the whole night.”

Y/N waved her hand around nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about it. You have my permission to rant to me any time you want while you’re here.”

Katara grinned and offered her hand, which Y/N took with a small smile as she got up from her ice platform. With a slight movement of her hand she bent it back into the ground, and the two girls began their walk back to the city. “I just wish I knew how to get Pakku to let up.”

“You’ll think of something,” Y/N reassured.

-

Katara did indeed think of something. Y/N’s wish of Pakku getting some sense knocked into him was granted when Katara challenged him to a fight, which was quite possibly the best thing that Y/N had ever witnessed. Though she ultimately lost, he still decided to take her on as a student — and in a move that Y/N would forever be grateful for, Katara had gotten Pakku to take her on as well. Katara made history that day, and she felt a shining sense of admiration for the girl for shaking things up.

And now, her days consisted of early mornings spent training, afternoons in classes, and nights doing homework, as well as fitting in time to hang out with Yue — it was a miracle she had any free time at all.

Lately though, it seemed like all Yue could talk about was Sokka. She liked him just as much as he liked her, but Yue was good — no matter how much she cared for someone, her tribe would always come first.

(“Did I hear that you and Sokka have a date later tonight?” she teased. “Aren’t you moving a little too fast?” Yue was silent at her attempt at humor and Y/N frowned. “Yue, are you okay?”

Silence lingered in the air for so long that Y/N almost thought she didn’t hear her, but finally the princess spoke as she pulled down the collar of her jacket to reveal an engagement necklace. Y/N gasped.

“It’s from Hahn,” she said quietly. “He proposed an hour ago, and I accepted.”

“You what?” Y/N cried, prompting a slight grimace from Yue. “Hahn— you can’t stand him!”

“Y/N, please,” Yue sighed. “He’s not that bad — he’s handsome, I guess. And he’s the son of a noble, and he’ll be really good for the tribe.”

“Yue, you’re the one who has to deal with him. He proposed to you, not the tribe — Spirits, half the boys in this tribe like you, why him?”

“It’s best for the tribe,” she repeated, her words an attempt to convince Y/N as much as herself.

“But what’s best for you?” Y/N countered.

Yue hadn’t answered, and had made up some half-baked excuse that she had to be somewhere. She had watched her go sadly, hoping that she would figure something out with Sokka.)

And it’s not like she wasn’t happy that her friend had found someone, it was just…

Y/N was upset that someone wasn’t her. And she didn’t know how to deal with that revelation.

But one morning, while making idle conversation with Katara as their lesson came to an end, a matter much more pressing came to hand.

Black snow. Soot raining down from the sky, tarnishing everything it touched.

A feeling all too familiar brewed in her chest as she met her friend’s eyes, and one thing was clear.

The Fire Nation was coming.

-

The air was even more frigid than usual with the knowledge of an imminent invasion, and Y/N had parted ways with her friends once they reached the town hall to be with her grandparents. The tension in the air was thick as Chief Arnook stepped up to address the people.

“The day we have feared for so long has arrived — the Fire Nation is on our doorstep. It is with great sadness I call my family here before me, knowing well that some of these faces are about to vanish from our tribe, but they will never vanish from our hearts. Now, as we approach the battle for our existence, I call upon the great spirits. Spirit of the Ocean! Spirit of the Moon! Be with us! I'm going to need volunteers for a dangerous mission.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sokka stood up. “Count me in.”

Her eyes widened as she met Katara’s from across the room, and she looked equally surprised. “Sokka…”

“Be warned: many of you will not return.” Several other men stood up after Sokka, including her grandfather. Despite his age he was a skilled fighter, but that was no comfort to Y/N. She reached up for his hand and shook her head almost desperately, but he smiled sadly and squeezed her hand, a sentiment to express words unsaid. “Come forward to receive my mark, if you accept the task.”

As he walked forward to join the line, she found the only solace she could in her grandmother’s open arms, burying her face in the fur of her jacket. “He will be okay,” she soothed. “He’s just as strong as he is brave. You have to have faith.”

She hoped that her grandmother was right. She couldn’t handle another loss.

Once all the men had received their marks, they left to confer about the battle plan. Y/N found her way up to the stage where a tearful Yue sat. It pained Y/N to see her in such a way, and when she sat down and offered her hand the princess immediately took it.

“I saw that your grandfather volunteered,” she said after a beat of silence. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. For Sokka.” Y/N adjusted her position so their shoulders were touching, and she sighed heavily. “I can’t stop thinking about my village. My father.” She met Yue’s eyes, her own beginning to tear up.

“What if it happens again?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I can’t— I can’t do it again.”

Yue let go of her hand to wrap the girl in a hug, the warmth of the embrace managing to chip away at some of their hopelessness. “You won’t have to do it again,” she stated, the reassurance seeming like the truth when coming from her. “You’re not alone this time.”

She finally pulled away from the hug as she wiped the tears off her face, and Y/N nodded. Yue somehow always knew exactly what to say. “What would I do without you?” she asked, her voice slightly watery.

“You’re never going to know,” the princess smiled. “Because whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me.” That got a laugh out of Y/N and the two of them stood up as Yue gestured outside with her head. “I think I saw Aang and my father out there. It’ll help to talk with them — I think you need some fresh air anyways.”

Y/N nodded and the two girls walked out hand in hand, a small reprieve from carrying the weight of the world.

-

Things were so much worse than she had been anticipating.

After a short talk outside the hall with Katara, Aang, and the Chief, Yue had been transported somewhere safer as Y/N steeled herself for the front lines. After all, as a student of Master Pakku, she could fight damn well — it was just a matter of putting it into action.

But a line of warriors and children alike were no match for the strength of the Fire Nation from afar, and the first few fireballs had done their job at disrupting both the fighters and the wall — Seeing her home get destroyed hurt nearly as much as constantly getting thrown around.

After Aang had taken off on Appa and Chief Arnook took a section of his soldiers off for a different plan, the work on the ground began. The fleet of ships seemed endless , and the same went for their artillery — the fight went long into the day as Y/N worked with various other waterbenders to stop fireballs and repair broken parts of the city’s infrastructure, but just as the full moon began to show, the attacks stopped coming. Limbs heavy with exhaustion from their work in the field, Y/N and Katara met up with the princess back at the balcony of the palace.

“They’ve stopped firing,” Yue noted as they all gazed off into the distance.

“Thank the spirits,” Y/N muttered as she worked out a knot in her shoulder. “I don’t know how much longer I could’ve kept going.”

Just then, Appa came into view and a grin spread across Katara’s face. “Aang!”

He landed below them and the three girls hurried down to meet him. Aang landed on the ground, exhaustion clear in every part of him. “I can’t do it,” he muttered as he placed his head in his hands. “I can’t do it.”

“What happened?” Katara asked as she ran up to him, Yue and Y/N close behind.

“I must’ve taken out a dozen Fire Navy ships, but there’s just too many of them!” His large grey eyes were full of hopelessness, and Y/N’s heart ached for the boy. “I can’t fight them all.”

“But— you have to!” Yue pleaded. “You’re the Avatar.”

“I’m just one kid,” Aang countered wearily. He buried his face in his arms and Katara kneeled next to him in an attempt to comfort him. Y/N could almost forget about the pain in her body at that moment, feeling an odd responsibility to this boy as she looked down at him.

“Aang,” she muttered, following Katara’s example and kneeling next to him. “You’ve already done so much for us. Just by being here, you’ve inspired hundreds of people — you’re a beacon of hope all on your own! We don’t expect you to take out this whole navy by yourself. As long as you’re here, fighting with us? You’re helping us more than you know.”

He managed a slight smile at that and he took her outstretched hand, getting pulled back to his feet with her help.

“We’ll have a better view from up there,” Katara noted, pointing back up to the balcony. “You can help us keep watch, Aang — in case they start attacking again.”

He nodded and the four of them began the walk, the Avatar in slightly better spirits.

“The legends say the moon was the first waterbender,” Yue said once they had reached the balcony, all of them gazing at the sky. “Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves.”

“I’ve always noticed my waterbending is stronger at night,” Katara mused, causing Y/N to hum in agreement.

“Our strength from the spirit of the moon, our life from the spirit of the ocean,” she said. “They work together to keep balance.

Aang’s expression brightened at her words as he popped up from the ground. “The spirits! Maybe I can find them and get their help!”

“How can you do that?” Y/N questioned.

“The Avatar is the bridge between our world and the Spirit World,” Katara explained excitedly. “Aang can talk to them!”

“Maybe they’ll give you the wisdom to win this battle!” Yue exclaimed.

“Or maybe they'll unleash a crazy amazing spirit attack on the Fire Nation!” At that, all three girls met him with strange looks. Aang coughed and straightened his posture. “Or wisdom. That's good, too.”

“The only problem is, last time you got to the Spirit World by accident,” Katara said with a frown. “How are you going to get there this time?”

Yue’s eyes lit up and she looked at them with a smile. “I have an idea. Follow me.”

-

A few minutes later, they were standing in the Spirit Oasis, the most spiritual place in all of the North. Yue, Y/N, and Katara all shed their coats as Aang walked around, marvelling at the beauty.

“I can feel… something,” Aang said as he sat down, getting into a meditating position. “It’s so tranquil.”

Soon enough, after a few moments of silence, Aang’s eyes as well as the arrow on his head began to glow.

“Is he okay?” Yue gasped.

“He’s crossing into the Spirit World,” Katara reassured. “He’ll be fine as long as we don’t move his body. That’s his way back to the physical world.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Y/N whispered, astonishment etched into her face. For as much as she had been taught about the ocean spirits, she wasn’t well-versed in the Spirit World as a whole — she was thoroughly fascinated by every part of this.

“Maybe we should get some help,” Yue suggested, still on edge as she took a few steps away from the gate.

“No, he’s my friend. I’m perfectly capable of protecting him. Besides, I already have some help here.” She smiled at Y/N, a sentiment that she returned happily.

A deep voice, almost mocking, broke the silence as it echoed throughout the oasis. “Well, aren’t you a big girl now? Even got yourself a little student.”

The three girls all whipped around to find the source of the voice, and Katara’s whole body stiffened. “No…”

“Yes. Hand him over and I don’t have to hurt you.”

Y/N immediately eased into a bending stance along with Katara as the princess fled to get help, but her confidence faltered when she took the time to focus on their assailant.

She almost didn’t recognize him — it had been nearly four years since she had last set eyes upon the boy, but it was as if he had become a completely different person. His head was shaved completely save for a ponytail, and blues and reds marked his skin in various cuts and bruises. His eyes held an anger she had never seen before, an expression only heightened with the addition of a large red scar across his left eye.

“Zuko?” she breathed, her chest tightening up beneath the weight of the revelation. Katara stared at her in bewilderment — she had no idea that Y/N knew the prince that had chased them halfway across the world, but Katara supposed that she had no reason to ever suspect she did.

His eyes flashed with recognition as they ran over her, and it seemed as if he had a similar epiphany as he staggered backwards. “I… I thought you were dead.”

“You’re with them,” she muttered, blood turning to ice. “Your nation is invading, and you’re helping them— you’re after the Avatar? What are you doing, Zuko?!”

The momentary surprise was replaced by steely determination as he shifted his weight forward and kicked up his leg, sending a blast of fire that she barely managed to dodge. “You know nothing!”

Y/N fell back into position next to Katara, but the newfound knowledge was like a fog over her mind. “Whoever he was when you knew him, that’s not him anymore!” Katara yelled as she bent water out of the pond and blocked his following attacks. “He won’t hesitate to hurt you, so you can’t either!”

“O-okay!” she stammered. This was the moment she had been waiting for, wasn’t it? After training with both Katara and Pakku, her martial skill had increased tenfold, and she was desperate to try it out — she only wished her first opponent didn’t have to be him. But another fire blast snapped her out of her paralysis, and she jumped into action.

The two girls worked impossibly well together, one stepping forward when the other fell back, the bending between them nearly seamless. Any fire that the prince sent their way was quickly extinguished, and with two against one on home turf, Y/N and Katara were able to hold him off with relative ease.

Y/N bent another jet of water up from the oasis and shot it at Zuko, the force of which knocked him several feet back. Katara took the opening and froze his feet to the ground, then began to move her arms about as she formed a ball of water around him — one more movement and it was frozen solid.

“You little peasant,” he growled. “You’ve found a master, haven’t you?”

The orb of ice began to glow, the air around them becoming hotter and hotter until it melted around him. Blasts of fire were flying at them as soon as Zuko hit the ground, and they were forced to retreat back towards the oasis as they grew more intense.

Y/N drew up a shield of water, extinguishing the flames on impact. Zuko dodged around them, his fingers inches away from Aang’s collar. Y/N propelled the water already at her fingertips towards Zuko with a grunt of effort, which sent him flying into the shallows on the other side of the oasis. She conjured up a large wave and sent it towards the prince, sending him up the side of the wall and trapping him once Katara froze it.

She breathed a sigh of relief and let her arms fall, a part of her wondering how they were still connected after the tediousness of the earlier battle. But this, one on one in a fight with real stakes? It was as exhilarating as it was nerve wracking, and she had never been so thankful that Katara had gotten her in with Master Pakku. Y/N felt intensely guilty over the pain she had inflicted on Zuko, but she tried her best to push it out of her mind — like Katara said, he would’ve done worse if she hadn’t fought back.

“You fought well,” Katara smiled. “I told you that you were talented.”

She chuckled and shrugged, cheeks heating up slightly at the praise. “It’s not exactly my first fight, just… the most intense.” It reminded her of the early mornings and late nights spent sparring with Zuko, a memory that only twisted the dagger in her heart even more.

The two girls smiled at each other as they began to walk back over to Aang — it seemed the boy was undisturbed by the fight by virtue of his glowing tattoos and closed eyes — when Y/N found herself squinting from the rays of light filtering in.

“Huh,” she mumbled. “The sun’s out. The sun’s out— Katara!”

Y/N turned to find the prince free from the ice, and the pair barely had time to draw water from the pond to shield themselves from the impending flames. But it was too little too late, and the power of the blast sent them back several feet. They slammed into either side of the gate, the force of it immediately knocking Katara out.

Y/N gasped in pain as she tried to push herself up, but the fight combined with the impact of her landing had taken a toll on her and she collapsed once more against the gate. When the smoke from the fire cleared, Zuko was there with Aang’s collar in his grasp.

“You rise with the moon,” he muttered, his face tinged with the slightest bit of guilt as he met her eyes. “I rise with the sun.”

The last thing she saw before her consciousness faded out was the boy she loved escaping with the Avatar.

-

why did i make yue and y/n like this when i KNOW what i have to write next omg i hate myself

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27 @anzanity @randomthingssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895 @ilovespideyyy

atla: @marianne1806

[sunflowerheartsandstarryskies]

The Devil and the Mermaid - Chapter Four (Lucifer x Mermaid!Reader)

Author’s Note: The inspiration here came from a dream of mine, also one of my favorite shows “The Legend of the Blue Sea” has some heavy inspiration in here as well. Thank you so much for the support of the series! I will also create a tag list for this story since I saw people interested in that. Again I love reading your guys’ comments and if you want to be part of a tag list for this series please let me know :)

Warnings: None, maybe mild violence? (You shove a guy out of the way)

Taglist: @th3gl1tt3rgam3roff1c1al, @magnet-girl, @roxytheimmortal​

Prev Chap   Next Chapter

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You were covered in darkness, but you were adjusted to the darkness, you lived in the dark with your clan who usually swims in the parts of the ocean where the light just barely touched your skin. 

However instead of the comforting warmth and assurance, you had when you were a woman swimming with your clan, your family, it was a lingering warmth and a reassurance that had made you realize you were dreaming and not of your memories. 

“(Y/N) you have met an interesting fate having fallen for Lucifer,” a voice echoed around you. You looked around in the dark space to search for the voice but found no answer to that.

“I would not have known of your existence if you hadn’t gone out of that water, it’s strange what this world has created once I left it.”

“Are you the moon? What do you mean by that? All I know is what I have been taught and seen when I was in the ocean”

“You could say I am the moon, but I am more than that and also less than that at the same time. I affect the world around me indirectly but you have caused quite a stir where I am at with your involvement with Lucifer, I wish you the best of luck and the best of health.”

With that, you were startled from your sleep by pressure on your shoulder, and you opened your eyes to see Lucifer smiling at you. Once he saw you were awake he went to say, “Good morning my dear, have a good dream?”

“Funny you should mention that, I heard a voice say that they were the moon, I think anyway. I don’t quite remember what they said but I remember your name,” you say as you start sitting up from the bed.

Lucifer sat down next to you as he took in what you said, humming in thought, he turned to you and patted your shoulder.

“Well the only one I know that could do that, would be my Dad, but I don’t know why he would want to talk to you.”

After a couple of days, you have gotten well versed with different aspects of human life and culture, mainly you are not allowed to eat spaghetti with your hands. You also have gotten interested in the tv that had got you basically hooked on the subtleties of different subsets of human culture, one being that if bad men are about to hurt you you can beat them up.

“Anyway, darling remember when I was talking to you about my consulting job for the police?”

You nodded remembering the different stories of his workplace along with his partner, Chloe. She seemed weird but nice from what you heard from him. 

“Well, I have to go in today there is a case that the police department says they need my help with,” Lucifer continued, “and I want you to come with me.”

“I would like to, is it going to be like what I saw on tv with how they deal with violence?” you asked.

