#his flowers won awards for how beautifully he grew them

[what-yadoking-likes]

“NO,” Wolf’s declaration was loud, clear... and totally ignored by Hoxton, who continued carrying the poinsettia into their bedroom.

“No, No, NO!-” Wolf body-blocked the doorway, his stocky frame just enough to keep Hoxton out - despite this the Brit weaved and dodged as if he could slip between the tiny cracks Wolf couldn’t cover with his body alone.

Eventually Hoxton stopped trying to phase through the doorway currently being blocked by his partner.

“What’s your problem?”

Wolf glared at the crimson flower as if it had personally done him harm. “It’ll die.”

“We all die some day, Wolfie.”

Eye-roll. “You know what I’m like with plants. I’ll find a way to kill it even if I do everything right.”

Wolf’s reputation for speedrunning killing plants was the stuff of legend. He had somehow managed to melt a cactus he’d bought and put in their shared bathroom. Sure, he’d blamed it on it being placed too closely to the fan, which could blast cool or hot air into the bathroom, but nobody knew for certain - how did cactus’ MELT when they lived in deserts where it was nothing but hot?

Hoxton’s expression softened. “I’ll take care of it,” he insisted, doing his best to pull the exact expression he knew would have Wolf appeased and gazing at him with such strong affection it at times stung his heart - it was a warm, doting look, focused so completely on him as if he were the only thing in the world.

Wolf was unmoved. “No,” he said, folding his arms.

Hoxton dropped the look. “Git. I’ll get it in there somehow.”

“I’d like to see you try!” Wolf sing-songed as Hoxton retreated to the office to finish whatever work he had to occupy himself with before they were officially off-duty for the holiday season.

[candy-and-writing]

What A Triple Lutz Can Do

Dark! Bucky x Ice Skater! Reader x Dark! Steve

Summary: Steve and Bucky have found each other again, after everything they've been through. When Steve meets you at the Winter Olympics, he decides you're the perfect little doll for their plan.

Warnings: non con/dub con, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, male masturbation, pet names—kitten, oral sex (female and male), fingering, poly relationship (m/m/f), somnophilia, light bondage, more to be added as the story goes on

A/N: This is loosely based off @henchry​ post about Chris Evans dating an ice skater. I read it and instantly had this idea, I’ve just never posted it. I think I unintentionally used bunny by @buckybarney​ as inspiration in making final edits. They also helped me figure out how to make this moodboard, so thank you! Please let me know if you enjoyed this, I had a lot of fun writing this!

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Before the war, before Bucky had fallen off the train and Steve crashed into the ice, before the Avengers and before and the world made Steve Rogers harder—colder—he liked to call himself a hopeless romantic. He wanted to meet eyes with someone across a diner and feel the fireworks explode in his chest. He wanted to buy a girl flowers, he wanted to walk down the streets of Brooklyn while it was snowing with her hand warming his. He wanted to buy his girl a ring, he wanted to get married, have a family.

He thought he would get that with Peggy, but he missed his chance. When he woke up in another century, he thought for sure he would never get his happily ever after. The women today were so. . . brash. A lady was supposed to be kind, polite, and dutiful. He understood that times were different, but that shouldn't excuse the ungrateful attitudes.

Then he found Bucky again, and the crazy world he had been forced into didn't seem so hopeless anymore. 

Tony had received a call from the International Olympics Committee, formally inviting the Avengers to the Winter Olympics. They were in Italy this year, Milan and Cortina. It was the first Olympic Games to be held in two cities, according to Bruce.

The committee had asked Steve to conduct the medal presentations for ice skating and hockey. They wanted Thor to carry the torch for the opening ceremony, but he was off-world and unavailable.

So here Steve was, sitting in the Mediolanum Forum venue next to Sam so he could watch the ice skating events. He figured if he was going to be giving the winners their medals, he should see why they won.

The committee had given the team access to front row seating, and that's where he was when you came out.

