cities from the sky

From space all of our cities look like stars.
From the sky all of our countries become one.
No lines drawn.
No border disputes.
No bombs, and guns, and violence.
No earth shattering wails of
humans searching for a safe harbour.
No doors, windows, gates, borders closed to humanity.
From space all of our cities look like stars.
From the sky all of our countries become one.
And we were meant to sparkle.
So, where have we lost our humanity?
—  losing our humanity to border lines // Hina Syeda @abillionlittlethoughts
10

Cities From The Sky

1 •Dubaï, Émirats Arabes Unis.

2 • Shanghai, Chine.

3 • Mexico, Mexique.

4 • Barcelone, Espagne.

5 • Amsterdam, Pays-Bas.

6 • Venise, Italie

7 • Moscou, Russie.

8 • San Francisco, États-Unis.

9 • Paris, France.

10 • Seattle, Etats-Unis.

via fubiz

Let You Go || Park Jimin

Originally posted by yoonmin

Word Count: 3.0k

Genre: Angst/Fluff


The airport was a busy place, filled with busy people living busy lives and heading to their own respective places. It just so happened that you happened to be one of the few who wasn’t as busy, which meant you could take your time to look around at everyone walking around you. It amazed you to see how many people lived here, how many people were constantly traveling It was like an entirely different world to you.

Your parents had moved from Seoul when you were at a very young age, and moved to America. You had been living in America and you had grown up learning to speak English and Korean, as your family didn’t want you to forget where you were from and at some point they were planning on moving back to Seoul, they just weren’t sure when.

Jiwon was one of the only other Korean people you knew in New York. The two of you had instantly bonded over the fact that you shared the same nationality and you became instant friends. You were excited to finally have someone you could talk to in your native language, and it seemed she was just as excited. The two of you would gossip all the time and you would find yourselves always getting into trouble.

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Green

Jack Frost though he knew what pretty was with his frost. He could spend mere seconds or hours on their designs. Jack Frost thought he knew what pretty was when he saw all the lights in North’s workshop or the carful paints in Aster’s warden. 

But this boy took it to a whole new level.

The other boy’s eyes were a toxic green, and his hair was a pale dying white, with perhaps a bit of grey.

The boy moved in a way that was light and gave Jack Frost the impression that if he tried to touch him, the boy would dissolve into fog. Which wasn’t illogical considering the fact that the boys legs, or where they were supposed to be, was nothing but a mere black mist that smeared into the surroundings.

No, all the things that he saw before? They were nothing compared to this boy with the dangerous green eyes. With the almost eldritch, dangerous beauty and soft glow led Jack Frost’s eyes to him like a moth to a flame.

This boy reminded Jack of his lake that they were currently next to. Both were calm, still, but had unimaginable depth.

And in both, Jack can see himself drowning in.

From experience, Jack knew that ghost that were once human couldn’t see spirits. Unfair but true. The law of spirits still clinged to them, even after death. They had to believe to see. And a scarce few ever believed in the infamous Jack Frost.

“What the hell are you look’en at?”

Jack Frost blinked, This ghost seemed to prove himself once more to be the exception. “Your radiant beauty, what else?”

The ghost raised a brow, amused, “Are you flirting with me?”

Jack Frost swallowed as ghost still had a unwavering green eyes soly on Jack, “maybe.”

The ghost stared at Jack Frost for a long time, The black and damning mist that the boy had waist below solidified into two solid legs as he walked closer to Jack over the ice.  “what’s your name?“

Jack mocked a bow, “Jack Overland Frost, at your service.” He straightened his back, “And what’s your name, if I may ask?”

The ghost paused, trying to revise a old memory, and returned the bow, “They call me Phantom, but I believe that I once had a much older name.” Then the ghost, or Phantom, gave Jack a strange look, “Your name is Jack Frost? Seriously?”

Jack Frost snorted, “Hey, you’re the last person to judge. I mean, you’re a ghost that calls himself Phantom.”

Phantom chuckled, “Fair enough.” Phantom moved closer to Jack Frost, “I’ve never really seen a person quite like you before…” Danny cocked his head, “Not quite human, and defiantly not a ghost. Half, whole or otherwise.” Phantom, oblivious to personal space, was comfortably nose to nose with Jack Frost, “So, what are you?”

Jack Frost’s knees felt weak. The green eyes were electric and had Jack’s insides buzzing with a strange energy, “I’m a spirit. That’s, uh.” If it was possible, Phantom leaned closer, listening, cold breaths mingling “A, uh. A spirit, you know?” Jack Frost floundered.

Jack Frost was both disappointed and had to hold back a sigh of relief when the spirit leaned back in mild surprise. “A spirit? That’s new. Don’t meet many of those quite often,”

Phantom’s legs merged back into fog and mist. “How long had you been a spirit?”

Jack Frost paused to think about it. “A very long time.” It was more than true. For whatever reason, Jack had long out-lived the rest of Guardians. Even Sandy, the man of dreams. “What about you? How long have you been a ghost?”

Something Phantom’s face made Jack instantly regret his question.

“Longer than I care to remember,” Phantom finally said.

“Ah.” Jack Frost nodded, “Lets just agree that we’re the same age then.”

