#WE LOVE SOFT FAKIR IN THIS HOUSE

[karstenasha]

For drawing challenge, theme: strawberry

Fakir and Ahiru my beloved

[ladyinfierno]

75 + 27 and fakiru for the ask thing?

I love you Fakiru anon, I reaaally wanted to do some angst but it turned out to be mostly fluff, it's what these two deserve. (Also I took liberties with the bed sharing bit :Du)

Bed sharing + Sick/Injured fic - Fakiru

- So we have this kind of solitary man who lives in the top floor/attic of an old building, nobody really knows a lot about him, only that his name's Fakir and he seems to be a writer. Or at least he spends a lot of time in front of an old typewriter by his window, where passer-bys often see him in the dim light of his room.

- The ground floor of the building is an antiques shop run by an eccentric old man and his curious granddaughter. Fakir doesn't like the man but he really gets along with the little girl, who uses to follow him around the building playing a toy drum.

-  Sometimes he isn't home for long periods of time, and some people have seen him downtown with a beautiful pair of strangers, both looking almost ethereal beside the brooding man. (Look, yes, Fakir is handsome, but Mytho and Rue? Beautiful angels.) And sometimes a man with glasses visits him, always bringing a stack of books and leaving with different ones.

- One rainy day Fakir arrives home only to discover a bird almost being eaten by a cat in an alley. So of course he chases the cat away and tries to approach the bird without startling it much. It turns out the small, pale yellow thing is a duck, and it's badly injured. Probably from an earlier fight for its life.

- He isn't good with pets, specially birds, but the poor thing might die out there and it's not really a question: He takes it home, and after a mildly panicked call to Mytho, who knows basically everything about... everything, he has the small duck's wounds cleaned and patched.

- "Alright, this is good, it's still breathing, you can do this Fakir."

- He ends up sleeping over his desk, besides the basket he put the duck in, while looking after it. He dreams of a big ballroom, bright light pouring from the huge stained glass on the ceiling, and there is a ballerina, a princess, who invites him to dance.

- He wakes up to soft sunlight right in his face from the open window, but he's so calm he can't really get annoyed by that. He checks the basket, the little duck is sleeping peacefully so he smiles. It's such a shame he can't remember what the princess looked like.

- This is his life now for the next two weeks, where he still writes and writes in the old typewriter like he's running out of time, still goes out, still gets visits. But now his fridge has a lot more vegetables than ever and fish he doesn't even like. Rue also points how he seems happier lately but he just huffs, and life goes on peacefully.

- He names the duck Duck, of course he does.

- One day though, he catches a cold. He's sick and feverish, without enough energy to elaborate more than a I'm fine through the phone to his friends. They volunteer to return home from some trip they're in but he dismisses it, thanking them but reassuring them he's fine. He makes sure his duck has plenty water and food to fend for itself, and ends up asleep for most part of those two days.

- He dreams then, pleasant dreams of soft, cold hands that push aside the sweaty hair plastered to his forehead, of a wet cloth washing the sweat from his face. Dreams of bright orange hues reflecting the sunlight threading through the thin curtains. Of a gentle smile and sweet whispers of his name and nothing more.

- It's only two days later, when he's fine enough to get up without the world turning upside down to finally take a shower that he remembers about that soothing feeling of being cared of.

- He checks on his duck but it's not there anymore, inside the basket there's only discarded bandages and a bit of sunflower seeds. He sees the slightly open window and sighs. At least it was fine enough to return to whatever place it came from.

- The next time he leaves the house it's raining again, so he curses under his breath and quickens his pace. A gush of wind threatening to snatch his hat away, and soon enough the rain increases, so he ends up under the small roof of a closed business in the curb. He doesn't really notice the other person already there until he almost crushes her with his own body.

- She smiles at him so easily, like they're old friends, and he instantly knows she knows him.

- The long orange braid is dark with rain water, but he can already see it in its true colour, the same one haunting his dreams since days ago. He can only imagine, but her small hands must be cold and soft; gentle. Yet her eyes, that shade of sky blue, are the only thing he can say for sure he has seen before, albeit a bit smaller and animal-like.

- They're the same, he just knows. And she knows he knows, too. So he only smiles back.

- ...Also on an extra scene, Fakir doesn't believe her when she says her name is Ahiru, thinking she's just making fun of him :v

[cecilspeaks]

147 - The Protester

Hot singles in your area are staring into the forest and grinning absently. 

Welcome to Night Vale.

Astronomers are frantically trying to determine why a chunk of the moon is missing. Ragged and greedy like a slice removed from a pie by hungry hands rather than a civilized serving utensil, the gap in the moon has been baffling professional sky gazers for weeks. Fun fact: did you know a group of astronomers is called a commotion?

Astronomers believe the moon could be eroding, because people have stopped believing in it, like ancient Roman polytheism. Others have theorized that the moon was damaged by enemy ships in the ongoing Blood Space War. But people on the internet have countered that this is part of the mandala effect, and that that piece of the moon has always been missing and we’re collectively misremembering. Like how those beloved picture book bears that we all remember as the Berenstein Bears, have by all physical evidence always actually been spelled “The Dog Pound Boyzzzz”. Boyz with a Z. Because of the 2016 city ordinance that proclaimed that anything can be true if you say it loud enough, astronomers are forced to consider all sides.

I don’t know any astronomers, but I do know a scientist! My husband Carlos has been the leading scientific mind in Night Vale since we started dating, almost six years ago. Carlos says that he has been studying and interesting meteorite he found out in the sand wastes and scrublands beyond Night Vale. He believes this particular rock is a piece of the moon. Standing before a giant wall of blinking lights, flickering screens and intermittent beeps, Carlos determined that this piece of the moon broke off only one month ago. But this is impossible, because no one can remember seeing the moon breaking apart in the sky. Well, maybe we were all asleep when it happened, I told Carlos as I dabbed away a small crumb from a cheese Danish that had gotten stuck in his beard. Oh, fun fact: Carlos grew a beard! And I have never liked beards on men, but now – I do. It’s got two thin silver racing stripes down the chin, and the hair is so soft. We’ve been married over two years and every day, I fall more in love.

Oh right, the moon, OK good God, always with the moon. [mutters] Yeah, yeah… Carlos has been studying an unusual number of empty homes and businesses about town. He noticed that the houses on either side of us are completely empty, but he didn’t remember them being empty before. He remembers us having neighbors, but he couldn’t name a single thing about them. He believes this might be related to the damaged moon. Whatever happened a month ago to the moon immediately caused us all to forget it, because something in our timeline changed. Carlos said: “Perhaps we are not forgetting people and events, perhaps they never existed at all.” His eyes were cloudy with pensive thought, and I touched his furry cheek and said: “You’ll save us, hon. I know you will.” He smiled and asked if I’d be willing to reach out to archeology professor Harrison Kip again. Carlos, uh, had been communicating with Kip about this very issue, but now emails to Harrison keep bouncing back, and his phone number is no longer in the phone company’s database of working numbers. I laughed and said: “Carlos, I don’t know who Harrison Kip is!” Carlos looked worried, and said he wasn’t sure he did either. But he felt like he should.

Protestors have organized a sit in in front of city hall, demanding an end to the Blood Space War. The city council, seeing the crowd of about 150 people gathered around the front entrance of their building, took immediate action. They announced they would be taking a long planned family vacation to the Badlands National Park in South Dakota, until this whole protest thing runs its course. “We don’t believe South Dakota actually exists,” the single-bodied, multi-voiced council said. “When you look at a map, it seems like it exists, like it’s just right there when you look at it and it’s between two other identical states, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not. Anyway, this feels like a great time to take the kids to see Mount Rushmore.” As the city council said this, several small childlike heads emerged from the city council’s singular body and screamed in happy unison. Or terrified unison. Mm, it’s hard to get an emotional reading on screams.

The organizer of the protest is 20-year-old Night Vale community college student, Basimah Bishara, whose father Lieutenant Fakir Bishara returned home from the Blood Space War three years ago. Basimah greeted her father’s return with joy, but that joy has since been replaced by confusion and pain. Let’s hear Basimah’s story in her own words.

Basimah: Time no longer works correctly for my father. I understand time does not work correctly for many people in Night Vale, but it had always worked correctly for him before the war. In December 2015, he returned home after 11 years of serving our city, our country, our planet in a war that still makes no sense to me. I was six when he volunteered for service, he was 30. 11 years later when he returned home, I was 17. My father was 19. He did not remember joining in the war nor having a daughter nor meeting his wife. He is a teenager, like I was. I no longer am a teenager, but my father still is. He has stayed 19 years old. Time no longer works correctly for him.

My mother Tahira raised me. She expressed reticence about the band I started, the music we played. She grounded me when my grades slipped and shouted at me when I told her I had a girlfriend. But she came to love Marina and more, my mother came to understand as both as people, as women. Not as rivers to be damned or levied.

My father’s return has been especially hard on her, because she is 45 and her husband is a 19-year-old stranger. You probably know what it’s like to have a father, to have a man much older than you who changed your diapers or watched your diapers being changed. Who taught you to speak or ride a bike, who helped you develop as a human from an animal from a larva from the simplest, squirming wad of meat into an adult. That father will always be a father, not a friend, not an equal, a father. You probably do not know what it’s like to see a father at your age, to talk with your father when he is also barely an adult. To have your father lonely and inquisitive think of you as his only friend in the world, while you look to him for guidance and love. But he is incapable of both, at least not in the way you need to be guided and loved.