You were the third skater, and the first American representative, to take the ice. Your hair was pulled into a braided braid low on the side of your head with a blue flower pinned above the bun. The little dress you wore was modest—the same shade of blue that matched your flower and a sleeveless neckline that connected to a sheer fabric for sleeves and a higher neck, the little flowy skirt stopping in the middle of your thigh. Lines of little jewels dipped along your bust, beads varying in size. You had makeup on, like all the previous girls, but yours was light and glittery—save for the ruby red lipstick, but even that looked classical on you. It reminded Steve of the makeup women would wear back in the thirties.

He was so focused on you that Sam had to elbow him in the ribs to get his attention. He shut his jaw then, listening to the way your name rolled off the commentator's tongue, the syllables lining and matching each other perfectly.

You were twenty-one, and this was your first time competing in the Olympics. You've competed in other national and international tournaments, and you've done good in them if he was understanding correctly. It made an odd sense of pride swell in his chest. You were skating to Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

You moved to the middle of the rink as the announcer informed the stadium who conducted and performed your piece. You had four quads set in your routine, two in the first half and two in the second. It got quiet in the arena as you raised your arm over your head and arched your back like a ballerina. Steve counted five seconds before the music started and you spun around slowly. You started to move your body and—

Oh. Oh.

Steve was sure his jaw had dropped to the floor. The way you moved was bewitching, beautifully languid yet articulate. It was like the music moved through you, coursing through your veins as you made it entirely your own, bringing something so utterly delicate and ethereal out of the melody. You made it show in your body, in your movements.

The first of your quads were coming up, something called a quadruple lutz. Steve didn't know what it was, but when you threw your leg back and jumped, spinning in the air before landing and the crowd erupted into applause, he figured you did it correctly.

Your feet glided across the ice as you skated backward, your muscles tensing—you were preparing for your next quad. You kicked your leg back and used it as momentum to jump, spinning and landing what the commentator called a quadruple flip. The crowd cheered again.

Your expression—the raw focus and determination hiding behind your eyes—was gorgeous. Your crimson lips were parted slightly, eyelids hooded as you brought your head up. The delicate expression, the way your shoulders tensed as you jumped and spun in the air once, twice, three times before you landed gracefully on your toes had the breath leaving his lungs.

It was art. You were a work of art. So beautiful he wanted to lock you behind a glass cage and put you on display. You commanded the ice as if you controlled it, with such a degree of intricacy that Steve thought if you jumped high enough or spun fast enough you would grow wings and fly away.

You were in your element. You kicked your foot back before bringing it forward, using it to start your jump. You spun in the air and landed on one foot, your other leg spread out and leading the twirl you used to end the jump. The stadium cheered, Sam said something about a triple axel.

Steve wished the song lasted forever, wished he could watch you forever, but soon there was a flute trilling and you slowed, circling back to the center of the rink and just like that—your performance was over. The crowd exploded into cheers, throwing flowers, stuffed toys, anything they had in their pockets.

You broke into a smile, your plump lips parting and bringing out your dimples. Steve swooned as you waved to the crowd, bending to pick up a rose. Your gaze met his, and he swore he felt fireworks erupt in his chest. You smiled at him before skating off the ice, hugging a man sporting a red lightweight jacket with the USA logo embroidered on the sleeve, his dark hair slicked back. Steve watched as you smiled at him, not missing the way he stared at your ass as you turned away.

Then, suddenly, you were in first place. Your eyes went wide and you jumped up, hugging the man in the red jacket—Steve assumed he was your coach. He heard your squeal above the rest of the cheers.

Even from where he was sitting, your eyes were bright, brighter than your smile. Steve was proud of you, pride swelled in his chest as he watched you speak with a reporter. His eyes stayed glued to you as you shook hands with the reporter, your coach walking you to the locker rooms. He watched you until he couldn't anymore.

A strange desire pulled at his heart as he pulled his Stark Pad out, looking you in F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s database.

--

After watching your performance every other skater seemed dull, incomparable, to you. The judges must have thought so, too. You stayed in first place, winning the competition.

According to F.R.I.D.A.Y, you grew up in Chicago, but you moved to Manhattan for college. You got a new coach, Adrian Tucker, who was a gold and silver medalist back in the nineties. You're a junior at NYU, majoring in Art History. You have an Instagram, some sort of social media Peter had been trying to convince him to get, and Steve created an account immediately just to follow you. You had pictures of yourself, of friends, of the rink, even a pair of ballet shoes.