Phantom’s unwavering eyes analyzed Jack Frost in a intimate way that tightened Jack Frost’s chest and made his head spin, “ … I can agree to that.” The ghost finally said slowly.

Jack Frost floundered, “I… what brings you to my lake?”

Phantom raised a brow, “This your lake?”

Jack gestured to around them, “I live here for the moon knows how long, if not all else, I would hope that this warrants the lake as my own.” Jack Frost leapt to the crook of his staff, “So, what brings here?”

“I found this place by accident and found it…” Phantoms cutting eyes glanced to Jack Frost, “Well, I found it rather beautiful.”

Right then and there Jack Frost’s legs nearly buckled, And his head short-wired, now Jack Frost could only be on autopilot.

“Oh.” Was the only response Jack could make.

Phantom, looking back at the lake now, nodded. “You won’t mind if I come back to your lake, would you?”

Jack Frost shook his head, “I- no! I mean, um… I wouldn’t mind.”

Phantom rose higher in the air, “Till next time then.”

And then he was gone.


The next time Jack Frost saw Phantom was when instead of a ghost with dangerous green eyes and mist for hair, he was a boy with hair as dark as the lakes depths where the light doesn’t dare touch and sad blue eyes.

Also unlike the first time, Phantom had his legs curled close and was gazing at the stars by the shore.

Jack Frost found him just as striking as his other form. “Phantom! You’re back,”

Phantom jerked his head towards Jack. “You… you recognize me?”

Jack Frost nodded, “Always.” He blinked. “I mean yes! Yeah I recognize you.”

Phantom seemed a bit star-stuck, “No one ever recognizes me. Not like this.”

Jack Frost looked to the star spotted sky, and thought of his once human form. “I can relate to that,”

Phantom slowly looked back to the sky as well, and eventually said, “You can see the stars so well here, that’s so rare in this day and age.”

Jack Frost nodded, it was what he always loved best about this lake, was that the light from the cities and lamp posts were so far way from here that the sky was always dark enough to see the stars. “I don’t know why, but most mortals tend to stray away from here.” Jack cautiously sat down next to Phantom.

For a long time, they both sat there. Unchallenged by time.

Domestic Powers #2: Lincoln

(In case you didn’t know this is a series of posts I’m writing that headcanons the domestic uses and idiosyncrasies of Inhuman powers. Feel free to send headcanons of your own.)

I know that when he’s upset, or angry, or scared, Lincoln has difficulty controlling his powers. But I’d like to call attention to the fact that when he’s more calm, the amount of precision that he has is AMAZING. He knew the exact amount of voltage required to float Daisy without hurting her. He knew the exact voltage necessary for electrical resuscitation, and for rebooting electrical circuits without frying them. Those are all very specific amounts of electricity, and in those instances he was in PERFECT control. So let’s destroy the notion that Lincoln has a very loose grasp on his abilities all the time.

Let’s talk domesticities.
His ability isn’t just lightning, it’s the concentration and manipulation of any electrical current. Which means his fighting can be so much deadlier that lightning bolts. Imagine Lincoln snapping his fingers and any given adversary falling face first to the ground, because the synapses in their brain are no longer firing. Imagine Lincoln being able to wreck havoc in a persons brain by manipulating the electricity it runs on. Imaging a room full of Hydra agents dropping mid-step, because their SAN was overloaded. (FYI, SAN/ the sinoatrial node/ is one of the nodes next to your heart that keep it beating)

But he’s also a doctor. So imagine him learning to ease a person in pain by not allowing the wounded person’s nervous system to send electrical signals to the brain. Imagine him being able to tell whether or not a person is brain dead just by touching them, or helping a damaged brain create new electrical pathways.
•Lincoln learning about ECT, and being able to help people with extreme depression, mania, aggression, dementia, and catatonia that medications didn’t help. Lincoln being skilled in any kind of immediate, in the field, electrical resuscitation.

What about the little quirks? Like the fact that EMPs, for some reason, knock him out cold. (They discovered this on accident in the field with Mack, who never lets him forget it. All the cell phones died, and Lincoln fell flat on his face. Daisy laughed herself to tears.)

•He has a constant static buildup. When you stand too close, the hair on you arms stand on end. It’s actually ridiculous when he gets sweatshirts out of the dryer and then comes in contact with any conductive surface. Loud zapping and cursing can be heard coming from anyone touching said surface.

•His eyes, during the day, are their normal gunmetal blue. In darkness, however, they have a strange blue luminescence. It’s not enough to see by, but enough to know that it’s there. (He scared the crap out of Daisy on more than one occasion with this unintentional quirk. He didn’t even know he was doing it until she told him.)

•His phone holds its charge for a ridiculous amount of time, something that frustrates Daisy and Fitz to no end. On long flights, a bemused Lincoln can be found with iPhone charger wires wrapped around his fingers. (“Daisy…I don’t think”-“Shhh just one second I have to beat Elena at this level of flappy birds and my phone is almost dead”) He has been used as a field generator on more than one occasion.

•On the 4th of July, eternal sparklers dance in his fingertips.

•Even though cell phones and tablets love him, computers DO NOT. If he’s not paying attention, something about him messes with their circuitry. (Jemma will never let him forget the time he sneezed while researching on a lab computer and to this day it only work on weekends and every other Thursday. Fitz and Daisy have taken to magnetizing things.)