“Kind of, it depends, now love let’s get you ready for the day and we can get going.”

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

You and Lucifer walked into a one-story house it looks plain and forgettable with its beige outside paint and white shingled roof. There were also some beautiful hydrangea bushes in the front, and you noticed them because they were the only splash of color in the whole property. There were police officers around the property and you saw one documenting the bushes. You tilt your head as you were stalling to enter the house and saw footprints underneath the bushes. 

“(Y/N) are you okay? Come on,” Lucifer urged on. He leads you into the home, and you immediately see the crime scene.

 It was an execution. Plain and simple. The victim was a young woman from what you saw, and she was shot point-blank in the back of the head as she was sitting on her couch, she probably knew the killer, since the tv was still on. 

The aquarium was direct across from the living room, and you saw the fish in there was trying to get your attention. You can hear the voices of the fish repeatedly crying out, “He hurt her! Help her! He was her friend” You looked at the aquarium and the fishes seem to surround you as they try to talk to you through the glass. ‘Can you show me what he looked like,’ you broadcasted to the fish. 

Lucifer was looking at you confused at what you were doing and was about to talk to you when he got interrupted.

“Oh no, you did not bring a civilian to a crime scene” you hear a voice coming towards you. 

“Ah detective, how good to see you again, and this is (Y/N) she is my assistant and friend,” Lucifer says. 

You turn your head away from the aquarium and saw a stressed blonde woman coming towards you, and you realized that this must be Chloe Decker. She tilted her head with furrowed brows and a hand to her hip as she eyes you. 

“Why would you need an assistant?” Decker questioned.

“You know there are always things that I could miss out on while we’re out here and plus don’t you want someone who can put me in line and in order for once?” Lucifer replied.

“That’ll be the day,” Decker snorted.

You tugged on the jacket sleeve on Lucifer to get his attention to you, and he leaned for you to whisper to tell him the thoughts and profile the fish given to you about the person who committed the murder.

“Oh that’s brilliant, darling, see Detective my assistant just gave us a solid lead to go off of. We have a suspect!” Lucifer exclaimed as he grabs your hand and leads you out of the crime scene.

“Wait a minute can you tell me what means?” Decker ran off to you two.

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

So the three of you ended up at an apartment building on the opposite side of Los Angeles waiting to interview the suspect that the fish had identified to you at the victim’s home. 

Lucifer ended up filling into Decker that you had deduced based on the footprints outside the house and the way she was killed, it was someone she knew intimately enough to let the person in without a second glance. You just confirmed that for him with the description of the man the fish saw kill their owner, Blaire Wright. He also found that there was a single picture of him and the victim together faced down so he connected the dots to realize that the relationship must’ve turned to an obsession for the man and had gone possessive over the woman. The old “if I can’t have her nobody can” cliche, which made Lucifer quite bored about that trope but you can’t always choose what happens in your cases. 

You all made your way to the apartment building, Decker went to find out from the landlord about the suspect and you and Lucifer were ordered to stay out in the parking lot. You spotted the man that matched the description the fish gave you and the picture Lucifer showed to verify it. His name was Oscar Grant, and he’s suspected to have developed an obsessive behavior over Ns. Wright … and he was heading your way.

Lucifer seemed to be aware of it as he straightened himself and walked over to where the man was walking into the parking lot. 

You felt a strange sensation of being submerged in the water again, you felt heavy and light all at the same time. You couldn’t hear what the two were saying, but you felt the danger and sensation of a cornered animal, and that’s when you felt that you had to move. So you did. Grant pulled a gun but as soon as he did you grabbed his forearm and threw him towards the dumpsters that were ten feet away from him. You may have used a bit too much of your strength. There was now a new dent behind Grant that there wasn’t there before and a shocked looking Lucifer next to you and staring at the gun in between you and the culprit.

You heard Decker walking behind you and you heard her go with a bewildered voice, “How in the-?”

When he came to a few seconds later, he was given his rights by Decker and placed in the back of her car off the police department. While you were walking up to you and Lucifer’s ride you felt a lingering gaze on your back throughout that entire encounter. You just shook your head in an attempt to get rid of that feeling. 

Later on, Oscar Grant ended up confessing to both the attempted murder of you and Lucifer and the murder of Blaire Wright. Decker relented upon the idea of Lucifer bringing you to cases because you ended up being a pretty good asset. 

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

Now you were back at Lucifer’s penthouse and you were in pajamas lounging around the bar area in his place. Lucifer was down at the LUX club area taking care of some business that he needed to get done as he told you. 

There was a small pool that he had in his apartment which you found, and you can hear the call of the water no matter its state. So you took off your clothes and went in the pool, your tail and scales came as soon as you were submerged and your whole body was singing with happiness as it felt alive again. 

The more you spend on land without the return of the love that you came out of the water for, your heart will stop beating unless you step back in the ocean. You forgot to tell Lucifer about that specific part of the deal of you coming on land because you didn’t want him to feel the pressure of returning a love that might not be real, to begin with. 

You begin to worry about what might happen if he found out you didn’t tell him the whole truth of your situation to him. You didn’t want him to concerned for your fate, because you never know what might happen there might be a happy ending for you both.

As you were swimming in the small pool brooding in your thoughts you heard the elevator ping, so you peaked your head over the corner of the pool. When you just saw it was Lucifer and no one else you let yourself be seen by him.

“Well hello there, I see you have found my pool then?” Lucifer greeted you. You beamed at him and nodded fervently at that.

“Y’know I never actually saw you as your original mermaid self? Is it alright if I watch you swim?”

“Um sure if you want to, I’m not the most beautiful, there are others in just my clan that have amazing scales and tail fin,” you state.

“Let me be the judge of that, love-” he cut himself off with a mouth agape look as he marveled at your full beauty.

Your tail was massive and the scales decorating and protecting your body were glittering with a rainbow of colors complementing your skin tone. It made you look heavenly and the flowing tail at the end made you look that way even more so.

You became self-conscious at the way Lucifer was just staring at you, so became to fidget under his heavy gaze in the water.

Then he spoke gently, “You are beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. Thank you for letting me see your true self like this.”

“Thank you Lucifer, that means a lot to me.”

The brooding can wait, you have time to be hopeful and to think about that happy ending.

[nightwitchwriter]

Samhain chapter pt 2!

Nick’s POV

I clung as tightly as I could as we flew threw the sky. The wind bristled through my hair and clothes, making me colder than the before. I sat behind Will as she piloted her broom to Heather’s party. Maddy sat in front of her, but stayed quiet

“Are you sure you know where you are going?” I yelled

“Of course I do! I’m using GPS aren’t I?”

“You’re using a dowsing crystal!”

It was true. As soon as we got high enough, Will attached as clear crystal tied to a string at the end of her broom. It floated in the air towards a certain direction and Will took off, before we could say we were ready.

“Look! I’m not saying the GPS in your phone won’t work! It’s just the city is different than it is on Earth! So shut up! And let me focus!”

I quickly shut up and tried not to look down. To avoid that, I thought about the events from earlier. As if it wasn’t scary enough, about half the kids in the trick-or-treating group were actual monsters. Monsters! Like the ones you read in fairy tales or myths. The same with the parents. Will called the devi-humans, while those with animal features were called demi-humans. Others I didn’t recognize were called Elementals. I never knew there were so many different creatures, all thought to be made up by humans. Will said not all mythical creatures are real, but I don’t believe her.

Fifteen minutes later, we landed somewhere what looked like Downtown Manhattan. I was confused.

“Hey, aren’t we supposed to be heading to Heather’s party?” I asked as she landed on the sidewalk.

“In a minute. In celebration of you guys now knowing my secret, I decided to show you something awesome, Halloween style.” Will answered

I looked around to see large groups of people in costumes, as well as children still in costumes, with their parents.

“Shouldn’t they be in bed by now?” I asked

“Don’t worry, they’ll be fine.” Will answered

“What is it anyway?” questioned Maddy

“A sacrifice?”

“No. It’s a parade. This year is special because look...” Will pointed towards the sky. We looked up to see a clear sky with a full moon out. I was actually surprised to be able to see the moon in the middle of NYC.

“Trust me. You do not want to miss this.”

So we waited. We waited and waited and waited. I looked at my phone at saw that it was one in the morning.

“Ugh, how much longer? We’re going to miss the party.” I complained

Will ignored me as she looked up at the sky. Maddy and I looked up at the sky as well. 

“I’ve never seen the moon or sky before.” stated Maddy. “It’s beautiful.”

Just as it turned one o’clock, a bell tower rang. Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong!

I realized it rang 13 times, then suddenly the air grew still. The lights in and outside the surrounding buildings were instantly shut off. I got nervous, but I saw that Will and no one else was scared.

In the distance, I could hear music. It sounded festive, for a scary holiday.   

Bright lights suddenly appeared, bouncing up and down. Soon the lights appeared to be lanterns on sticks in the forms of skeleton heads and jack-o-lanterns. As the music got closer and closer, my eyes widened to realize that it was a parade. A Halloween parade.

Various monsters of different forms all from different cultures. I saw creatures from mythology like centaurs and harpies. Humanoids that have tree like skin, and insect like features. Will pointed out ghosts, witches and vampires. There were even demons and regular humans with multiple limbs. There was even Japanese yokai and Celtic faeries. It was freaky. It was incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this. Heather’s party wouldn’t even compare.

There were floats, dancers and dancing puppets. Light projections, mini fireworks, what looked liked holograms and other magic spells were being performed. And while it was scary, it was also not scary. Everyone looked like they were having fun. Even though they were monsters, everyone was wearing a costume.

I turned to Will and Maddy and they looked like they were having fun. If they are willing to have, I don’t see why I shouldn’t.

“Before I forget, this is what my sister was talking about earlier.” shouted Will “The special treat she was talking about. They’ll see another one like this nearby.”

“Sweet.”

The three of us ended up enjoying ourselves. Like typical Halloween style, the food was scary and gruesome, but good. We played at lot of pranks and got pranked as well. We danced like there was an actual spell put on us. I never had so much fun before.

When I decided to take a breather, I separated from the crowd and sat on a nearby bench. I was able to see the two girls still dancing. I looked at my phone again and saw that it was three in the morning. I guessed I missed Heather’s party. I chuckled to myself. She’s going to be so pissed.

I looked at moon and wondered to myself: How long has any of this been here? These places, these people, this world? Even though they look and seem friendly, according to many myths, they are all dangerous creatures, who are known to manipulate and kill humans. And whether if their true or not, now I’m worried about my sisters now with a group of them back at Will’s house. Of course, Will’s parents are there, and not only is Will’s dad human from my Earth, but we’re not the only humans who live in Arcanos that aren’t witches. Even still, I’m still nervous.

When I sat back up, I noticed a strange fog surrounding me. It wasn’t foggy earlier, and it wasn’t humid and wet since yesterday. I stood up, inspecting my surroundings. I could still see and hear the crowds, but it sounded far away.

I started to make myself over there, when I heard someone calling my name.

“Nick! Nick! Nickity-nick!”

I turned around to see Felicity in her witch’s costume. She smiled at me, and playfully stuck her tongue out at me before running away. I quickly realized that Felicity was there.

What a minute? What is Felicity doing here? Isn’t she suppose to be at Will’s house?

I quickly ran after her without a second thought.

“Felicity! Wait! It’s too dangerous to be here!”

Without paying attention to my surroundings, I followed my non-responding sister into the darkness.

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Will’s POV

“Felicity! Wait! It’s too dangerous here!”

Despite all the noise and chaos, I heard Nick’s voice yelling for sister. I then see him running after someone. 

“What”s wrong?” asked Maddy

I looked closer and saw Nick chasing after a girl. About to roll my eyes, I saw that the look liked Felicity, Nick’s younger sister. That’s when I realized what was happening.

“Will?”

“Maddy, I need you to stay here and wait for my mom. Don’t leave with anyone else.” I warned her.

“Will?”

“Please.” I begged. I don’t want to leave my best friend here, but I can’t let Nick be trapped somewhere in Arcanos. 

Maddy looked at me hesitantly, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Just say that you’re blind and they’ll leave you alone. But stay in the crowd. I promise.”

“Okay.” 

I hesitated for a moment, then ran after Nick. I made a mental link to mom.

“Mom! Is Felicity there at the house?!”

“Yes, why?”

“Nick ended up following an imp disguised as Felicity! I left Maddy at the parade so that I can go after him!”

“What? Maddy! You should have waited with Maddy! I’ll call the police and-”

“He’s heading towards the Underworld!”

The next few seconds was silence. 

“There was all this fog surrounding him, and-”

“Alright.” Mom answered. “I’ll go get Maddy. Did you tell not to go anywhere or leave with anyone?

“Yes. She should be near where Times Square would be.”

“Okay. Please be careful.”

“I will.”

I chased Nick through the fog. I don’t know what he was chasing, but I don’t care. I just need to get to him.

Finally, I caught him.

“Nick! What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled

“What the hell are you doing? I’m trying to catch my sister!” he yelled back

“Your sister is fine! Let’s go!”

I tried pulling him towards the direction I came from, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Come on!”

“I’m not going without my sister! And why do you care anyway? Ever since we first saw each other, you hated me!”

“I tolerated you!”

“That still means that you don’t like me! You don’t like anyone! And I may not know much about your world, but I do know that its dangerous! And I am not leaving my sister in a place like this!”

As much as I admire his love and commitment to his sisters, I don’t have time for this.

“Look, I know you came for your sister and you’re worried but we have to go! Now!”

I continued my futile struggled to make him move. I needed him to trust me, so I didn’t use magic for force him to move. Damn him being on the football team! I struggled to contain my tears.

“Give me a reason! Give me one reason why I should leave my sister in a place where she could possibly get killed? Why do you want me to leave here so badly? Why?” he berated

“Because I’m scared!” I screamed at him and began sobbing.

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Nick’s POV

I looked at Will in shock. I’ve never heard her yell like that to anyone before, nor seeing her cry. What scared me more, is that all thoughts of my sister vanished and my main focused was on Will. I don’t think she was using magic on me. Despite the way she acts towards people, she’s not the type to force someone to do something, even with magic.

“I’m... I’m sorry...” I apologized. “I-I didn’t mean to yell like that.”

I’m stammering and hesitating. I never stammer or hesitate.

“I don’t care.” she sobbed. She crouched to the ground, wiping away her tears, not caring if her make up and dress was being ruined. 

“I just want to go home.”

Seeing how she looked, I looked back to where my sister was headed. I sighed and turned back to Will.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

I gently grabbed her hand and led her in the direction she came from.

“Wh-what about your sister?” she asked quietly

I turned back to see if Felicity was nearby, but she was gone. Hesitantly, I shook my head.

“Don’t worry about it. If what you say it true, then hopefully someone will find her, soon.”

As we walked back, I know it might should wrong, but I decided to ask anyway.

“So, where are we that caused to you to have a panic attack?”

“The Underworld.” she whispered

I halted in my tracks.

“The Underworld? As in Hell?”

She shook her head. “No, it more like Limbo that leads you to the Underworld. Since the veil between the two worlds is thin around this time, imps like to pranks humans by leading into the passage way. If you don’t escape by the next morning, you’ll be stuck there forever.” she whispered

Huh, now I know why she was so scared earlier.

A few minutes later, we some people nearby. I don’t know if they’re dead or not, but I wrap my arm around Will.

“Well, lookee here, boys. Humans.”

When he smiled, I physically stopped in fear once i saw his teeth. Vampires. Oh crap. What do I do?

“What are humans doing here? Did’ja get lost while making out?” one of the chuckled. There were three in total.

“Look, we’re not bothering anyone. So please just leave us alone.” If what the facts about vampires are true, I don’t stand a chance with one, much less three.

“So what? We’re curious. So why don’t you tell us?” One of the quickly got into our personal space within a blink of an eye. Shocked, I reacted by quickly pushing him away. Bad move.

“Hey what the hell?”

One of them grabbed Will and ripped her away from me.

“Will!”

The other in front of me gripped my arm really tightly and grabbed my throat, with his other hand.

“Now I don’t know how you folks got here, but I know of an exit for you. And we’re really hungry. We didn’t get to eat all night.” the vampire chuckled along with his friend.

I was beyond scared. I could barely breathe and was beginning to panic. Now I realized that Twilight was beyond wrong. Vampires aren’t romantic. They’re terrifying.

As the vampire brought me closer, revealing more of his fangs, about to bite me, someone interrupted.

“Hold on a minute.”

It was the third vampire who had a hat on.

“What?”

“Will?”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Will look up at the other vampire who took his hat off.

“Antonio?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, as she began to bawl. The other vampire let her go as she ran to Antonio.

“Will? What are you doing here? You know humans aren’t suppose to be here, even witches aren’t suppose to be here.”

Will didn’t answer as she continued to cry. 

Antonio, surprisingly, hugged her and began to comfort her.

“There, there. It’s alright. You’re fine,”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“No! She’s a distant cousin of mine!”

“Ah! A relative. And this one?”

“Probably one of her friends. Put him down.”

The vampire shook his shoulders, and dropped me on the ground.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t know you were a friend of her’s.” He held out his hand to help me up, but I scooted back in fear.

“Aw, come on now. I didn’t mean to scare you that bad. It’s Halloween, ain’t it?”

“Look, for now, let’s just take these two home alright?”

“Alright.”

“Sure. Knock him out, will ya?”

The vampire glared at him. “Fine.”