So you did ballet, good to know.

The award ceremony couldn't come soon enough. The idea of being closer to you sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach. Ever since he had gotten him back, Steve and Bucky have been talking about settling down—creating a life with a girl and starting a family. But they haven't found the right partner, but maybe. . . ?

When he stood in front of you, he swore he almost stopped breathing. You were gorgeous. Your hair had been taken out of the bun, cascading down your shoulders in loose waves. Your makeup was still done the same, but he noticed light freckles dotting along the bridge of your nose. Your eyes sparkled up at him—good God, you barely stood past his chest—your painted lips parted in a smile as you took him in. He placed the gold medal around your neck, congratulating you. You whispered a small, "thank you, Captain," and Steve felt a spark of electricity jolt down his groin.

Your voice was light, melodic, quiet. You were respectful, something he valued in people, in women. He could almost imagine you posed as the perfect housewife. With the perfect husband—or husbands—with the white picket fence, the kids. He could imagine your belly swollen, the little children running around calling you 'mama'. You were young, right at that age where women would start becoming wives and mothers back in his day. The thought only made his cock harder as he watched you on the platform, waving to the audience with the biggest smile on your face.

As he sat back down next to Sam, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He pulled up Bucky's contact and sent him a picture from your Instagram.

'I think I found her,' he typed.

--

Bucky remembered the first time he realized he was in love with Steve—he was sixteen. He had danced around with plenty of girls already but none of them ever really seemed to stick. He had saved up enough money to spend Steve's birthday at Coney Island, that was the day he made Steve ride the Cyclone, back when he was still skinny. He had bought Steve a hotdog, which a pelican attacked him over. Bucky was crying from laughter, face red and stomach aching, when he looked over at Steve. Something just clicked then.

The past couple of months, Steve and Bucky had been making plans to add a third partner into life. After all this time, fighting Nazis and being mind-controlled and saving the universe time and time again, they both agreed they deserved it—that they deserved a family. They had both been selfless for so long, was it so wrong to want someone to be selfless for them? To want someone soft that could share their love?

Steve and Bucky were great together—the love of each other's lives, in fact—but they shared an overwhelming need to dominate, to control. On and off the field. When they fucked they were ruthless, full of scraping nails and biting teeth. Fingertips that left bruises that lasted for days. They needed someone else, someone they could focus that control on, someone who could take them so gently and lovingly, a way they rarely took each other.

Then he got Steve's text. You were young, and it wasn't hard to find out almost everything he needed to know about you. Steve helped him use F.R.I.D.A.Y to figure out where you live—a small apartment that was close to your college campus. You could walk to class if the weather permitted it. It also wasn't too far from the ice rink you trained at. It was easy for Bucky to find a building across from your suite where they could watch you. You liked to keep your window open, let the sunlight in.

They took turns sitting on the roof of the neighboring building, looking through a pair of binoculars. They would watch you for hours—watch you do simple things like reading. That was Bucky's favorite, the way your lips moved ever so slightly as you read the words on the page. You enjoyed reading horror novels—Steven King, Mary Downing Hahn, an author named Chuck Palahnuik. A worn copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein sat on your bookshelf. At first glance, Bucky never would have pegged you as a horror kind of girl, you were too sweet and too timid. As he continued to watch you through the cameras Steve had him install, though, he saw that you very much liked psychological thrillers. You would watch a show on YouTube about true crime and haunted locations, a couple of amateurs who didn't quite know what they were doing. They were funny, though. Steve and Bucky would watch you laugh as you stared at your phone, smiling to yourself.

You trained at a ballet studio in lower Manhattan, worked out at a gym a block away from that. They were quick to memorize your routine once they started. You'd wake up at five-thirty every morning and make yourself some breakfast. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday's you hit the gym and the studio; you'd go to whatever classes you had that day, grab a coffee at the campus cafe, then head to the skating rink for two hours. Two and a half hours max. You went home, studied, and then you were left to your own devices. Sometimes you read, sometimes you baked and God, Bucky almost couldn't stop drooling at the thought of tasting your cooking. You'd watch television in your small living room and be in bed no later than eleven o'clock every night to start your day again.