It took two years for Fakir to open up about the war and it still makes no sense to him nor me. The Blood Space War requires constant shifts through time, through worm holes to change lost battles into won battles, to undo what has already been undone thousands, millions of times over. The future does not look like a blank page, it looks like a tattered sheet of paper, grayed and frayed from countless transcriptions and erasures of history. Battles are won and then undone through time travel. We lose our lives and then regain them by traveling backwards and fighting again. We are winning the war by perpetuating the war. Last month, the Polonians attacked our earth, I am sure of it. The only evidence is our broken moon. I believe the general undid this attack with time travel and this has changed our reality, changed who was born, who ever lived in the first place. People are disappearing because they will have never existed.

People think we’re crazy for protesting. I’m 20 and my father is still 19. I’m not crazy. My mother Tahira is not crazy. We are angry.

Our next protest is scheduled this afternoon at the corner of Earl and Somerset by the Dog Park near the Ralphs.

Cecil: Not sure what Basimah was referring to. That’s an empty lot by the Ralphs. There was word for a dog park to be built there many years ago, but it never materialized.

[clears throat] Let’s have a look now at local news. Earth sciences professor Simone Rigideau announced today that she is scrapping all text books and lesson plans at the community college in favor of organized prayer to a god named Huntokar. Several students and parents argued against such an extreme divergence from core curriculum in favor of French religious practices, but college president Sarah Sultan supported her staff member by saying: “Cut Simone some slack. She doesn’t even teach classes. She’s a transient who lived in a storage closet inside the earth sciences building for 20 years. The only reason she has the title of professor is because of antiquated squatter’s rights laws.” Rigideau donned rabbit furs and an old bicycle frame wraught into the shape of antlers, and began spray paintin the Fibonacci sequence on the cars in the college parking lot, all the while singing a ballad about clocks.

The intergalactic military headquarters released their first quarter earnings statmenet this week. Investors were displeased to see that each of the board members of the privately own space defense contractor had purchased a 125-foot yachts and NFL franchises. But those fears were quickly allayed by the announcement of layoffs of more than 5,000 employees. Stock prices for the intergalactic military soared to an all time high this afternoon, at 490 dollars a share. Senior strategic advisor Jameson Archibald said the intergalactic military has no actual earned income. 100 per cent of their gross is from venture capital. Archibald said: “Some investors keep asking how we plan to monetize our military, which is a stupid question, man! I mean, look at this Patek Philippe watch I bought. It’s encrusted with 10 pounds of diamonds, and the watch face was made using an actual piece of the Sistine Chapel. We are doing fine.” Archibald added that the intergalactic military is developing an app and a subscription service that allows people to engage in celestial war fare any time they want for only 12,99 a month.

Alright, listeners, I heard back from Basimah, and she said I was right. There is no dog park. Of course I was right. If I knew there was a dog park being built in this town, I would have reported it immediately. Carlos and I have a dog. His name is Aubergine because he’s purple and European, and Auby is adorable and we love him dearly. I mean, I wasn’t into the idea of having to care for a dog, but Carlos strongly urged this case one morning over breakfast when he said, “I think we should get a dog”, and 20 minutes later, we were leaving the SPCA with our adopted pet. [clears throat]

Basimah said she was positive there was a dog park next to the Ralphs, but when she arrived at the corner of Earl and Somerset, it was all empty lots. To be honest, I don’t remember her mentioning a Ralphs before, because I would have corrected her. There’s never been a Ralphs affiliate in Night Vale. This is what Basimah had to say. Um, hang on, let me just insert the tape I used to record her. And there we go.

Basimah: If a person never exists, did they disappear? If you never knew them, can you miss them? My father spends most of his days playing basketball with friends he made at the rec center. He is 19 years old and trying to escape a decade of inescapable drama from warfare. Asked him who my mother was. I grew up with only my uncle Omar and did not know my parents until my father returned from war. Fakir did not remember my mother. He did not remember his marriage or my birth, because it has not happened yet in his timeline. Asked what if mother didn’t exist at all. What if the general’s time traveling has altered our lives so much that my mother was never born and you can never meet her. My father, the teenager said: “If I never met a woman, I do not know I will not miss her. But I’ll meet another woman.” I asked: “What if I was never born?” My dad said: “Basi?” He hid his tears and then he hugged me, but it was not the hug of a father and daughter. It was the hug of a son and mother. He buried his head into my shoulder and sobbed, repeating: “Basi! Basi!” And I comforted his heaving head with my palm. I said: “Father, Fakir. I think I shall no longer exist soon. [voice fades] I think I-

Oh OK, sorry for the dead air, listeners, I was playing a recording of an interview I did. Wait, nope. I just checked, there’s no tape in the player at all. I thought I had been talking with… Ugh. Aah! Who have I been talking to? Maybe it was my husband Carlos reporting on his findings about the damage done to our moon or, mh, or maybe it was nothing at all. [clears throat] Well, let us forget that we forgot, and go now To the weather.

[Shake” by Wednesday’s Wolves https://www.wednesdayswolves.com]

We have an update on the Blood Space War, Night Vale. John Peters says his brother has returned home again. When he left a month ago, James Peters was 22 years old. But he is now in his seventies, which is the age he should be. John held his brother tightly, crying in gratitude and relief that his own family could return to some kind of normalcy. James at first was heartened to see John again, to see his home again, and to learn that he and the general had thwarted the Polonian attack on our planet. But his tearful smile drifted slowly downward, an evening shadow overtaken by night. Upon James’ face now was the sudden knowledge that he had made a grave error. James looked around Night Vale seeing empty lots and homes, abandoned buildings and sparse streets. According to James, thousands of people have gone missing from Night Vale, because they never existed or never moved here in the first place. The general had leapt in time to successfully stop the Polonians from ever reaching Earth, but the change in the timeline caused Night Vale to change too.

Listeners, this may seem strange, but perhaps there are people you once knew, family you once lived with, places you were in, all of which are gone, and without your knowing. I have tried hard to think of any memory of any experience or person I have lost in the last month, but I can think of none. I told James Peters that perhaps the change in timeline did not matter if no one knew what they had lost, if no one noticed any change. James said: “Cecil, I just don’t know. I don’t know. Maybe if we had a scientific perspective on this, we could better understand how this is affecting us as a community.” And I said I didn’t know any scientists, not personally anyway. There’s the strange woman who lives in the storage closet at the community college, I suppose we could ask her.

The important thing is that we are safe, and that another veteran has returned home, and it is another beautiful day in Night Vale.

Stay tuned next for “Conspiring to Love”, our new relationship advice show, which as a lifelong bachelor sounds like something I should check out.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: “Nothing lasts forever” is a phrase with two meanings, and they’re both true.

[an-aura-about-you]

Draftstravaganza: Bewitching Dream Draft

This was basically going to be an awkward dinner, which you know I love to do, only with some neighbor meddling. The whole goal of this was for Fakir and Rue to have some kind of magic fight and Erina was going to get turned into a giant anteater as a result, which you can see me working towards at the end. And Autor was going to get a little frantic about the whole thing and being all lawyer-ly while learning that not only was he right about Fakir being magic somehow but Rue is too and it was going to culminate with him being like, “FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE I DON’T CARE WHICH ONE OF YOU DID IT I CARE ABOUT WHICH ONE OF YOU IS GOING TO FIX IT!” because he has a lot of emotions about his friend/setup for a love interest.

I had written it up so long that you can see that changes are needed if I wanted to make it a proper part of continuity.

“I don’t know if pizza is the best meal to serve for this-” Fakir waves his hand a little. “-negotiation.”

Duck steps out from the kitchen, bottle of soda in her arms. “Mytho and I talked it over, being the.... well, not quite neutral parties, but neutral enough. And we agreed that we should keep things casual. Light.” She places the soda on the table. “Besides, it’s not really a negotiation as it is a-” Duck rolls her hands in front of her face, as if trying to draw the words out. “-a peace summit.”

Fakir marries the soda with the ice bucket. “You’re too generous, Duck.”

She wags a finger at him. “That’s the point!”

The doorbell rings as if punctuating her words.

“That must be them!” Duck yelps, hopping out towards the living room.

Once she wrenches the door open, Autor jumps back from his spot on the other side, gripping an empty coffee mug in both hands.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Major Nelson,” he gets out, fixing his glasses. “Could I trouble you further for a cup of sugar?”

Duck slaps a hand over her heart with a gust of a sigh. “Yeah, sure. Come on in and we’ll get it.”

Autor follows her inside, watching as she disappears through the kitchen doorway, and gives Fakir a little wave. Then he looks to the set dinner table and asks, “Entertaining tonight?”

Fakir shrugs a little, arms folded across his chest. “You could say that.”

Duck pops her head around the corner. “Just a little pizza party with some friends. Nothing big.” She beckons Autor closer. “Say, what’s the sugar for, anyway?”

He snorts. “Erina insisted that I bake pfeifferkuchen., and I’m a bit short on ingredients. The only reason I’m going along with it is because she found a new piano tuner for me.”