The next thing I knew, is that my head felt fuzzy and I became dizzy. Then, blackness.

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Happy Halloween to you witches and monsters out there!

[chezgender]

Medusa (Nikki/Tommy)

A new fic here. A sort of Greek mythology AU, featuring a sad Nikki and a cute Tommy. Oh and also, soulmates trope!

I hope you’ll like it, let me know what tou think about it!

Plot: Nikki and Tommy have been friends for a few months now, but Nikki has never shown his eyes. There’s a secret behind this.

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, mention of rape (in the context of a Greek myth)

The first time Tommy had met Nikki they were in a bar, and the drummer hadn’t seen his eyes. It was a boiling Saturday in Los Angeles and, despite the temperatures, Sixx was in full glam mode, dressed in black leather, with jet-black hair, black everything. Tommy looked kinda stupid in his high-waisted tight denim and yellow shirt. Figuring something out about Sixx had been nearly impossible since that dark and thick fringe made it impossible to see Nikki’s eyes. Like a curtain on the stage of an unknown theatre, like a cloud hiding a mysterious moon that could move seas.

Even when they started hanging out regularly, Nikki never took hair away from his face. It seemed like he wanted to avoid eye contact, so Tommy thought he had some strange issues. Though, after a few months of friendship, Lee still hadn’t seen the older’s eyes.

*****

“Your parents are amazing.” Nikki commented once they were outside Tommy’s house. The bassist had been welcomed like a son, he almost felt home for the first time in so long.

“Well… they are, yeah. Don’t you ever miss yours?” Lee asked, offering a cigarette to his friend, who accepted gladly. They were walking towards the Rainbow, as the night was falling on the city.

The bassist frowned, his voice dropping all of a sudden. “I hope they’ll rot in hell.” He commented and finally lit that cigarette, indulging in a long drag that seemed to calm his nerves a little.

Tommy changed the subject to avoid making him angry.

*****

“What color are your eyes?” Tommy asked once, before sipping loudly his chocolate milkshake.

It was one of the many dog days on the Sunset, and the two friends were sitting at a cheap café where Athena’s boyfriend worked. Athena was Tommy’s sister and he was very protective over her since they had always shared everything. Lee had asked Nikki to hang out together while he checked on that guy, and they took the chance to buy a drink. Finding relief to the heat seemed to have become Los Angeles’ priority, and staying with Nikki had become Tommy’s priority.

Hearing that question, Nikki turned to Tommy and flashed a grin that looked almost bittersweet.

“Green.” He so said, before finishing his iced coffee and looking away, without letting Tommy watch through his sunglasses. Who the fuck wore sunglasses inside a bar?

The drummer sighed and let the topic off, settling down for that small answer.

Their day went for the best until Tommy had to go home.

*****

The first time Tommy had seen Nikki with the fringe away from his forehead, the bassist was rocking a ponytail.

Pretty weird for him, to be honest. His hair looking still wet and dark with sand in between the messy locks.

It was more or less 6 pm, the drummer remembered it because there was a beautiful sunset and the two of them were on the beach, in a desert place in Santa Monica. The sun was slowly drowning in the sea, painting it orange and yellow and light shone bright, yet delicate, invading the air and filling everything with sudden peace.

Nikki was looking at the sea, sitting on the wet sand, diving into so many thoughts.

“Sixx,” the taller called him, appearing suddenly by his side. The bassist winced in surprise and immediately looked away, avoiding any eye contact. Tommy was starting to think all of that was some kind of joke. “don’t worry, just wanted to know if you wanna go home now.”

The bassist let his hair down again, his fringe covering his forehead and eyes. “Get you in ten, if you wanna go.”

To be honest, Tommy didn’t want to go away, and so stood at Nikki’s side and spent minutes and minutes fantasizing about those oh so secret eyes, wondering how the sunset light would change that mysterious shade of green.

They then walked towards Tommy’s van and spent the trip in silence, listening to Cheap Tricks on the radio.

*****

Tommy had recently gone living on his own, finally away from his family. It hadn’t been hard, besides money, and anyway he loved the idea of being independent. He had already invited Nikki multiple times and they wanted to use the place to rehearse, even though they were only two instruments. They just had to settle down, they were going to find a singer and a guitarist very soon. They liked playing together anyway, because they had a very pleasant chemistry.

“Can I use your shower?” Was the first question that Nikki Sixx asked a Tommy that had just got out of bed. The bassist was standing at the front door, hands in his pockets and sunglasses on, of course. He was also visibly sweating, it was way too hot outside.

“It’s 7 in the morning and you came here to ask me if you can take a shower?” Lee whined, scratching his eyes and yawning. He needed a coffee, right in that moment.

“It’s 2 pm.” The older pointed out. “And yes, I totally did.” Tommy was doubtful but decided not to ask any question: he didn’t want to know why Nikki needed to use his shower at 7 am, or 2 pm, or any time in the day. He probably got kicked out of his apartment, again.

“Yeah, come in.” He then said, sighing and letting the bassist in. “Be home.” he added, knowing there was no need to tell Nikki where the bathroom was. He had been in that house almost every day.

“Of course, thank you T-bone.”

They didn’t talk too much: Tommy gave the bassist a clean towel and told him not to mess up things in there. Nikki laughed, more like a small giggle, and soon he disappeared in the bathroom. As Tommy heard the water running, he decided to finally put some clothes on: a simple t-shirt and grey sweatpants for comfort. He waited for Nikki to come out, sitting on the sofa that in many nights had hosted Sixx, and listening to some music with a cold coffee in hand.

Each time he thought about Nikki, the whole eyes thing would come to his mind. Nine months of friendship, and he had never seen those eyes. Often he wondered the reasons behind that unusual, weird choice. Lee knew that Nikki was pretty introverted and the only way to get to know him very well was music, which bounded them like brothers. Another way to know a person is through their eyes because eyes are the window to the soul, but maybe Nikki didn’t want anyone to see his soul.

Tommy had realized his feelings for Nikki, recently. Feelings that were well above friendship and, even if he refused to name them or to talk about it with anyone, he knew that he couldn’t ignore them forever.

Maybe that was the reason why he felt the desire, the need to look into those eyes and see if there was the same spark, the same warmth that Tommy felt every second they spent together.

But at that point, he wasn’t even sure Nikki could feel anything at all.

And anyway, Tommy had thought to be straight for his whole life and now, Nikki happened? Shit was weird as hell. And also painful, because he was pretty sure Sixx, despite being pretty open-minded, would’ve never accepted him as gay, bisexual or whatever the hell he was.

The sound of the bathroom door being opened -that thing was creaky as fuck-, distracted Tommy from all those thoughts. He looked at Nikki with the corner of his eye, trying not to be too damn obvious, to notice his damp hair and his face, finally free and visible. He turned around suddenly, staring at the bassist, who looked into Tommy’s dark irises. None could manage to look away.

“It’s a nice green.” Tommy simply said, staring right at him and standing up. He slowly walked towards the older, to enjoy each emerald shades that adorned those beautiful eyes. And everything was almost unreal, dream-like, Tommy was afraid he’d never have a second chance.

Nikki remained silent, doubtful, playing with his own hands. “Thanks. Never heard that compliment.” He said, looking kinda sick.

“Dude, you look pale. Are you okay?” The drummer asked, frowning at Nikki’s reaction. He made him sit on the sofa and gave him clean clothes -a T.rex shirt and sweatpants-, waiting for him to get dressed. “You need some water?” he asked, as he looked at Nikki’s moves: kinda graceful and totally different from the ones he had on stage. He was shaking lightly and Tommy wished he could hug him; but he knew Nikki was very reticent about physical contact.

“Would be great, thanks.” the older said as he sat down on the sofa again, and Tommy soon handed him a glass of fresh water, with some sugar. Nikki drank it in a few seconds while the drummer sat with him. “Have you ever heard the story of Medusa?” the black haired guy asked, all of a sudden.

That was so out of context that Tommy didn’t even know what to answer: he frowned, not understanding how it could be related to their topic. “In school, I guess? Don’t remember much.”

Nikki sighed lightly, crossed his legs and lit up a cigarette, immediately taking a drag from it. “Alright, lemme tell you a story. Medusa was a gorgon, the only human of three sisters which represented moral, sexual and intellectual perversion. She was a beautiful woman, graceful enough that every living creature would look at her.”

Tommy raised his hand like a schoolkid: “Okay, but wasn’t she the girl with snake hair and stuff?” he remembered some things about Greek culture. They didn’t study much of it in school, but he had always found it incredibly interesting.

“Yes, lemme get to it. One day Poseidon, king of the Seas, fell in love with her and wanted to lie with her.” Nikki kept on talking, his voice was quiet, almost like he was hurt from that same story. Like he had lived it on his skin, somehow, like it was part of him. “But she didn’t, so he forced her. He raped her and she tried to hide her face behind Athena’s statue. The Goddess punished Medusa for her vanity, turning her into a monster.”

“Wait, how is Medusa considered vain? She was assaulted!” Tommy exclaimed, at that point, he was really invested in the story. And suddenly the ancient mythology felt so real, so everyday-like, and T-bone thought about all the girls that went through the same path in different ways.

Nikki shrugged, suddenly getting up: “I don’t know Tommy, I’m not Athena. I can’t believe your Greek ass didn’t know this story.”

“Anyway, why are you telling me this?” Tommy asked, making himself more comfortable on the sofa and following Nikki with his gaze. It was weird to finally look into his eyes, and see the light in them. The rage, the desire to wreck everything, the need for freedom. To be honest, Nikki wasn’t so different from what Tommy had imagined to that point.

“When I was very little, Nona told me this story and warned me about a thing: once I’d become an adult, I’d be able to turn people into stone without my control, like Medusa.” Sixx sat down on the table, looking right in front of him, where Tommy was, burning him with his gaze. Unintentionally, because Nikki wasn’t very used to glance at people while they could see his eyes, so he just looked rather creepy. “Because of my past, you know? I told you my childhood was kinda fucked up.”

“And that’s why you never let your eyes be seen by anyone, right? But it shit didn’t work on me.” the taller stated, fidgeting his legs as usual. Nikki had grown used to it, so he wasn’t even bothered anymore.

“Nona told me another thing. Do you believe in soulmates, Tommy?”

T-bone’s eyes widened in surprise at the question: “Soulmates…? Never really thought about it.”

“Well, she told me the only person who could resist to this would be my soulmate,” he concluded, taking another drag from the cigarette and blowing it in the heated air. Tommy was speechless, which was unusual for him. His mind was a mess, trying to connect all the dots and form a coherent thought, a decent answer to that.

“You gotta be kidding man…” he whispered. Not decent, but still an answer. The drummer laid down on the couch like he needed some more moments to realize. And Nikki, slightly worried about him, sat down next to his friend again and took his wrist to feel the pulse of his quickened heartbeat.

“I’m not, I’m shocked just as you. I don’t think I’m gay or anything, soulmates ain’t a thing you decide.” he sighed as he let the other’s arm and put the cigarette off in the nearest ashtray.

Tommy finally looked at him with a little smile. He always had that innocent, joyful sparkle in his eyes. He was the total opposite of Nikki, but none of them was bothered by that. “Hey it’s alright, I wouldn’t mind it anyway. As you said, a soulmate isn’t someone you can choose;“ he paused for a few seconds, looking at his friend with the corner of his eyes, "and I gotta say I’m okay with you being mine.”

“Are you saying it doesn’t weird you out?” Sixx was finally smiling, too. He almost never smiled, and Tommy felt a pleasurable stabbing sensation in his heart every time he witnessed those lips curving in a shy, cute manner.

“Listen, I might be slightly gay for you and anyway, after hearing this story, nothing can weird me out.”

“Stupid.” the older chuckled, before realizing what Tommy had really said: “Wait, are you gay?”

“No? I don’t think so…” the drummer mumbled, unsure about the best words to use. But maybe at that point, spilling the entire truth would’ve been better than keeping motherfuckin’ secrets. Secrets ruin friendships, and Tommy wasn’t intentioned to lose Nikki. “I mean, I realized I have some feelings for you, don’t wanna name them yet, but if we’re soulmates it means something, right?” he so dared to say, and Nikki’s reaction came quite unexpectedly. Tommy was expecting a ‘fuck you’ or something, but instead, his lips found Nikki’s in a kiss. A delicate and maybe awkward kiss, because none of them seemed to have the guts to deepen it.

“I- uh…” Nikki fumbled, but the look Tommy gave him was so full of feelings that the bassist kissed him again, almost like he was possessed.

And this time everything felt natural, which meant fast and violent and full of unnamed feelings. Nikki bit the other’s lip, making him gasp visibly at the sensation. The vibrant green of Nikki’s irises seemed to shine with a new feeling, which Tommy couldn’t really tell.

“Do you think things are going to work?” the bassist asked in a hushed voice, his forehead pressed against Tommy’s.

“Which things?”

“Us,” Nikki cooed, turning his head away from Tommy. His rosy cheeks showed new shades of his heart and Tommy was so glad and surprised. “are we going to make it?” he asked, his voice was full of worry, of that kind of pain only lonely people endure.

He had never thought he was destined to have a soulmate. That only happens in fairy tales, he would tell himself, and then proceeded with falling in love with people only to hurt them in the end. Because none of them were his true soulmates. His fate was to be alone, he had hurt too many people to trust himself anymore.

The taller then smiled softly, cupping Nikki’s face and smiling at him, before kissing his cheek. “Always, no matter what.”

“What a romantic motherfucker. I’m gonna get diabetes.” the bassist playfully complained, his smile would reveal all of his feelings. He really couldn’t believe Tommy was alive and well, that nothing had happened when their eyes met, when their lips touched. That there were no tears nor desperate situations.

"At least you know what you’re signing for.” Lee clicked his tongue. They fell silent, then, Tommy looking at Nikki and Nikki looking at the old and ruined, but oh so familiar, sofa. The atmosphere was quiet. There was some uncertainty, still, in fear’s fault.

A gay relationship, in the 80s, between two guys trying to become famous. That could’ve blown everything up, destroy their life-long dream. Was it worth the risk?

Nikki sighed. “Do you think we should make it public?”

Tommy frowned, his eyes veiled with the same preoccupation that darkened Nikki’s: “I don’t know, that might be a bad idea. But what do you think?”

“This is gonna be our secret, at least for now.” Nikki agreed, his hand found Tommy’s. Their fingers intertwined shyly, and Lee strengthened the hold.

“By the way, you can sleep here if you wanna. Since you got kicked out.” He said after a few moments of silence, and Nikki clicked his tongue at him:

“How do you know it?”

“Because you woke up earlier than 6pm, which, for the record, you never do.”

Nikki laughed: “Alright, alright, I have my stuff in the car.”

“Fine, go and take it so we can find some place for your clothes.”

In the end, Nikki didn’t sleep on the sofa anymore. The bed was pretty small for the two of them, but they could arrange it by sleeping on each other despite the extra hot temperatures. Nikki was feeling home like never before, and it was the most beautiful sensation. He would’ve phoned Nona, sooner or later, to tell her he had found his soulmate like she had said.

[airis-paris14]

Take A Break Pt.14

Setting: AU where T’Challa loves Reader, But is married to Nakia. Both of the women he loves, try to convince him to take a break.

Warnings: Anger, yelling, angst, jealousy.

A/N: there’s a lot of foreshadowing in this chapter. Let me know what y’all think at the end. Hope it was worth the wait!

*I’m putting all other stories on hold to get a few more chapters of Take a Break out. Thanks for reading!

“So, D’Ajuh, what do you do for a living?” you asked over the table. The sunset illuminated the garden around you as the family dined outside. A tall, well built man sat next to Nakia across the table from you and T’Challa. The sun sparkled in his brown eyes as he cleared his throat. “I’m a teacher, at Isidleke school in the city. I teach the 11th and 12th graders mostly. Try to prepare them to study in college or university if they choose.” Nakia grinned up at the man, blushing as he squeezed her hand in his own. Their brown fingers interlaced on the table, contrasting the cream table cloth beautifully in the summer sunset.

“Do many choose to study abroad, when given the option?” you inquired. “Yes, many see America over the television nowadays, they practically leap at the chance.” their interlaced hands waved around together as D’Ajuh expressed his passion for the children and their success. “Though not usually for the right reasons,” the mild mannered teacher laughed. “Though, I am proud to say, many come back with an appreciation for their brothers and sisters in America. Also, a lot more grateful for what they have here.” The african man smiled as he took a sip of his water.

“That I can understand, it definitely gives you a different outlook on life, spending time there.” you smiled. “Y/N, spent some time working in America on behalf of our country. Many of her stories from abroad were very enlightening as to what people deal with on a daily basis.

“Exactly,this is the experience I feel that many of our students should experience to better appreciate what we have here at home. If I may speak quite frankly,” the man stopped to glance at T’Challa for approval. “Please, a friend of Nakia’s is a friend of mine.” he gestured for the man to continue.

“Well, many of my students, have expressed interests in wanting to open an exchange student program here in Wakanda, where students may come and study with our students here for an American semester. Especially those in the sciences, arts, and humanities. I believe it is a grand idea and beneficial experience for both groups of students.” the young teacher explained. “Many students in America will never know, or experience a culture of people who look like them and have technology like this very often. Also having an total immersion experience here in Wakanda, which will help with maturity and problem solving skills, besides creating more well rounded brothers and sisters.”

