#sula Replies

[octahedral-chaos]

Have a random story- drabble thing based off of a random idea I have. Basically, solarpunk/ clockwork world with sapient moth-bird-raptor people.

Honestly, she had no idea how she even got in this situation. She was currently at Ms. Rubi's stall, waiting on a few supplies for drawing and other small crafts. Sula nervously twirled her claws, hoping that she haven't done anything that could warrant misunderstanding. She wasn't really the best at social situations, but she couldn't rely on Ashworth to do the shopping and talking all the time.

Sula looked around the gigantic open space that is the local mall. It was mostly small stalls, their lepigriff owners trying to desperately gather any passers-by's attention to show off their stocks. It was mostly crafts, with many stalls selling beads, paintings, suncatchers, tapestries and the like. The mall itself was made of mostly copper, gold and wood, the hues of the walls being a dead giveaway. The ceiling was made of stained glass in varying shades of green, casing a leaf pattern on the floor, almost like the ground of a gigantic forest.

There were also many plants, especially somewhat large trees that were placed in well-decorated 'pots,' although they were really depressions in the ground that was filled with more than enough soil. The building was also multistory, and there were perches scattered around, many of which had lepigriffs resting on it. The air was filled with quiet chatter and clicking of talons against the wooden floors.

Sula haven't realised that she was zoning out until Ms. Rubi have finished packing her order and was giving it to her. "Here you go, sweetheart," Ms. Rubi chimed in her sweet voice, startling Sula from her trance and handing her a fabric bag full of art supplies. Still a bit anxious, Sula took the bag from Ms. Rubi's talons and replied, "Thank you miss. Sorry about that, I zoned out." Ms. Rubi adjusted her glasses, before she spoke, "No problem dear, it's alright." She then waved at Ms. Rubi, before heading back to her room in the nearby apartment.

She glanced around the halls in the apartments, looking for her room number. She never really adjusted to living in apartments, she vividly remembered how her parents had a small shack near the local park, which was somewhat small but still beautiful, with a small stream passing right through it. She finally spotted her room number; 140, up on the second floor. Except there was one problem.

She can't really fly.

She couldn't remember if there were any nearby stairs, and she could ask any of the lepigriffs who were walking around, but she didn't want to seem weird and lead herself to a potentially awkward situation. So she decided the best course of action: she was going to at least try to fly.

With wings outstretched, Sula jumped into the air, flapping her large rusty-red and yellow wings, with eyes locked on to her room. However, it wasn't executed as gracefully as she liked. Instead, she managed to crash-land onto the second floor's wooden panels, her wings sending a great deal of dust and scales everywhere.

She heard of the sound of a door slamming opening, and then was greeted by the sight of Ashworth staring with a concerned look on her face, bright golden-yellow eyes seeming even more comically large. "Are you okay? Have you tried to fly to the second floor again?" Ashworth asked with concern in her voice, talons on hips and tail flicking a little bit. "Yeah, at least I managed to actually get onto the halls this time," Sula replied, already dusting herself from the landing.

"You could've gotten hurt! Next time, please ask someone for directions to the stairs, or something like that!" Ashworth chimed. "Don't worry, I'll try to remember that, plus I managed to get all my supplies without being a nervous wreck!" Sula then continued, holding the bag which somehow managed to not spill any of it's contents during the crash. "That's great, although I guess we should go inside now, and make sure you're okay and all that." Sula sighed, before chuckling, "Okay! Okay, please stop being really concerned, I'm okay now."

[ask-de-writer]

SULA’S SONG : Part 67 : PREPARATION FOR WAR : A World of Sea tale (Work In Progress)

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SULA’S SONG : PREPARATION FOR WAR

Part 67

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

155297  words presently written, WORK IN PROGRESS

Copyright 2022

All   rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or   to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the   express  written consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They  may    reblog the story. They may use the characters or original  characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or  fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art  works to  charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

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NEW TO SULA’S SONG?  READ FROM THE BEGINNING.  

PART 1 is HERE

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With the fleet largely gathered, even if there was no raft to set up on, the merchant life of the fleet had found a way.  A dozen of the largest ships of the fleet were riding together, bound ship to ship by bindings easily cast loose in an emergency.  Even with the decks of a dozen ships to set up on, space was limited.  In spite of that, goods and samples were being shown in plenty.

Captain Allison was working his way through the tightly packed narrow aisles between the many small booths.  He paused here and there to examine the samples on display.  As he was looking over some well made cable samples, the booth keeper accosted him.

“What's this I heard about you, Aril, Hulden and Mogar signing our Gathering Log as VISITORS?  You were all born and raised in this fleet!”

Captain Allison snorted and replied, “Yep.  Right up until that Moonsless Night raid.  When we were leaving with the Dark Dragon to attack that building raft, they drummed and later backed up in writing, a renunciation, severing us from the Corlis fleet for abandoning them in their time of need.  Somehow, they have never got around to rescinding it.  

“Technically, in spite of the loot that we brought back and shared out, and that we are allowed Courtesy Voices, we are all four fleetless ships.  It was us four and our ships that did the salvage and our crews that built the Corlis Avenger.”  He chuckled and went on, “The Council was really upset when we pointed out that WE own that ship, not the fleet.”

The booth keeper nodded, “I can see how that could be.  Why don't they just rescind that stupid order?  That would put you all back into the fleet and make the Avenger a part of it too.”

Examining the cable sample, Captain Allison replied, “Embarrassment.  They have bungled everything about this war so far.  Don't want to admit to another.  Give them their due, they are trying to sort out better and more flexible defenses and a solid fraction of them are thinking over ways to attack the Boren fleet.

“This cable appears to be exactly what the Carlyle needs.  Can you deliver two hundred meters of it to us and how long will it take?”

The booth man replied with a big smile, “I know that we have a hundred meter roll.  You can have it almost immediately.  I will have to send for Master Willard, of our Rope Walk to see about the rest.”  

He made a fast note on a tallow-slate and sent it by a runner.  It took Master Willard about a half hour to show up.  He was somewhat short and not at all imposing, until you looked past his brown thatch of hair and saw his eyes.  There was nothing uncertain about his brown eyed stare.

“We can make your cable in only about two days except that we don't have the materials.  If you can get the fiber to the Gull, we can begin at once.”

“What do you need?” inquired Captain Allison.  “We got quite a lot of gauged fibers on five hundred meter spools when we sank that building raft.  The Council didn't want it when we did the loot sharing.”

The Master brightened, “You do?  I will need six thousand meters of number six fiber for the core and fourteen and a half thousand of number two for the sheathing.”