“Ah, you’re the pianist?” Fakir asks. “You’re quite good.”

Autor starts slightly. “Thank you,” he says right before the doorbell rings again.

“That must be them!” Duck quacks from the kitchen and leaps out again. She practically throws the full bag of sugar at Autor, not staying long enough to see if he catches it. “We’ll see you later, Autor!”

But this time Erina waits on the other side.

“Ah, hello?” Duck greets, unsure.

“Good evening,” Erina says with a small curtsy and a nod. “I think your neighbor got away from me, and I’m looking for- oh, there he is!” She holds an arm up to wave and goes, “I found you, Autor!”

Autor readjusts the sugar bag he barely managed to catch and looks for some counter space to set it down and negotiate what he needs. “I hadn’t realized I was in a game of Hide-and-Seek. And it will be some time before the pfeifferkuchen’s ready.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Erina assures him with a dismissive wave of her hand, breezing past Duck to fetch him. “There’s always the pleasure of your company.”

“Of course,” Autor replies as Erina loops her arm around his. “I suppose we’ll be going now? We shouldn’t impose any further.”

“Well, don’t worry about it, but we do have guests coming over,” Duck tells them, hand still on the door from closing it behind Erina. She turns the knob to let them out only to receive another knock. “Ah, in fact, that should be them this time!”

Erina tugs Autor along, pulling him into step. Just as he falls in place, she stops dead in her tracks, his turn to tug without thinking.

“Rue?!” falls out of Erina’s mouth at the sight of Duck’s guests standing in the door.

Rue gives her a bemused look, arm in arm with Mytho. “Erina? Long time no see.”

Erina brushes her fingers along Autor’s sleeve. “Yes, well, I suppose I’ve been busy.” She squeezes his arm a little more and goes, “Ah, this is Autor. He’s a....good friend.”

Autor rolls his eyes so hard it nearly breaks his glasses. “Lovely to meet you, but I’m afraid we were just leaving.”

And before anything else could be made about the matter, Autor tugs Erina out the door with him, leaving the party to themselves.

Erina leans on a pile of cushions, arms folded on the back of the couch as she stubbornly faces the blinds.

“The window works better if you open the blinds,” Autor says from the kitchen counter.

But she shakes her head and goes, “I shouldn’t spy.”

“But you want to,” he points out. “So either go ahead and do it or come help with the pfeifferkuchen. Or at least tell me how you know Major Nelson’s friends.”

Erina blows a raspberry and finally pulls the blinds open. “We went to school together. Rue was always the best in ballet class. She had some kind of family troubles, or that’s what we heard, so she didn’t get to go anywhere with it.” She sighs wistfully. “I wonder if she still dances. She was always so beautiful.”

Autor pours the batter in the pan, scraping the bowl clean and licking the spoon as he thinks this over. “Would you want that? Wouldn’t she be competition for you if she did?”

She shrugs and says, “That’s nothing new. There’s nothing but competition in this line of work. Of course, now that she’s taken she might be getting soft.”

“Know anything about him?” he asks.

“Not a thing. She must’ve met him later.” Erina turns to sit down properly. “And what about the Nelsons? You told me about that thing when you think you saw the guy refill the drink just by looking at it, but you’ve never talked about them besides that.”

Autor shrugs and walks over to her, bowl and spoon still in hand. “I don’t really know much besides that Major Nelson’s often away and she asks me to stop by the house to refill her bird feeder when she’s gone.” He holds the spoon out to her in offering. “I don’t even know what branch of the military she’s part of.”

Erina takes the spoon and tastes the batter. “Must be pretty major if she’s a major. And you’ve outdone yourself, Autor.”

“Save the compliments for when they’re done,” he says, holding the bowl out for the spoon. “And the only thing I know about her...companion is that his name is Fakir. And I don’t think he works at the library, but that’s the only place he seems to go to regularly.”

She snorts dismissively and drops the spoon in with a plunk. “You haven’t been stalking him, have you? I swear, I’ll go and actually wreck a home to give you a case if you need one to pass the time.”

“And break my heart? No thanks.”

Erina raises an eyebrow, weighing each word’s share of meaning and sincerity when put together for the whole. The worst teases are the ones who keep spare loopholes in their pockets at all times, pulling them out like a cartoon character to affix on the closest surface and jump through to escape from social obligation. But even one as wordly as Autor can be careless, even in joking. She fixes a half-smile on her face.

“I don’t break things that belong to me.”

Autor opens his mouth a moment, at a loss and pink spreading over his nose and cheeks. But before he can form a response, some movement outside catches his eye.

“Oh no, did the neighborhood association finally notice my tulips?” he complains.

Erina turns on instinct, mentally reminding herself to press that later. “Not unless Rue or that Fakir guy are part of it.”

The two watch Rue and Fakir, able to see the heated discussion even if they can’t hear it.  Fakir gestures accusingly at the tulips, but Rue waves him away with barely even a look. Fakir plucks up the popsicle scarecrow, stained a few different colors. Rue takes it from him and shakes it towards the flowers, actually tossing it back in the flowerbed. Duck and Mytho join the two, but they don’t seem to be making much progress.

“I’m gonna go out there,” Erina says, getting up.

“No, I should,” Autor protests. “They’re my tulips.”

“But you get all silly about them,” she says, her hands on his shoulders gently guiding him to the kitchen. “The last time we talked about them you were saying some nonsense about witches.”

Autor stops them in their tracks and turns over to her. “Erina, you don’t suppose Rue is the witch, do you?”

Erina puts her chin on his shoulder and gives him an incredulous look. “Autor, you’re being ridiculous. Rue isn’t a witch. Honestly, when did you start buying into all this absurd stuff?” She rubs his upper back, gingerly weeding out his concerns. “Now, let me go take care of this, all right?”

He lets his shoulders sag under her touch and nods. “All right.”

She slips away and out the door to confront the party, leaving Autor to the dishes.

Erina quietly walks up the pathway, the argument just as loud as the gesticulating she saw from the window implied. And judging from the silhouettes in neighboring windows, Autor’s house isn’t the only one disturbed by it. Thank goodness she’s used to being the center of attention.

“What Mytho and I do is our business,” Rue says with a huff.

“Then maybe you should do a better job keeping it to yourselves!” Fakir protests with another accusatory handwave at the tulips.

“Hey, be careful!” Duck begs, grabbing Fakir’s arm.

Rue leans forward and goes, “Well, maybe you shouldn’t go around giving others information or carelessly showing off!”

“Rue, maybe we should go home,” Mytho quietly suggests, his hands on her shoulders.

“Easy for you to say!” Fakir shouts back. “Up until now I didn’t have much choice in the matter!”

“Both of you can just stop!”

The four turn to Erina at her outburst, Fakir and Rue both glaring daggers. She hesitates a moment, a strange wave of nausea hitting her, but she clenches her fists and presses on.

“Whatever argument you’re having,” she says, “you can have it somewhere besides Autor’s flower bed. Might I suggest inside someone’s house?”

[taroshi-chan]

Prompt: I don’t rightly remember, but I know it didn’t have anything to do with what I wrote… Pairing: Fakir x Ahiru For: @doggy-yasha (look what you made me do! @-@) Word Count: 2170

I have no title for this story yet, and I’m really bad with names so feel free to suggest suitable names if you’d like.

Chapter One

Once upon a time there was an old man who lived in a castle.    He loved stories. Epic stories. Fanciful Stories. Tragic stories. He loved them so much he decided to create his own. Normally this would not pose much of a problem. He was not, however, a normal man. One by one the old man’s stories began to come true. As the years went by, his stories spilled out of the castle and into the neighbouring town. People started to disappear or…change. Terrified for their safety, the townspeople killed the old man. The stories stopped. All was well for a time. But the old man had left something behind in the wake of his death… Alone. In his castle. — Fakir was upset. He was cold, tired and hopelessly lost. But mostly upset. It had been raining for the better part of a week now, with no sign of letting up. The man pulled his cloak tighter around himself as he continued his trudge through the thick mud that the road had become. He cursed the man who had given him directions in the last town he’d passed through. “You just follow this road down a couple miles, you can’t miss it!” Apparently he could. “You’ll come across a sign pointing you in the direction of the town from there.” There had been no sign. What there had been though was a fork in the road. No signage marked either direction.There had been no discernible difference to either path, each had just led through more forest. So Fakir took an educated guess and chose the path leading to the right. Which led him to his current and wet predicament. He had been on this same road for days with no town, no signs and no people in sight. The man grumbled to himself as he stopped once again to pull his boot out of the grasping mud with a splosh! ‘I’ve had it now. I’m going to get up this hill and then I’m going to go to sleep in the rain and if I wake up and it’s still raining I’m going to kill-wait, what’s that? Is that…’ A light. Fakir stared at his hungrily. It was close. Less than a mile, he thought. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself towards it. — Over an hour later Fakir stumbled into a small town. An actual. Freaking. Town. He could have kissed the ground in joy if it weren’t wet, muddy and entirely beneath his dignity. He followed the sounds of music and laughter to a building he could only assume was the local inn. He hoped he was correct. The building had a rather large picture of a laughing goat over the door. It was debatable. He stepped inside. The noise did not stop upon his arrival but there was a noticeable dim in overall sound. Ignoring the many pairs of eyes that followed him curiously, Fakir made his way over to the bar. A portly older man sporting a moustache was cleaning a glass with a dirty rag. He glanced up and gave the newcomer a once over before dipping his head to nod in greeting. Fakir returned the nod. “Good evening.” The bartender eyed him warily, “Can I help you, sir?” Fakir pulled his hood down and pushed wet hair out of his eyes in one smooth motion, “I need a room.” “Certainly. For how long will you be staying with us?” A gold coin slid across the bar top. “Indefinitely.” Fakir received a genuine smile from the bartender, “Welcome to Kinkan Town, mister…?” “Sir Lohengrin.” The man’s brows rose in surprise. His gaze dropped to the sword no longer hidden beneath layers of wet cloak. “You a knight, then?” Something flickered in the man’s dark dark eyes. “That’s right.” “Huh. Don’t remember the last time we had a knight in town…” He offered Fakir another smile,  which Fakir did not return. “Don’t rightly remember the last time we had a visitor neither. Enjoy your stay, Sir Knight. I’ll get Missy here to show you to your room.” Missy turned out to be a small, plump and overly flirtatious girl. He followed her up the stairs to a small warm room. Fakir pointedly ignored her offer to “warm his bed for him” and shut the door in her face. He sighed in relief. Making sure the door was securely locked, he set down his belongings, shed his damp clothing and fell into the soft, warm bed. — He woke to the smell of slightly charred bacon and sunlight. Though his belly rumbled in appreciation of the former, it was the latter that caught his attention. He rose and went to the tiny window, basking in the warmth that streamed through. He could see most of the town from here, as the inn was one of the only buildings with two stories; low houses, cobbled streets, greenery, and what was clearly the market district. And a wall. A rather large wall, in fact.