“I believe it sounds like a wonderful program to at least consider,” Nakia added glancing at T’Challa. “I agree, i’d love to meet with you about that D’Ajuh,’ the king nodded. The dinner descended back into comfortable silence. The couple continued to sneak glances and share laughs. “Would someone like to share what is so funny, eh?” you chastised jokingly. The couple chuckled like two children caught passing notes in class. Nakia blushed darker as D’Ajuh cleared his throat, “Well, I was telling Nakia, that she looks radiant in this light right now. And her skin has a glow that would only rival that of the Wakandan sunset.” the teacher ducked his head.

“Are you having sex with my wife?” T’Challa interrupted.“T’Challa!” you hissed swatting his arm as Nakia tried to refrain from choking on her water. D’Ajuh tried to aid her attempts as he gathered his own thoughts. “Um,” he stuttered.

“You don’t have to answer that,” you apologized as you shot a glare in T’Challa. “I am your-”

“T’challa,” you warned your voice gaining a slight edge. The king sank back into his seat still staring intently at the young couple’s hands. His hand sought out yours and squeezed posessively. The night held a certain awkwardness as dinner progressed. It seemed that every move D’Ajuh made, T’Challa had to out do. If D’Ajuh offered a roll, T’Challa offered a cake. If D’Ajuh complimented Nakia, T’Challa was showering you in praises.

As dinner finally came to a close, the other man helped Nakia out of her seat, while T’Challa tried to convince you to let him carry you around bridal style for the rest of the evening. And tonight, for some reason, “no”was not registering in the King’s vocabulary or conscious.

“T’Challa, stop it!” you hissed, swatting his arms away. “D’Ajuh gets to help Nakia out of her seat, I just want to help my pregnant girlfriend around the palace.” he fussed and whined. “Exactly, I am pregnant, not incapacitated or invalid. I can walk T’Challa, after Nakia and D’Ajuh leave then I will let you carry me to my room, ok?”

“Nakia would not mind me carrying her,” T’Challa muttered as the couple walked towards them. “What is that supposed to mean?” you rebutted as anger began to pour into your veins. “Is know a bad time?” Nakia asked, noticing the visible tension between the couple. Her hands were again intertwined with her lover’s. “No, now is a great time. What do you need.” you forced a smile. “We are about to head out. I just wanted to thank you guys for hosting us.”

“T’Challa’s eyes remained glued on the couples’ intertwined fingers as he shook D’Ajuh’s hand and hugged Nakia goodnight. Nakia escorted her boyfriend back to his car and T’Challa walked with you around the newly quieted palace.

“You remember what tomorrow is, right?” you asked as you walked down the silent corridor with your love. The moon reflected off of his beautiful skin as you gazed at his features contorted in thought. “Tuesday?” he asked. “Tell me you’re joking?” you froze, consequently jerking him to a stop. “Entle, what is tomorrow?” he furrowed his brow reaching for you.

“Don’t touch me T’Challa, we’ve been looking forward to this day for three months.” you frowned, “I can’t believe you forgot,” you felt tears and anger building up. “It’s the day we learn the gender of our child T’Challa. We had to clear your schedule months in advance for this T’challa.”

His eyes widened with guilt, “Entle, I’m so, sorry. I can’t believe I forgot. I’ll be there, at 9:30 right?”

“8:00 T’Challa, 8 in the morning,” you corrected, sighing, his mouth gaped open. “I- I can’t do eight,” he began. You held your palm up to stop him. You breathed out through your nose, “Tell me you are joking T’Challa. Tell me that you are joking and this is just a bad dream.”

“Entle, I am so sorry-” he began. “No, T’Challa, sorry will not fix this. With you and the jealousy, your pride flaring up at the table tonight, I have had it. I have rescheduled this appointment five times to fit your schedule. You need to have an amazing explanation for why you suddenly can’t do this tomorrow, when we planned this six weeks ahead” you fumed tapping your foot.”I’m waiting kumkani.”

“What jealousy?” the king gaped. “Are you serious, are you serious T’Challa? Everytime the man did anything, you had to outdo him. Every kiss to Nakia’s cheek was a kiss to my forehead. He cut her a piece of meat and you cut my whole meal into bite sized pieces, for our unborn child Challa. I’m a grown behind woman, I can cut my own filet mignon. Don’t get me started on your Nakia comment, ‘Nakia would let me carry her’.” you mocked his voice.

“What! She would have! I thought being a pregnant woman you would have loved for me to prance around the palace, carrying you for the rest of the night! You go around here complaining about walking and your ankles so much anyway.” he argued back. “Yes, I do. Because I am in pain, carrying YOUR child, that YOU planned to put in my body on YOUR own. I wasn’t planning to have this child T’Challa, neither was I planning to put myself through this pain. And I would have loved for you to carry me around, IF it was really about making ME comfortable. You just want to show off infront of D’Ajuh, because you can’t get over Nakia. You can’t get over the fact that she is happy, with someone else now. As long as she was alone and just watching your children, everything was fine, but now that she is happy, you can’t seem to get over the fact that someone treats her just as well, or better than you do. So. You know what, maybe you should go carry Nakia around the palace tonight, because you won’t be laying a hand on me, selfish bastard.” you stormed down the hallway into your old bedroom.

“Y/N wait! The king called as he jogged after you, his anger doused by your words. “What T’Challa?” you sighed stopping at the end of the long hallway. The silence settled upon you tow like a blanket, as the stars observed from the sky. “I am sorry,” he pleaded, again reaching for your hand. You cocoa skin glew in the moonlights as you moved it out of his reach. “Sorry is not enough-” you began, your tired body sagging under all of the hurt and anger. “Not this time T’Challa, I need action. Some form of proof that you truly want me. You need to decide who you want, before you lose both of us.” You heard his breath hitch at the ultimatum.

“Entle,” he croaked. “Not tonight T’Challa. Good night,” you managed to whisper out before continuing down the hall. His tears and hurt echoed down the halls, while yours remained silently upon your cheeks as you vanished from his sight.

“The moon filtered through the gauzy curtains in your bedroom. You finally found the strength to wipe the tears from under your eyes. You bypassed your bed, in search of the small black box that had been given to you by T’Challa. You found the small wooden cube buried under a pile of socks. You quickly pulled the cube from your drawer. Wiping tears from your eyes, you returned all of the socks to their places and carried the box onto your balcony. Settling down onto your swing, you pulled the top off of the delicate box and studied the small ring inside.

“Do you recognize it?” he asked as he pulled the slender object from the soft fabric lining. At a loss for words you nodded as he held it up to the light. “The marriage sign.” you breathe, as he continues to turn the ring over and over. The candlelight flickered over the metal as he continued to explain. “Me ware wo. A symbol of commitment and perseverance. The unspoken promise that “I shall marry you’.” he grinned up at you. Though the upturn of his lips quickly fell, your face, still contorted in awe, now held a glimpse of fear.

“You do not have to wear it now sthandwa sam. But this is my promise to you, this ring clearly displays all of my intentions. I plan to marry you, sooner or later. Whenever you are ready. This is my promise to you of my commitment and my perseverance in courting you and raising our child. Together.”

You nodded as he placed the ring back in the box. Your hand reached out to cover his as he closed the wooden box. You cleared your throat, “ ‘Challa, it’s not that I don’t want to marry you-” you began in a shaky voice.

“You have nothing to explain. I am the one who betrayed your trust, and I must re earn it. Do not apologize sthandwa sam, baby steps.” he covered your hand with his other as he placed the box in your palm. Whenever you are ready.”

The sounds of birds in the distance snapped you out of your daze as you stared at the ring in the moonlight. You blew off a light layer of dust that had settled on the vibranium. Glistening like new in the moonlight, the ring seemed to call out to you. You plucked the metal from the velvet and placed it over your left ring finger. You stared at it before gliding back into your room. Once again burying the box, you quickly took a hot shower before sliding into bed. Laying on your back, your stared at the new addition to your left ring finger.

One last thought fought for control of your conscious as you slipped into a deep sleep. If you wanted T’Challa to treat you like his, maybe it was time, you started showing everyone, you were.

Taglist:

@almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @nyneebee @hutchj @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @strictlyashley @afraiddreamingandloving @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @gorjiss @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @yoyolovesbucky @derangedcupcake @builtalongthewayside @ilcb7 @brianabreeze

[terresdebrume]

I am home

Well, I thought weddings were tiring before but let me tell you French weddings have nothing on Cambodian weddings (soft edition)!

I am currently slumped on my couch, waiting for meal delivery (and also maybe death, judging by the sting under my eyes xD) and vaguely thinking that I should maybe consider getting up to put my laundry out to dry (that will probably wait until I need to get down for my food, tbh).

Longer account of the past three days under the cut!

Things started pretty good on Thursday because no one was late or got  lost or had major trouble, and the minivan was even at the rendez-vous  point on time which, it being Cambodia, is not always a guarantee, even  if we did book the van for our group. We strapped down for an 8 hours  bus drive around 9:30pm and chatted a little bit before settling down and all would have been fine if, like the driver had driven like a reasonable person.

Which he did not.

Apparently  (I couldn't see the dial) we drove at an average of fifty-ish  kilometers per hours, sometimes sixty, which you just should not do on  Cambodian roads, especially not at night, on account of

The  poor state of the roads (especially considering the guy ditched the main  road and went for the country roads, aka sometimes we were drivingon  dirt trails more than actual roads)

Everyone drives but  almost no one has a license, which means you get a lot of really funny  behaviors like people driving without lights at dusk, people driving  with their lights at maximum intensity all the time (including anti fog  lights) or our own driver taking turns fast enough to make us all think  about barrel rolls every time

Sometimes, a roaming animal  appears! I'm pretty sure there's a veal out there who's still a little  shaken from our encounter with it on Thursday night.

So,  the trip was strange. The driver stopped about ever hour to go and pee  (we nearly forgot one of our friends, Champey, at one point. He was  lucky his girlfriend noticed his absence) but apparently didn't know a  place where there were actual toilets, which is how at least one of our   friends accidentally mooned a passing car and then a random and adorable  woman ended up taking us to her home so we could pee at two in the   morning.

(Side note, there is something really eerie about having   about nine or ten people crossing a random family's main living space,   motorbikes on the left and people asleep on the right, trying not to   overheat in the warm layers they put on to fight off the chill of   overeager air con and whispering about their misadventures in   toilet-using while traveling and the perils of our driver).

At one   point, we stopped to deliver a package (and also I think another dude   who wasn't with us but whom the driver must have sold a ticket to on the  side, because that's prety common in Cambodia) and then things mostly went in an uneventful, if really bumpy, way.

Although of course I  think all of us would have appreciated it if the buss ride had NOT   turned out to take 10 hours instead of the estimated eight.

Anyway,  we got to Ratanakiri province mostly in time for the wedding (I think around seven ish?) and went to change. I had to limp because eight hours  in a bus were hell on my left ankle, which I now know for certain is  sprained, but other than that it went fine. We did a bit of washing up,  changed, got ready, and rejoined the wedding... and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

I swear, so much of being a guest in a khmer wedding is about waiting xD

From  the outside, a lot of the ceremonies seemed to be essentially visual   things. Julie & Channy (the marrying couple) had to change outfits   throughout the day (Julie had EIGHT outfits to go through in a day! Plus  hairdos!) and a lot of the ceremonies seemed to be mostly about taking a  billion pictures of them under ever angle, slightly adjusting the pose  and thentaking another billion pictures from there. There was also a LOT  of talking, which I'm pretty sure doubled the length of everything and  felt really unusual to me... and then more waiting.

My favorite  part of the day was the last of the morning rites, during which the  newlyweds are surrounded by their parents and the attending 'stable  couples' and candles are passed around the circle of guests so they can  pass their hands through/over the candle and send the flames of love  toward the bride and groom. After that, anyone who wants it can go and  tie a red string around the couple's wrists to wish their marriage  longevity (the newlyweds are then supposed to keep the strings on at  least three days).

I didn't go and do that, because I really had to  go and prop my ankle up but also because I was embarrassed at not having  anything to give as an offering (I mean, I know Julie & Channy  wouldn't have minded, but I was still embarrassed). That is, honestly,  my only regret throughout the day x)

Anyway, after this ceremony,  which apparently the key one (as in the point where the couple is  officially married) our group was shown to the place where we'd sleep at  night and proceeded to 1. wash up a little and 2. collapse into a nap.  We pretty much slept on the bare hardwood floor so I was anticipating an  achy back when I woke up but that actually didn't happen at all which  was a great plus!

Then around six, we changed back into our pretty  utfits and went for dinner, which was delicious and greatly enjoyed.  There was one more ceremony, which I didn't see, and then some dancing  but at that point I went back to our sleeping spot because my ankle hurt  and it's not like I was going to do any dancing xD

In the  meantime, Champey (who took care of most of the dealing with the minivan  driver) had gotten a call from the driver who said he wanted to leave  at 4PM on Saturday, instead of 8pm like we'd planned. That was not  exactly well met by the group (at least the French portion was pretty  open about that. Khmer people tend to be more reserved about what they  think, but I'm not sure they were entirely un-annoyed either) but since  his argument was for security we thought it might actually be for the  best. So, we agreed, but asked him to drive us to a nearby lake we  wanted to visit on Saturday so we'd be on time. He was, apparently,  insistent that we should be ready to depart at the set time, which is  absolutely hilarious (in an ironic way) when you consider the propensity  of khmer people in general to not be punctual at all xD

(That's an  interesting culture gap tbh, and it would have been purely funny if we  hadn't been peeved about his wanting to change the departure time and  being difficult about our rendez-vous point in Phnom Penh the night  before).

So, come Saturday morning, we took the bus at ten (maybe  five past, mostly because of me, oops) went to the aforementioned lake  and dealt with the usual khmer/foreigners price difference, then had to  wait while someone (either the driver or the lake guards) refused to  take the $20 bill they were given on the basis that it was 'too damaged'  (it was not). And then, finally, WATER! :D

I'm a huuuuuge water  baby, I could spent entire days in the water if I have someone or a book  to pass the time with, so obviously that rejuvenated me in record time.  We had a great time there, bathed a lot, ate a lot (the caramelized   chicken was delicious) and I bought a shirt. It was really cool.

We  were mostly done around 3:30pm, so we called the minivan so he'd come and get us, but when the driver and his wife arrived and opened the   door, it turned out there were now two car engines there, one of which   was in the way of entering and exiting the minivan. It took something   like twenty minutes of insisting before the driver agreed to move it to the front, where his wife sat (she wasn't happy about it) because he   tried telling us we'd only reserved 15 seats in an 18 seats minivan   (wrong, we'd gotten the whole vehicle) and then apparently said the   engines were for a nearby delivery (they were still with us when we   reached Phnom Penh) and then the guys (minus me) had to move the engine up to the front themselves.

So that was fun.

The  ride back to Phnom Penh was as bumpy as the ride out of it, but there was a lot more singing and aside from two really scared dogs there   wasn't really anything of notice. We got proper toilet breaks this time (lucky for the periods-havers of the group) and even got to buy some   bamboo rice on the way there, which was a really nice evening meal :D

After  that, it was mostly a matter of waiting the ten hours to Phnom Penh,   getting in tuktuks (in my case, with one of the group members who   couldn't go home to her parents (or didn't dare ride alone?) at 2am) and  crashing into bed.

And today, or mostly this afternoon, will be mostly dedicated to being a couch potato until bedtime as far as I'm concerned xD

[jaehyunpeachy]

i am you // you are me - yoonkook - 5k

some weird soulmate shit happens.

read: yoongi keeps running into this cute cashier boy. and they keep matching?