•Since Coulson and Mack have made it their personal mission to educate Lincoln in the world of alien and robot horror movies, he has mastered the “horror-movie-light-flicker”. He enlisted Elena’s help to prank unsuspecting agents around the base. Empty hallway, light flicker, and Elena is breathing down the agents neck in dollar store horror mask (that Daisy definitely did not buy for her.)

•He can control the skies themselves. During thunderstorms, he directs the electrical imbalance between clouds and Earth to create lightning storms that can send entire cities into blackouts. He can make planes fall from the sky by draining their controls, and short entire cities of communication. Lincoln is powerful enough to do things he never dared attempt. Like Daisy, he’s never actually reached the limits of his powers. He doesn’t even know if he has any.

•External circuits of electricity don’t hurt him. It was one of the things that puzzled the Hydra scientists that captured him. When subjecting him to the electric shocks typical of a powered person testing, he absorbed 99% of it, no matter the voltage. All it did was wear him out.

•There are two major field operations for Lincoln, blowing stuff up or sucking it dry. If they are operating in stealth, he sucks the whole place dry of electricity and let’s them wander in the dark without communications. Or, he can blow every circuit for the perimeter radius, and set every piece of information ablaze.

•He smells faintly of ozone, after he’s used his abilities for lengthy amounts of time. Like Daisy, if he overuses his powers, he can actually hurt himself. He develops thin spidery Lichtenberg figures along his forearms running up over his shoulders.

•When he absentmindedly plays with Daisy’s hair after a long day, tiny electrical pulses help relax her tired muscles. Sometimes he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, but she enjoys it, so she just lets him play with her hair and think.

•He can maneuver large pieces of rubble and other heavy objects by levitating them like he did Daisy. His current record for mass is the entire wing in an exploded quinjet (Daisy helped).

•Because of his gifs, he has been called every nickname in the book. Sparks, Sparkplug, Electroboy, Sparky, Power Ranger, Sparkler, Sparkly, the list goes on for eternity. Mack is to blame for most of them. In the days of Afterlife, before his abilities were fine tuned, electrical fires were very common. Any combustible materials could be set ablaze with ease. Most of his shirts were freckled with burn holes. Swimming was an issue as well. (Once, while in a pool, he was doused thoroughly by an inhuman hydrokinetic. This was shortly followed with yelps and cursing from the people in the pool, who had all been accidentally electrocuted.)

•When he got a cold, he sneezed LITERAL sparks. (Another fact that Daisy’s finds disproportionately hilarious).

•Just…Lincoln using his beautiful abilities for more than lightning bolts. (@*^*@) ヾ(*´∀`*)ノ

stanlons  asked:

stanlon first date hcs?

i’m sorry this took so long!!!!!

-they’re like 17/18
-there’s def mutual pining
-stan makes the first move cuz hes just so desperate!!
-at first he feels a bit like hes not good enough for mike since this boy is literally soft and kind, but after a lot of facetious yelling from richie, he finally asks him out
- stan almost starts publicly crying when mike says yes but mike just grabs his hands and helps him regulate his breathing
-its a saturday and around 5 stan goes to pick up mike at his place and he has a single dark red carnation laying in the passenger seat of his car
-when mike enters the car he immediately showers stan with compliments, he just cant stop telling this boy how beautiful he is!!
-stans hands r just sweating so much and hes smiling so big
-mike pics up the carnation and since he knows a lot about flower symbolism he realizes stan is basically admitting he loves him and he chokes up a lil cuz this boy is just so damn pure
-neither of the boys rly had been able to come up w any date ideas so they just drive around town for awhile
-they talk about their childhoods, their likes and dislikes and mike tells so many funny stories that stan starts crying from laughing so hard and mike cant stop staring at him,, his ugly honking laugh is just so !!!!aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
-stan has a box of cassette tapes sittin in the back of his car so he shows mike all of his fav songs and mike sits there listening intently to every word he says while he explains why he likes the songs
-after about 2 hrs they stop by a drive thru place and get shakes (strawberry for stan and vanilla for mike) and fries
-mike tells stan that hes kinda disappointed cuz he rly wanted be cliche and share a shake w him
-stan rolls his eyes, trying rly hard to hide his smile and mike cant help it, stan is just so fucking cute he leans over and gives stan a lil kiss on the lips
-stans shocked and mike can taste the strawberry from stans shake on his lips and tbh,,, this is so much better than sharing a shake
-after they’re done eating its getting kinda dark outside but they want the night to keep going so they drive off about an half an hour away from derry and they pull over by a small field full of tall grass and wildflowers
-both boys run out of the car and mike takes off the hoodie he was wearing and puts it in a flat patch of land for stan to sit on
-stans dumbass just blushes and sits down
-the moon is out and since they’re far from any big cities, the sky is beautiful and clear, they can see every star in the sky
-they sit and talk, once in awhile mike picks up flowers and sticks them in stan’s hair
-anytime he sees a bird or thinks he sees a bird, he asks stan about it and listens to every word he says, he loves hearing him talk so much!!
-it soon starts getting rly late and stan is clearly falling asleep staring at how beautiful mike looks w the moonlight reflecting on his skin
-mike tells stan that they should start heading back home, he helps stan get up and get into the car
-mike is driving this time
-stan eventually falls asleep, he has his head resting on his shoulder and his hand is on mike’s thigh
-mike drives back home listening to one of stan’s mixtapes, which is just a bunch of soft love songs and mike really wants to cry because he really thinks his relationship with the goofy boy snoring next to him could really become something beautiful
-they get to mike’s place and mike wakes up stan so he can start heading home but stan just tells him he wants to stay
-so mike ushers him into the house and they take piles of blankets and pillows outside and set up a makeshift bed under a large oak tree
-they fall asleep listening to each other’s soft breathing and everything is so, so good.