“Not a problem.  I will send a requisition to the Carlyle.  You should have it within the day.”

“What can you possibly need with that many meters of as stout a cable as this?” inquired Master Willard.

“We expect to be towing a fairly big and unwieldy craft.  'Fraid that I can't say more.  Ship's Business, you know.”

“Indeed I do.  May your business go well.”

“And yours too, Master.”

Shortly he had his requisition sent.  He found Captains Mogar and Aril at table, where the enterprising “Gathering Ship's” galley had set out a fine spread at reasonable prices.

Over snacks and distilled water, he told them what he had done, getting them tow cables.

Aril nodded, speaking around a mouthful of fish cake, “Neatly done.  I know the Gull's cable and rope.  Good stuff.

“The Dark Dragon is going to be tied up here for a while.  Battle Mistress Dorac, Warrior Lora and Sula are sitting in on the prisoner trials to be sure that the fleet understands that they are serious about restoring the Great Laws.  A lot of the fleet's Captains are unhappy about the number of common seamen who are being let off with only imprisonment until the war's end.”

Captain Hulden quietly joined them.  “I have been looking for you.  Just had a word with Captain Sanch, Gathering Log Keeper.  He took the trouble to check the log.  While we are still being allowed a Voice in the Council, they have not yet bothered to re admit us to the fleet.”

Captain Mogar simply pointed out, “That means that when we leave, they can't even try to make us stay to 'defend the fleet.'  They are going to be really unhappy when we take the Avenger with us, too.”

Captain Allison nodded while chewing and swallowing a mouthful of a nice seaweed salad.  “Yep.  Should be fun, listening to them try, though.  The Avenger is OURS and even though they have seen her sea trials, she has not been enrolled in the fleet.”

Captain Hulden pushed back his stool and told them, “I need to go supervise Mistress Culark.  She and Master Guliard want to examine the Avenger, before we set out.”

Captain Aril snickered, “Don't let her take anything apart!  You know that she will, if we let her!”

“I won't!  For the next two nights, the Avenger will be making anti spy sweeps to catch any more like that one, Petrel, was it called?  That will also lull the fleet so that our leaving will be the surprise that it needs to be.”

Over the next two days, the Avenger made her nightly anti spy sweeps.  All four of her mother ships were busy, between taking provisions onboard and their shops working furiously and in secret.  They were turning out catapult weapons as fast as materials allowed.

Their larger gigs and other craft were working too.  Every diver from the four ships were stripping the wrecks from the battle with Mikot's fleet to provide the busy shops of the Carlyle, Moonsrise, Cloud Raker, and Dorac's Dream with the materials to return war to those who began it.

TO BE CONTINUED

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[coldwall-collective]

Fallen Revelry

"Come on, Sula! You're going to miss it!"

The sin'dorei woman checked her hair, a brief comb of her fingers through the dark locks to assure some semblance of control. In truth, she had all but given up on her efforts to tame her appearances after that last dance. The scent of burning candles and gunpowder fireworks lingered with the aroma of ambrosia. Decadence she was unfamiliar with.

The woman settled into a stride, each drop of her pointed heels to the floor displaying a click that carried despite the music. It issued a certain authority, a presence that she embraced to allow herself this night of importance. She felt like -someone- among this crowd, signed and assured when she caught the glances from passing faces.

The elf illuminated her features in the glow of a nearby crystal, a beautiful allure of yellow and azure that flattered her pale skin. She met her hand with the one who had called her, the man lifting the hand offered toward the sky and drawing her to an all too natural twirl.

This all felt so right to her. Perhaps in her common blood lay the lines of something more. A somebody awaiting their chance to shine and catch the gaze with illuminated, blooming petals. She smiled to herself, an innuendo laying in that analogy despite her efforts to maintain her poise. She met her hand once more with his, venturing to entwine her fingers with his own and pause their sway to meet eye to eye.

"I'd not miss it for the world." She muttered, mentally beating herself for what may be the most cliche line. Yet it drew his lips to a smile, pausing her rising heartbeat and assuring her she had landed her sentiment. She turned, letting her arms snake around the man's torso and her hands to clasp upon his far side.

"Don't worry, you'll be okay." His voice was distant yet soft, a comfort that she had not known was becoming a craving. She turned her head, pressing face to his shirt and drawing in the deep scent of his cologne. He smelled of burning candles.

"I trust you. And honestly, I'm excited." She replied with no uncertain tone.

"Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." She replied without hesitation.

His hand wrapped her, resting to the back of her head. The music was loud, her mind was quiet. She was safe here. She belonged. She was precisely where she was always meant to be.

His shirt smelled like burning candles. May this night last forever.

His hand released, letting the woman stumble away. Her once vibrant eyes now haunted with the dim glow of Azerite presenting a falsehood to her perception. Her shaved head was marked with the dried cuts from the brief claiming of her identity. Despite her tattered garb, she smiled to him with a deliriously manic expression.

"What a beautiful thing it is." He muttered, tracing his hand along her jaw that held to several stages of bruising. She turned her head to press a kiss to his palm. "To serve so effortlessly. To be beholden to nothing but the Shattered God."

The sin'dorei turned away, moving with a dancing step as her bare feet pattered to cold stone. The music played, the candles burned down, the sky above dashed with stars. As though made from a thousand pieces from a broken moon.

With a smile, the man turned, and returned to the party that awaited him.

[roswell-rp-archive]

could i ask for your members’ mwf (in their early or late twenties-ish)??? yours too!

of course ya can anon! i’ve listed some of the mod teams favourite faces below annnnd members you know the drill, please reply to this post with some of your suggestions. if you need some more inspo, you can always check out @roswellmw​ ! we have also recently answered similar questions here, here and here. 

alaqua cox, simone ashley, zión moreno, megan suri, priscilla quintana, jessica sula, laura harrier, aj clementine, amber midthunder, nicole maines, ashley moore, aisha dee, charithra chandran, mishti rahman, ryan destiny, anna lambe, barbie ferreira, amala paul, aurora perrineau, cierra ramirez, mina el hammani & kiana ledé.

[theopulenthq]

fc ideas for the last solomon?

Hello lovely!! We asked our members currently in our Ethiopia spots who they'd really like to see and we got a couple of suggestions! John Boyega, Ruby Barker, Kofe Siriboe, Jacob Anderson, Erin Kellyman, Coco Jones, Ashley Moore, Bayo Bbadamosi, Jessica Sula, Lakeith Stanfeld, Arsema Thomas, Ella Rae Smith, and Daniel Ezra. Members, please feel free to reply with more suggestions!