(music to listen: 1. belief - mabinc 2. i am you you are me - zico 3. soulmate - zico ft. iu)

man, seoul has a completely different atmosphere and air to it - way different than in daegu. literally, the air smells different here and yoongi thinks it’s not necessarily a bad thing, but the fact that he notices this small and random detail just makes him a little more depressed because he longs for his cozy home back in good ole d-town.

he’s lounging in a flimsy lawn chair on his apartment balcony and distastefully sniffs the stuffy seoul air again. his mind wanders back to old, familiar places - the bustling family restaurant, his mom’s soothing voice, his father beckoning him to taste the family’s famous galbi-jjim , his brother’s annoying method of showing affection via noogies when yoongi grudgingly accepts his chores for the day.

the fond memories in his head are juxtaposed with the outside sound and sight of the bustling nighttime atmosphere. everything in seoul is so,fast-paced , even the night life, which he can clearly see from his vantage point. he hasn’t really gotten used to it all, more like, barely tolerating it. he’s kinda stubbornly refusing to settle completely which serves to make him more homesick and then he’s stuck in this cycle of stubbornness and nostalgia and longing and stubbornness and nostalgia and longing.

yoongi breaks his nostalgic reverie when he stands up, the chair loudly scraping against the floor. if he’s going to drown himself in memories and be a sad, depressed sack he might as well do it right - with some alcohol.

he checks the fridge to grab a can of beer but fuck - he’s out. all that’s left is a pack of sliced turkey meat, a sad pile of lettuce, a lone half-empty gallon of milk, and a fully empty carton that used to hold eggs.

damn, his produce is mocking him.

just a few hours ago when he opened his fridge he saw the same turkey, lettuce, milk, and egg carton and the word minimalism smugly appeared in his head. yoongi prides himself on not being wasteful; he’s able to use each and every one of his ingredients until they’re completely gone, thank you very much.

but seeing as he’s in a less than ideal mood to be holed up at home and he has a dire need of alcohol, yoongi tears his eyes away from his sad produce, grabs his wallet and keys, and wrestles himself into a big sweater to combat the chilly night-time seoul air. he grumbles as he steps out of his apartment complex. daegu was always on the warmer side. who knows, maybe the seoul air will help clear his head. maybe.

yoongi finds himself deep in thought as he’s walking, a result of his melancholy mood and the atmosphere of night probably. as a result, he doesn’t realize that he’s actually not walking in the direction of the nearest 7-eleven. when he hears the distant sound of a car angrily honking five times - goddamn, chill - he’s shaken out of his thoughts and glances at his surroundings.

nice. he’s in a random alley.

well, way to go min yoongi. this night is just continually fucking with him and becoming more and more disappointing. he takes a minute to inwardly curse at himself for his obliviousness before he has the smart idea of grabbing his phone out his pocket. he googles the nearest convenience store. the top result is ten yards from his current location.

he rounds a corner and walks a few paces before he spots it. only a single neon sign that reads “ level” adorns its storefront and he assumes that’s what the store is called. yoongi power walks toward it, through the front door, and straight towards where he thinks they should be keeping the alcohol because dammit, he is a man on a mission.

somewhere on the other end of the store, which isn’t actually far from where yoongi stands now, the clock goes from 11:59 to 12:00.

yoongi surveys his surroundings. he’s bombarded with neon colors from every angle, which makes the store feel bigger than it actually is. from the outside, it looked cramped and dull and drab and not colorful. due to this very misleading outward appearance, yoongi immediately thinks that this is exactly the type of store that is empty seventy-five percent of the time and will most likely be out of business within the next month.

okay, it is midnight, but yoongi can tell when a store is being frequented or not, in this case: not. it’s the only possible explanation as to why his sneakers squeak so unusually loud on the unusually pristine tiles.

he strides towards the refrigerated area and for some reason, he feels a strange sense of familiarity, like he’s been here before; a type of vague awareness that comes from something like a dream.

actually, yoongi’s seen stores like this before. namjoon has a very cultured and particular sense of tumblr aesthetic and this store fits the bill perfectly.

yoongi chalks that niggling feeling as a latent reaction to all the posts he witnessed namjoon reblogging to his tumblr, as they sat on the couch on their respective phones. he’s suddenly bitter again because now, with his current situation and location , he can’t even call namjoon out for trying to be hipster because he’s too far away to even see namjoon or his stupid hipster-aesthetic-whatever tumblr in person.

yoongi spots the alcohol, finally, and grabs two - he hesitates and turns around - three bottles of the brand he likes and walks to the checkout station.

well fuck, he was hoping for a some sort of self-checkout machine - this is seoul, the largest metropolis of korea after all - but he should have known not to expect anything when he set foot inside.

god, he’s too impatient and drained and sad to deal with another human being but sucks up his feelings once again as he steps up to the counter. no one is actually there and yoongi spots a bell and rings it twice. a couple more times, more insistently, for good measure. suddenly he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. he checks and sees it’s from namjoon.

at that moment someone stumbles out of the ‘employees only’ door and utters a quick apology for making yoongi wait.

yoongi quickly glances up from the phone and sees that the cashier is a young twenty-something boy. all he sees is a mop of soft brown hair and just under it, a pair of soft brown eyes which he unwittingly makes eye contact with. but suddenly it is broken - the cashier beginning to ring up yoongi’s items, and yoongi looking back at his phone.

dance monster [12:10 am]

hyung

you’ll never guess wat happend today

me [12:10 am]

what

dance monster [12:11 am]

so u kno that tattoo i got a while back ????

me [12:11 am]

joon ur gonna have to be a little more specific

dance monster [12:11 am]

ok ok that one on my wrist !

the moon one !!1!1 !

me [12:11 am]

so...what

dance monster [12:11 am]

idek hyung like

ok fuck

this sounds so weird but like

for some reason i woke up this morning

me [12:11 am]

a goddamn miracle

dance monster [12:12 am]

shut up hyung

anyway i woke up

and now i have a new sun tattoo

me [12:12 am]

wait

what

dance monster [12:12 am]

idk !!! hyung idek wats goin on ajoer

i think it’d be better if u called me

asklejroijga

“excuse me?”

right, yoongi still needs to pay for his things. he jams his phone into his back pocket and fishes for his wallet. he awkwardly fumbles for some bills, “ah, sorry - here you go,” and all but flings them on the counter in his haste to get back to his conversation with namjoon and to go back home and avoid strangers altogether, let alone semi-attractive strangers.

it looks like his original plan of drowning in sorrow will have to be put on hold. nonetheless, he welcomes the new interruption in the form of his dear friend.

right as yoongi’s about to exit the store, the cashier calls out to him.

“um,” he pauses cutely, “nice sweater.”

yoongi looks down. it’s an old number, one that jimin got for him as a christmas present. it’s kinda not his style because it’s colorblocked - well, color in general - but it’s the first thing he found as he left his apartment and it’s oversized and it’s a gift. from jimin. so.

he looks up again and sees the exact same sweater on the cashier.

o-kay. what a coincidence.

at this moment, yoongi gets a really good look at the twenty-something cashier boy. well, as good of a look as he can seeing as half of cashier boy’s body is obscured by the counter.

the cashier is clearly taller and bigger than yoongi but the sweater still looks oversized and his fingers just barely peek out from under the sleeves. yoongi gets a good look at cashier boy’s doe eyes and button nose and his whole look just screams soft.   fuck semi-attractive. this guy is possibly the most attractive guy yoongi has ever seen. the most attractive person in seoul, by far. at least to yoongi’s standards. and this is only the visible half - yoongi gulps - doesn’t even want to think about anything lower than that.

he eloquently chokes out a word. “cool.”

real smooth, min yoongi.

well, time’s up. yoongi’s just about done with social interaction and he’s itching to get home and he wants to maybe forget this whole thing because goddamn, he’s awkward and the cashier is cute.

cashier boy blinks and fuck, yoongi can see his eyelashes from here. and then, cashier boy smiles , all twinkling eyes and soft lips, “have a nice evening, sir.”

yoongi bolts out of the door.

/

jungkook just barely managed to keep his fluster in check. he tried to not to stare at the strange man’s silvery hair, or at his sharp profile, or at his attractive piercings, three silver hoops on each ear - fuck, since when did jungkook find piercings on anyone but himself attractive?

but the thing that caught jungkook’s attention the most was the sweater. not the fact that it was so large that it swallowed the man’s entire frame but still made the entire fit scream effortless and attractive. not the fact that the color palette complimented his silver hair.

they had the same fucking sweater?

taehyung, who is privy to jungkook’s unique tastes, had carefully chosen the very sweater as a christmas present. he claims that he happened upon it in some random thrift store and thought it screamed jungkook and bought it even though christmas wasn't for another three months.

jungkook thinks otherwise. the sweater is just. so nice. taehyung probably bought it at a non thrift shop last minute, which would explain why jungkook ran into another person also wearing it. yeah. that would explain the coincidence. it’s definitely embarrassing, but people are bound to be caught wearing the same clothes, seeing as they’re mass produced for that reason - to be worn.

as he starts cleaning up, jungkook silently thanks himself for choosing the night shifts at level supermarket because 1. he likes staying up late 2. he gets to meet interesting and colorful characters like that one sweet ahjumma with cotton candy pink hair that comes in every day at 9:36 pm sharp to buy a bag of lollipops and nothing else, for example.

jungkook’s checking the inventory for the third time - it always helps to be extra thorough - but his mind begins to wander back to that silver-haired man.

a small - admittedly very small - part of him wants to never see that man again because he was a stranger, a very attractive stranger, and jungkook acted like such a freaking loser. god he’s blushing again. but the bigger- much bigger - part of him wants to see the silver-haired man again. like, he was fucking attractive. but also something about a frustrated looking man coming in a store at midnight that hardly anyone ever comes to just.

he’s like a novel jungkook is itching to read.

jungkook just wants to know.

jungkook wants to know. jungkook wants to know how this man likes his eggs cooked. does he have any tattoos? is he a morning person? okay, maybe not that because he’s up and about at midnight.

what is his opinion on soulmates? does he listen to dean? what does his smile look like? does he like smiling? is he a smiley person? is he doing okay?

because most of all, jungkook wants to tell him that things are going to be okay. something about this man seemed - lonely and jungkook has an urge to reach out and be like, me too, i understand, i hope you’re okay.

but. jungkook shakes his head to clear the thoughts. he’s doing it again. he’s getting ahead of himself and he’s doing that fantasizing thing he tends to do. at his core, jungkook is a very kind and empathetic person and the times he does feel good about himself he wants to meet people and reach out. back at his small hometown, the people were very friendly and accepting, and this made it easy for him. and with the town being so small, eventually jungkook knew everyone and everyone knew him and he was very comfortable with this.

however, this is seoul. and after making the difficult decision to leave the comfort of his town to pursue his dreams in the form of a dance degree, jungkook has learned that not everyone feels the same way in this city.

‘city people’   he thinks with distaste - but mostly - disappointment.

jungkook closes and locks the store’s front door, as well as his hopes for seeing the silver-haired man again. he’s no stranger to how this kind of thing works. nothing good happens when he gives into wishful thinking.

/

as soon as yoongi is back in the safety of his apartment he calls namjoon. “joon, what’s up?”

“okay, so. like. yeah. i don’t know, hyung!” yoongi goes to open a bottle of beer, his silence prompting namjoon to continue.

“i just woke up and now i have a new sun tattoo on my wrist! honestly, it looks pretty good paired with the one i already have of the crescent moon.”

“well, as long as you’re happy with it joon, i guess it’s cool.” yoongi takes a long gulp, “could’ve been worse. could’ve woken up with the word ‘penis’ tattooed in large letters instead.”

namjoon cackles heartily and yoongi smiles at the sound. “yeah, you’re right hyung.” he laughs again, “this is like some weird soulmate shit.

yoongi elegantly swallows some beer down the wrong airway. “yeah,” he coughs a few times to clear his throat, “come to think of it-,”

on second thought, maybe yoongi will keep cashier boy to himself. what happened earlier that night still felt - unreal. yoongi feels like he’ll break the enigmatic anonymity of the attractive cashier boy if he says anything.

“hyung?”

“no, nothing. nevermind,” yoongi changes the subject, “how’s that new track going?” and namjoon enthusiastically explains his progress.

/

the next day, yoongi finds himself slouched at his desk, pen tossed somewhere to the side. he’s looking down at what he can only call organized chaos atop his desk. this is usually how his song production process starts anyway. he scans some of the lyrics he just scribbled all over and he sees stuff like ‘ enigma and mystique ’ and ‘ eyes that hold stars ’ and ‘ deer in headlights... i’m struck by your beauty mystery loveliness- ’

uh-huh. yup.  okay. yoongi stands up and gathers all those loose leaf papers in a pile and goes to deposit them in the wastebin.

he pauses and throws them in a random drawer in his nightstand.

he needs to get out. he grabs his leather jacket draped across the back of his desk chair and power walks his way out of his apartment.

yoongi finds himself wandering the city again and wait. it’s that store again. what the fuck? did he just subconsciously make his way to back to the store and it’s attractive cashier-

shit. yoongi sees said cashier boy through the front windows, presumably stocking a shelf. he gets up and starts walking back to the counter, but as he’s doing that his body faces the front doors, which probably puts yoongi in his plain sight.

yoongi quickly backpedals, hoping he hasn’t been spotted.

he stands in place for a beat.

he refuses to acknowledge how hard his heart is hammering.

after much internal debate, yoongi decides that fuck it. he’s already here and he sees a huge jar of cheese puffs from where he’s standing and he might as well get that. because. he needs. inspiration.

he walks in, trying his best to put confidence in his steps and not looking at the cashier - who is now sitting at the counter with earphones and bobbing his head to a beat and is he humming?

yoongi walks down the chip aisle, deciding that he needs to have different flavors on hand when he gets tired of the cheese puffs.

over the top of the aisle, yoongi can see cashier boy stretching and fuck. his shoulders look good in that leather jacket too.

yoongi reaches the end of the aisle and is about to stroll into the next one, but almost trips on his shoelaces of his black converse. he kneels down and glances at the counter, seeing that the cashier is now standing. they make awkward eye contact and yoongi quickly goes back to tying his own shoelace, not before seeing a flash of black converses disappearing behind the counter.

when yoongi goes to pay for his items, cashier boy has taken off the leather jacket, leaving him in a simple white tee with a simple supreme logo. and now his incredibly toned biceps are out on display. wow. is it getting hot in here? yoongi sees the veins in cashier boy’s arms when they flex to hold the large container of cheese puffs. yoongi gulps.

it’s too hot - yoongi strips off his own leather jacket and slings it over an arm. eyes looking anywhere but the cashier, he taps his foot and waits for cashier boy to state the price and yoongi can pay and then he can leave.

except. cashier boy hasn’t said anything for a little while. yoongi chances a quick glance upwards. cashier boy is staring at - yoongi’s chest? fuck, did he wear his kumamon jammies out or something?

but like, if this boy has something against kumamon, yoongi has a serious bone to pick with him.

yoongi glances down at his own shirt. then back up at cashier boy. then back at his own shirt.

weird. yoongi’s wearing a supreme shirt. cashier boy’s wearing one too. cashier boy squints, like he’s suspicious of yoongi or something.

yoongi clears his throat, “uh - can i pay for my things?”

this seems to shake the cashier out of whatever stupor he’s in, “ah - sorry.”

yoongi pays for his things and goes to grab the bag the cashier is holding out for him to take. yoongi overshoots a little; okay, maybe he’s a little flustered and accidently knocks his hand against the cashier’s.

there’s a little clink as yoongi’s ring bumps against cashier boy’s.

okay. fuck. they’re wearing matching rings too?

they both face each other with similar looks of shock and confusion. before either of them have a chance to say anything, yoongi books it out of there real quick.

/

something weird is going on and jungkook doesn’t know what to do.

he’s just minding his own business, listening to offonoff’s new album while doing his math homework at the register to keep an eye on the store in case anyone does come in. it’s midnight but still.

then, jungkook sees movement in the corner of his eyes and realizes that someone has come in without him noticing.

it’s the silver-haired man again. and shit, he looks really good. he’s standing in front of the snack shelf, with his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and he’s wearing this large leather jacket.

jungkook does not salivate.

but wait. jungkook looks down at himself. how is he also wearing a leather jacket?

it must be another fluke. jungkook hurriedly stands up and takes his jacket off, pacing around for a bit.

he looks over at the silver-haired man again and sees him tying his right shoelace.

jungkook looks down at his shoes.

his left shoelace is untied.

a mixture of mild horror and panic starts thrumming through his body, but he refuses to tie his shoelaces and resumes his nervous pacing.

he turns around and jumps slightly. the silver haired man is right in front of him, fidgeting with his hair.

jungkook goes to ring up his purchases, which are all comprised of various family size chip bags. he goes to ring up the last item, a jumbo container of cheese puffs, and pauses. the silver-haired man has taken off his leather jacket and. why. is he wearing a supreme shirt. like jungkook.

jungkook stares dumbfoundedly at that stupid supreme logo and the man’s prominent collarbones before he clears his throat and asks for jungkook to ring up the total.

right. jungkook hurriedly bags everything and thrusts them towards the man, hoping he’ll leave quickly.

the man accidentally knocks his hand against jungkook’s and this time jungkook does not hide his shock.

you've got to be fucking kidding. they have matching rings. it's like they're a couple or something.

what. is happening.

/

the next night after his shift at the local coffee shop, yoongi actively seeks out level convenience store, as well as its resident attractive cashier. he’s wearing this ostentatious, bright yellow, furry thing. it’s so. loud. and lowkey ugly. hence the reason why he’s out at night.

however, yoongi swears his sweater is bright enough that he’s probably glowing in the dark.

but, yoongi also needs to prove a point. whatever cosmic fuckery is going on, whatever deity is fucking with him, yoongi just wants to prove to himself that this is all bullshit. running into a cute stranger repeatedly is enough, and yoongi doesn’t need any other unexplainable shit happening.

/

jungkook is tapping his foot, a habit of his that surfaces only when he’s nervous or anxious. jungkook is definitely focusing on math homework and definitely not looking out for a certain silver-haired stranger.

he rubs his nose with the sleeve of his sweater and almost sneezes. geez. jungkook had asked taehyung to lend him his craziest article of clothing at the moment, seeing as taehyung’s fashion style is overall - crazy. so, taehyung tossed him the first thing he laid eyes on in his closet, and it was this gucci sweater. gucci my ass, jungkook thinks. this sweater is just a very good excuse to cosplay as big bird.

jungkook just wants to figure out what is going on. like, he meets some cute stranger and-

holy shit. he sees said stranger standing outside on the sidewalk.

okay, somebody up there must hate jungkook because - he looks down at himself just to make sure - both of them are once again, matching.

like, how does the stranger still look striking in such an ugly sweater?

jungkook can only stare as the stranger swiftly turns around and bolts down the street.