Fakir frowned. He didn’t remember passing through a gate to get into the town. Shaking his head, he turned from the window and stooped to retrieve his clothes. He grimaced; he really should have thought to lay them out properly last night. They were still very damp. He sighed and tugged them on reluctantly. At least it wasn’t raining anymore. — Once he was dressed and had stowed his belongings in the chest at the end of his bed (excepting, of course, his sword which he belted in place) he made his way downstairs and towards the heavenly smells it encompassed. Accepting a share of bacon and a small loaf of bread from a different serving girl (her name was Wendy, she told him shyly) he made his way over to an empty table to tuck in. As he ate, and oh it was good, he thought about his next move. He should get a lay of the land, figure out where exactly he was in relation to the town he had just come from. Really, he thought to himself disgustedly, how could I have gotten so lost? The man had been so sure of himself and his directions. And how did I miss that wall? This was the thought that bothered him the most, so much so that when Wendy came to take his empty plate away he startled her by grabbing her wrist. “Wendy.” “Y-yes?” “Why does your town have a wall that large around it?” Puzzled, she asked, “A wall?” “Yes, a wall. That huge thing that, by the looks of it, surrounds your entire town.” “There is no wall, sir.” She gave him another worried look, “Are you all right?” Fakir stared at her and slowly released her. “Yes, I’m fine. I must be mistaken…” Wendy nods and picks up his empty plate, backing away slowly. — Finished with his meal, and subsequent brooding, Fakir makes his way towards the marketplace. He weaves through the crowd for a while in search of something specific, ah, there it is. He walks up to a very large woman who is busy cross stitching what appears to be a tap dancing pig. He frowns at her nonsensical picture and clears his throat. The woman looks up from her work, looking nonplussed at the interruption. “What.” “Er…” The woman raises a brow at the knight, tapping her foot impatiently. “Have you got any maps for sale?” The woman eyes him, “Sure. Got one of the town here somewhere.” Fakir glances at the piles of rolled paper on her table. A hand flapped away his scrutiny, “Them’s just pictures.” The knight gives her a dubious look but waits patiently while she digs through them. She hands him a large scroll, which he immediately opens. A picture of Kinkan Town greets him, with cheery letters discerning the local shops and areas of interest. He turns back to the woman with a frown, “Do you have one of the surrounding area too?” The lady scoffs at him, “What do I look like, a map maker? That’s the best I got. If you want it, it’ll be two coppers.” Fakir swallows his annoyance and fishes out her money, which she took with undisguised glee. He must have been her only customer in a while. He glances back at her tap dancing pig. No wonder there. He spends another copper on a sausage and cheese pastry on his stroll back through the market, which tastes just about as heavenly as his earlier meal. He comes into the town square, and sat down in the greenery, under a large tree. He looks around to take in the shops, the market and the bustle of people as they made their way through both. A thought comes to him and he unrolling his new map, looking over the edges of the town. No wall there either. Fakir’s frown deepens. That doesn’t make any sense. Wendy didn’t seem to know what he was talking about either. He glanced up to confirm that the wall was still there. It was. Mystified, he shook his head and turned back to examine the map. The town took up most of the scroll, and seemed to be nestled in a small dense forest. There was even a lake. And a castle. A castle. How long has it been since I’ve stepped foot inside a cast- Fakir squelched the thought before it could take root. A castle, hm? He checked for its name but found nothing; it was unmarked. He’d never heard of any lordlings presiding over any land in this area before. Though he didn’t really know where this area was, so it could be possible that he was in a recognizable location after all. Fakir stared at the map. It did its best to stare back. Decision made, he rose with fluid grace. Tucking the map securely into his belt, he set off in the direction of the castle. — Well. It was a castle all right. Or rather, used to be. High dark walls with what looked like fire-char marking it, providing it with a much darker ambiance. Tall, narrow windows of stained glass. Some of the windows were broken completely, colourful shards of glass twinkled like gems in the unadulterated sunlight. Debris littered the expansive grounds, and Fakir picked his way cautiously through it to the steep steps of the main entrance. The double doors were still intact, dark and sturdy wood that gave grudgingly to the knights’ shoulder. “What happened here?” Fakir muttered to himself. There was more fire damage inside, the scorched rugs and blackened walls attested to that.   Despite the disaster the castle presented him with, Fakir felt a deep fascination with it. And a unconscious sense of familiarity. He spent the next couple hours exploring. He explored the many chambers, which turned out to be mostly intact. He explored the communal rooms, kitchen and the ballroom, with its wall of mirrors. He even doubled back to explore the grounds, which would have been lovely if not for the wreckage. He was following  a long narrow corridor and the events of a tapestry about an old man which concluded halfway in charred threads when he noticed the door. Had he missed one? Come to think of it, he didn’t remember seeing this hallway either in his first go-through. It was smaller than the others, and to his surprise had appeared to take no damage from the fire that had ravished the rest of the structure. He placed a hand upon it; it felt rough and solid beneath his fingers. Slowly he pushed the door open. Fakir stepped into a cozy and apparently lived-in room. A small fire was crackling merrily in the hearth, bathing the room in warm golden light. He took in the thick orange and gold rugs, the vanity table and attached mirror, and the tiny window that shed little light and appeared to overlook the surrounding forest. There was also a small four post bed with many blankets piled upon it haphazardly. It looks like a nest, Fakir thought to himself. And it was moving. The knight narrows his eyes as he inched cautiously closer to the bed, craning his neck to peer into the folds of cloth. It was a duck. Fakir blinked and frowned. A duck? What was it doing here? Why does it look like it… Lives here. Frowning, the man takes a closer look at the bird. It was small, he thought. Small and bright yellow. It was quacking in a muttering way as it shifted and settled around it’s perch. A single bright feather stuck up like a cowlick at the top of its head. Fakir snorted at the sight. The sound was enough to startle the duck, who turned its head quickly in the direction of the unfamiliar sound. Fakir froze as he met and held the ducks gaze, its eyes huge. Huge and blue. Fakir looked at the duck. The duck looked at Fakir. “Hello,” it said.

To be continued…

[bedofthistles]

Sliver (hella late, unedited and based on the song White Houses)

“Careful of the -” “Whoa!” “Step.” Ahiru sat up and rubbed her knee, she laughed, “I’m okay!” He scoffed, “Sure.” “Thanks for helping move in, uh- “ “Fakir, idiot.” He began walking up the stairs and she picked up the box she dropped - luckily, it wasn’t filled with breakables, unless this wasn’t the box she thought it was - and followed him up the stairs. “Besides, you’re our new roommate, so Mytho made me.” “Mytho did?” Ahiru, she liked Mytho, he had pretty eyes. Fakir scoffed, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t even think about it, Rue marked her territory ever since she moved in.” “Oh, they’re dating?” “No.” “Do they have any kind of relationship?” “Who knows? Rue’s delusional and Mytho can never take a hint.” He put the box down in the only empty room. “Fakir, we’re moving the bed frame and mattress next!” “Who’s that?” Ahiru asked, still holding her box. “Autor. He’s my cousin so my uncle made us move in together. Be right down!” Ahiru sat her box on top of his and chased him down the stairs. “Stay out of the way until we have it all up stairs. If you get hurt then we’ll have to do the heavy lifting.” Ahiru pouted, but he was right, and she didn’t want him to be any meaner to her. “Why can’t I carry the mattress? I’m strong enough to do!” Rue - the only other girl yelled. “I’m strong enough, too! But Mytho and Fakir want to take the mattress!” Autor - Ahiru had already meet Mytho, since he was the one who interviewed her and dealt with all of the emails they conducted, so this was the only person he could be. “Step!” “Get out of the way, Ahiru!” “Oh!” Ahiru jumped to the side, “Sorry!” “When this is over, we’re getting pizza and beer, Fakir!” Rue had called down the stairs. “Fine, but Ahiru is paying!” “Fakir don’t be rude!” “O-oh!” Ahiru interjected, “It’s fine! I should thank you for helping me!” When the mattress was through the door, she went out to the truck and picked up another box. There was a lot of yelling, and throwing, and bandaids, but Ahiru finally ordered pizza and sat down in the middle of boxes with everyone else.