[hillzhqs]

Mw female fcs ?

zendaya, deepika padukone, gemma chan, cierra ramirez, mishti rahmen, halle bailey, bruna marquezine, kiana lede, zion moreno, angelina jolie, taylor hill, valentina zenere, madelaine petsch, ashley moore, jennie kim, nathalie emmanuel, nina dobrev, natasha liu bordizzo, chase sui wonders, jessica sula, carlson young, caitlin stasey, adelaide kane, lisa bonet, melisa asli pamuk, yaya urassaya, naz sayiner, mila kunis, kerry washington, india amarteifio, azul guaita, reina hardesty, winona ryder, suki waterhouse, riley keough, eva de dominci, sofia jamora, lee saerom, emeraude toubia, brianne howey, aubrey plaza, rachel mccadams and lauren tsai! members, ofc, pls reply with yours to add to this list!!

[nottinghillhq]

Mwf? It seems like everyone good is taken so I can't think of many options, please no one over 35

hey there anon! you can check out our most wanted fc page and our tag for some more suggestions, i'll list a couple more below for you as well. there are still so many amazing ones out there, don't worry about it!

maya hawke, khadijha red thunder, carlson young, antonia gentry, olivia scott welch, samantha logan, maia mitchell, brianne tju, saoirse ronan, jessica sula, kaitlyn dever, aj clementine, haley lu richardson, emily alyn lind, lee yoo-mi, olivia dejonge, halle bailey, anya taylor joy, chloe bailey, chloe hayden, coco jones, jasmine cephas jones, beanie feldstein, kylie bunbury, katie douglas.

members, if you've got any suggestions feel free to reply to this post!

[yundk]

(Click on the date to read full story). My trip to El Salvador started with our bus breaking down an hour after leaving the bus terminal in San Pedro Sula, Honduras, where I had just spent the past three weeks reuniting with my Honduran family. Like old times, we trained intensely together, giving each other our all to pin, choke, and submit one another, and ending our grueling sessions with a well deserved, so bad it’s so good, hefty Honduran late night meal. After a year and a half away, it was heartening to rekindle old friendships and spark new ones. Their assurances that I will be part of their family forever and that I will always be welcomed to Honduras with open arms and homes was no exaggeration. I can’t thank them enough.

Returning back to our broken down bus; the passengers onboard with me were surprisingly nonchalant about the whole situation. The mood was light, as we held a collective breath of anticipation and hope for each time the driver came back to his seat from the back of the bus with his tools and again attempted to send power to the engine. Again and again, the engine roared for a few seconds, sputtered to a whimper, then gave out. We looked at each other, releasing the tension with a big sigh and chuckling and joking with each other. We may have been stuck in the middle of the road, with 7 hours of driving still ahead of us, but our mood was lighthearted.

Finally, another bus from the same company, this time a small van as opposed to an actual bus we initially boarded, picked us up, and we all crammed into its 12 or 15 passenger seat. I’ve been in so many buses that were packed like this, so it was just another day in the office. Many hours later, we arrived in San Salvador, but not at the terminal that I was expecting. The driver told me that because of the breakdown, they were way behind schedule and this is now where the destination is. No use arguing. I was quite away from the hostel I was planning to stay at, and a taxi would cost $5, an extravagance I wasn’t willing to make. Besides, I never take the taxi; I always take the bus and try to experience to city like the locals. Except, I like to do my research first and be well acquainted with how the city’s transit system works so that I can fake it till I make it as a local commuter. Guess that’s not happening; let’s go run with the wolves. I asked around for which bus leads to a park where my hostel was nearby, and I eventually found it. I boarded, was asked to pay the fare of $.25, and not having any smaller bills, I gave the driver a $10. I learned quickly that nobody pays the bus fare with $10. He was not going to make change, and he waved me away to sit down. I sat down next to a young woman who had witnessed the entire event, and she handed a quarter, along with a gentle advice, be careful with your money. Before getting off her stop, she asked me if I knew where I was going. Letting my guard down, which is something I rarely do when traveling, I replied that truthfully, not really. She turned to an old lady who she had been conversing with and told me that this lady would let me know when I should get off. Before leaving, she handed me another quarter just in case. Surely, the old lady, who in a few weeks would be going on her yearly trip to Dallas to visit family, made sure that I got off on the correct stop and wished me safe travels. I wish I can tell them both now that I’m okay and that I’m actually much better at taking public transportation.

Later that night, I again took the bus to a spot that Larra and Guato, friends from Honduras, told me about. This restaurant put a spin on the traditional, ubiquitous, yet still never gets old, pupusas. Their speciality was the pupusas ahogadas, which was essentially pupusas smothered in tomato or cream sauce with an additional layer of melted cheese on top. It definitely was flavorful, but I felt that it took away the essence of the texture and flavor that come together in the simple package of a traditional pupusa. Nevertheless, among my biggest driving factors for traveling is trying new food, so my trip was off to a great start. I ended my night walking around this neighborhood of Antigua Cuscatlan, enjoying the festive lights that lined the streets, trees, and church of the central park with a warm cup of atole, before taking the bus back to my hostel.

The next morning, I took a free walking tour of San Salvador. Josue, my tour guide, was a young student with an ambition to learn five languages and marry the gringa of his dreams in a few years, a currently underage girl from Dallas who he met while volunteering as an interpreter. We walked around the city as he pointed out various landmarks and explained to me the history that lie underneath each building and monument. He had high remarks for his country’s current president, Nayib Bukele, and admired his savvy use of Twitter and his determined effort to strengthen El Salvador’s economy by capitalizing foreign investment. I asked him from which country he sees most of the tourists, and I found it interesting that he said Germany, because in Honduras I’ve come across several places that proudly emblazoned their flag alongside Germany’s. It’s time I do my research into Germany’s involvement in the history of Central America.

I arrived in Santa Ana midway, checked into my hostel, and proceeded to do my routine wandering about. Although Santa Ana is the second biggest city after San Salvador, the difference between the two cities was vast. The latter felt hyper-industrial, very gritty, I imagine how some of the big American cities like New York and Chicago were a century ago, while the former retained many of the colonial layout and ambience with its small, narrow streets and cobblestone walkways. Although the streets were remarkably dark for a lack of street lights, I did not feel as unsafe as I probably should have, as I’ve come to associate colonial towns with small town tranquility.

