heartbeat tattoos

Raphael is hella punk, Simon hella pastel and they are both very much in love.

anonymous asked:

Chocobros reactions to their girlfriend saying 'I love you' first while cuddling them staring into their eyes? I've had a very hard week and need something fluffy and cute haha, I love your writing <3

I’m so sorry this took so long! I made it a little more lengthy than most drabbles, I hope this makes up for it. “φʕ•ᴥ•oʔ

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Noctis

Rainy day, rainy day, rainy day.

Spring in Insomnia always meant rain, so much rain, it made everything so grey and sleepy like. Which currently led to your predicament of you and Noctis currently curled up on your couch, both tucked up in a large blanket.

It wasn’t chilly, yet the two of you both enjoyed being bundled under a blanket together sharing heat. The man was spooning you from behind as you tried finding something to watch on Netflix, but the two of you had watched almost everything and the list wouldn’t update for another week.

“Just throw on whatever.” You stated to the question Noctis was about to ask, having to stifle a giggle, as you heard him pout. Rolling over to face the man, so you could see the adorable pout on his face, it was one of the cute reactions he saved just for you.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” You asked, wrapping your legs around his, as he sat down the remote on the coffee table beside your take out boxes.

Noctis scoffed, as he pulled you closer, scooting down further on the couch to bury his head into your neck. Nuzzling you warmly, as you stroked his hair, hearing the man began to doze off, you knew for a fact that you were to follow him shortly as you often did. You joked that the Prince often sapped you like a battery, and made you doze as much as him.

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alive and safe and with me

They’re sitting at their dining room table and Philip smiles over at Lukas, picking another piece of pepperoni off his slice of pizza. 

“Why’re you still wearing long sleeves?” Philip asks, narrowing his eyes. “It’s hot in here.”

Lukas has had a sort of quiet contentment on his face since he got home late this afternoon and he just smiles, shaking his head.

“How are you not hot?” Philip asks. “I’m hot.”

“Yeah you are,” Lukas says, grinning at him.

Philip laughs, shaking his head. “What’s up with you? You meet some new cute guy at that group project thing? You getting ready to tell me you’re leaving?”

Lukas scoffs. “As if,” he says. 

Philip knows it’s the most impossible thing, which is why it’s so easy to joke about it. “So why are you acting like you’re staring at something beautiful?”

“Well, I am,” Lukas says, gesturing towards him. He grins when Philip sits back in his seat, clicking his tongue. “Angel face, you walked into that one.”

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I am nervous about going to Pride this Saturday. But am I not supposed to go because I’m a little scared? That’s silly. I’m nervous about even going to the movies, to be honest. I remember a few weeks after the shooting, I went to see a matinee of Finding Dory with my mom. A man walked in a few minutes late and immediately my brain went to: Where are the nearest exits? What can I make into a weapon? How fast can I crawl?  

I am nervous because when I moved to California and went to a doctor to get my medical marijuana card, he saw that I’d written PTSD on my application and asked, “Are you a veteran?” I told him I just moved here from Orlando, where 49 queer Latinx people were killed at my home nightclub. He shrugged. Not a veteran. I told him I also had carpel tunnel from writing, fully a lie. He nodded in approval. 

I am nervous because when I told someone else I felt like I had PTSD, she asked, “Were you even there?” She backpedaled after that, said something like, “Not that it matters.” But like, it was too late. She said it. 

I am nervous because when another woman asked about the heartbeat tattoo on my wrist and I answered honestly, she turned and theatrically whispered, “Yikes. You never know what people are going to say.” That’s when I knew to start lying and telling people that it’s just a check-mark. I got it in college when I was drunk. Haha. 

A weird thing I wrote about my tattoo that I don’t plan on using for anything:

Back in the sleepy town of Riverside, California, weeks go by between mentions of Pulse. Discussions of news fatigue crowd already packed Facebook feeds. How can we balance remembering Pulse and still find time to follow seemingly never-ending stories of government corruption, civil rights violations against indigenous people in Dakota, Russian intervention in the presidential election, African American men, women, and children murdered by an increasingly militarized police force, the defunding of Planned Parenthood, novel voter suppression tactics, violence against transgender men and women who dare to use public restrooms, and so on? How can we remember the past, when every day the future feels more obscure and volatile than ever?