Cappadocia, Turkey - is a ancient region in Central Anatolia, best known for its unique moon-like landscape, underground cities and cave towns. All of which is best seen from the sky, with dozens of hot air balloons offering amazing bird                                                 eye views.

           Travel Gurus - Follow for more Amazing Photographies!

Flying High (Peter Parker)

Type: Peter Parker x Reader

Word count: 797

Summary: Peter and the reader are flying back to New York. They hit a little turbulence and the reader has flight anxiety so Peter has to keep them from having a full blown attack on the plane.

A/N: I wrote this one while I was on a plane, on the edge of having a panic attack due to some pretty bad turbulence. So i guess I can say this is based on a true story? Except instead of amazing Peter Parker I had my sister who was trying to sleep and kept telling me to “Stop.” But, anyway-enjoy!

Originally posted by gabedonohoe

The view from above the truly beautiful. You and Peter were on a late night flight from California back to New York from a college tour, and below you the cities sparkled to life. From the sky they all mostly looked the same, a bright center of light in the middle that slowly dissipated until it got harder and harder to see. There were circles of each light faction, and in each one the light ventured out until it disappeared.  You looked past Peter and out to the window, to transfixed on the lights to remember your flight anxiety. That was until the plane shook.

It happened suddenly, the jolt sending you back into your seat and causing the some rumbles of surprise from the other passengers. The fasten seatbelt sign sign quickly illuminated above your heads and the captain made a brief announcement explaining that there was going to be some “slight turbulence” and that there was “nothing to worry about.” That did not at all alleviate any of your fears about the plane unceremoniously crashing into the ground below. Slowly the panic began to take over, you instinctively tighten your seatbelt as tight as it could go. That earned you peters attention, as he looked at you worriedly.  

Another bought of turbulence shook the plane and Peter grabbed your hand, which had began to shake. “Hey, (Y/N) its going to be okay. Nothing is going wrong, turbulence is completely normal. It happens all the time.” He smiled, trying to ease your panic, but it wasn’t working, your whole body was still shaking with fear.

You could barely register the words he was saying. “Do you feel that? We’re falling, I can feel it.

There’s nothing underneath the plane and we’re falling.” You thought you could feel the very bottom of the plane betah you feet and it felt like tehre was nothing there. No air, no gravity, nothing to hold you up in the air. You looked through the window and all you could see what darkness with the occasional flashing light from the plane signaling to other planes that you were in the air.

Peter used his free hand to slowly rub your arm, “(Y/N), honey, your okay. We’re not falling, that’s just the panic talking.” The look just so calm, that it was in between making you feel better and annoying you. How could he be so calm when the plane was going to fall out of the sky? The metal bucket you had flown into the sky was violently shaking and he just looked so calm.

“I told you, we shouldn’t have flown back to New York. Planes are large metal cages somehow floating in the air, we’re asking for this, humanity was asking for this. The wright brother had no business trying to fly like birds, only birds can fly. That’s just the way it’s supposed to be!” You rambled as the man in the seat to you began to look at you with a wide-eyed expression.

“(Y/N), Planes are very safe, okay? Here are literally thousands of place if anything were to happen which in and of itself is rare. And we had to get back tonight to make to be able to make it to class tomorrow.” I’d rather not go to class than be, dead Peter.

“Honestly, we just threw ourselves to the mercy of the wind. And I dont think its feeling very merciful today.” Suddenly, it didn’t feel like you were falling anymore. It felt like the wind was constantly punching the plane below you, each bump seeming to put the plane higher and higher in the air. Again you looked out the window, but the darkness yelied no answers.

“(Y/N) thousands of planes are in the skies everyday. We’ll be okay.” Okay, okay thats true. Thousands of planes, what makes ours any different?

You took a breath but, the shaking wouldn’t stop. “Peter, I just-The feeling won’t go away. I know, I’m crazy, but it just all feels so real.” You knew now that the plane wasn’t falling (for the most part) but for some reason your anxiety and body didn’t seem to realize that fact. The panic was still coursing through your veins and your hands continued to shake like the plane.

Peter rubbed your knuckles his thumb, “Your not crazy. It’s okay to have anxiety and I know it feels very real. I will be here, talking you through it, until the feeling goes away. Okay?”

You smiled slowly. “Okay.”

And another wind gust shook the plane. You gripped onto Peter’s hand and he told you over and over that nothing was wrong, and that everything was okay. Okay.