The next morning, I climbed the popular Volcan Ilamatepec, or the Santa Ana Volcano, and witnessed its picturesque, turquoise blue crater lake with its slight whiff of sulfur. I took my mandatory Instagram-worthy shots and descended down the rocky trail, for me the worst part of hiking due to my recurrence for twisting my ankle, which did happen a few times, and got lost along the way. I had to back-track up the mountain for a good ten minutes until thankfully I was able to spot another group of people making their way down. A part of me relished in the adventure of it all, while another, growing by the minute, was like, “Wait, I’m actually lost.” It was livening for sure. When I got back to town, I took a bus to the MetroCenter, where I was hoping to find a mounting accessory for my GoPro. I didn’t find anything, so I returned to the place where I got dropped off and got on the return bus, or so I thought. I had actually taken a bus to a whole different neighborhood, and as we traversed the unlit roads, I stayed on the bus passing each stop, while fellow passengers left one by one. I assumed that the bus must return to the stop where I got on, however long that takes, but I felt that it was a guarantee that I could return home. It was another adventure, to see a part of the city that I would never have seen, and to see the final bus station terminal, which was amusingly located smack in the middle of a residential neighborhood, running out of what any other way would look like a regular house. At this terminal, the bus driver directed me to a bus that would take me close to my hostel. I got off at my stop, correctly this time, and finally arrived at my hostel after many unforeseen detours.

On a bus that exemplified the saying of ‘packed like sardines,’ somehow fitting in a few more people at a time when I thought it would be impossible, I set off for Juayua, a starting point for many who want to traverse the Ruta de Las Flores, a scenic route through several small towns along a highway that is adorned with blossoming flowers during the blooming season. I was thrilled to visit Juayua, mostly for its gastronomic festival that it holds every weekend. There, apparently I would be able to find a slew of traditional fare along with exotic meats, including rabbit, iguana, snake, and armadillo, and I wanted to try them all. Turns out that years ago, the sale of iguana and snake was banned due to their endangered status, but I was able to find rabbit on the menu. With my plate of grilled rabbit and accompanying sides, I relished the simple happiness of sitting in the park on a beautiful Saturday, listening to live opera and being surrounded by the chatter and laughter of families.

After my hearty meal, I made my way over to the neighboring town of Concepción de Ataco. This community that is part of the Ruta de Las Flores is known for its colorful murals that line its walls all throughout the streets. Residences, stores, hospitals, municipal buildings, churches, any surface wall, is proudly used as a canvas to illuminate the town with scenic portraits of history, culture, and the daily living of rustic El Salvador. I even came across a mural of two couples in traditional garb, one of El Salvador and the other of Korea. I was overjoyed to see that in this remote town of a country that most Koreans do not know of, or if they do, that they fear, there has been some significant cultural exchange to merit a lasting emblem on the landscape of the city. Coincidentally, I also met a pair of Korean police officers who were on an assignment in El Salvador to train the Salvadoran police force on the Korean police force’s systems and protocols, and ultimately build a collaborative relationship with the Central American armed and civil forces. They were wearing dark sunglasses, and I didn’t know that they were Korean until I asked a Salvadoran police escort if I was on the right path to a lookout point trail and he asked me where I was from. We continued to roam the town together for some time, elated from this unexpected chance meeting of fellow country-people, until we parted ways. In the central town square, I stumbled upon their yearly celebration to commence the holidays and lingered there for the next couple of hours, enthralled by the festivities of glamorous dancing and eccentric costumes, middled in with the blaring horns of corporate sponsors. At the food fair, I discovered a stall of exotic food and the iguana which ever since I came to Honduras was curious to try. The last bus was supposed to leave within the hour, so I asked for my plate to-go, and caught the bus soon before it departed from this town that continued to celebrate well into the night.

Back in Juayua, I woke up early in the morning to do the seven waterfalls hike with Elmer. The tour is offered by the hostel but only if at least two people signed up. I was the only one, but the friendly Nicaraguan staff was able to hook me up under the table. Elmer and I, accompanied by the hostel dog and her neighborhood friends who one-by-one tagged along the way, embarked on an exhilarating hike through majestic waterfalls, ultimately rappelling down one mountainside with a rope tied to a tree. Even after seeing one after another, each waterfall remarkably continued to impress me, all of them with a distinctive contour that would scatter the crystalline water across town from a single source. The hike took us two and a half hours, a significant cut from the usual four to six hour trip that Elmer is accustomed to with other groups. While taking into account that it was just us two, we noted the excellent physical condition that we were both in, and we bonded over our pursuit of proper exercise and nutrition as well as our distaste of white people who would not recognize the history of colonization and the lasting terror that it has left on communities around the world.

Upon our return to Juayua, I decided to walk to Saltoatitán the next town over on the Ruta de Las Flores, a semi-hike uphill on the highway for roughly forty minutes. Honestly, I didn’t find it as scenic as it is pictured to be, with a bouquet of flowers here and there sprinkling the large hedge bushes lining the highway. I arrived at the hostel I found online, which was actually like an AirBnb, an upstairs room in someone’s house that also becomes a restaurant at night, and settled in after assuring the owner that the room was fine just the way it is; the owner hadn’t been expecting a guest and was using the room as a storage for a few household items. After washing up from the wet, grimy hike of earlier morning and the drier, balmy hike soon after, I walked over to the market center to try the famed yuca con chicharrón that the town was known for. Being Sunday, the square was bustling with energy, with live music taking over the town space and families gathered together around the food stalls with heaps of yuca and chicharrón on huge plantain leaves in front of them. It certainly was appetizing, and I spent the rest of the day enjoying the regional delicacies of home cooked pastry candies and yuca doughnuts and chilate, the indigenous dish of gallo de chicha at a higher-end restaurant, and ending the night with a pizza sized yuca pupusa from the kitchen downstairs my room.