/

yoongi slams the door of his apartment closed, breathing heavily. he looks through the peephole to make sure no one had followed him. he’s not taking any chances.

that’s it. something is up and yoongi’s solution is to - hole himself up in his apartment.

wait, can he do that? oh yeah, it’s friday. and he doesn’t have any shifts until monday.  fantastic. he can devote himself wholeheartedly to his unfinished tracks over the weekend.

yoongi wakes up saturday afternoon, but allows himself the luxury of lounging around in bed for a few more hours. this effectively brings the start of his day well into saturday evening. he fishes around for some spare instant ramen packets, and begins working as soon as he gives himself some salty sustenance.

his weekend goes by like this: immersing himself with writing lyrics and producing elementary beats for a few straight hours and then taking short naps in between. he eats if he remembers. or if namjoon reminds him.

all in all, he does a good job of not thinking about the weird stuff that’s been going on, and especially about the soft-looking cashier boy.

except.

yoongi stumbles out of his bedroom, finally succumbing to his stomach’s urges, as well as namjoon’s rapid texts.

he fumbles around for a cup of ramen - his last one, he’ll have to refill - and goes to find a scissor to cut off the plastic wrap.

his fingers slip and he ends up cutting himself.

he sighs as he looks down at his bleeding finger. he dabs at it lightly to try to clear away the blood, but it just keeps oozing out. he grabs a tissue and presses on the fresh wound, waiting for it to clot, but the blood just keeps coming.

what the heck? he didn’t cut himself that hard.

ah, shit. he doesn’t have any bandaids.

he checks his phone. 2:55 am. is there a store open at this hour-

there might be one.

before yoongi thinks about it too hard, he wraps a clean tissue around his finger and books it out of his apartment. he’s not about to hold a tissue around his finger for the rest of the night to keep it from getting infected.

as he fast-walks to level convenience store, yoongi thinks about cashier boy again for the first time in awhile (a couple days.) maybe whatever matchy-matchy curse or spell or shit is over, since yoongi hadn’t seen or even thought about the boy. wow. an achievement.

cashier boy probably isn’t even there, seeing as it’s so late.

whatever, yoongi just needs to grab some bandaids and then he’s out.

he heads into the store, notices that the register is unattended, and goes to grab a box of bandaids. while he’s at it, he stops by the ramen aisle to refill his stock.

as he makes his way to the register, he sees someone now sitting behind the counter. yoongi stops in his tracks. it’s cashier boy. he looks as stunning as ever. and he’s fiddling with one of his fingers, which happens to be bandaged. he looks up and only then does yoongi continue walking towards him.

none of them say anything as cashier boy rings up his items, but he does raise his eyebrows slightly when he notices the blood-soaked tissue around yoongi’s finger.

after he pays, yoongi doesn’t leave right away. instead, he rips open the box of bandaids and slaps one around his finger.

“how did you hurt yourself?”

holy shit, even cashier boy’s voice is attractive - what the fuck - with a soft, lilting tone to it.

“uh, i cut myself trying to get some ramen.” god he sounds stupid.

“wait, really?” cashier boy’s doe eyes widen - yoongi sees his eyelashes, - “me too! i was doing inventory and had to refill some ramen for the shelves and yeah.” he gesticulates with his injured finger.

yoongi is silent for a moment. they even have matching wounds.

“this shit is real, isn't it?”

cashier boy tilts his head. “oh. you mean the weird clothes thing-”

the lights in the store flicker and then suddenly fade out completely.

yoongi panics for a second as his eyes adjust to the darkness, but that initial shock instantly goes away as soon as he sees cashier boy’s big eyes reflecting the street lights outside.

he finishes cashier boy’s sentence. “...yeah. the weird clothes-matching thing.”

“well, my best explanation is that the universe continually derives pleasure from fucking with me.” cashier boy pauses, “n-not that it's always a negative thing! i mean, this time wasn't so bad!” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “i-you - sorry! i didn't mean to make that sound like an insult to you.”

yoongi chuckles, “hey, it's fine. the universe likes fucking with me too.”

cashier boy shyly ducks his head.

yoongi looks around the store, now shrouded in complete darkness. “should we maybe find the fuse box or something..?”

cashier boy sits down on his stool. “nah, it’s fine. this happens quite often, actually. i don’t even know why you bother coming here when there are plenty of 7-eleven’s,” he sighs, “this store is pretty shitty and rundown.”

“i don’t know. i kinda like the warm, colorful vibe.” yoongi thinks, also, it’s because you’re here.  

“well, the longest the power’s been out was like, thirty minutes.” cashier boy unlocks his phone and begins scrolling through, “um - you’re free to leave..? i have everything under control.”

yoongi makes no move to leave and hops up to sit atop the counter. in doing so, he’s inevitably brought himself closer to cashier boy. when yoongi turns his head, he sees cashier boy up close, ensconced in moonlight, the contours of his face highlighted by shadows.

yoongi stares at cashier boy’s dark eyes, and at his eyelashes as they fan across his cheeks when he blinks slowly.

yoongi’s eyes are immediately drawn to his lips when he worries them between his teeth. if they begin leaning into each other’s orbit, none of them are the wiser.

suddenly, yoongi feels a sharp sting on his forearm. at the same time, cashier boy jerks away, hissing in pain.

something is etching itself into yoongi’s skin and he squeezes his arm to try to take away some of the pain.

his arm is still searing when the lights flicker back on.

“god, what the fuck was that-” yoongi looks down at his right arm, all red and puffy, and sees a tattoo.

it's a lock.

yoongi looks up in shock.

cashier boy has a similar look on his face. and on his left arm, is a tattoo of a key.

there's still specks of blood on cashier boy's fresh tattoo and yoongi grabs a nearby napkin and slowly dabs on it.

cashier boy flinches slightly, but yoongi places a hand on his upper arm to comfort him, to ground him. yoongi traces the boy’s tattoo lightly with his thumb and looks back at his own. a perfect match.

“i’m yoongi. min yoongi.”

cashier boy smiles softly. “jungkook.”

/

me [12:01 pm}

joon

quick question

so like

did anything weird happen

before ur tattoo appeared

dance monster [12:15 pm]

i mean

not that i can think of ??

hyung just cuz u and jungkook had some storybook soulmate romance doesn't mean smt like that happened to me

me [12:32 pm]

well what happened that day

dance monster [12:44 pm]

nothing really

i just had a study session with jin

me [12:49 pm]

‘study’

what exactly were u two studying

dance monster [12:50 pm]

hyung

need i remind u that jin is my metaphysics and epistemology tutor and wait wat were we studying ?

oh yea !!!

~metaphysics and epistemology~

me [1:00 pm]

you think he's cute, don't you

dance monster [1:05 pm]

im not answering that

me [1:06 pm]

im sensing a blush

dance monster [1:10 pm]

actually

now that i think about it

i came into that session late that day

as i was leaving my apartment i somehow

hit my knee on the doorframe

and fell

and dropped all my stuff

left a nasty bruise

also got a paper cut across my right palm as i was tryna pick up all the books in a hurry

me [1:16 pm]

you would

i fuckin bet smt like that happened to jin

hello

joon?

/

yoongi is rudely awakened by big bang’s ‘bang bang bang’ - why did he let his boyfriend pick his ringtone?

said boyfriend stirs in his sleep, burying his face deeper into yoongi’s shoulder and wrapping his arms tighter around yoongi’s waist. “mmph - hyung. make it stop. let’s nap more.”

yoongi turns his head and places a kiss atop jungkook’s forehead, “sorry baby. just let me take this real quick.”

he blindly grabs around for his cell phone and sees namjoon’s caller id lighting up.

“what.”

“hyung! what the fuck. what is happening.”

yoongi groans. “yes, what is happening. please enlighten me.”

“me and jin have matching bruises! even cuts and everything! i met up with him today and remember that cut i got on my palm? he had one too, and then we realized we have the same injuries!”

yoongi tries to process this information as fast as he can with a sleep-addled brain. “so, he’s a masochist?”

“no! god, no. he’s the one with the sun tattoo! remember how my sun tattoo appeared? well, he’s the one that had it, and he said that a moon tattoo appeared on him! like mine! hyung, we’re matching!”

“well, congratulations.” yoongi sounds grumpy, but he means it. “though i feel bad for jin. you’re a fucking klutz. don’t kill him before you ask him out officially.” he yawns. “i’m going back to sleep.”

with that, yoongi hangs up and turns back to wrap himself around jungkook.

“hyung, what was that about?” jungkook murmurs with his eyes still closed.

“nothing. just some weird soulmate shit.” he buries his nose in jungkook’s fragrant hair. “let’s go back to sleep.” ~

[qphuikj]

Quantum Phantasia

By Hui Kj

2019

CHAPTER 1 

Oh, to be - and you do that of way and developing as that is what till the next bicycle. As I meditate on the bicycle’s heroin: it is too for two, and who are the flowers for? You dance around the source. Means of purpose - you have helped very much so. The impressions: the different words for different people - attention, a function could swerve to slur in a mind and latching discussion. Where does the wastefulness go? - bicycle construct theory, forgive me. The phrase my only stance, and you say it could change but all the same. Moon phase, eschaton questions to build; how are you laughing at absurdity? - what, which what for curiosity? A help out of discomfort: bicycle spirit for us. I am building on hills with hope for a share of collective insight thru times. Will you will again? We wield the bicycle as we must. 

Daylight innocence - if we are talking - no matter what. Me: offering in aimless concrescence. You: just how you are. This is just how it is going to relay for one to imagine change in the bicycle’s modes: Forgive, it is just living, the shift is doing so, you find, and morning is of no dread for you against bicycle. The worst proclaimed and practiced all over in all’s habit anyway - have a good day. Many rushes of life, and nail it as Temple after our depiction - bicycle. Which genre superstition kicks in foreign ideals? To do good for free you say. Along the water to not be seen and covered by trees - there the mind. Pick your color, and foundation inspires - if that will not happen, then the atmosphere is home and our circle of earth offers a moment’s worth. Now, tell me how. We meditate with our palms and study a puzzling utopia of our own if you say, and here we are to learn in any way because it saved mornings, and I will introduce the royals when you hear the ring. For now explain to me your everything.

Okay, it is not wrong to not be right you mentioned - our common friend has not heard from me and I feel the distance: his season is star filled and the royals will lecture it. Ask about centered survival patterns to anyone. When the boundaries are devoured and the horizon is chased: pause for drama, a bicycle checkpoint would help. The royals will lecture gift formats like on how to look with purposeful heart. You know how it ends, but that is something else. Please, maybe tell me more.

Forgive me; you keep it divine - I wonder. You’ll find there is a nothing to worry - bicycle, but my conflict of purpose in a spinning world of the bicycle’s heroin. Note not my advice; introduce me to your family. There is balance in every way: now a drift going down hill. The royals will bless you; I told them your name. You have sprung my introversion, and it is still up to you - thank you. 

When we imagine format way back when: think of where Skylar is. Now you have taught him endurance with just a few pokes you have longed to get acting for anyone but I say them as you do and Skylar is magnificent with a young shyness - the royals will lecture my faults and it is still up to you. Already so integrated, and us bailing him out of society from false justice in retrospect of a noble revolution, and he caught a cold early this year from meditating in nature any time; I’d like to invite him to the school sometime before we open. If you get tired: he knows about the bicycle. My addiction I will not pass on - he told us different and it was selflessly intriguing but of coming together in a great way all correct. By age and the royal’s blessing I am apt to leave you running till you get to your bicycle - tell me your color. With the colony we will build on the hill a foundation of shared intent; you include me and save when I fall. Somehow something will give us time - minds without mess. I walk into town to find you now: you invite me into your home - thank you. The first board meeting: the colony of color.

Not many have sat around: down on the couch here - you told me. You pull from your shelf a book of symbols and let me glance, and when I looked for ‘light’ you said think of an animal - flamingo on a bicycle. You told me to drink my smoothie but I stood up for the backyard in aimless anxiety. We sat for a cigarette like a picnic on the grass, and I am asking you now if we are like each other. You do not tremble when some things collapse - you are exciting. The jabs are not relevant to you, and that is how I will still learn even if a claim is registered in a difficult society. 

Skylar’s symbols he latched and got going from your graceful mind’s intent - the common and expanding language we all seem to meditate on; he was sobered and contained in wicked culture for carrying equal concepts across structures. What we are bringing him to is the utopia of possibility that is seemingly aware and curious of: where it all goes right in finding truth - though mostly you are the celebration with him and that is all. To already knows how it ends with a path coming quick so soon. The royals will talk to you about color, and Family is in no way secret anymore but tell me more. You turn to Circles in the book and you mention a universe that is always a way. Forgive me. Now in moonlight, you pull out the couch’s bed and it is something like a bicycle. We know I can not sleep, and we are there itching our hair hailing music as meditation - thank you. Now you mention bicycle and we know we get disappointed: this selection you chose for purposeful misconfigure vibrations at daring risk atmosphere generally but we can swim thru. The royals make sense in time - they will see and they take interest. I still only offer my respects and absorb their wisdom - they ask about colony expansion and you know Skylar better than I.

In the morning you emailed your sister about what memory of mother together again - what bicycle do we meditate on? The heart in your family flows thru you too, and that is no surprise from how you tell me what you do about divine and honoring in honesty even when death shifts over loved ones - thank you for sharing and you show strength in heart - love, oh. Where do you want to start? You said your mother use to talk about architecture, which reminded me of a pressing bicycle errand that is a surprise for you, and I leave in swift with a secret glee. 

It was your idea to open space for him and you visit him again now, and I begin a new test-module derived from collective intent and a mode against error-loss that you helped me see, and I talk amongst faculty on the hill about you and about what we will have - the royals want to be refreshed too; so thanks for giving me words. The opening debate for the students is youth direction, and it is of balance just as is: it is healthy to watch and latch onto any hoping minds - flamingo on a bicycle. Thoughts on diet and taking care of the land; the way to obtain insight even in difficult generation. So, I ask you about trusting in pulling streams or moving water of. You said: water and good. Skylar will split our joy and the royals keep asking about him too - please wish him a happy day there now in the middle of where you are in company. I will see you two hopefully soon. 

Thank you for bringing the future to me for us. The surrounding culture pulls me at times, and yet the construction on the hill has shifted in color - I meditate on change. I pray to Spirit, but it does not need me to keep it alive at times I believe - there is more living for us and the values we are closing in on must be explained in depth to those troubled or even the ones who surpass our heart to prompt insight for each other with concepts developing that have and will keep us and even the universe alive, thanks.

One day we will marry Skylar of his own grand ideals - love his love, and I hope he will continue to develop endearment as some extraordinary surrender but also a departure from surrendering that you say he described with wholesome compatibility functions to prompt a productive family dynamic that will rest our feet when strangers come about, and the equality of common empathy to say all is family. Let me know if he is in love - bicycle heroin. I must see him more. You know how it ends; explain this to me. 

I have had doctors try to kill me - bicycle. The caution - my flaw - is staring at cornerstone arena and itching my arm with aimless wonder against violence coming any second - to system relapse with error; but I make a life of this and shake it off. Bicycle absence: you know how it ends. We function far from wrath and will not meet it even if it is weak and able to collect spirits - the idea is that people will join in their own good will, and accept the wonder. The trace beyond the royals is Spirit’s bicycle and that is where their focus has been and mine merely sparked in a way not yet pointed. 

To praise magnificent divine; we are coasting to the eschaton that is a singularity of purpose and climax. If you know how it ends, and Skylar and you discuss this: Invite me to the light, and we will tattoo identity in a way that is universally splendid. You tell me he reduces to applying a simple sacrifice consistently - what a celebration it could be. . . but you two know how it ends. Tell him I can not handle newer machines - our bicycle. He will get to the colors first - flamingo heroin.

The pressure for the academy: my time away from the knowledge transfers and exciting forms has made me a weaker spirit - caught up in routine schedule; bicycle heroin. Name the team - where does the mirror go? You are there now: what is his color? I owe life for how you fix what is falling - pride: dark and lonesome. Did you tell me your color?

Critique the colony’s hill - oh, never mind; not yet. At what angle will the motto fit? Never mind, we have not painted - the walls are up mostly. There will be a big picture: a tree on a boat; no, a flamingo bicycle on a straight path, no storm. You are telling me he likes me - what is my color? Let your office be the school’s library; but I know you are an outlet for me undoubtedly and will be for everyone of your gentle way with guidance and any of your maps of purpose will save many worlds. Yet, all I have is my bicycle heroin. 

You tell me everything about the bicycle, and you say you found your color: you have become. How do you remain hidden in your everything? When you teach on intent you are relaying fruit. You told me one morning that Skylar has his own calendar precise to when concepts act out at last, all aligned to everything astrology: his example a youngling from the temple on her violin, then another when someone had a needed cry all of personality community. A colony of needed cries. 

What color of shirt will Skylar wear on his first day? - flamingo heroin maybe. The sun will shine thru the school, and what purity is for our motto in your eyes? You say he teaches you on foundation to keep on; I miss you two. The hill, a climbing to monument. The royals asked about a meeting. When you consider family, is it learned or the meditation is on fire just because? As I walk where the garden will go, I know they all will feel safe. You make me feel safe against myself - what is Skylar saying to you now? - bicycle heroin.

The garden - Skylar: the beautiful wave. Maybe he will fall in love and flourish in color - the youth will find their purpose in the same world we live out in; this is home and I need you here. Your time with him is like a flamingo on a bicycle. We differ when I talk about my grey - you just wait with love and I am sorry. You will lecture against the bicycle and that is why I call you friend. Where there is growth at the temple, there will be a team here for us and they will build their own temples. The school is for the ones like Skylar, and I can not take a stance as some leader if you just whisper. Don’t you see I never fell in love again? - bicycle heroin. 