One Monday morning, Steve and had followed you to the gym. They'd been doing that the last few weeks. At first, Steve reasoned it was so they could watch over you, in case you got into some trouble. Some mornings they planned on running into you on the sidewalk, pretending it was an accident—there was a flower cart along your route you liked to stop and admire, sometimes buying a bouquet of daisies for your little bachelor pad—but the timing never seemed right. Steve was never wearing the right shirt, or Bucky's hair was always a mess from the wind.

You took a cab, which Steve followed a couple of cars behind on his motorcycle. The air was brisk, the first signs of spring coming into the city. Some of the trees had started growing their leaves again, vibrant greens against the grey winter sky. He parked his bike underneath a plotted tree that had just started to turn, the tips of the leaves a bright green as blossoms began to bloom, pastel pinks against vibrant greens with petals blowing in the wind. He bought a newspaper from a vendor a couple of stores down and sat on a nearby bench, catching up with the world as he counted down the minutes. You would be in there for an hour and fifteen minutes almost exactly.

Steve almost couldn't sit still. He was itching to get his hands on you, to feel you. He and Bucky have been watching you for a long time now, waiting for the right moment to get their hands on you. Steve was growing impatient.

At forty-five minutes, his eyes began to flick up at the building every few minutes. He knew it wasn't time yet, but there was always a chance you got done early.

At an hour, his gaze hovered just above the paper. Ten more minutes, he told himself.

At an hour and twelve minutes, you emerged. Steve watched as you hugged your coat to your chest and began walking. The studio you danced at was only a block away, so you wouldn't have to be out in the cold for long. Still, Steve couldn't help but chastise you for not wearing something warmer. All you had on were a pair of thin leggings—that hugged your ass beautifully, he might add—and a compression tank top under your lightweight sweater.

Steve rushed to his bike, folding the newspaper in his hand and revving up the engine. He drove down the block, parking in front of a cafe across from the ballet studio. He watched you enter the studio and sat at a table, ordering a cup of coffee. He saw you through the floor-to-ceiling windows, your let stretched up over your head. He reached for his sketchbook and pencil, laying it out on the table before him.

The night of the Olympics, the first time after Steve had seen you, he stayed up all night drawing you. He found a video of your performance on the internet, watching it on repeat as he drew you in different positions. The first sketch he did was of you with your arm over your head, just before you started skating. He found he loved drawing the shape of your lips, so the next sketch was a portrait of your face. Your long lashes were hooded, eyes downcast and your lips parted slightly as the pencil scratched against the paper, your plump lips etched in charcoal. The expression Steve caught you in was oddly ethereal, the kind of innocence that Steve found absolutely breathtaking.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Steve sighed, pulling the device out of his jeans. Cursing, he reread the message Sam sent, looking back up across the street. You were still in front of the window, leg propped up on a bar with your upper body reaching for your foot. He sighed, closing his sketchbook as he stomped toward his bike.

--

Steve and Bucky trudged back into the Compound, exhausted and irritated. Not only have they been unable to see you for a week and a half, forced to watch you through the cameras hidden throughout your apartment, but the mission had been a complete bust. They had been sent away to Northern Peru, where Fury had given them intel about a group of HYDRA smugglers shipping illegal weapons into the country. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky spent twelve days in a cramped, boiling building across from the target's warehouse and managed to find nothing before Fury called them back.

Steve was sweaty, Bucky hadn't taken a shower in a week, and they missed you. Bucky wanted to touch you, he wanted to kiss you until you were breathless. He watched you on his phone when he could, often opting to watch the camera feed than to sleep.

Once they were in their suite, Steve stripped his uniform off, leaving it in a heap on the floor to pick up later. Right now he just wanted to feel clean. He turned the shower on and peeled his boxers off as Bucky undressed, Steve stepping below the showerhead. The warm water felt nice against his taut muscles, his shoulders relaxing under the water pressure. He watched the dirt and grime from the mission get washed away, down the drain in muddy-grey color.

As he massaged shampoo through his hair, his thoughts wandered back to you, fingers itching to run against your skin. The way your lips always looked so soft, how utterly delicious you would look with them wrapped around his cock. The sweet little noises you would make as he forced himself down your throat—you were so small, it wouldn't take much to make you choke on him.