After a morning coffee with the host’s husband, I visited the town of Nahizalco, a pueblo with deep indigenous roots that continue to be one of the strongholds of indigenous culture and identity in the country. Their pride and history of hard-fought, bloody, and painful resistance against the colonizers was on full display throughout the town, on their murals, in their museums, exhibited by their handcrafts, and paraded by their traditional garbs. I did my shopping of fruits and vegetables and food stuff at their principal market, and more than once received an amused glance along with a greeting smile that welcomed my sharing in their daily lives. I took my groceries back to Salcoatitón on the back of a pickup truck converted into a passenger transport, fully equipped with a tent and handrails, and savored in the breeze of speeding down the highway. I sat in the shades at the park, enjoying the treats that I had just bought, marveling at how tranquil the town has become after yesterday’s buzz of activity. I took in this moment of peace before heading off to El Tunco. The bus that would take me to this party, backpacker central beach town was trying to warm me up for this change of atmosphere; all throughout the journey, it blasted pop and reggae music, together with bumping bass lights, so loud that it was hard to hear my own thoughts. I checked into a shabby hostel, where it was evident that the motto surf is life took priority. After striking up a conversation with a Salvadoran working there, who I actually thought was a gringo from his wholly surfer boy appearance, I agreed to take surfing lessons from him for a reduced price. The next morning, we set out to ride the waves, or at least I tried to. Truthfully, the lesson part was minimal, and it was more like keep trying until you eventually get it. I did keep trying, and over the hour-and-half, I managed to stand up a big zero times. It was infinitely harder than I had first imagined. We took a break, and I went to La Libertad, the nearby port city, where I walked through the pier along rows of freshly caught marine life of all shapes and sizes and smells. Fishing here was the livelihood of this town, and the fishermen in their hustle and bustle paid me no mind as I stared in wonder at their dexterity in cleaving and gutting one fish, eel, or stingray after another. Later in the afternoon, I returned to the beach with my surf instructor, this time finding ourselves in stronger waves, but we gave it a go, and finally, I was able to stand up, although just once, before falling off mere seconds later. I know that everything takes practice, so the next morning, I rented a surfboard, a longboard this time, which is more beginner friendly, and set off to practice on my own. After more than three hours of toppling over, swallowing and inhaling ocean water, with just one barely successful attempt at standing up for a couple of seconds, I decided to call it a day and packed my bags to shuttle over to Leon. Leon would be a much more forgiving destination.

I was much better at sandboarding down a volcano. I did fall a few times, but I was able to stay on my feet long enough to gather enough speed to instill in me enough fear to make me want to fall on purpose to slow down. I was the only one in my group who decided to hop on a board rather than the customary sled, and I am so glad that I did so. Not only did it look more impressive for the photo op, albeit speeding down the volcanic gravel in an oversized yellow jumpsuit but at least it was standing on a board, it also required a level of finesse and technique to maneuver the board and along with that came a sense of accomplishment. For me, it did live up to the hype, but I don’t think I would have enjoyed it as much if I had elected to do the standard sledding down the volcano. Upon returning to Leon and washing off the ash and soot streaking my face and body from my tumble down a volcano, I went on a dark history tour of the city led by Said, a native who uses the proceeds from the tour to buy seeds and fledgling trees to plant with students in nearby communities. Coupled with an open bar of rum in an old, abandoned fortress, he took us on a journey down the history of Nicaragua, from the early childhood of the now legendary Sandino to the present day and situation that Nicaragua and its people now live in. On the grounds of the fortress where we stood, two hundred men, incriminated by the paranoid US imperialist controlled state, were beheaded and pushed off the cliff. There was never a proper burial. Over this somber history, we took in the sunset, the unrestrained dark, and a lot of rum, one of us too much. She definitely was not the drinking type and became heavily uninhibited, cutting our stay short to return back to the city as fast as possible through the bumpy, dirt road, all throughout hoping that she won’t vomit. Fortunately, she didn’t, and we were able to successfully make it back to her hostel and end the night without anyone getting hurt.

I quickly fell in love with the city of Leon. Its history as a base of revolutionary, freedom fighters, its people living their daily lives without catering to the growing presence of tourists, its lively streets that spill activity into the night. Also, a girl of Leon captured my heart, which happens rarely. We met on top of the Cathedral of Leon, she, volunteering there, making sure that visitors don’t break any rules and that they take off their shoes at the indicated zone, me, asking her a question about the water ducts. We started talking, and she kind of became my personal tour guide, taking me around the cathedral and telling me so many histories that I now don’t even remember. I found out that she was studying tourism in university and eventually wants to become an actual tour guide but always gets super nervous talking to people. We hit it off, chatting until the visiting hours came to a close and on that day, her mom and little sister had come to pick her up. I would’ve loved to prolong this barely hour-long chapter of my life, but this is where the story ends.

On the morning before I was leaving for Estelí, I walked across town to Sutiaba, the neighborhood of Leon that supposedly had a strong indigenous community presence. Honestly, I didn’t see much, and there was not much going on, so I walked back, stopped at a barbershop along the way, and had my first bad haircut in Central America. It wasn’t a terrible cut, the barber had just missed a spot that later I had to go back for, but I’ve learned to have high standards for barbershops in these countries, because they are talented with their fades. At only two to three dollars a cut, I would get myself a touch-up every couple of weeks, and while I’m here, that’s what I’ll do.

I arrived in Estelí a couple of hours after sunset. The 45-minute walk to my hostel led me to an ice cream shop, where the employee notified me that the hostel had closed months ago and didn’t know if and where they moved to. Fortunately, there was another hostel a few blocks away, and this one was in business. I met again a Dutch couple with whom I had just ridden the bus to here and several other backpackers at this base for international travelers in this otherwise traditional, country town. Estelí, located in the northern province of Nicaragua among the mountains, is known for its cooler climate, coffee, tobacco, leather, and cowboys. I would experience that later, as the city was celebrating their anniversary that weekend, and they brought out their best cowboys, hats, belts, boots, and steeds, and those horses showcased their best trots and steps to the beat of the rancho music. They delivered quite a spectacle and scared me more than once when they spun, loped backwards, and I was facing their hind legs. Fortunately, the horses never kicked, and I’m sure the riders had them under control.

Farther up north from Estelí, near the border of Honduras, lies Somoto Canyon, where Río Comali from Honduras meets Río Tapacalí of Nicaragua and converges to form Río Coco, the largest river that runs through Central America. I took an early morning bus to the town of Somoto, where I met my guide, Orvin, who grew up in these canyons and makes a living in agriculture and with these tours. Our trek took us through scenes of an adventure movie, through an expedition of swimming across the canyons of Somoto, surrounded by cliffs of 150 meters high on both sides and the mountains of Northern Nicaragua. We passed by bat caves, cows and bulls foraging the terrain and cooling off in the river, and we took exhilarating and refreshing jumps into the deep emerald pools from 12 meters high. Over the past two weeks, my trip had taken me to spectacular sights and stunning encounters with nature, and so far, this canyoning experience has impressed me the most.