I have not seen a single Pulse t-shirt in Riverside. There are no murals with rainbows or doves representing the 49 victims, no #OrlandoStrong bumper stickers. When I moved across the country, I imagined it would be a relief to not be constantly reminded of the shooting, but I did not imagine that talk of it would completely die.

At a Middle Eastern restaurant, a waitress recently pointed out the heartbeat tattoo on my wrist. “Does it mean anything?” she asked, making pleasant small-talk. She had a tattoo of a square on her index finger and she was interested in knowing if mine hurt.

I thought about telling her. It’s a heartbeat. A pulse. I got it in the days after the shooting so that I wouldn’t go a day without remembering.

She looked like she may have been in her 20s, tired but strong enough to do this for a few more hours. The restaurant was congested. A belly dancer was shaking her hips between the tables, and a father at a nearby table egged his toddler daughter to go dance with her.

The waitress waited for my answer, her pen on her pad like a therapist. I could have, like so many other times when I decided to be honest about the tattoo, ruined her night, or at least made her momentarily uncomfortable. But there is a fine line between remembering tragedy on your own terms and springing it on an unsuspecting stranger.

“It’s just a squiggly line,” I told her, shrugging my shoulders.

Riverside may not remember Pulse, but it has plenty of scars of its own to confront.

My first week in the city, scoping out my new school, I found myself passing through a tunnel that leads to campus. Painted on its walls is a mural. There are black scientists, brown bodies frozen in yoga poses, indigenous and white children playing with baskets. I stared blankly at a life-size depiction of an Asian man in a laboratory coat holding a glass vial, wondering who he was and what he did to warrant being remembered. The mural had long ago been neglected. When I stepped closer, I could see cracks in the paint near his face like wrinkles. 

In Orlando: The 49 doves painted on the wall of an Einstein Bagels, the hands spelling out the word love in sign language on a pizza shop downtown, the rainbow section at the Orlando City Soccer stadium. Long after we remember Pulse, is that all that will be left of us, too? Those who lived will remember the dead, and when we die and there is no one to look after our murals, then, at last, will we be done with this mess of remembering and finally free?

“What about your square?” I asked.

The waitress finished jotting something down on her pad, then looked up at me and smiled.

“Oh, it’s just a square,” she said. “It doesn’t mean anything either.”

The belly dancer spun the little girl in circles. Mimicking the older woman, she pressed her small hands on her hips and shook them from side to side while her father gave her a thumbs up. The song ended and they both took a bow. For a moment, the restaurant erupted into applause, the belly dancer blushing in the limelight. She walked the little girl to her family and deposited her into her father’s arms. I looked back down at my tattoo, the ink already fading in places where my friend didn’t stick the needle deep enough. One-by-one, the clapping dropped away and we all turned our attention back to our tables.

I am nervous because I have probably one of the strangest essays I’ve ever written coming out on the anniversary. An essay I worked on at the graduate school that I get to go to because I didn’t end up going to the bar that night. An essay that marks the first piece of writing I’m getting a real check from (not $13 for an interview, not $20 for a book review). I’m nervous because I feel guilty succeeding but also have an immense pressure to. Even as a queer, brown, Latinx person from Orlando, I sometimes ask myself, “Who are you to tell this story?” 

I’m nervous because I don’t want to have to keep talking about it, but who else is going to keep that place alive? 

I don’t have a lot of pictures from Pulse, but these two are my favorite:

When I was 18. This was probably my first or second time there. I had to sneak out of my bedroom window to get into my friend Jose’s car because, duh, my mom wouldn’t have let me go. Jose was a drag queen–and in retrospect, kind of a bad one. He had one dress and used his real eyebrows. But he got me in for free. I was obsessed with Myspace fame at the time, and because I wanted to look like the kind of person who went to bars, I had him stop in the middle of the dance floor and take pictures of me looking cool and distant, too busy to look into the lens or reflect on my own eyebrow journey. 