Steve groaned as his fist wrapped around his length. Almost two weeks without imagining you on your knees, imagining your mouth on him and he was oh so sensitive. He cursed, running his thumb over his slit. He pictured your tongue dragging against his girth, your wrecked expression as you struggled to take him deeper, as Bucky struggled to fit himself in behind you. He fisted himself faster, gasping out your name.

"Yeah, baby," he mumbled to himself. "Just like that. Fuck."

He could only imagine how beautiful you would look when you came. Your skin sweaty, hips bucking, your innocent little eyes rolling to the back of your head as you squealed. Oh, you were definitely a squealer. They would make you cum over and over and—

He bit back a moan as he came, hot white spurts coating his stomach as he slowed his movements, nerves on fire. He sighed, rinsing himself off before he turned the water off. He was still hard, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get himself off.

The tips of his fingers buzzed as he redressed himself and Bucky hopped in the shower. Steve didn't know if it was the stress of the mission or the adrenaline you gave him, but he couldn't wait anymore. He didn't have the patience to wait anymore.

He was watching the camera feeds in your apartment when Bucky came out of the bathroom. All it took was one look from Steve—they already had it all planned out, they just had to put it into motion.

--

You struggled to unlock your door, twisting the key in the lock a few times, cursing as you pushed your shoulder against the door, stumbling as the door swung open. You managed to catch yourself before knocking over your vase of daisies, straightening as you waited for your world to stop spinning.

You knew it had been a bad idea when you agreed to go out tonight. You're such a lightweight and after just three shots and half a glass of wine, you're going to have a killer hangover in the morning. God, and it's three a.m. But Annie had begged you to come with them. You haven't hung out with her in so long, you were desperate to see her again. You just wished she hadn't dragged you out to a bar.

You dropped your handbag on your little dining room table, opening the refrigerator to pour yourself a glass of orange juice. You drank half the glass in a couple of gulps, letting out a sigh as you set the glass down. As you moved to pull your phone out of your purse, you heard the floorboards creak, like someone was taking a step.

You froze, looking down the hall. The boards in your bedroom creak like that when you step down on a certain spot, but you've been in the apartment long enough to learn where it is exactly and step around it.

As quietly as you could, you made your way down the hall, checking the bathroom. You've seen enough horror movies in your life to know never to close the shower curtain when you weren't using it, so with a quick glance you knew the room was empty.

Your bedroom was at the end of the hall, the door cracked open. You walked in, carefully looking around. Your closet door was open, the windows were closed, you turned and looked towards your dresser mirror and—

You saw the figure behind you before you could react. Your eyes went wide, their hand coming up to cover your mouth before you could muster a scream. Your hands flew up to the hand, legs kicking out as the intruder dragged you out of your bedroom. You screamed into the hand, thrashing as you felt a sharp prick in your neck.

"It's alright," they cooed. "Shhh, it's okay, doll. You're just gonna go to sleep for a little while, okay?"

You shook your head frantically, tears streaming down your face as you felt your body getting tired. You blinked furiously, trying to fight the sleepy feeling. Your muscles felt like dead weight, you stopped kicking your feet as your grip on the man's cold hand went slack.

"That's a good girl," he crooned. "Just relax, kitten. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Your vision blurred, and then everything went black.

[youarejesting]

BTS 365 Prompts

[Masterlist] Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester.

Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

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   February 19th - 25th

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Kim Seokjin: Swords

The year was 1776 the ruler king Jeongjo. Paranoid that someone wanted him dead, He called for a competition “Any man who can wield a sword is allowed to participate, the winners  would be rewarded greatly”

A trip to see your good friend who had a more androgynous style. You explained the situation and they gave you advice before setting to work.  Lending you clothes and shoes and helping you style your hair. “Eric here will teach you how to act the part”

You had won the final match and joined the winners. Meeting an unbelievably handsome young man named Kim Seokjin. You all became the kings guard and you explained to the king and was still allowed to stay. You were bathing one evening in the hot spring and you heard someone enter. 