After this incredible trip, I bussed down to Granada, spent a quick night there, and ferried over to Isla de Ometepe, an island made up of two volcanoes connected by a strip of land in the middle. This apparently makes the island take the shape of the number eight, or the infinity symbol. I’m not much of an island person, but seeing how Ometepe is consistently on the must-do list of all Nicaraguan travel guides and I wanted to climb Volcano Concepción, I decided to spend a few days there. The first night, I stayed at the port city, Moyogalpa, the launching point for the Concepción hike. Our hike started at six o’clock in the morning and would be a 2,300 meter climb up to the crater of the active volcano. The crater is perpetually covered in a pack of clouds, and as we approached within several hundred meters of the peak, we were literally walking through clouds and could only see 10 to 20 meters in front of us. Although there was not much of a view towards down below, neither much uphill, the immediate view surrounding us, silhouettes in the distance shrouded by the misty fog, nonetheless made a dramatic scene. We finished the hike in around 7 hours, and I didn’t think it was difficult at all. We actually did it a lot quicker than the usual 9 to 11 hours that it takes most people, most likely because our group consisted of a couple from Germany who was biking from Mexico to Costa Rica, another from China who started in Los Angeles and is biking downwards the Americas, the tour guides, and me. The tour guide, who used to be a sergeant in the military and competed in a few boxing bouts himself, realized why I was not getting tired upon finding out about my background as a boxer. We talked boxing training and regimen, history of Nicaraguan and Korean fighters, the ladies of course, and how the Nicaraguan government is supposedly investing in opening a state-of-the-art boxing gym facility on the island. He wants his son to learn boxing and suggested that I work at the island as a coach and stay at his home for accommodation. I’ve met many families throughout my travels offering to host me whenever I come through their town, and I never know how serious they are, but thinking about it, I’m positive that they were all being genuine. I would also happily host a friend that I make in another part of the world if they ever come to Los Angeles. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live in Ometepe for a long duration of time, because as I said, I’m not an island person, but if I ever see Enoc again, I’d love to invite him to my home and coach his son.

I was dropped back off at my hostel, where I cleaned up and washed my clothes. Around half-an-hour after hanging my clothes to dry, it started to drizzle. Hours ago, we were sitting at the peak of the volcano, enveloped by clouds, its specs of mist clinging to our skin hairs, and the wind howling loud enough that at times it was hard to hear. I wondered what it would be like to be up there right now. In the midst of a storm? Or maybe it’s like a tornado, where it can be quite calm in the center as the outside rages on. Almost as quickly as it started, the rain came to a close. I walked to the bank to retrieve the Moneygram payment I had sent to myself after discovering that my ATM card could not be used overseas. I walked into the most empty bank I had ever been in Central America. There were no other clients except me and even the lighting was dim. I was in and out of the bank in 10 minutes, which was really nice after always spending more than an hour for a bank activity. Today would turn out to be a long day of walking, 42,000 steps according to my phone, as I walked another two hours to watch the sunset at Punta Jesus María, a thin strip of land stretching out like an arrow into Lago Nicaragua. Fortunately, on the way back, a group of tourists who had rented motorbikes offered to give me a ride back to the city. I can now say that I hitchhiked on a motorbike.

The next morning, I caught the bus to Balgüe, the other side of the island. I rented a pedal bike and began exploring in what is probably my favorite way to discover a new area, biking around. I passed by a kayak tour sign and decided on the spot to take a tour of Río Istián, an estuary that snakes through the swamp marshes of Ometepe. I also wanted to watch the sunset, so I agreed with the tour guide to head out a little later at 3pm. When I came back at our agreed upon time, his son brought out the oar, laid it down on my kayak, and walked off, while his dad lay on the bench underneath the shack of the kayak house. I stood around for a minute, waiting for his dad, but when his dad stayed lying down and resting, I went up to him. Picking up his head and turning toward me, he asked if there was a problem. I guess there was some misunderstanding but it appeared like he thought I would be heading out on my own, while I thought he would be accompanying me. I actually preferred what he was thinking, so I replied - no, am I good to head out now? - and paddled offshore. Minutes into the outing, I realized that he had not provided me with a lifejacket, but it didn’t bother me. I felt free, not just from the vest, but more importantly, for being able to carve my own route and journey. As I wanted, I watched the sunset on my kayak, after navigating to a middle point of the lake to place myself at a great vantage point. The sun had set when I started kayaking back to shore, and it dawned on me just how far I had wandered away from the island as the final glows of the sun melted into the darkness. For a good half an hour, I was rowing in the ominous dark, fighting forceful currents that once in a while felt like would capsize my kayak. Despite this, I didn’t feel anxiety or fear, just the will to reach home and get warm. Just as I was approaching the shore, I saw that the tour guide had ridden out on his kayak and was about to search for me, thinking that I was lost in the open waters. He scolded me for coming back so late and for venturing out so far away from shore; I was supposed to stick along the coast and follow the riverbanks, not roam away to the middle of the lake where the sharks are. Until then, I didn’t even know that there were sharks in the lake and when I later did research to check if it he was telling the truth or BSing me to scare me, I found out that it was indeed true. There were bull sharks in the lake, the kind of the sharks that are most common in shark attack incidents. I’m glad that I didn’t know that fact before, because I had kayaked back with confidence and determination, paddling my oars in the dark waters without a worry in the world.

Somewhere along the way back to my hostel, I lost the bike lock key. I woke up extra early in the morning to backtrack my ride to the best of my ability, but I was more or less guessing which side of the lane I was on during different sections of the irregularly paved and unpaved, rocky roads. For more than an hour, I searched intently over the surface, among the rubble, and within the crevices, but I wasn’t successful in finding the key, so I chalked it up as a loss and returned to the hippy, chocolate paradise hostel and joined their morning yoga session. The physical concentration and mental relaxation proved valuable for my down spirits, because I had been stressing hard about the lost key. It had even taken the center stage in my dreams throughout the night. Fortunately, everything was resolved with an extremely simple solution: pay for a new lock that costs less than $3. After all the stressing and trouble I went through.

I only had a few more days left in Nicaragua before heading back home to the States, and I planned out my itinerary to spend those days in Granada, the colonial town that tourists especially love for its vibrant, colorful buildings, cobblestone streets, and old Spanish architecture, like pretty much all other colonial towns. In total, I spent five days there, the longest I’ve stayed at one place, and it was too long. In hindsight, I wish I spent another night or two in the other places I had visited, but I had felt that my time was limited and had moved on faster. It was not because I didn’t like the city. I did, although I admit that I liked the other cities better. I found them more unpretentious, while Granada felt to me like it was catering to tourists, which completely makes sense to do seeing how it is the most popular tourist destination in the country. But that, I feel, comes with it a cost to the soul of the city and its people, who must accommodate themselves to gratify those who do not have long-term roots in that community.