When you look at me there is a point against nothingness. Never mind that; the royals will not have me - flamingo on a bicycle. The sky makes me pause, and Skylar makes me think of blue; what about blue? You root for the establishment but your mind is my dream. You freely give, and I am frantic against comfort. You dance around the source and I am a jealous man - bicycle. Skylar meditates on what haunts himself, so sure - my personal value is slipping away in ignorance of direction; just on the hill waiting. If he is suspicious of me, that is what makes him right - bicycle heroin.

Skylar is in love in many ways - all so personal and in divine bicycle that strikes my heart when I can only place something on a desk in a mess as he benefits only in selflessness. I am merely a harbinger somehow appointed to allow you thru and up to carry a miracle that is the boy that cripples me but will live on for eternity in the eyes of the one’s who never felt the love that you two revive to develop - thank you, from a flamingo on a bicycle. 

You say he has new symbols, and I merely meditate on his spirit already. The rain now erases the dash of sorrow when one knows the garden is glowing - will you not come sit with me and tell me your everything? The colors and lack of colors is what will save me today. When there is not a wait, and the world bicycles around a subject: should one not let the self fall away? The difference between us is that you are integrated and the framework always seems to be in need of you from over here. Though, this is not a school - with ones like Skylar this is an infinite colony and there is nobody of credit besides the options that ask of each other. The bicycle heroin is how we are opened.

With the garden’s colors in the rain: I thank you. You teach me the mind’s piano. Could you ask Skylar what his love language is? - in some years there will be his name carved into a step with me long gone as the color will still keep him still somehow. He already makes me wonder where I will be when he saves the world. Tell me softly how you sweep me away - oh, never mind that. You say you want to teach poetry - so, thanks. Wherever you are: take care and take your time. A flamingo on a bicycle. 

CHAPTER 2

It is understood in a beguiling and troubling way to think that your infinity of medicinal and mere inspirational ideals have spiraled against you - impossible as it seems, you say it is so, and when you get out of the hospital I will be here with open arms, or hidden away in shame: it is up to you, but I will feel ashamed and feel deeply with only empathy all in all. Last week you gave me a drawing of a flower and I passed it onto the royals - bicycle. 

There is only a longing from me a guidance for you that gets found sooner than a life lived unhappy. Your sister wrote to the school this morning and stated that you will not be here tomorrow to teach - the young ones will paint you up wonders and that is a great thing. She is only your step-father’s daughter, and Skylar will visit you thrice a week. I am against the day - could it be your old lover? The redhead who could never look you in the eyes. I know you loved your mother. 

When love was happening in a past register of myself, what it was is not what it is - a heart will transform, yet I do not know if your heart has become dark or dull. The only optimism relevant is a source from you, in me for me - and I may be responsible in a way even if you just feel empty. Your mother knew what you needed, and your sister remains family still. If it is anger: give me your anger, and it can just be fine that way if there has been an injustice that I am suspicious of. I go to your office and you are not there. Tomorrow I attempt to teach poetry with an open approach calling for participation.

If you see error in me I will set fire to spectacles unknown in pure focus of what it all could have been - I am sorry. In a way this is virginity - like, what is this? The only bicycle for me is the one to you but that is not your bicycle I see now: wow. You challenge me like a man should - Skylar is infinite and you know his color. If you see the moon thru your window then let yourself heal. If you have bad faith in me than I will change my name and bother none no more - flamingo. 

I register you passive but as an endless placer with a collective mission: the social study away from the people besides your to me at times and with your very special Skylar. He is outgoing and will meditate on love than put into action the purpose and potential it possesses but not all can see - you make me see. The issue is that I have become dependently obsessed with how your rainbows curve and I look up in awe to a promise. You do feel for me in a way that I may have difficulties sorting - the hate for myself is drifted away, like today in your initial poetry class. Everyone has only praise for you, and I spark on that spark because I want you to be happy in all. 

He is a powerful leader - all around the faculty is the excitement of a genuine beautiful mind. Skylar makes insightful comments in class and he approaches the teachers directly with a pressing concern on the general morals and functions - for example, in art history he knows whether the focus is on mood, religion, or vanity. There was joy in my heart when I found him seated in the garden. Even if he has the power to rule and is of justice to find the faults and may then kill me with a word: that is of my own ordeal and he will save the world with a palm of grace and youth stretched out and up. 

The more you are away: the more I do not fear death. For as I am family, the bicycle is at home with yours left beside it - all here for anytime. My voice does not catch up to you in any space - the emotion derived from your innocence and splendor leaves me quite tired; tho who was I before? - flamingo on a bicycle. 

There are no flaws found in you two in any frame and time only shows an interesting depth - like my grandma is dying of old age and light is the answer. It is Sunday and I am going into town to see her as well as you in following for this evening. She is 100 years old and the nursing home faculty have to feed her water with a spoon daily - she is 75 pounds and sleeps for days at a time. The old men nod, and the women chat about their families. The morning glowed thru the windows and it was quiet. Her hands are cold; my families warmth far away - my best is in sorrow and grey. 

My grandmother was a photographer - specifically nature-wildlife spectacles. The light was in the creatures no matter where the light stayed or went; the moment would freeze for an eternity all in all - bicycle as her collection developed. On her mirror there was a picture of my grandfather, her sisters, my parents and her young in the desert with a red hat on - just heroin. Her breathing is slow, and her skin frail. When death kisses she will transition and look down on me: guide me and I will meditate on this moment for when family brought me to brokenness in a way and my heart fluttered.

The walking in the weather - still bicycle in my mind. With age in gratefulness: meditate on how it is as it is until there was the strangest feeling. My mind starts to race no matter how it is - something is not right. The sounds carve outward and a feeling of doom rushed over me. There is just a repetition of piercing feelings that seem all too deadly. Any moment and anything - an error and a confusion prepare me for nothing but an entanglement: bicycle panic. Down the road the people are moving about; the eyes were too good at seeing me, and as I stumble into the hospital I wonder if I will join you. 

~

The doctor tapped his pencil while squinting at me with question. I completely forgot I have not slept in 3 days. He wrote me a prescription for bicycle heroin and that is what you are on in the room a couple hallways away. The doctor said you have made improvements and will be discharged tomorrow afternoon. He also said that your sister will be here, and when I entered your room I knew you would not be apt to teach by the look on your face. You are not wearing a shirt, your legs are shaking, your gaze at a wall, and unbearably lifeless with the same sorrow and doom I feel. I go to your desk with the books, the comb, the medicine, and I look to the mirror and say hello but you do not move in the slightest. 

Neither of us were meditating but you were still. I made little paces around the room and you stayed gazing at the floor. There were other patients throughout the hallways and you started to take off your socks which made my eyes frantic. Your defeated voice puzzled me - something is not right. I want to pass you love messages but the window shuts out the light and suddenly you speak: I am addicted.

I sat next to you and sobbed on your shoulder - what is wrong? You kept staring at the ground and your breathing slowly deepened and see how I follow you in everything? What is wrong? You stand up and go to the door to close it and as your turn towards me: a hysterical broke out and you fell to the floor like a possessed pig. I rubbed my eyes and could not look away. I have never seen a more sad person as I started to shift back to normalcy. You looked very unattractive and embarrassingly disturbed to the point where I just stepped quietly out, signaled a tech, and walked out like I never knew you - and I never did.

~

The open-neighborhood-park was empty and I sat with a cigarette mildly numb and aimless with the bicycle script tried. It feels like a new year and I want to change. The grass was plush and my body felt as a golden stream sinking into itself. No troubles bothered me and life was being lived and death could happen but it felt nothing like I used to feel. The cigarette was a spectacle and shifting bicycles never had me suspicious; the school is a masterpiece and my jaw dropped thinking about the 45 students with promising artistic insights in their current bicycles and the one’s that will bloom after a storm. This mere moment of distraction painted me blue.

Up the hill, past mid-day: a lady of royalty stood on the front steps with her arms crossed and with a tapping foot - something is not right; mere dim blue. She waved me inside and pointed to my office where another woman who was pregnant had her head in her own lap weeping on the floor; my door open. The mother was shaking and would not look up until I stepped down beside her - she pointed into my office and resumed in pain. To my surprise there was Skylar at the chalkboard already turned towards me with a defeated, blue aura and bandages on his wrist. The words on the board read: ‘I am me.’ - over and over until he was out of room. I was horrified. He went for his mother to lift her up: the two sat down across from my desk as I raised my hands of confusion and as he puffed his chest smiling, the boy speaks tragedy…..

His love is love…..

The scars will tell but heal…….

Family will comfort him……

Dignity thru chaos in his mind……

Monarch, no…….

When they left he handed me a note: I wept in doom with all variations of hope plummeting, dragging me into the dull core of the earth.

You defiled hope! Oh, to be the imprinter disease source - you coward! I hate you! You have kidnapped light for your circus! Hideous, demented fool! Diseased, pitiful armadillo demon! You have had enough heroin! You have wasted your whole life, snake! Only a child!

Ladybug Finale - by Skylar Peterson, for Dr. James

My love will not change, but the range from rays In rage

River mother, another brother in the cage - mage one day with my dear mate

The world changed: New love and a mouse dance

Five years her and a holiday glance dance and paint pants in a health trance

I did not keep what he said, and I gave up being dead

Brother whispers out  ‘bless the wed’s beds’ 

And I shout:

I will be happy…..

You will be happy….

She weeps, but still sassy

And they can still laugh at me - any day in a way

All family anyway at this next Sunday

fin

RSVP - Mr. and Mrs. Peterson / Sunday @ 5th Royal Manor 7 o’clock

Note:

In the end it is blue. The colony placed as a new place; the headmaster an old friend known from temple in my early days back there - Al, he is noble and speaks many languages and inspired me to find peace. Lately, psychology has framed a resting way with active meditation on types of types again and has become my life. With my home outside of Amsterdam I take a couple patients and teach religions at the local school three classes a week. The simple things matter to me: neighborhood cats near the back shack, apples picked from a tree, poetry, and the bicycle heroin that never let me love again - to be the mouse on the mice trap by a laughing, old, sad sad man. 

contact: 645372@protonmail.com

[thatgirlonstage]

Can you write some (fluffy) Lancelot based on the line "Traditional Galran courting includes far too many knives"? (Or anything that include galran courting rituals if you'd prefer)

I’m so so sorry that I’m six months late aghhh but I hope you’re still interested and you like what I’ve cooked up here :P

This is some kind of AU where Lotor is reformed or is a good guy who escaped the Empire and is now living in the Castle of Lions

Traditional Galran courting includes far too many knives.

Lance had discovered this the hard way, which was waking up one morning to discover three elaborate and rare knives from across the universe laid carefully across the threshold of his door. He almost stepped on them trying to go to breakfast, his eyes still bleary from sleep. He’d stared at them for almost a full minute before gathering his senses enough to pick them up and gingerly carry them to the kitchen. Lotor was waiting eagerly, his eyes shining, and his face fell horribly when Lance asked what the knives were. He explained quietly the origin of each knife, what made it special and unique, watching Lance out of the corner of his eyes.

“Okay, but what were they doing outside my room?” Lance asked.

“They were a… gift,” Lotor said, weighing his words slowly and carefully the way he did when he was struggling to adapt to the world of humans and Alteans. Lance recognized his tone but didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it.

“Oh. Um… thank you,” he said. “That was… really nice of you. Way too nice of you. I mean, Keith’s the one who likes knives. I’m not sure I know how to treat these right. Are you sure you want to give them to me? I don’t want to damage them.” A look of horror flitted across Lotor’s expression, and he was pushing the knives back toward Lance.

“No, no,” he said. “Keep them. Please.” He turned and fled, leaving a puzzled Lance in his wake.

It was only later, when he sought out Coran, that he found out that leaving knives at a door meant one of two things in Galra culture: a challenge to a duel, or a courtship ritual. Lance went cold and hot all over and begged Coran to dig out any information he had on Galra courtship, but that unfortunately wasn’t much. Still, it was enough that the next time they went to a swap moon he dragged Hunk and Keith with him to someone selling knives and bought the prettiest and most expensive one he could afford to leave outside Lotor’s bedroom. The look of elation in his eyes the next morning warmed Lance to his toes.

That wasn’t the end of it, though, because then Lotor engraved Lance’s name onto the blade of his personal knife, and Lance didn’t even have a knife that he carried regularly, something Keith harangued him about regularly. He debated a long time with Coran about whether he ought to engrave Lotor’s name on something else, but ultimately Coran convinced him that knives were apparently the secret gods of Galra culture (“explains something about Keith,” he muttered) and really, he should be carrying a knife around anyway, because it could be useful or life-saving. So Lance found a durable, practical knife, and had Lotor’s name engraved on it, and began to carry it with him.

Except, then Lotor proposed that they swap their engraved knives for a little while, and Lance felt himself flush to ears with embarrassment at the plainness of his little practical knife next to Lotor’s elegant bone-handled one.

Lance spent an hour ranting to Hunk, pacing back and forth. He didn’t want Lotor to stop, because he loved sitting and running his fingers through his long white hair while Lotor told him stories about the great wide universe, and because Lotor laughed whenever Lance told his dumb jokes and his laugh was always clear and bright and sprinkling and had this sound of wonder behind it, as if he had never heard himself laugh before, and because they spent long nights in the pale light of the castle talking about worlds they missed and people who never quite met their eye no matter how they tried to please them. On the other hand, he couldn’t just spend the rest of his life tripping over knives because of customs he didn’t understand. Hunk, ever the sensible one, suggested Lance try out some Earth courtship rituals. Since they were on a planet while Allura ran some diplomatic negotiations, Lance stormed outside, picked some flowers in a rage, and shoved them gruffly in Lotor’s face to his total bewilderment. He explained it was an Earth courtship ritual and Lotor came back with a bouquet of flowers so large that Lance couldn’t hold it in a single hand.

Hunk must have sat Lotor down and talked to him, because a few days later Lotor knocked hesitantly on Lance’s door and asked if they could talk.

“I didn’t ever mean to scare you or upset you,” Lotor said hesitantly. “With all of the knives. The Empire… The Empire imposes our culture on others. I did not think about the fact that you would not have been exposed to it.” Lance was shaking his head, trying to reassure Lotor that it was okay, after all neither of them ever thought it would be easy, but Lotor held up a hand to stop him. “Still, there is only one knife ceremony left. When Galra wish to declare loyalty and love to one another for the rest of their lives, they forge a knife together. When I described this to Hunk, he said it was the equivalent of a ‘wedding’ on Earth.” Lotor rolled the word “wedding” uncertainly in his mouth. “Not, perhaps, right now – I am still learning so much about you humans, and the Paladins, and unlearning everything I thought I knew in the Empire. But one day, Lance McClain, I should like to forge a knife with you.” Lance smiled, and rested a hand over Lotor’s.

“I think, one day, I would like that too,” he said.

[everyonethinksmynameiskayla]

Eggs & potatoes in a tropical paradise

Last week Brittany and I took a “ladies vacation” as my mom called it to Cabo Verde (until recently “Cape Verde” in English although it’s “Cap Vert” in French which is how I think of it since all the planning was done here). You could be forgiven for not knowing anything at all about Cabo Verde - it’s a tiny country made up of 9 also tiny islands off the coast of Senegal, just south of the Canary Islands. We visited three of the islands throughout the week, so I’ll divide this post up by island. I made a video compilation of all the little clips I took of the landscapes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVfdJw9M1Pw (set it to high resolution so you can see the images better). 

1. Santiago - Praia side

Santiago is the biggest island (it takes two hours to drive from top to bottom and about an hour to do the width) and we flew from Dakar to the capital, Praia, which is on the south side of the island. We took the Cabo Verde national airline, TACV, which I was expecting, given that the flight was about $100 round trip and was going to be an hour and TACV mostly does island hopping within Cabo Verde, a puddle jumper plane with a bring-your-own-folding-chair to sit on type deal but boy was I wrong. The plane was the size of a regional jet in the US and pretty new and they even served us all sandwiches, which blew me away. Granted, the sandwich was a hotdog bun with some cheese slices, but still, I was so impressed.

We arrived in Praia in the evening and quickly made friends with a French guy who was in our hostel and he explained that apparently Praia is dangerous at night because of gangs so we went the three of us to get some food at a restaurant near the hostel. I was blown away by how dead everything was. It was only 8 PM and there was almost no one outside and practically every shop was closed. It was the quietest city, even during the day, that I’ve ever been in. The next day as we were exploring the city, I was struck by how small it felt, especially coming from Dakar, and how orderly and calm it was. It almost felt European at times, and occassionaly even kind of reminded me of Goa in India (Portuguese colonization being what the two places have in common). We went and explored the ruins in the old city where the Portuguese had first arrived and walked up to the fort. We came across an old abandoned bar/restaurant, which was wild - it's state wasn’t so dissimilar from the ruins of the old cathedral which were several hundred years old, but it was probably only a couple of decades abandoned (I would imagine that has something to do with weather wear). You could see all the old spots where there used to be a bar and bar stools and the bathroom, but it was totally gutted.

^The abandoned bar/restaurant

We ate dinner at a jazz club/restaurant downtown which was great because Cabo Verdian music is lovely and we got to try homemade “punch” which was everywhere and was basically rum with honey and coconut and tamarind (there are other kinds too, every sort of flavor you could imagine) and it’s so good. However I was massively annoyed because we both ordered the “vegetarian” dish which I was expecting to be like a vegetable curry of some kind which sounded good and I asked if it came with rice (the waiter told us he spoke French and seemed to be telling the truth) and the waiter said yes but then it came out and it was a plate with like 10 slices of raw vegetables on it and nothing else and I was absolutely furious because it was like 8 dollars which is completely insane given that most dishes in restaurants were in the $3-5 range.