A few years later, I finally found the lens. But by then I had already lost my dang mind. 

heartbeat on my skin

Follow up to this


“Are you sure he’s okay?”

Lukas squeezes his hand. “Uh—”

“I’m—I’m fine,” Philip gasps, burying his face even further into Lukas’s neck. “I’m just dying, is all.”

Lukas is sitting on Philip’s right side, holding his hand tight and hovering over him. They figured Philip would get his matching tattoo on his left wrist, so when they held hands the heart lines would press together. Philip tries to focus on how romantic the whole thing is instead of focusing on the goddamn pain being drilled into his left wrist. It literally feels like someone is scraping a nail against a really bad sunburn.

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Soulmate!NCT AU Series Part 1

Concept 1: You remove your tattoo because you hate the idea of someone dictating who you can be with the rest of your life and the person who’s removing it happens to be your soulmate and they’re torn between letting you know and just not bringing it up because you kind of went there because you didn’t want a soulmate and vice versa.

Part One | Part Two

Pairing: Jaehyun x Y/N

Originally posted by y-ta

You stare at the one-half heartbeat tattoo on your wrist. It’s electrocardiograms were close to one another, seeming not to have any rest in between them at all. Apparently, that’s how your soulmate’s heart would beat once he or she met you, and by then, the rest of the tattoo would appear.

Everyone loved their tattoo mark. All were different and unique. There wasn’t any two that looked alike. Maybe close, but never exactly the same.

But you, you hated yours. You hated the fact that fate had already tied you to another being.

You wanted to experience real love! Not “oh, I bumped into you and now our marks are complete, let’s get married and have children together!” You cringed at the thought of your soulmate being some pervert. What if he was a reckless person?! What if he was a criminal?! Or worse, what if he was- You stopped yourself from thinking any further. Fate was really a b*tch.

You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to go into the tattoo shop. This wasn’t your kind of place, but if you wanted to get rid of the “fated tattoo,” this was your only choice. I mean, you can totally just slice your skin off but I’d reckon you to not do that.

Opening the door, you heard the little bell above your head rang. You were surprised when you saw how inside looked like. It was nothing like how you had imagined at all. There were no tobacco smokers nor alcohol drinkers. In fact, there was actually a sign that said that those two things were prohibited. It was clean and actually looked comfy.

The shop wasn’t busy, in fact, there were no other customer besides you. You looked around, searching for another soul in hopes that they’d be able to get rid of your mark. You heard a few voices from another room. Just then, a laughing handsome, young man appeared from the beaded curtains.

You froze in your spot. He was handsome. Very handsome. He had jet black hair that was fashioned in a certain way. He was wearing a dark sleeveless tee and dark ripped jeans, along with a pair of dirtied Converse. His pale, white skin literally sparkled in the bright sunlight. And surprisingly, he did not have one mark of art at all on his beautiful skin. For a moment there, you thought he was literally an angel.

Your heartbeat increased and you became loss at words when you saw his smile. God, his smile was stunning. His teeth were so straight and perfect, and the way his eyes turned into upside down crescent moons were beyond adorable.

You wondered how this handsome/cute/adorable dude ended up working at such place. He, who was just as starstruck as you were, was also wondering what an innocent looking girl like you were doing in a tattoo shop. You cleared your throat awkwardly and walked up to the counter. He blushed and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Hi, how can I help you today?” he asked with his dazzling smile. You blushed crazily. God, this guy was killing you with that trophy of his.

“H-hey!” you stuttered out. You cursed yourself mentally. “I wanted to get rid of a tattoo. You guys do that, right?” you questioned. He nodded, “Yeah, we do! What kind of tattoo did you want to get rid of?” You took a deep breath, “My soulmate one.”

He gave you shocked expression. Ever since he started working at the tattoo shop, he had never heard of a case where a person wanted to rid of their soulmate mark. Everyone loved theirs. Even he loved his! And even though the electrocardiograms on his didn’t seem strong, he was still waiting for the day that he’d meet his other half.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound nosy, but is there a reason why?” he cautiously asked. You chuckled and shook your head. “Oh no, you’re good!”