It’s not the case that I didn’t have a good experience in Granada. I totally did. It was just different from the rest of my traveling experiences; it was more comfortable, and considering that I was about to return home soon, where it is the king of comfort, I thought it was too soon. In Granada, I settled in Hostal Azul, where I bonded with a fun group of travelers. We ate breakfast together in the morning, dinner at night, had hour long conversations in the common area while lazily swaying in the hammocks, celebrated birthdays and went out dancing in the open, lively streets of the city, made tamales from scratch for Christmas. We found community in a place and time in our lives when we are called to a nomadic way of living. These connections make it hard to move on, and I know that this is something priceless that should be held onto and treasured. But, I think my haven is escape from commitment, and that’s what travel affords me. When I’m in travel mode, I don’t want to unwind for long; I want to be on the move, on my toes, stepping on new ground. There are moments when I wish I had a traveling companion, and the solitude can feel lonely at times, but that comes with the pains of solo travel. My heart is constantly at odds, one beat longing for the luxuries of home, the other yearning to break off and fly away.

[nsthoughts]

Lost Book

"I finished Sula, I cried a little." I remember her words well. I don't know how it began, maybe it all started when we both were stranger to each other yet we felt each other. Or maybe it all began when we thought there's no beginning. Books, always her favourite. It wouldn't be a surprise if I would ask her what she would be doing and her reply would be reading. Oh wait, she even read while we would be having small conversation. I didn't know much about books, even till date I don't know but her reading would always be a pretty sight to me. She would talk her books and I would just listen as I get engrossed and lost in her tales of books. "I have been looking for "Song of Solomon" for quite some time." She would say to me. And I did listen. Listened to all her books and their tales. From Murakami to Toni Morrison, her tales were beautiful. And how can I even forget her love for Miller's Circe. Greek mythology and the tale of a goddess who battled her way through. Maybe it all began with me telling her that she's a bibliophile to me telling her that she made me fall in love with books. Whatever it might be, I am grateful to how it turned out how it is. Because in the end, I still remember me saying to her "you are mine" with her replying "and you're mine."

[customessaypapers]

Sula alternative to reading

Part 1 Essay Directions: Write a 4-to-5 page creative writing story. Fiction. At least 1000 words.. Proper MLA style format in the heading, in the in-text citations, and in the Works Cited page Use the characters from the novel Sula (Caracter List: https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/s/sula/char..., ) and write a story (this is called Fan Fiction). You may choose a theme from the novel Sula: Friendship, Loyalty, Betrayal, Suffering, Pride, Forgiveness, Sex, Choices, Gender or Race. You still need to read Sula or the Cliffnotes. Sula alternative to reading To read a 190-page book quite honestly is kind of 1995 for a general 1102 class. I am totally okay if you use a Study-Guide / Cliff-Notes for this project. SOOOOO, I found two free study-guides. This should help you get through the material A LOT faster if you choose. https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/sula https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/sula/summary/ About the actual book Sula I found a book online in an easier to read format. https://www.bookscool.com/en/Sula-992348/1 Maybe it helps.. Part 2 Discussion # 1 Choose only ONE of the following options and write a post that agrees OR disagrees with the assertion. Cite specific scenes and/or use specific quotes from the novel to support your position. Your answer should be written in no fewer than 200 words. - Although the novel is titled Sula, the real protagonist is Nel because she is the one who is transformed by the end. OR - While the community ostracizes Sula, it is subconsciously grateful for her presence. When you are done posting your response, reply to at least one classmate in no fewer than 75 words. (Classmate to replay) Sula is a books about good and evil, and how some choices we make can simply affect the rest of our lives without ever realizing the impact of our decisions. Althought the book is called Sula, the real protagonist is Nel because she is the one who changed at the end. Growing up in a small town create the possibility for challenges, let alone growing up in an african american community in the 1900's. In the town known as "The Bottom" Nel comes from a family where social conventions are deeply worship and practiced, as for Sula who lives with her grandmother and mother who were seen as lose throughout the town. The girls would eventually bond and form a friendship as children, then soon after a tramatic experince would change the girls lives forever. After playing one day with the boy who lived in the neighborhood also know as chicken little, the girls would swing him around and he then fell in the river and drowned. Both girls would feel responsible for the accident, and here we begin to see how different people are affected by truma at a young age. The girl would eventually grown apart Nel living a life based on social conventions like getting married and becoming a house wife, while over the next 10 years Sula would go on and live her life fun and ecentric. Sula becomes bored and return to her hometown and reconnect with Nel who we learned felt the most guilt for what happen to the little boy choose to live her life based on social conventions becuase she felt like it would help her redeem herself from what happen. Soon Sula return she ends up sleeping with Nels husband. Nel then realizes she bames her friend for what happen to the little boy and had to question her decisions she made in life and weather or not why she did what she did. We end with Nel visiting Sula grave as she mourns her friend in saddness crying out her name, we can clearly see how Nel has come a long way. Discussion # 2 Post your tentative thesis statement for your literary analysis essay on Sula. Remember that a thesis takes a position about your topic. You are making a kind of argument, an argument that supports a particular analysis of the novel. When you are done posting your thesis, reply to at least one classmate’s post. In your response, provide constructive feedback to your classmate about what id one well and what can be improved. One good strategy involves summarizing the thesis by saying, "The idea you want to prove is . . . ." By doing this, you will be able to provide useful feedback about your classmate's thesis, and, in the process, think about how well your own thesis conveys your position. (Classmate to replay) I chose my creative writing assignment about James Smith and his younger brother Gordon. In Los Angeles California, James recently discharged from The Navy training due to his injury, returns home to reconnect with his family and discover that the fight is not truly over. As James battle for his fathers approval he will debate, and make decisions he not sure about throughout his adventure. While his brother Gordon must find out what it is his brother is up to and for what purpose. Carl, James father quesions how far will he push his boys to become the men he wants them to be.The boys struggle to ajust due to their time apart but eventually must learn to reconnect and become a family again. Gordon goes on to learn of his role in life due to the inspiration of his brother and James must lear how to live in his new reality and overcome its many challenges. This story shows just some of the difficulties that some people have due to their disability, Tramatic experiences, and the outcome of growing up in a enviroment where parent that may not have been supportive to the child. Title: The train ride that would have been Read the full article

[researchpapers4me]