Masterpost

lozenger8  asked:

What kind of nerdy interests do you think Sam and Bucky would be surprised to find they share?

For Sam, it starts with an elementary class trip to a planetarium.

The lights dim and the dome above them glitters with stars and even though everyone else is still giggling, Marisol poking him in the ribs to get his attention and Ben trying to tell him about the math quiz he’s sure he’d bombed, that’s it. Sam is sold.

“Did you know,” he says that night, hopping from foot to foot with excitement, “the Milky Way, it’s got four hundred billion stars.” It’s a number so big he can’t even hold it in his head. Just squints out the window as if he’ll be able to see any one of those four hundred billion through the dull glow of the city sky. His mom smiles.

“I didn’t know,” she says. Kisses his forehead. “Guessing I’ll be hearing a lot more of those facts real soon, huh.”

He gets a book about the universe for his birthday. A star map for Christmas. They stick plastic glow-in-the-dark stars onto his bedroom ceiling, all his favorite constellations. Orion and Pegasus and the Lyre, Vega bright enough he can spot it even in the Harlem night sky.

They don’t fade. Still there when he and Ben get a little drunk on the beer Ben’s cousin buys him. Still there when Marisol (and Kate, and Arthur, later,) kiss him cautious and a little daring, his bedroom door still open just like the house rules say it’s gotta be.

Still there when his dad isn’t, and that’s wrong, that’s not how it should be, his dad’s supposed to be here forever, isn’t he? That’s what dads do. That’s where Sam’s dad should be.

When Sam flies, it’s like he’s up in the sky right there with the stars. Like he could just reach out and touch.

“Man, watch this,” Riley says, and loops tight and twisting, wings flaring out, and his laughter is as bright as the stars are in this sky where the stars are unfamiliar and there’s no light pollution to dim them at all.

(The stars are still there when Riley’s gone, too, and Sam stares up at them dully for hours. Days. Weeks and months. They’re nothing but shitty yellow plastic, and he’d hate them if he had the energy to hate anything.)

The back door is open, and Sam can’t sleep, and he steps outside just to take a breath, that’s all. Except someone’s already on the deck, stretched out on their back like they’re taking a nap, and Bucky’s arm glints in the moonlight.

“Sorry,” Sam says. “I just-”

“Couldn’t sleep?” Bucky asks. “Yeah, that’s familiar.”

“So, what, you thought you’d try it out here?” Sam says, can’t help but be curious, and Bucky tilts his head back to look at Sam leaning in the back doorway. Huffs a little.

“Nah,” he says, “it’s just-” Goes silent, and looks up at the sky for a long time. “Did you know,” he says, when he’s been quiet for long enough Sam thinks the conversation is over already. “Our galaxy. It’s got four hundred billion stars in.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, blinking in surprise. “Yeah, I did- I did know.” It’s enough that he sits his ass down next to Bucky, wraps his arms around his knees, tilts his own face up to the sky. Their safehouse is far out, away from any cities. The sky is brighter than anything he’s seen in years.

“Wish I had a telescope,” Bucky murmurs. “You know, when I was real little, they thought the Milky Way was the only galaxy in the universe? Then that Hubble guy showed up. I used to read a lot. Expanding universe and all that. Entire galaxies outside our own. Worlds and worlds, receding off into infinity.”

It’s more than Bucky’s ever said to him in one go. Sam takes a breath, feeling the cool night air fill his lungs right up, and exhales. Lies down, and stares up at the stars, carefully not looking at Bucky.

“New York sky bug you back then, too?” he asks, very casually, and Bucky laughs.

“Oh my god, the smog, it was fuckin’ awful,” he agrees. “Light pollution’s worse nowadays, but at least we don’t burn as much coal for heat, Jesus.”

“That one there,” Sam says, reaching up to point, “it’s Vega,” and he knows Bucky must know, but he’s leaning over a little closer. Drops his arm back down, closer still, and thinks about the distance between galaxies.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, very softly, “yeah, I know, it’s beautiful,” and links his little finger with Sam’s. The universe expanding, and Sam feels it all in that one small touch.

Reminiscing

It was freezing. Harsh winds were blowing, pushing against Kyungsoo’s back as he walked down the sidewalk towards the radio station. He pulled his black pea coast up around his neck, tucking his scarf into his jacket more. Why hadn’t he taken the car all the way here? Ah, yes because he was an idiot and he wanted to think about what he was doing before he got there. Clear his mind as it was. EXO was done. At least for now, they deserved a long break, Xiumin was off to the army soon, and he knew he would be as well. He was about to release a slow jams R&B record and SM was all for promoting him solo. He didn’t want to do any fan meets, and he was lax about doing concerts until record sales hit a certain amount of numbers. All DO really wanted to do was relax. He wanted to be able to wake up, and do what he wanted, when he wanted and not worry about people crowding him. 

Truth be told, since EXO had announced their hiatus, 6 months ago, he went out for the first time in forever, and bought a cup of coffee. No one said anything to him. He opened the door to the radio station, greeted by the people inside. 

They smiled at him and showed him to the floor, he was supposed to go. Coffee was all he wanted, and maybe some snacks. The radio MC came in, shaking his hand. The older gentleman, smiled, his peppered hair messy on his head. 