2. Sao Vicente

The next day we went back to the airport at 5 AM, which, armed with the unfortunate knowledge that Praia is not a good place to be hanging out in the dark, was not fun because we had to stand around on the empty street waiting for a cab with our phones and passports in our underwear like idiots because the hostel owner never showed up the previous evening so we couldn’t ask him to call us a cab for the next morning (not that this was a surprise, he had messaged me before we left Dakar asking if we wanted to be picked up at the airport, to which I said sure, and no one showed up to pick us up). We found another woman standing waiting for something and waited with her, luckily only for about ten minutes before a cab drove by. We felt bad leaving her on the street but with the language barrier (Cabo Verdians speak Creole and Portuguese) we couldn’t get across that she could come in our cab to wherever she was going also.

Just as in Praia, when we arrived in Mindelo, the cultural capital and the only big city on Sao Vicente, the cab that the hostel was allegedly sending us didn’t come. I was still stoked about the hostel because it’s also a cat shelter so there were cats everywhere.

^ Some of the cats at the hostel; they had their own special area and every time I came in they would go nuts and start chatting away and meowing like crazy and trying to climb up me

Mindelo is much bigger and more alive than Praia and also absolutely gorgeous. The city is nestled in a half-moon cove with a lovely marina on the most perfectly blue water that looked more like the light blue Gatorade than the ocean. We spent most of the day sitting in the floating cafe we found in the marina enjoying the view and the perfect weather and tranquility and then Brittany went to nap in the hostel and I walked up to the old fort that looked like it would have a good 360 view. When I got to the top I discovered that it was private property but that sign was accompanied by only about 5 feet of fence so I just walked right by it to do a quick round and take some pictures, since there was absolutely no one around. Those pictures are on the photo blog. Then we went to the store and bought a bunch of chips and snacks and went and sat on the beach. We swam but neither of us had bathing suits so we wore our PJs, which was bizarre because that meant wearing shorts in public which I would never dream of doing in Senegal, but in Cabo Verde most of the women were wearing mini skirts and short shorts most of the time.

^ From the floating café. We stole the label off our Cabo Verdian beer 

We had been trying to taste the national dish, catchupa, which appeared to be some sort of beans and rice deal, but every time we ordered it they came back and said “no catchupa” (we were mostly getting by with Brittany mumbling in Spanish and hoping for the best, but sometimes when that didn’t work I would try French and then we would speak to each other in English and people would just stare at us in utter confusion and back away slowly). So for dinner we went into this little local looking restaurant and ordered some catchupa and Brittany was trying to explain that she was a vegetarian, but apparently the Spanish mumbling didn’t work because we thought we were getting catchupa with egg and potato instead of with meat - we were sitting there waiting and laughing about how funny it would be if we ended up with just eggs and potatoes when she came out with two plates of french fries and a fried egg. She looked really confused when we both broke down laughing. Every time we ordered in a restaurant after that we were half expecting to be served a plate of eggs and fries.

3. Santo Antão

The next morning we took the ferry from Sao Vicente (the island Mindelo is on) to Santo Antão, which was easily one of my favorite parts of the trip - I already love boats, plus the islands are so close together and both so mountainous that at any point throughout the hour long ride you can see both (those views are in the video I mentioned at the top of this post). Plus the early morning light on the water and the cool breeze, and there was a cafe/bar thing on the boat so Brittany and I were even able to get some coffee. 

^ Coffee on the ferry 

When we arrived we grabbed an aluguer, amid some confusion. The aluguers aren’t taxis but they aren’t buses either, they’re generally big Toyota 15-seater vans (in fabulous condition, we couldn’t believe it - and the taxis in Praia were late model Toyota Corollas which for some reason was hilarious to us…not quite as much character as my beloved dilapidated Renaults with weird furry seat covers) and you pay your spot like in a bus but unlike a bus they don’t all have a set route. Some do, some have names of towns and/or cities painted on the side and they just go back and forth between those places but others just go where they decide they’re going to go that day and pick up people along the way. Anyway, we were jostled around a bit by the competing aluguer drivers but eventually got one to Paul, the city on the coast at the foot of the valley that we were planning to hike. It was a striking drive, the edges of the mountains of Santo Antão are baren and dotted with dramatic cliffs and drops into the ocean below, which was raging and wavy like I’ve never seen. But in Paul, it starts to get really green, palm trees start to pop up and I’ll get to it in a minute but once on the interior of the island its lush and green everywhere you look. Paul, or Vila das Pombas, I never figured out why some people called it one thing and some the other, is a tiny but nice little town on the water that stretches the coast before shooting up into the hills directly behind it. 

^ Vila das Pombas 

Our hotel was a few minutes up the hill and owned by a really friendly Italian guy who spoke no English or French but enough Spanish to sort of communicate with Brittany. Despite the language barrier he tried really hard to be helpful and answer our questions about the hiking etc. and his little hotel, with just two rooms, was absolutely adorable. Plus I was excited because he had a cat, one of the cutest most beautiful cats I’ve ever seen, who was super duper pregnant - it looked like she had swallowed a football. She would come sit outside our room and purr so loudly the floorboards would shake until I opened the door and then she would dart into the room, much to Brittany’s dismay.

We got a different kind of aluguer, kind of like a bush taxi here in Senegal, just a pickup with some benches in the back, up the mountain(s) about an 45 minutes (it probably would have taken twenty if we didn’t keep having to stop and reverse for 100 meters down the tiny narrow mountain road to accommodate the occasional car coming the other way, once we had to do it three times before we rounded a single bend).

^ In the aluguer 

The hills just kept getting more and more massive - I suppose in some circles a “massive hill” is known as a “mountain” - and steep and green and there were little villages here and there but mostly just lots of banana and sugar cane and what I think was maybe corn and of course palm trees. We hiked the rest of the way up (about 2 hours of basically walking straight up on this absurd winding path) to Cova Crater, which is nothing special but the view from up next to it is extraordinary, especially since you can look down over the hills you just crossed through and see the ocean where you started and all while you’re above the clouds. Saying that walking back down was harder than going up would probably be overstating it, but it was not easy. In most places it was so steep that you couldn’t help but run down it failing your arms around like an idiot, and as we got closer to the bottom the dirt got looser and looser and there weren’t rocks and roots anymore and we were sliding around almost breaking our ankles every five seconds. But we made it down, exhausted and sunburnt (I put on so much sunscreen, religiously reapplied, and still got burnt to a crisp). We found a pizza place in town and basically dragged ourselves inside but it was totally empty and smelled like weed and then the Italian guy who owned it (I’m not sure why there are so many Italians living in Cabo Verde) came out from the back and told us that they didn’t start making pizza for another two hours because island time so we went back to the hotel and laid prostate on our beds half conscious until it was time and then we sprinted back to the restaurant and seriously contemplated getting two pizzas each. The pizza was great (Italians) and the owner, who spoke only Italian and Portuguese (it’s amazing how far one romance language gets you with the other, I understood almost everything that was said in Spanish and Italian throughout the week but since Portuguese has a totally different sound to it the same did not really apply) was so nice and served us some homemade “punch” and also gave us free shots of some sort of Italian lemon-y liquor.

The next day was quite relaxed because we were both basically zombies. We went to the edge of the island and did a short hike along the coast to a small village built into the cliffs called Fontainhas and then drank some coffee by the water before getting the aluguer back to the port city to get the ferry back to Sao Vicente. This time I stood all the way on top the whole time and it was so windy that I couldn’t wear my hat and I was half convinced that my face itself was going to be blown off. It was so windy I was terrified to take pictures and videos because I was worried about the genuine possibility of the wind blowing my phone out of my hands, so I white-knuckled it whenever I took any pictures.

4. Santiago again - Tarrafal side

We flew back to Santiago and stayed in Praia just for the night since we arrived late and couldn’t keep traveling until the next day. So early the next morning we got an aluguer to Tarrafal, the biggest city (which is not saying much at all) on the far north of the island. When I say we got an aluguer, I really mean we found one going to Tarrafal and sat in it falling asleep for two hours while we waited for other passengers and these two guys used some weird blue filmy material to tint the windows of the van. The drive was about two hours through rolling baren hills and dramatic peaks and then about halfway there the hills grew into mountains and we reached a certain point where you could see Tarrafal on the coast below but unfortunately it was quite overcast so none of my photos from the drive came out. We had been planning to hike in the nearby national park but we were so beat that we ended up just wandering around the tiny deserted city, or town really, sitting on the beach and going to bed at like 8:30 PM. We finally got to try catchupa, after a great deal of confusion and negotiations regarding Brittany’s vegetarianism, and while eating it it was good but it was perhaps the heaviest thing I have ever eaten in my life, I can’t understand how Cabo Verdians eat it for breakfast every day. It literally felt like someone had opened my stomach, placed all of the catchupa into it and then closed it again, and then it sat there like that for 24 hours. For dinner we had a plate of plain rice and some mild cheese cubes because we were incapable of eating real food with the catchupa still in us and I think our waitress thought we were insane.

The next day when we felt like real humans again we finally went to the national park, and even though it was a bit overcast (which did not prevent me from getting sunburnt again) the hike was beautiful - I love green mountains but I almost like bare ones more, because the closest ones look sort of brown but then they fade to purple and then to blue and the clouds cast crazy shadows over them that you can clearly see since there are so few trees. We were just congratulating ourselves on how easy the hike had been, since we started already high up and basically just walked straight along the top of the mountain ridge, when we got to a sharp turn downhill and a sign introducing the new trial which included the qualifiers « Difficulty: Hard » and « Path quality: bad ». Both of those things turned out to be true. Mostly because the path was in many places about as wide as one of my feet and it was basically three hours straight downhill. When we finally reached the town at the bottom where we could allegedly get an aluguer back to Tarrafal, we were disappointed to discover that our excessively vocalized fantasies about going to a little boutique in the town and getting some chips or a Kit Kat bar (which were strangely ubiquitous even in small stores) and some cold water were not going to be realized as the tiny town/village that we ended up waiting an hour in had no stores and also for some indistinguishable reason smelled so bad I thought I was going to pass out while we waited. But eventually and aluguer passed and we hopped on - when we got back to Tarrafal we bought chips and Kit Kat bars and then got another aluguer back to Praia and got cheeseburgers (and a veggie burger) and ate way too many french fries before packing up our stuff in preparation to fly back to Dakar the next day.

[plasticoveredfurniture]

inktober d12: dragon

pairing: yoongi centric, platonic ot7

words: 1513

tags: tattoo artist au, everyone is lgbt, trans characters

It started on his shoulder with a tail that looked like it was about to wrap around his throat and it developed all across his back. A huge dragon in bold colour that looked ferocious and thirsty for blood. That had been Yoongi’s first big piece. A bit cliche, but he never regretted it. He got it as soon as he moved to New York. He wanted that piece to merge between his culture and the one that his craft had him basically marrying into. So he settled for a dragon, a benevolent symbol in his culture, and made it look angry and evil, like western cultures portrayed it and felt to young foreigners like Yoongi. 

He decided to move in order to turn his dream of becoming a tattooist into a reality, but the reality was that the industry was not friendly at all, especially towards young, asian, gay men.

Many people had lived the struggle before him, he was aware of that, what he wasn't aware of was that there was a place exactly for him. In Greenwich Village there was a parlour created in the mid nineties for people exactly like him. Daniel Lee, known in the industry as Tablo, had decided that once he'd built a name for himself he wanted to open his own shop and make it somewhere where artists were picked based off of talent and not any other form or bias. The only requirements for people to be eligible for a spot at Eternal Sunshine tattoos were being a person of colour and/or part of the lgbt community.

When Yoongi found out about Tablo and his one-of-a-kind parlour, he'd already been in NYC for about a year. He'd worked in passing in about 20 shops and he'd only been able to tattoo a handful of people. The frustration was starting to get the best of him and he was contemplating catching a flight back home and just giving up. Until he saw it.

He'd moved to a small one room apartment in Greenwich Village and one fateful morning, as he was wandering around the streets of the neighborhood, he stumbled upon Eternal Sunshine tattoos. 

The name intrigued him, but what got him to walk into the shop was the pride flag hanging outside.

"Good morning and welcome to Eternal Sunshine tattoos. I'm Joon, how can I help you?"

Yoongi was greeted by a grey haired man with dimples so deep that Yoongi thought he could fit a whole finger in there.

"Oh, hi. I was just walking by and I noticed the flag." said the artist sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, it's pretty neat, isn't it? Are you familiar with Eternal Sunshine?"

"Actually, no"

Joon smiled.

"I have a story to tell you then"

They sat down and Joon told him the whole story while sipping on a cup of tea that had gone cold by the time they were done.

"That's" Yoongi paused, looking for the right words "so fucking cool" he breathed out, very eloquently.

"I am actually looking for a place to practice, but for the past year every parlour has rejected me after a month max because I'm gay and Korean."

"Do you have a portfolio?"

"Yeah, I have one at home"

"Then bring it here by the end of the day and tomorrow you might have a job"

Yoongi had never run that fast in his life, but it was so worth it when not even four hours later he got a callback saying he now has a home at Eternal Sunshine.

The following day he got to meet all of the resident artists there, some of which became his own chosen family in the two months after.

He found that he was one of seven Koreans working at the parlour. One of them being Joon, who lived their life free of all sorts of labels except for a cute little pin they always wore to specify that their pronouns were they/them. (After seeing the pin on Joon, everyone started wearing personalised pronoun pins because they didn't want those who specified their pronouns for not being cis to feel hyper conscious)

Then there was Hope, the most outgoing and hyper ball of sunshine Yoongi had ever met. They specified in bold and colourful new school and, to be honest, Yoongi wasn't surprised.

Out of the Seven, capitalised because Tablo was all about advertising Korean excellence especially since the tattoo scene in Korea itself is a very difficult one, only three also worked as piercers.

The first one, Tae, was the second friendliest person Yoongi had ever come across. Second because no one could ever beat Hope. Tae loved wearing skirts and makeup, but never really cared much about gender so he didn't feel uncomfortable being referred to with female pronouns, nor gender neutral ones. His pin though, said he/him.

The second one, was Jungkook. He was the youngest so everyone teased him for it and never missed a chance to call him bunny instead of his actual name. At first glance, Yoongi was a little intimidated by the younger because of his tall and broad body paired with long hair and numerous piercings and art adorning his body, but he was quick to realise that the boy was just a soft little twink at heart, just like him.

The last of the three piercers was Jin. She was the most beautiful woman Yoongi had ever laid eyes upon and, for a solid second, he felt bad he wasn't into women. Jin had moved to the States in order to transition, but discovered Eternal Sunshine in the meanwhile and decided to apply for a visa. There was nothing left for her in Korea anyway. She soon became Yoongi's closest friend out of the seven. Yoongi appreciated her honesty and horrible sense of humour. Plus, no one can stop a gay and a lesbian after they join forces.

The last of the seven was Jimin. He, too, had moved from Korea in order to transition and decided to stay after getting tattooed by Jin. 

Being surrounded by so many amazing artists with such inspiring stories became Yoongi's biggest inspiration. His job wasn't just about his art and craft anymore, but also about the amazing family he had found, to the point that it no longer felt like a job.

And, being the sentimental little shit that everyone knew him to be, he decides to ask them for a rather simple gift for his 30th birthday.

He asked each of them to design something for him so that he could dedicate a whole sleeve to them. He had been planning it for a while, but no one ever thought to ask why nearly every inch of his body except for an entire arm was covered by ink. 

They worked together to make it as cohesive as six different tattoos in six different styles could be. Yoongi wanted it to be messy and almost patchwork-like, but that didn't stop them from trying.

Kookie did a black and white forest landscape that wrapped all around his lower forearm; Joon added a whale that looked like it was made of flowers on the back of his arm, just above his elbow; Hope did a new school moth on his hand in black and white with a few hints of yellow; Jimin added a crescent moon wrapped in flowers above Joon's whale; Tae designed a geometric astrology design in which he added the Pisces constellation; Jin added to the side of his upper arm a sword with a vine wrapped around it to keep the plant theme going and as a reminder to Yoongi of the conversation they'd once had.

("You're all warriors, noona. I am not half as strong as the rest of you are. I don't understand why I feel like I fit in so much, I don't deserve to."

"Yoongi-chi, we're all warriors. Never forget that."

"But-"

"You're not a white cishet man, Yoongi-chi. You're a warrior.")

Then, just for shits and giggles, they added a few dumb doodles to fill in the empty spaces.

They added "warrior" in pretty script above the inside of his elbow, they added a half-peeled banana that was actually a penis underneath, they put a bunny in there, the wlw symbol, and many more stupid little things that reminded them of one another.

Yoongi couldn't have been happier with the finished product. He had never been a crier and he ways took pride in how well he could conceal his emotions, but this time they got the best of him.

He was happy. A kind of happy that he never thought he could achieve when he was a small gay boy from Daegu who had just moved to New York. Bu there he was. Older than he ever thought he'd be, as a successful and renowned tattoo artists from Eternal Sunshine, with a whole family of wonderful people that had his back no matter what. Life wasn't so bad after all.