“No one’s vegan, right?” Ahiru asked, she ordered pepperoni, because it was safe, but didn’t think to ask before she did. “Autor tried to be one, but he didn’t realize he still needed a form of protein and passed out.” Rue told her. “Rue!” “What, it’s what happened.” “Did you remember beer?” Fakir asked. “Oh, shoot.” Fakir moaned, and Mytho stood, “We can go to the store real quick, it’s just a few blocks up.” Ahiru smiled and took the hand he offered to stand. “Ahiru,” Rue had asked, somewhere after six to ten beers. “Let’s play spin the bottle.” “Oh my God!” Fakir moaned, “Rue shut up! You know you just do that as an excuse to kiss Mytho!” “Do not!” Author took a bottle and began to spin, although he didn’t play the game right, “Ok so Fakir has to kiss- “ Then ha span it again. “Ahiru.” “If I kiss her will you guys stop?” “Sure!” Rue said, she had already moved over so as to sit on Mytho’s lap, who didn’t seem to mind. Fakir leaned forward and kissed her straight on the lips. “There.” A * F “Ahiru you’re home!” Rue screamed. “Yes, I am.” “Look! I came up with a new dance move!” Rue began to dance on the kitchen tile, moving her hips, and standing on the tips of her toes without going on pointe. She span around, whooping and hollering. She grabbed Ahiru’s arms and soon they were dancing together in the kitchen. Fakir came in then, scoffing at them, saying they’d slip on the tile. Then, promptly, Ahiru slid and brought Rue down with her. Ahiru was worried Rue wouldn’t like her, especially with how jealous and possessive of Mytho she was in the first few months. But then she started dating Autor. They had connected through dance and from there on they had been the best of friends. “Mytho!” Ahiru called when he walked through the door, he came to her. “L-look! Rue made a new dance move!” Still laughing, she danced with him. Rue looked on at them bitterly, but she had moved on. Later that night, Rue told Autor what had happened in the kitchen. “I was so drunk when you came home, Ahiru!” They had both laughed. It had become a little joke between them. Between all of them.

At some point or another, Ahiru had started to compare herself to Rue. Her pretty hair, her iridescent eyes, the sound of her laugh. She was just so pretty, and she was so sure, but maybe Ahiru was more clever than a girl like her. Because maybe she could get Mytho to like her. The way he smiled, it was different compared to the way he smiled at Rue or other girls. First semester was ending soon, and she had to make a choice, to stay here or go home for Christmas. A * F Fakir had started to confide in her, of course he was drunk but that didn’t make a difference to her; people did the things they would never dare to when they were sober. Perhaps he really wanted to go to her, but never had the courage. The first few times were simple; telling her how he thinks he has a drinking problem already at the young age of 21. But, one day, things became more serious. There was a storm, she remembered because it was so loud it almost blocked out his words, and because they were surrounded in darkness; the storm having knocked out the power. She had lit candles. Rue and Autor were out on a date and Mytho had already gone back for the holidays. They were alone. He was working on a story, and when he can’t think of what to write, he drinks. Write drunk, edit sober, he said. She was in her room, reading - and not for an assignment, for once - and he came in. He flopped on her bed and wrapped himself around her. She was fine with it, she liked being touched and she loved cuddles in the winter. “I’ll tell you why I’m fucked up if you promise not to say anything.” “Okay.” Ahiru put down her book, undid his hair tie and began to comb her finger through his hair. “I killed my parents when I was six. Well, it was an accident, but still one I caused.” He was hard to understand, his words slurring together, but Rue as worse when she was this drunk, all Ahiru could hear where light mumbles. “Mom was making dinner and dad was reading the paper, he was never able to get around to it until after work, and I was outside. I decided that I would hide, and when mom came out to get me, she wouldn’t be able to find me.” Ahiru nodded along, she didn’t like where this story was going. “But by the time dinner was ready, I fell asleep under a bush. Apparently, she called dad and he threw the paper onto the stove when he ran outside, at least that’s what the fire people said started the fire.” “Is that what killed them?”

“Shh, I’m not there yet.” Fakir gently brushed his lip against her lips in a light shushing motion. “We didn’t have a fence, so they thought I had run out into the woods and went after me.” Fakir started to laugh,” It’s ironic, actually, because the bear was in the paper, people had spotted a bear in the area, but dad hadn’t read that far, apparently.” Ahiru stopped her petting. “Maybe we should stop here.” “I’m not done yet, though. So they had gone into the bear’s territory, which is what made her mad, and she chased after them. Mom got mauled by the bear, she said, and I remember because it’s what woke me up, she yelled, Run, Adam, run! Find our son and don’t look back.” He sat up then and started to take off his shirt. “I actually went into the woods, to try to save her, but the bear didn’t like that and whacked me. See?” Fakir’s chest was covered in a giant purple scar. “Oh my, God.” “Dad ran into the house but tripped on some of the scattered paper and bumped his head, knocking him unconscious as the fire consumed him. The bear left me alone for some reason, I never figured it out.” “Fakir, I’m so sorry.” “Don’t be! It was so long ago, I barely remember it.” His eyes widened.” Ha! Bear-ly!” Ahiru had tears in her eyes. “Oh, Fakir.” “Then i moved in with my uncle and Autor. It was dirty there, and Uncle D would beat on Autor for no reason at all, just because he was too drunk too think rationally. We promised to stick together so we applied to all the same colleges; this was the only college that accepted both of us.” “Fakir, I know I promised not to say anything, but I don’t think I can keep that all to myself. Fakir?” He had fallen asleep on her bed, but she let it go. The next morning, he asked why he was in her bed, and she told him that they did have sex or anything, they just. . . Talked. A * F She blushed at Mytho when he brought her flowers. He brought Rue some as well, but Ahiru’s were roses. He called her things, like pretty and beautiful, no one ever sad things like that to her. He would tell her anything, and she'd laugh, and Mytho would smile softly at her. At some point, Autor and Rue had broken up and Rue and Ahiru were sitting in her room, eating ice cream mixed with alcohol. Which one? All of them. “I didn’t even like him, I don’t know why I’m so upset!” Rue had cried. She had cut her hair in her distress and now curled onto her cheeks, a pixie cut that she wanted to try but Autor wouldn’t allow. “Why were you with him then.”

“Because he asked! He liked me! Unlike Mytho, and I wanted to make him jealous!” Rue ran her fingers through her hair. Ahiru had felt it; the freshly cut ends were incredibly soft. “I started to like him, actually. But then he had to cheat on me!” “What? With who?” “I dunno, some boy named Femmer or something.” Rue began to sob into her ice cream. “Did you love him?” “What?” Rue coughed. “Did you love him?” “No- well, I don’t know! It’s not like I’ll ever know now.” Rue rested her head on Ahiru’s shoulder and she dropped her head onto Rue’s. Ahiru didn’t wanted to hurt Rue anymore, so when she went out with Mytho the first time, she left an hour before him and met him at the restaurant. From there her drove her all over the little town in an old convertible with genuine leather seats. She liked the way the wind felt blowing through her hair when the top was down, but eventually Mytho put it up. They had parked on a cliff overlooking the lake, it was so private, and she was scared because she knew what he was going to do next. It hurt a little, and there was blood, but she never blamed Mytho because it was his first time too. When they had finished, Mytho fell asleep on top of her, but she couldn’t help but feel uneasy. It felt like a mistake. But he would make it okay, she trusted him and she knew he would never do anything to hurt her. A * F She had gone to the office to file her transfer, she couldn’t go back next fall, she couldn’t deal with them for another four years. She could transfer closer to home, or maybe farther, she’d figure it out, but as the short list of schools she was eligible for come up on the screen, she knew her options were limited. When she left the office Fakir came up to her. If anything, she had gotten closer to Fakir in the last few months than any of them. She couldn’t hold it in anymore and told him that he confessed to her when he was drunk. From then on they became the best of friends, she went to him for everything, even when she and Mytho had sex, she went to him to say that it was a mistake. “Hey, what are you doing in there?” “Oh, um, I’m transferring to another school.” “Oh.” “It- it doesn’t have anything to do with you! I just. . .” “Mytho.” Ahiru nodded and Fair embraced her. “I wish I could take it back.” “But you can’t change what you didn’t do.”