“Do Kyungsoo, how are you feeling about tonight?”

“Good. A little nervous, but I know that’s normal until I settle into it anyway.” DO stood up, giving a slight bow to the older man. 

“You’ll be fine. I’ve been broadcasting this for like two weeks, and rating have soared. We are going to have a ton of listeners tonight.” The man clapped his shoulder, leaving the small room. 

DO sat, leaning his head back against the wall. They had a list of questions, that he had looked over, but in reality he was comfortable with just about anything. If he didn’t want to answer, he wouldn’t. That simple. A young woman, clipboard in hand opened the door summoning him. 

“The show is on in 10 minutes, let’s get you set up.” She led Kyungsoo to a room, with chairs and mics and headphones. 

He sat down in the chair across from the MC, and she handed him a set of headphones, adjusting a mic in front of him. He set his coffee down, and asked for a refill.

He listened to a few more songs play before the MC, cleared his throat and motioned for him to do the same.

“Hello, listeners, thank you for tuning in tonight. We have our special guest here. EXO member Do Kyungsoo, lead vocals in the group. He is releasing a solo album next week entitled: Castaway Love. How are you DO?”

Kyungsoo coughed a bit. “I’m good, how are you?”

“Fine, thanks for asking. So, EXO is on hiatus. How do you feel?”

One thing that was weird about radio interviews is that even though, DO was sitting right in front of the interviewer, this was live and essentially he was talking to the listeners. “It feels liberating in a way, but it’s also kind of weird. We don’t stay in the dorms so, we are all off and doing our own thing for awhile. It was an adjustment period. Some of us still room together in shared apartments.”

“Really? What about you?” He stared at DO from across the table.

“I live alone. I like my privacy. I like being able to just do what I want and know no one is watching me. I’m an introvert, by nature.” DO chuckled. 

“Being alone, living alone. Is that the kind of atmosphere, that fueled your album?”

DO tapped his fingers on the wood. “I want to say yes, but it was things before that. I think that the privacy enabled me to search within myself, and pull out what I wanted to sing about.” 

The MC nodded his head. “And pull out the emotions you did. I listened to the two tracks you released and my god. This is you pouring out your soul. This is raw emotion. It seems too real.”

DO smiled, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean, I don’t do sub par work. To answer, your question though, it is real.” 

The MC hummed loudly. “So there is a woman at the center of the labyrinth that is Kyungsoo. With the success and worldwide fame of EXO, I would assume so. So, is that what this is about a special lady?”

“Uh, I mean.” DO thought carefully about his next words, rubbing his neck. “I had fun during the EXO time. There were women who caught my eye. I’ve only been in love one time. I’ve only truly loved one woman. So, yea, the album is about her.” 

“Now this is a story in itself! We weren’t even going this far. We have to hear this. Can you share it?”

DO licked his lips, the memories rushing back into his mind. His heart began to thump as her face appeared in his mind. He told himself he wouldn’t think of her anymore. It was over and the past stayed in the past. No time for second chances. He could tell the story though, he could let others know that he was more than just a shell.

“I can tell the story, sure.” He wiped his eyes, and took a sip of his coffee. 

“So, where did you meet this mystery woman? On tour? Fan Meet? Noodle shop?” 

“In America, actually. On my own time. I had some time between comebacks, and I had always wanted to vacation in America. So, I did some research and ended up in North Carolina. Rented a house there and just had fun. I went there because, EXO was never in North Carolina. I had privacy.”

“So an American woman? Korean-American?” The MC asked.

“I’ll get into that.” DO grinned, his finger moving around the rim of his cup. “Basically, I was near the ocean, I was far enough from the big cities to enjoy the night sky. I had a good time and fell in love.” 

DO listened the host talk nonchalantly after that, the show was winding up for the night, and he let the thoughts of her drift in and out of his head, as he listened to some callers and took questions. He knew this would pop up. Some women telling him of their love, and could he fall in love again. Others complaining, that he went to America and found love what was wrong with Korea?

At the end, he stood up and thanked the MC for his time. The older man smiling at him. 

“I’m really interested in hearing this. My whole show is based around lost love, love newly found, and missed connections. Your story sounds like all three! Same time tomorrow? Should I call your manager?”

Do shook his head. “I mostly do my own thing now. I’ll be here.” He exited the building, pulling his coat once more around his neck. 

The car was here this time and he walked the short distance to the door, as ice crystals stung his cheeks. She would have loved this, she liked snow. His hand on the door handle, he heard her soft laugh in his ear. Why did he make himself go down this path again? 

Chapter Two

The Butterfly Effect

I said I wasn’t going to write anything else, and this will show you why, because it’s tripe :/

I’ve never been to Dubai or Bali, or scuba-dived, so if this makes no sense, blame google! 

Read it on AO3 or here. 

No warnings except for poor quality and excess length.



So they say that when a butterfly flaps its wings in New Mexico, it causes a hurricane in China.

Another way to put that: when you go shopping in London, you fall in love in Bali.

I’d never have fallen in love if it wasn’t for that new year’s resolution.

No, wait, that’s not the start, let’s begin again. It all started when there was nothing on at the cinema.

No, let’s go back another stage… See when that chaos butterfly started flapping its wings.