“Hey y/n is that you, you always bathe so late” he came closer and you and you froze up he grabbed your shoulder and you grabbed his hand and overpowered him to face him against the edge of the bath. He struggled pulling you in front of him trapping you between his arms and he blushed stepping back. He couldn’t say anything his ears pink. 

Min Yoongi: Humble @leuchtendesstrassenlicht

Yoongi got back last night while you were sleeping and you woke up in his arms, you smiled allowing him to sleep in. You really had to pee and you were feeling kind or hungry but you didn’t move. Betrayed by Holly who left to eat and run around the backyard. Instead you distracted yourself with a list of things you loved about your husband. You loved his voice, his dry humor you loved his hands, you loved his eyes, you loved the way he didn’t need to say he loved you for you to feel it. How he wasn’t very affectionate because when he was it was like Christmas. Looking back he was awake watching you and you smiled you prettiest smile at him. And his eyes scanned your face eyebrows turning down at the ends, it was the subtlest change but this was the face he made when ever he said I love you, so whenever you see it you know what he wants to say. 

Sharing a kiss you asked him about the awards last night and he told you they had won another handful of Daesang awards. “Show me photos”

“I didn’t take any” he pulled you close feeling his ears warm a little. 

“You didn’t, I want to see you all happy with an award” 

“I’m happy and you are better than any award anyone could give me”

Jung Hoseok: Multitasking

Hoseok was busy writing lyrics, so much so he took his phone everywhere. Including the shower, his phone locked behind a zip lock bag as he typed under the constant jets of hot water. He felt his muscles ease as he typed away placing his phone down playing the instrumental piece he washed his hair trying out the lyrics. 

He hummed and as his phone rang, it was a face-time from you the very girl he liked. Forgetting where he was he answered you were ranting about something. You paused leaning closer to the camera. “Are you in the shower?” He blinked leaving his dazed state and nodded blankly. 

“Yeah I was writing lyrics”

“Well let me hear what you got so far?” 

Kim Namjoon: Shoes

You were cleaning up the apartment you and your roommate mister Kim Namjoon were very friendly book lovers your lounge had been lined with bookshelves full of comics, textbooks, journals articles and novels. You frequently spent dinners gushing about the books you had read and recommending each other some favorite. 

You recently had been reading a few erotic romance stories and had blatantly recommended them over dinner last night. To which you thought nothing of it, but here you were cleaning

Namjoon left his shoes under the counter and his coat and bag on the chair you slipped your feet into the shoes and put on the jacket and bag. Grabbing his things and walking about the room putting them back in their place. You turned to see Namjoon stepping out of his room, he looked at your swamped figure in his coat and noticed how his shoes looked comical on your feet. 

He didn’t say a word as he took his scarf from the dresser and began wrapping you up in it, he topped the look off with a hat and sun glasses. You stood there watching the genius at work the smile on his face bringing out his dimples. Reaching onto his back jeans pocket he snapped a picture and added it to his Instagram labeled mini me. 

Park Jimin: Dog Biscuit

Jimin laid on the couch his chin resting on the arm while his arms hung over it. He was watching the front door his tail laid flat against his thigh every now and then his ear would twitch hearing various noises waiting to hear you come home. He was watching the door, his mind playing out your arrival whenever he pictured you his tail would swing and thump hard against the couch. 

He heard the elevator beep at the end of the hall but the steps were too heavy and wide, this wasn’t his beautiful owner. He didn’t hear the familiar rattle of keys. He returned to imagining once more he wanted to hold you in his arms and nuzzle your neck. 

There was the ping of the elevator and something strange it was light steps the legs were shaking and their was panting and groaning sounds he recognised his owners sounds and a million thoughts plagued his mind. 

He moved to the door opening it and looking out to see you beautifully disheveled teeth pinning your bottom lip as you struggled to carry a large bag in each hand. 