“Ahiru, please, stay. I love you.” “I love you, too but- “ “No, Ahiru, I love you.” Ahiru’s eyes widened. He loved her? “Why?” He laughed, “Who knows, I just, kind of fell, I guess.” Oh, no. Ahiru’s eyes began to fill with tears. “Ahiru? Ahiru, no, don’t cry, please? I’m sorry, I- “ “No, don’t apologize, it’s just, She wiped at her eyes, “I don’t want to leave you now.” “Will you stay then?” “I- I can’t, Fakir, Mytho is still- “ He held her again, she could feel his jaw tremble against her head. “I know.” A * F The day she left, Mytho avoided her, if felt that he had caused her great pain, but he would never regret what they did. Fakir helped her load her things into the moving van, and Rue helped as well, but Autor was off with his boyfriend. Before she had left, Fakir stopped her, in her hand he put a box. “Don’t open it until you’re on the highway. Alright?” “Okay.” She nodded and he kissed her forehead. Her dad sat next to her, driving the car, but she didn’t wait until she was on the highway; she opened it when they had turned out onto the street. Inside was a silver necklace with a garnet hanging on the end. This was the only thing of my mother’s saved from the fire. It was given to her by my father. I don’t have any use for it except to serve as a reminder of what I had done. I hope by giving it to you, it will repurpose it, back to a token of love rather than one of death. I’ve never loved anyone in my life, and after you, I don’t think I will, so please Wear it. A * F Will be continued in Storm. . .

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

Interview: A Q&A with Rising Swedish Pop Duo Vargas & Lagola

Choosing the band name Vargas & Lagola because they thought the names sounded like characters in a Quentin Tarantino movie, the Swedish songwriting, production and pop artist act comprised of Swedish Grammy-winning duo Salem Al Fakir and Vincent Pontare features two of their homeland’s most accomplished contemporary songwriters and producers: the pair have had successful solo careers before teaming up to write hits for a who’s who list of electro pop and pop that includes Madonna, Avicii, Swedish House Mafia, David Guetta, Axwell /\ Ingrosso, Katy Perry, Ghost, and Sia.

Founded back in 2017, the duo’s collaboration is a decided change in sonic direction from their previous output as the project finds the Swedish songwriters and producers experimenting with their own unique take on melodic alt-pop, which meshes elements of 70s Americana and Nordic melancholia. Coincidentally, as they started their own attention-grabbing project, the duo received accolades for co-writing Avicii’s “Without You” and “Waiting for Love,” which led to a Swedish Grammy Award win for Composer of the Year. Adding to a growing profile across the international electro pop scene, Al Fakir and Pontare performed their co-written hit “More Than You Know” with Axwell /\ Ingrosso at Coachella — and they played a key role in finishing Avicci’s posthumously released album TIM, contributing on three of the album’s songs.

Last year, I wrote about “Forgot To Be Your Lover,” a carefully crafted pop song that balanced easygoing AM rock, yacht rock breeziness and achingly melancholic nostalgia while sonically the track was centered around atmospheric synths, lush layers of shimmering and twangy, country-styled guitar lines. In some way, the song – to my ears at least – reminded me of Danish JOVM mainstays Palace Winter, but with an ambitious, arena rock feel.

The acclaimed and commercially successful Swedish pop duo’s highly anticipated full-length debut is slated for release at the end of the month. Building upon the growing buzz surrounding them, the duo’s latest single “Someone That Understands Me” continues a run of ambitious, arena rock-like pop. Centered around shimmering acoustic guitar, achingly plaintive vocals, enormous hooks, thunderous drumming and a scorching, Purple Rain-era Prince-like guitar solo from Ludwig Goransson, the song is the contented sigh of a world-weary person, who has stumbled upon one of life’s rare gifts – finding someone like-minded, who truly understands and accepts you for you.

I recently spoke to the duo via email about the new single, which officially drops today, their soon-to-be released album and more. Check out new single and the Q&A below.

 ____

WRH: How did you get into music?

Vincent Pontare: My father is a singer, so I got my first guitar from him when I was seven years- old.

Salem Al Fakir: I started to play violin and piano when I was three.

WRH: Who are your influences?

VP and SAF: We love all types of music! We have our roots in hip-hop/reggae/70s/60s but get most of the inspiration for VARGAS & LAGOLA from 70s Americana.

WRH: How would you describe your sound to someone completely unfamiliar with you and your work?

VP and SAF: Imagine if Fleetwood Mac and Jimi Hendrix had a kid that listened to Wu-Tang and loves to go to Burning Man, that’s us.

WRH: Who are you currently listening to?

VP and SAF: Khruangbin, Chet Baker, and Watain.

WRH: Can you name a couple of Swedish acts that should be getting love outside of Sweden but haven’t yet? And why should we know about them?

VP and SAF: VARGAS & LAGOLA. We feel that our type music is unrepresented out in the world at the moment.

WRH: The band is comprised of two, highly accomplished and incredibly successful solo songwriters and producers. What brought the two of you together to collaborate? And how has working together changed your creative process?

VP and SAF: We had met before through mutual friends and had the same booking agency and later on we shared the same studio for a month and then one day we said: we should try to write a song together!?

And the rest is history. . .

It’s a blessing to be two and in the same boat! When the other one is out of ideas or need a break the other one jumps in

WRH: Both of you have managed to write material for an impressive list of globally known pop artists. Has that work influenced or changed your creative process?

VP and SAF: I think success affects [sic] your compass for what works or not in a good way, you trust your gut feel[ing] and that’s the most important tool we have.

WRH: Your latest single “Somebody That Understands Me” features a guest spot from Ludwig Goransson. How did that come about?

VP and SAF:  You might think we already knew him cause we all are Swedes, but we didn’t’! We just fanboyed him up on Instagram and said, “Would you be up for trying a guitar solo on our upcoming single?” And he said “Yes.”

WRH: Speaking of “Somebody That Understands Me,” the track is one of those big, arena rock-friendly sentimental pop tunes with the sort of hook that I haven’t been able to get out of my head. In some way, the song kind of reminds me of Purple Rain and 1999-era Prince. So who and what influenced the song? Is it influenced by personal experience?

VP and SAF: We both have a soft spot for 90s arena rock, so we wanted to please ourselves for a second. Who doesn’t love a 12-string guitar riff!???

The song is about the beauty in finding like-minded people and a homage to thinking outside of the box in life in general. All types of music or genres we’ve been obsessed of comes from an underdog or rebellious perspective. So we wanted to get a little bit of that feeling into the lyrics and the production

WRH: Your highly anticipated full-length debut is slated for release at the end of the month. What should we expect from the album? 

VP and SAF: We want to give our fans a more nuanced palette of our musical landscape, so The Butterfly Effect is a piece in that puzzle.

WRH: What’s next for you?

VP and SAF: Promotion, touring and writing more music.

Interview: A Q&A with Rising Swedish Pop Duo Vargas & Lagola @vargasandlagola @AmandaElefelt @ludwiggoransson Interview: A Q&A with Rising Swedish Pop Duo Vargas & Lagola Choosing the band name Vargas & Lagola…

[shirditopackage]

Shirdi Tour packages by Darshan tour and travel

Shirdi tours is mainstream for Shirdi Sai Baba who was viewed by his aficionados as a Saint, Fakir, and Satguru as per their individual proclivities and convictions. It is one of the most extravagant sanctuary associations. One of his outstanding witticisms, "Sabka Malik Ek" ("One God oversees all"), is related with Hinduism, Islam, and Sufism. He likewise stated, "Trust in me and your petition will be replied".

Daily programs of Shri Sai Ram Ji Samadhi Temple. The opening hours of the temple doors are 4:00 am, Kankad aarti at 4:30 am, Mangal Sean. 5:00 am. Abhishek at 6:00 am, midnight arti at 9:00 am: 12:00 pm sunny aarti evening: 5:45 pm shej aarti night: 10:30 pm

Views from half an hour to half an hour before the time of the aartis directed It is stopped. If you are going for darshan then keep these times in mind.

Brahma has two forms - nirgun and sauna. Nirguna is narcotic and virtue is real. If they are two forms of the same Brahma, then one is also interested in Nirguna and one is interested in Saguna worship, as described in chapter 12 of the Gita. Virtuous worship is simple and superior. Man himself is in shape (body, sense, etc.), that's why his real worship nature of God is simple. Till some time the virtuous Brahma is not worshiped, there is no increase in love and devotion. As we progress in Sagunopasana, we move towards Nirgun Brahma. That is why it is best to perform Shri Ganesh by virtue worship. The idol, altar, fire, light, sun, water, and Brahman, etc., being the objects of Sapta worship, Sadguru is the best among them all.

Bring the form of Shri Sai to the eyes, which is the direct idol of detachment and the refuge of exclusive refugees. Putting faith in their words is the renunciation of all desires, and the determination to worship them.

Some people used to count Srisai Baba in Bhagavadbhakta or a Maha Bhagavat (great devotee). But for us we are Godless. He was very forgiving, peaceful, simple and contented, who cannot be equated. He was a bodily being, but in reality was nirguna, formless, everlasting and everlasting. The river Ganga en route to the sea rejoices many enchanted summer heaters by giving them coolness, giving life to crops and trees, and the way the apps of beings soothe. Similarly, Shri Sai, while leading a saintly life, brings solace and happiness to others. Lord Shri Krishna has said that the saint is my soul. They are my living idol and my pure form. I am the same myself. These indescribable powers or the power of God, which are Satta, mind, and joy. There was a recurrence in Sai Rupi in Shirdi packages. In the Shruti (Taittiriya Upanishad), Brahma is called Ananda. Till now, these subjects were read and heard only in books, but devotees have found such direct joy in Shirdi. Baba was the refuge of all, he did not need anyone's help. Devotees used to put a soft seat and a big pillow for their sitting.