I’m only in love, because he cheated. No not him, not the guy I’m in love with now. The other guy. The first one. The creep, the jerk I stayed with too long because I was afraid of everything. The guy who, I can see now, belittled me, and treated me like crap. I’m in love with this guy now, because of that guy. Maybe I should thank him?

So, let’s start at the beginning. The day I finished my Christmas shopping too early. Maybe, just maybe, if I’d taken longer, things would have been different. There’s that butterfly flapping its wings. I’d told Brock I’d be out of the house all day, I was going to go tackle all my Christmas shopping in one day, the first of December, maybe catch a film after to celebrate, get home around 10 at night. That was the plan. Then, flap flap flutter… I was on a roll, I had half the shopping done before I stopped for coffee. Had a cake to celebrate, made a list, set off for the other half. I was like a demon, in and out of the shops, that for Mum, that for Dad, that and that and that for Brock, because, well, we were in love, weren’t we?

Keep reading

endverse gothic

[tw post-apocalyptic grotesque bleakness involving dead bodies & stuff]

He’s headed northwest on I-70 when at last he’s finally forced to pull over.

In the end, it’s not because he’s out of gas, or because stalled cars and trucks have blocked the interstate completely making it impossible to go around. He’s had to go off-road surprisingly few times, mostly thanks to multi-vehicle collisions; drivers long since dragged from their cars and either devoured or turned, stuck horns no longer blaring, headlights dimmed. Only very rarely is the clump of accidents so bad and the shoulder so impassable (or, once, in Pennsylvania, a washed-out bridge) that he simply has to change cars: walk to the other side of the tangle and steel himself to pull whatever’s left from another driver’s seat. Then there’s a ritual: jump-start the battery with his remaining juice, hot-wire ignition the way he was taught; check the gas level, wipe the oil dipstick, examine the tires. Sometimes, to his relief and pleasure—an uncomfortable pleasure, followed by a thick sickened feeling he suspects might be shame—all he has to do is just turn the key, because whoever was about to die had startled presence of mind enough, was so schooled and conditioned by habit, that she’d simply turned off her car in the moments before death.

It’s almost always she, he notices. The same ones who leave behind well-organized purses and center consoles and gloveboxes, handbags he ransacks for their stores of tissues and lotion, candy and gum, painkillers and stronger prescription drugs. These are the women who keep bottled water in the cup holders, fruit rollups and energy bars in the back floorboards or seat pockets. When he is forced to switch cars, he brings everything with him, carries it in the largest handbag he’s found: a pebbled chocolate-brown satchel with a dulled gold stamp reading “kate spade.” He addresses Kate, sometimes, not just in his head but already aloud; thanks her for the water, for the lip emollients that stop his own from burning.

Even this far from big cities the sky roils with dark smoke, heavy and unsettled. He’s lost enough grace not to be able to tell what it is that’s burning, which chemicals and pollutants sift down through the air and sting his eyes and membranes inside his nose and mouth. It’s sifting away, too; he loses it by the hour—it dries up, like watching water evaporate from a puddle. I wasted time, he thinks, not with bitterness but numbly, and now doth time waste me.

(Sometimes in the cars he finds children, their gender obscured by decay. He needs to remember, tries to, that they were people, that they were just as beloved. Whatever rags the children are wearing, whatever length of hair remains on their skulls, he calls them all Mary, because that name once meant something. He unstraps them gently from their seats, arranges families together by the side of the interstate and starts the fire, leaving quickly before it can draw attention. He prays sometimes but only once he’s driving away, safe behind the wheel; sometimes tries to sing “Dies Irae” or say the קדיש, mumbles requiums under his breath, larynx hoarse, throat choking shut on the notes.)

Long ago, pressed into the clammy stone, years he spent listening enrapt to that one contralto nun, her voice like rich soft rainwater gliding over the modal syllables of “Ave, generosa,” transcendent hymns she wrote in Mary’s praise. Listened decades, half a century, until her clear skin wrinkled and she grew old, until she was not. She had something he no longer has, did he ever have it. Did humanity. Was it a thing that ever existed once, that he helped smash. Does she write psalms even now in her heaven, does she still cradle and lift into the light that glorious lucent glasslike orb of her fragile but luminous faith.

for heaven’s flood poured into you
as heaven’s word was clothed in flesh in you
you are the lily, gleaming white, upon which g-d
has fixed his gaze before all else created
around you he enwrapped his warm embrace
so that his son was suckled at your breast

He drives. He has to know, it takes days, he doesn’t sleep, doesn’t stop. Goes faster at night when he sees eyes gleaming out at him from the roadside.

And yet finally, It’s a billboard that does it, just a stupid fucking billboard, peeling and weathered, stuck out crooked from a neglected cornfield, and he pulls over because he starts laughing too hard to keep driving.

HELL IS REAL, it reads, with conviction, in uppercase block letters, white against black; and of course across the front someone has inevitably spraypainted the livid diagonal scarlet warning: CROATOAN.