“I just don’t like the fact that I’m already being tied to someone. I want to be able to experience real love. I guess…I just want to choose who I want to spend the rest of my life with.” you shrugged. He nodded. If you wanted to throw away the best opportunity in your life, he was in no place to stop you.

“Follow me,” he ushered hesitantly. You followed him and sat on the seat that he pulled out. “I’ll be right back, okay?” he grinned. You nodded with a small smile. Your heart was racing like crazy by now. When he was finally gone, you let out the breath that you had unknowingly held.

Jaehyun went back into the other room to get the equipments. “Who is it?” Johnny, his co-worker, asked. Jaehyun shrugged, “Just some beautiful girl that wants to get rid of her unfinished soulmate mark.” He was in the middle of rummaging through the many tools when Johnny’s voice caught his attention.

Dude,” Johnny began. His tone sounded different, almost like something unbelievable had just happened. Jaehyun gave him a questioning look, not really caring as to why Johnny was acting so weird. It was normal of him to be. The older boy pointed towards his hands. “Your wrist!” he sounded almost as if he was accusing Jaehyun of a crime. “Your wrist, the mark! It’s completed!”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He looked at his wrist as fast as he could and noticed that what had been just a few small electrocardiograms earlier, now had much bigger ones next to it. And then it hit him.

It was you. You are Jaehyun’s soulmate.

His face brightened for a bit, but it perished as soon as he remembered why you had come into the shop. Johnny, who was clearly still so excited, began flooding his ears with multiple questions.

“Who is she?”

“How cute is she?”

“Can I see how she looks like?”

His excitement soon died down when he realized that you were the girl waiting to get rid of her soulmate mark. “Oh, man. You should probably tell her.” Johnny suggested. Jaehyun smiled sadly and shook his head, “I don’t think she’d like to hear that.” After that, he left the room with the tattoo removing kit.

Jaehyun sat down across from you. You noticed that his soulmate tattoo was already completed. Your heart broke a bit to find out that this handsome person had already met his match.

“Your soulmate is lucky,” you spoke up. He looked at you with a confused expression. You gave him a smile, trying to hide the fact that you were disappointed that you wouldn’t get a chance with him. Pointing to your own wrist to explain to him, you continued. “Your soulmate mark. It’s complete. Whoever your soulmate is, she’s lucky to have someone as handsome as you. Seems like you took her breath away the moment she saw you. She must have liked you a lot and really wanted to be with you.” You gave Jaehyun a smile that made his heart race. Now that he knew you were his soulmate, his emotions towards you were easier to trigger.

Jaehyun smiled bitterly and looked away. “I’ve always hoped that she would, but I don’t think she does anymore. As a matter of fact, I don’t think she wants to be with me at all.” he replied. You looked at him with dismal. Who in the world would not like this guy?! He seemed so perfect! You apologized quietly before eyeing random things to avoid any more awkwardness.

“What about you?” you heard Jaehyun’s voice again. You were bewildered. What in the world was he talking about? “Excuse me?” you pretended as if you hadn’t heard him. He copied your movement from earlier with his wrist. “Your soulmate mark. It’s complete.” he repeated what you said. You were still confused.

Looking down to your wrist, you realized what he meant. Your half-soulmate tattoo was now a full one. You shook your head in disbelief. No, it couldn’t be. You looked at the guy in front of you, then at your wrist, and then at him again. You couldn’t comprehend what was going on. It couldn’t possibly be the person sitting right across from you! His tattoo was already completed!

Lies, you thought to yourself. You knew well that if someone had met their soulmate, they wouldn’t be able to complete another’s tattoo anymore.

You apologized and rushed out of the tattoo parlor. His voice was all you heard before you pushed the door opened.

You ran. You ran as fast as you could without looking back. You couldn’t have possibly met your soulmate at this time. Not when you basically admitted to him that you didn’t want to be his soulmate. Not now.