Sula alternative to reading

Part 1 Essay Directions: Write a 4-to-5 page creative writing story. Fiction. At least 1000 words.. Proper MLA style format in the heading, in the in-text citations, and in the Works Cited page Use the characters from the novel Sula (Caracter List: https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/s/sula/char..., ) and write a story (this is called Fan Fiction). You may choose a theme from the novel Sula: Friendship, Loyalty, Betrayal, Suffering, Pride, Forgiveness, Sex, Choices, Gender or Race. You still need to read Sula or the Cliffnotes. Sula alternative to reading To read a 190-page book quite honestly is kind of 1995 for a general 1102 class. I am totally okay if you use a Study-Guide / Cliff-Notes for this project. SOOOOO, I found two free study-guides. This should help you get through the material A LOT faster if you choose. https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/sula https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/sula/summary/ About the actual book Sula I found a book online in an easier to read format. https://www.bookscool.com/en/Sula-992348/1 Maybe it helps.. Part 2 Discussion # 1 Choose only ONE of the following options and write a post that agrees OR disagrees with the assertion. Cite specific scenes and/or use specific quotes from the novel to support your position. Your answer should be written in no fewer than 200 words. - Although the novel is titled Sula, the real protagonist is Nel because she is the one who is transformed by the end. OR - While the community ostracizes Sula, it is subconsciously grateful for her presence. When you are done posting your response, reply to at least one classmate in no fewer than 75 words. (Classmate to replay) Sula is a books about good and evil, and how some choices we make can simply affect the rest of our lives without ever realizing the impact of our decisions. Althought the book is called Sula, the real protagonist is Nel because she is the one who changed at the end. Growing up in a small town create the possibility for challenges, let alone growing up in an african american community in the 1900's. In the town known as "The Bottom" Nel comes from a family where social conventions are deeply worship and practiced, as for Sula who lives with her grandmother and mother who were seen as lose throughout the town. The girls would eventually bond and form a friendship as children, then soon after a tramatic experince would change the girls lives forever. After playing one day with the boy who lived in the neighborhood also know as chicken little, the girls would swing him around and he then fell in the river and drowned. Both girls would feel responsible for the accident, and here we begin to see how different people are affected by truma at a young age. The girl would eventually grown apart Nel living a life based on social conventions like getting married and becoming a house wife, while over the next 10 years Sula would go on and live her life fun and ecentric. Sula becomes bored and return to her hometown and reconnect with Nel who we learned felt the most guilt for what happen to the little boy choose to live her life based on social conventions becuase she felt like it would help her redeem herself from what happen. Soon Sula return she ends up sleeping with Nels husband. Nel then realizes she bames her friend for what happen to the little boy and had to question her decisions she made in life and weather or not why she did what she did. We end with Nel visiting Sula grave as she mourns her friend in saddness crying out her name, we can clearly see how Nel has come a long way. Discussion # 2 Post your tentative thesis statement for your literary analysis essay on Sula. Remember that a thesis takes a position about your topic. You are making a kind of argument, an argument that supports a particular analysis of the novel. When you are done posting your thesis, reply to at least one classmate’s post. In your response, provide constructive feedback to your classmate about what id one well and what can be improved. One good strategy involves summarizing the thesis by saying, "The idea you want to prove is . . . ." By doing this, you will be able to provide useful feedback about your classmate's thesis, and, in the process, think about how well your own thesis conveys your position. (Classmate to replay) I chose my creative writing assignment about James Smith and his younger brother Gordon. In Los Angeles California, James recently discharged from The Navy training due to his injury, returns home to reconnect with his family and discover that the fight is not truly over. As James battle for his fathers approval he will debate, and make decisions he not sure about throughout his adventure. While his brother Gordon must find out what it is his brother is up to and for what purpose. Carl, James father quesions how far will he push his boys to become the men he wants them to be.The boys struggle to ajust due to their time apart but eventually must learn to reconnect and become a family again. Gordon goes on to learn of his role in life due to the inspiration of his brother and James must lear how to live in his new reality and overcome its many challenges. This story shows just some of the difficulties that some people have due to their disability, Tramatic experiences, and the outcome of growing up in a enviroment where parent that may not have been supportive to the child. Title: The train ride that would have been Read the full article

[sulasaferoom]

what program did you use to make that catra painting? :0

Ah!

Thank you for the ask :)

It was good old Photoshop! Here is a step by step:

[sulamoon]

So cool to know you've gotten to work with Blizzard! And I'm glad too, your art is wonderful and deserves a wider audience!

Yay :D Thank you so much

[sheithpocalypse]

Re: your recent fic search, "Tuck and Roll" by evaunit0. I read what you were looking for and was like, Oh I know just the...wait, where...who wrote... I swear this fic exists... And like 6 different ao3 filter combos later, found it!

ajsdghsfkhk oH GOSH ANON, THANK YOU SO MUCHHHHHH ;^;

omg that’s some dedication! hahaha i super appreciate that you went through so much trouble to find me this! I just finished the fic and it deals with keith’s feels in just the way my heart was craving

Tuck and Roll by evaunit0

also i’m gonna go ahead and tag @sulasaferoom cause we’ve both been screaming about our mighty need for this whole thing together and she’d probably kill me if i didn’t share the fic recs

[hillzhqs]

mwf ?

*cracks knuckles* zendaya, deepika padukone, davika hoorne, gemma chan, minka kelly, cierra ramirez, mishti rahmen, halle bailey, bruna marquezine, kiana lede, zion moreno, angelina jolie, taylor hill, valentina zenere, madelaine petsch, lily rose depp, ashley moore, jennie kim, nathalie emmanuel, nina dobrev, natasha liu bordizzo, chase sui wonders, jessica sula, carlson young, caitlin stasey, adelaide kane, alva bratt, lisa bonet, melisa asli pamuk, yaya urassaya, naz sayiner, mila kunis, kerry washington, india amarteifio, azul guaita, reina hardesty, winona ryder, lizeth selene, riley keough, eva de dominci, sofia jamora, lee saerom, emeraude toubia, brianne howey, aubrey plaza, rachel mccadams, suki waterhouse, and lauren tsai! members, ofc, pls reply with yours to add to this list!!

[nottinghillhq]

hi! any mw woc?

hey there anon! i'll list some suggestions below, if you need some more you can check out our most wanted tag. as always members feel free to reply to this post if you've got any more suggestions.

jodie turner - smith, lupita nyong'o, jasmine cephas jones, sab zada, karen fukuhara, ruth negga, amita suman, lauren ridloff, aj clementine, ritu arya, charithra chandran, lindsey morgan, zazie beetz, zawe ashton, tika sumpter, teyonah parris, gugu mbatha-raw, rose matafeo, michaela jaé rodriguez, Bethany antonia, chloe bailey, pearl mackie, dewanda wise, devery jacobs, alisha wainwright, kirby howell-baptiste, khadijha red thunder, jessica sula, amrit kaur, patricia allison