He can’t help it. He watches himself break open, has watched this happen to people before, knows it’s hysteria but there is it anyway, like swallowing down nausea or gasping in fear, something bodies just do that can’t really be avoided. So he gives into it, gets himself out of the car—no one for miles, if the plague ever had been there it’s moved on—barely gets the door shut and then just folds over against it, his forehead smacking painfully hard against the glass window as his mouth presses against the bare crook of his arm, convulsing, opened and biting into skin to muffle the sounds. His shirt sleeve is torn off up high where he’d used it to bandage—bandage someone—someone who immediately didn’t make it. Wasted effort. And his own efforts wasting him.

HELL IS REAL. Hell is real! They had no idea how real. Hell is here, hell is now. He’s been to hell, spent forty years plummeting down through the worst it had to offer and it was nothing, this was infinitely worse and more wrong because this wasn’t supposed to—wasn’t meant to be hell—this was a deliberately planned paradise, and both the gardeners and their caretakers, they’d all conspired, unintentionally, through a series of colossally egotistical, blinded choices, to uproot, to defile, to spoil everything that— 

He catches his breath, reaches to wipe wetness off his face and his hand comes away filthy, streaked with soot. It’s hard to swallow, it’s hard to make his chest stop whatever it’s doing. His arm is dirty where his face rubbed it. He should use one of the bottles of water to wash, probably. Find more water.

Vaguely gray and furry, an animal darts off through the corn and the stalks quiver and rattle behind it. Eventually he’ll need to eat but he can’t think about that, not yet, not when hell is real. Hell is nearby, so proximate it throbs.

Hell is that he’s maybe an hour outside of Lebanon, with Detroit’s ruins behind him. And he is terrified—not of what he will, but of what he might not find there.

Feliz Navidad, Mari!

For my beautiful Mari who fills me up with such ideas and always gets me back on my feet. I present to you Mermaid!Annabeth. Love you, tittle!

Luke used to tell Annabeth stories about the human world. He would tuck her under seaweed blankets before she drifted off to sleep as easily as a child rocked by a gentle current. Though it could carry her away, her tether to the others in her shoal protected all of them and kept her safe. He liked telling her about all of the silly things humans would do, like eating birds and lifting heavy things over and over again to build muscle. Annabeth had little understanding of weight. The sea could carry massive growling creatures that broke through the waves on its shoulders as easily as the sky holding up a cloud. For all she knew, humans were weak things compared to the ocean.

When her ancestors sank beneath the waves after a hundred years of war, humans wept for them. They mourned the loss of their brethren and used magic to forget what had happened to ease the pain, until magic too was forgotten. Cities were born from the ashes - great towering structures of impeccable symmetry and skill, Luke showed her, drawing lines in the sand with his finger - where humans would mill about from sun up to sun down and then they would go into different buildings at night until they started all over again.

“But how do you know?” Annabeth would almost always ask of Luke every night.

“Because,” he said, tilting his head toward her, a glimmer of moonlight in his eye. “I’m your big brother and I’m always right.”

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A brief analysis of the Xenoblade 2 footage

It’s going to have a huge world. Just look at that moving mountain creature! It’s going places, just like us. Also look at that city! It has windmills and is really brightly colored. I think it’s fair to say this game takes place a while after Xenoblade Chronicles. The architecture does look somewhat closer to the homs buildings than anything. Also, notice the wall? It looks rather well defended. What do they need the protection from? 

CITIES IN THE SKY!!! I wonder if they’ll be any high enter here or this has more machina influence? However due to the colors, this civilization is probably related to the windmill colony.

The character designs are different… Also, is she a homs? Machina? Something completely different? MECHON? Also fire. And loving the world and someone else. Maybe Blue Baggy Pants. IDK.

NOPON CONFIRMED!!!

Things are beautiful. That tree is going to be important. I have no idea what Blue Baggy Pants is wearing but I’m probably going to change his equipment very early game. However, as we don’t really see his face, could it be possible that Blue Baggy Pants is a player avatar character like Cross rather than a Shulk? Don’t know, but he has a moNOTdo so everything is right in the world.

The signs as alternate universes II
  • Aries: A world where people are randomized video game characters, and when they die they reincarnate into another random video game character.
  • Taurus: A world where people live in their favorite anime/TV show/movie/whatever else you can think of that's related.
  • Gemini: A world where people can sing exactly like one famous singer, but one only.
  • Cancer: A world where you can read the mind of only one person of your choice, though other people can also read your mind.
  • Leo: A world where people can change their age to any age when they have their birthday, but they can't repeat an age number. (I don't think this was too understandable, so here's an example: You're 20, it's your 21st birthday and you now decide to be 16, you are 16 all year, and in your next birthday you can be any age except 16, and so on...)
  • Virgo: A world where people can create a specific element of the periodic table based on their sign combination (Sun, Moon, Rising, etc.)
  • Libra: A world where people can have any hair, eye, skin, and blood color.
  • Scorpio: A world where people can literally sell their memories, thoughts, dreams, etc.
  • Sagittarius: A world with floating islands, underwater cities, over 9000 continents, where rain goes from the floor to the sky (instead of falling normally), where the sky changes color every day, *insert more cool sh*t here*...
  • Capricorn: A world where mirrors teleport you to other random mirrors all over the world.
  • Aquarius: A world where people can switch their nationalities, knowledge, physical abilities, birthdays, etc. with each other.
  • Pisces: A world where people can defy the laws of gravity.