Shani Shingnapur is well known for Shani Temple with the way that no house in the town has entryways, just door jambs. In spite of this, no burglary was accounted for in the town until 2010. In January 2011, the United Commercial (UCO) Bank opened a 'lockless' branch in the town, the first of its sort in the nation, observing the close to zero wrongdoing rate in the area.

Baba used to respect the sentiments of the devotees and did not have any objection in allowing them to worship according to their will. Some used to make caviar in front of them, some used to play wag and some used to do plantation. Some used to offer perfume and sandalwood, some offered betel nuts, paan, and other things and some offered only Naiveigh. Although it seems that his residence is in Shirdi tours, he was very comprehensive. Devotees experienced this every day. I have repeated greetings at the feet of such a universal Gurudev.

Devotion to Dr. Pandit

Once after paying obeisance to Shirdi Padhare Baba to see Dr. Pandit Baba, a friend of Shri Tatya Nulkar, he sat for a while in the Masjid. Baba sent him to Shri Dada Bhat Kelkar, where he was well received. Then Dada Bhat and Dr. Pandit reached Masjid for worship together. Dada Bhat worshiped Baba. Almost everyone used to worship Baba, but so far no one had dared to put sandalwood on his auspicious head.

Only a mahalsapati used to apply sandalwood around his neck. Dr. Pandit took sandalwood from the plate of worship and put a trunk ring on Baba's forehead. People were very surprised that Baba did not say a word. At dusk, Dada Bhat asked Baba, what is the reason that R does not allow others to put sandalwood on his forehead, but you did not say anything to Dr. Pandit, Baba started saying, Dr. Pandit gave me his Guru Shri Raghunath Maharaj Dhopeshwarkar, who Kaka is popularly known as Puranic, I understood it and he gave me sandalwood in the same manner as he used to apply sandalwood to his Guru. How could I stop then? On being asked, Dr. Pandit said to Dada Bhat that I have put Baba like his Guru Kaka Puranik on the same way as I used to apply my treasury sandal like I always used to worship my Guru. Yaghapu Baba used to allow devotees to worship as he wished, But sometimes their behavior was strange. Whenever they would throw Rudra Vatar by throwing a plate of worship, no one could have the courage to approach them.

At times, he rebuked the devotees and sometimes softened with wax, he looked like an idol of peace and forgiveness. Sometimes they would tremble in anger and their red eyes used to revolve around them, however in their conscience they used to shed a source of love and maternal affection. He used to call the devotees and said that he did not know when he became angry with them. If it is possible that mothers reject their children and return to the rivers, then only they can ignore the welfare of the devotees. They remain close to the devotees and they immediately become present when the devotees call them. He is always hungry for the love of devotees.

Haji Siddique Phalke ---------------------- No one could say when Shri Saibaba would make his devotee his kindness. It depended on his goodwill. The story of Haji Siddique Phalke is an example of this. A Yavan, a Kalyanivasi, named Siddique Phalke, came to Shirdi after performing Hajj of Mecca Sharif. They started living in Chavadi towards the north. They used to sit in the open courtyard in front of Masjid. Baba did not allow him to enter the Masjid for 9 months nor allow him to climb the Masjid ladder. Phalke was very disappointed and could not decide what remedies to use. People advised him not to give up hope. Shama Srisai is an intimate devotee of Baba. You try to reach Baba through them. Just as it is necessary to go to Nandi to reach Lord Shankar, similarly Baba should also reach Shama. Phalke found the idea appropriate and asked Shama for help. Shama also gave assurance and on getting the opportunity, he spoke to Baba in such a way that Baba, why do you not allow that old Haji to come to the Masjid. Many devotees voluntarily visit your darshan. Bless him at least once. Baba said, Shama, you are immature now. If the fakir does not allow Allah to come then what shall I do. No one could climb the mosque without his grace. Well, you ask him if he agrees to come to the lower well. Shama arrived with an acceptable answer. Fur Baba again told Shama that again ask him if he is ready to give me forty thousand rupees in four installments. Then Shama returned with an answer that if you say that, then I am ready to give forty lakh rupees. I am going to do a goat halal in Masjid, ask him what he would be interested in - goat meat, nadha or testicles. Shama returned with the answer that if Baba finds even one of Baba's food items, then Haji will consider himself lucky. On getting this answer, Baba became excited and threw the earthen pot (water pot) from his hand and threw it and reached straight to Haji with his kafni. They started asking them why they pray in vain. Why do you demonstrate your superiority? Why have you worn these dresses like old hajis? Do you read Quran Sharif in this way. You have not attained the pride of your Mecca Hajj, but you are ignorant of me. Thus Haji got scared after hearing the scolding. Baba returned to Masjid and bought some mango baskets and sent them to Haji. He himself went to Haji and took out 55 rupees from him and gave it to Haji. From then on, Baba began to love Haji and called him to have a meal with him. Now Haji also started going to the Masjid as he wished. Sometimes Baba used to give some money to them. In this way Haji joined Baba's court. Baba's control over the elements ------------------------------

Baba's elements- This chapter will end with the mention of two incidents of control.

1. Once in the evening, a terrible storm occurred in Shirdi. There were thick and dark clouds in the sky. The wind was blowing through the thickets. Clouds were thundering and lightning shone. The torrential rain started. Wherever you see, water starts to become visible there. All the animals, birds and Shirdi residents gathered in the Masjid fearing more. There are many women in Shirdi, but no one came for help that day. That is why everyone prayed to their Lord Sai, who was hungry for devotion, to solve the crisis. Baba also felt pity and came out. Stand near the mosque. After some time, the thrust of the rain decreased. And the wind slowed down and the storm also fell silent. Chandra Dev rose in the sky. Then all the nog returned to their respective homes with great delight.

2. On another occasion, during the mid-day, the fire of fumigation started burning so fierce that its flames started reaching the roof above. The people sitting in the Masjid could not understand that by putting water, to calm the fire or to take any other solution. No one was able to dare to ask Baba. But Baba quickly understood the situation. He lifted his stick and struck the front pillar forcefully and said, Descend and get down. The flames started decreasing at every stumbling block and within a few minutes the fumigation became peaceful and intact. Srisai is an incarnation of God. Those who have shelter in front of them will be refugees, they will definitely be pleased with that. A devotee who recites the scriptures of this chapter daily will be recited devoutly and will be rid of his sorrows soon. Not only this, but he will always remember Srisai's feet, and in a short period of time, after getting the vision of God, all his desires will be fulfilled and thus he will become fruitless.

Muktidham is a marble temple complex honouring various Hindu gods which has replicas of 12 Jyotirlingas. Also, unique to this temple are 18 chapters of Geeta written on the walls. Thousands of Hindu devotees visit Muktidham Temple during Kumbh Mela.

Panchavati literally means "a garden of five banyan trees" which are said to have been there during the exile of Lord Rama. Panchavati was the name of a section in the huge forest of Dandakaranya, where Rama with the help of Lakshmana built a nice hut called a home. There is a place called Tapovan where Lakshmana cut-off the nose of Surpanakha, the sister of Ravana, when she attempted to kill Sita. The entire Aranya Kanda (book of the forest) of Ramayana is set in Panchavati.

When you will visit Shirdi, you will see Trimbakeshwar or Tryambakeshwar is an ancient Hindu temple in the town of Trimbak in our Shirdi tour package dedicated to the God Shiva and is one of the twelve Jyotirlingas. Originally, there were believed to be 64 jyotirlingas while 12 of them are considered to be very auspicious and holy. The extraordinary feature of this Jyotirlinga is its three faces embodying Lord Brahma, Lord Vishnu and Lord Rudra, whereas other Jyotirlingas have Shiva as the main deity.

[shirditour]

You will see Trimbakeshwar is an antiquated Hindu sanctuary

Shirdi tours are mainstream for Shirdi Sai Baba who was viewed by his aficionados as a Saint, Fakir, and Satguru as per their individual proclivities and convictions. It is one of the most extravagant sanctuary associations. One of his outstanding witticisms, "Sabka Malik Ek" ("One God oversees all"), is related with Hinduism, Islam, and Sufism. He likewise stated, "Trust in me and your petition will be replied".

Daily programs of Shri Sai Ram Ji Samadhi Temple. The opening hours of the temple doors are 4:00 am, Kankad aarti at 4:30 am, Mangal Sean. 5:00 am. Abhishek at 6:00 am, midnight arti at 9:00 am: 12:00 pm sunny aarti evening: 5:45 pm she aarti night: 10:30 pm

Views from half an hour to half an hour before the time of the aartis directed It is stopped. If you are going for darshan then keep these times in mind.

Brahma has two forms - nirgun and sauna. Nirguna is narcotic and virtue is real. If they are two forms of the same Brahma, then one is also interested in Nirguna and one is interested in Saguna worship, as described in chapter 12 of the Gita. Virtuous worship is simple and superior. Man himself is in shape (body, sense, etc.), that's why his real worship nature of God is simple. Till some time the virtuous Brahma is not worshiped, there is no increase in love and devotion. As we progress in Sagunopasana, we move towards Nirgun Brahma. That is why it is best to perform Shri Ganesh by virtue worship. The idol, altar, fire, light, sun, water, and Brahman, etc., being the objects of Sapta worship, Sadguru is the best among them all.

Bring the form of Shri Sai to the eyes, which is the direct idol of detachment and the refuge of exclusive refugees. Putting faith in their words is the renunciation of all desires, and the determination to worship them.

Some people used to count Srisai Baba in Bhagavadbhakta or a Maha Bhagavat (great devotee). But for us we are Godless. He was very forgiving, peaceful, simple and contented, who cannot be equated. He was a bodily being, but in reality was nirguna, formless, everlasting and everlasting. The river Ganga en route to the sea rejoices many enchanted summer heaters by giving them coolness, giving life to crops and trees, and the way the apps of beings soothe. Similarly, Shri Sai, while leading a saintly life, brings solace and happiness to others. Lord Shri Krishna has said that the saint is my soul. They are my living idol and my pure form. I am the same myself. These indescribable powers or the power of God, which are Satta, mind, and joy. There was a recurrence in Sai Rupi in Shirdi tour package. In the Shruti (Taittiriya Upanishad), Brahma is called Ananda. Till now, these subjects were read and heard only in books, but devotees have found such direct joy in Shirdi. Baba was the refuge of all, he did not need anyone's help. Devotees used to put a soft seat and a big pillow for their sitting.

Shani Shingnapur is well known for Shani Temple with the way that no house in the town has entryways, just door jambs. In spite of this, no burglary was accounted for in the town until 2010. In January 2011, the United Commercial (UCO) Bank opened a 'lockless' branch in the town, the first of its sort in the nation, observing the close to zero wrongdoing rate in the area.

Baba used to respect the sentiments of the devotees and did not have any objection in allowing them to worship according to their will. Some used to make caviar in front of them, some used to play wag and some used to do plantation. Some used to offer perfume and sandalwood, some offered betel nuts, paan, and other things and some offered only Naiveigh. Although it seems that his residence is in Shirdi Shirdi tour package, he was very comprehensive. Devotees experienced this every day. I have repeated greetings at the feet of such a universal Gurudev.

Devotion to Dr. Pandit

Once after paying obeisance to Shirdi Padhare Baba to see Dr. Pandit Baba, a friend of Shri Tatya Nulkar, he sat for a while in the Masjid. Baba sent him to Shri Dada Bhat Kelkar, where he was well received. Then Dada Bhat and Dr. Pandit reached Masjid for worship together. Dada Bhat worshiped Baba. Almost everyone used to worship Baba, but so far no one had dared to put sandalwood on his auspicious head.

Only a mahalsapati used to apply sandalwood around his neck. Dr. Pandit took sandalwood from the plate of worship and put a trunk ring on Baba's forehead. People were very surprised that Baba did not say a word. At dusk, Dada Bhat asked Baba, what is the reason that R does not allow others to put sandalwood on his forehead, but you did not say anything to Dr. Pandit, Baba started saying, Dr. Pandit gave me his Guru Shri Raghunath Maharaj Dhopeshwarkar, who Kaka is popularly known as Puranic, I understood it and him gave me sandalwood in the same manner as he used to apply sandalwood to his Guru. How could I stop then? On being asked, Dr. Pandit said to Dada Bhat that I have put Baba like his Guru Kaka Puranik in the same way as I used to apply my treasury sandal like I always used to worship my Guru. Yaghapu Baba used to allow devotees to worship as he wished, But sometimes their behavior was strange. Whenever they would throw Rudra Vatar by throwing a plate of worship, no one could have the courage to approach them.

At times, he rebuked the devotees and sometimes softened with wax, he looked like an idol of peace and forgiveness. Sometimes they would tremble in anger and their red eyes used to revolve around them, however, in their conscience they used to shed a source of love and maternal affection. He used to call the devotees and said that he did not know when he became angry with them. If it is possible that mothers reject their children and return to the rivers, then only they can ignore the welfare of the devotees. They remain close to the devotees and they immediately become present when the devotees call them. He is always hungry for the love of devotees.

Haji Siddique Phalke ----------------------

No one could say when Shri Saibaba would make his devotee his kindness. It depended on his goodwill. The story of Haji Siddique Phalke is an example of this. A Yavan, a Kalyanivasi, named Siddique Phalke, came to Shirdi after performing Hajj of Mecca Sharif. They started living in Chavadi towards the north. They used to sit in the open courtyard in front of Masjid. Baba did not allow him to enter the Masjid for 9 months nor allow him to climb the Masjid ladder. Phalke was very disappointed and could not decide what remedies to use. People advised him not to give up hope. Shama Srisai is an intimate devotee of Baba. You try to reach Baba through them. Just as it is necessary to go to Nandi to reach Lord Shankar, similarly Baba should also reach Shama. Phalke found the idea appropriate and asked Shama for help. Shama also gave assurance and on getting the opportunity, he spoke to Baba in such a way that Baba, why do you not allow that old Haji to come to the Masjid. Many devotees voluntarily visit your darshan. Bless him at least once. Baba said, Shama, you are immature now. If the fakir does not allow Allah to come then what shall I do? No one could climb the mosque without his grace. Well, you ask him if he agrees to come to the lower well. Shama arrived with an acceptable answer. Fur Baba again told Shama that again ask him if he is ready to give me forty thousand rupees in four installments. Then Shama returned with an answer that if you say that, then I am ready to give forty lakh rupees. I am going to do a goat halal in Masjid, ask him what he would be interested in - goat meat, nadha or testicles. Shama returned with the answer that if Baba finds even one of Baba's food items, then Haji will consider himself lucky. On getting this answer, Baba became excited and threw the earthen pot (water pot) from his hand and threw it and reached straight to Haji with his Gafni. They started asking them why they pray in vain. Why do you demonstrate your superiority? Why have you worn these dresses like old hajis? Do you read Quran Sharif in this way? You have not attained the pride of your Mecca Hajj, but you are ignorant of me. Thus Haji got scared after hearing the scolding. Baba returned to Masjid and bought some mango baskets and sent them to Haji. He himself went to Haji and took out 55 rupees from him and gave it to Haji. From then on, Baba began to love Haji and called him to have a meal with him. Now Haji also started going to the Masjid as he wished. Sometimes Baba used to give some money to them. In this way, Haji joined Baba's court. Baba's control over the elements ------------------------------

Baba's elements- This chapter will end with the mention of two incidents of control.

1. Once in the evening, a terrible storm occurred in Shirdi. There were thick and dark clouds in the sky. The wind was blowing through the thickets. Clouds were thundering and lightning shone. The torrential rain started. Wherever you see, water starts to become visible there. All the animals, birds and Shirdi residents gathered in the Masjid fearing more. There are many women in Shirdi, but no one came for help that day. That is why everyone prayed to their Lord Sai, who was hungry for devotion, to solve the crisis. Baba also felt pity and came out. Stand near the mosque. After some time, the thrust of the rain decreased. And the wind slowed down and the storm also fell silent. Chandra Dev rose in the sky. Then all the nog returned to their respective homes with great delight.

2. On another occasion, during the mid-day, the fire of fumigation started burning so fierce that its flames started reaching the roof above. The people sitting in the Masjid could not understand that by putting water, to calm the fire or to take any other solution. No one was able to dare to ask Baba. But Baba quickly understood the situation. He lifted his stick and struck the front pillar forcefully and said, Descend and get down. The flames started decreasing at every stumbling block and within a few minutes, the fumigation became peaceful and intact. Sri sai is an incarnation of God. Those who have shelter in front of them will be refugees, they will definitely be pleased with that. A devotee who recites the scriptures of this chapter daily will be recited devoutly and will be rid of his sorrows soon. Not only this, but he will always remember Srisai's feet, and in a short period of time, after getting the vision of God, all his desires will be fulfilled and thus he will become fruitless.

Muktidham is a marble sanctuary complex regarding different Hindu divine beings which have reproductions of 12 Jyotirlingas. Additionally, one of a kind to this sanctuary are 18 sections of Geeta composed on the dividers. A great many Hindu lovers visit Muktidham Temple during Kumbh Mela.

Panchavati actually signifies "a nursery of five banyan trees" which are said to have been there during the outcast of Lord Rama. Panchavati was the name of an area in the colossal woods of Dandakaranya, where Rama with the assistance of Lakshmana manufactured a decent cottage called a home. There is a spot called Tapovan where Lakshmana remove the nose of Surpanakha, the sister of Ravana, when she endeavored to murder Sita. The whole Aranya Kanda (book of the backwoods) of Ramayana is set in Panchavati.

When you will visit Shirdi, you will see Trimbakeshwar or Tryambakeshwar is an antiquated Hindu sanctuary in the town of Trimbak in our Shirdi tour package devoted to the God Shiva and is one of the twelve Jyotirlingas. Initially, there were accepted to be 64 jyotirlingas while 12 of them are viewed as promising and sacred. The unprecedented element of this Jyotirlinga is its three faces encapsulating Lord Brahma, Lord Vishnu, and Lord Rudra, though different Jyotirlingas have Shiva as the primary divinity.