“Ah Jimin I have to unpack groceries” you frowned and he had lifted you hoodie and climbed in underneath looking up at you with his puffy eyes and pouty lips. “I bought bikkies”

“The dog biscuits I like”

“Honey they are people biscuits they are just shaped like dog biscuits it’s based off of Scooby doo their Scooby snacks”

“I wouldn’t complain if I was your dog”

Kim Taehyung: Shutter

“He is said to walk these very halls at night, no one has truly seen what he looks like but from what they have seen he has thick eyebrows and a cold dark stare, he can either appear as an angel or a demon and all you hear is a shutter of a camera before you disappear in a flash of light.. The only remnant left behind is the picture he takes.” You looked at the many horrified and dazed faces of the pictures some of them look rather beautiful. “He returns them later and they are never the same they quit the club and leave the school. The rumor is he died whilst taking a picture but nobody knows what it was or how it really happened. Nobody knows why he comes out but when he does, be careful not to let him take your picture” This was your induction to the photography club, but ghost stories in a small room wasn’t really your thing even if there was chimaek.

“Guys I am heading home, I got work tomorrow” you said and began walking down the hall stopping as you heard the sound of a shutter, you turned your heart racing slightly to see a silhouette at the end of the hall taking a picture of a single flower in a tiny vase on the window sill. It reflected the moonlight and he turned to different angles humming deeply.

Approaching him you smiled and looked at the beautiful photo he took he turned watching you, and gestured you to the window. you stood a meter away leaning against the sill and watching him curiously.

“Can you put your hair behind your shoulder and look out that way?” You nodded and did as he said his voice dark chocolate and you followed his instructions. Gazing out the window when he raised the camera and the flash sparked lighting up the hall followed by the echo of a shutter. The sound rang out and you were in the hall but it was day time and though you were in the same place it looked different.

Jeon Jungkook: Fairy Tale

Little Jungkook grew up on fairy tales, princes and princesses, knights and witches. He learnt that good always triumphs over evil and that if he wished hard enough and tried hard enough things will always work out. He believed in Santa and the Easter Bunny, he believed and trusted it all. Until one day something clicked, he lost someone dear to him and things changed. He was cold and didn’t trust anybody. Nobody could betray him if he didn’t have friends in the first place. Jungkook followed a routine leaving the house only for work and the store. He worked in accounting, it was all facts and logical thinking no imagination required. He would come home mentally drained and would fall asleep promptly.

Tonight was no different except he woke in the middle of the night to a strange sound, he froze his hand on his cell phone ready to call for help if needed. He watched the window lift and a figure tumble inside onto the floor.

“Ow, I can’t see” the voice was feminine and the shadowed figure was tiny. He sat up and turned on the light.

“Does this help?” he leaned his chin on his hand and you froze and he smirked “Are you here to steal from me?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?” Raising an eyebrow back at him as you stood using the bookshelf to straighten up he scanned your form for any weapons and came up empty.

“We won’t know if I believe you if you don’t try” he said “So why are you here?”

You looked at the shelf to find a worn out book, smiling to yourself you turned. “I am here to rescue you of course, I heard you were locked away in this castle and I am to save you and we ride off on my noble steed”

“I don’t believe you and you want to know why, because fairy tales aren’t real. There is no good in this world only benefits people only do what benefits them like you, breaking into my house to steal things” he sighed and you felt bad because he spoke like he didn’t care but his eyes were so sad. You walked across the room grabbing his jacket and throwing it at him.

“Come on!” You said “Let’s go back out the window, I am rescuing you from this belief that the world is bad, life is a fairy tale if you make it that way, and you just met the most generous most beautiful and charming young knight in uh a polyester blend fabric but shining armor nonetheless, Give me 24 hours and I will prove you wrong, if I lose I will let you call the police”

“Fine” he sighed swinging his legs out of the bed.

Next Week

[littlecactiguy]

Because of a Cat

Lapidot AU Week Day 2: Flower Shop/Tattoo artist AU

Day 1 Post.  AO3.

@lapidot-week

On Barn Street, there were two business that absolutely all the Beachtown (a small neighborhood in the larger Crystalopolis) locals knew, Painted Wings Tattoo Shop and Pumpkin’s Premium Flowers.  Most outsiders to the neighborhood would wonder why these two small businesses, of all the unique, little shops clustered in that area, garnered the most attention.  Some locals would spin a story about a decades-old feud.  Others would just shrug and say they liked each of the shops’ services respectively.  Most would roll their eyes.  The owner of the small bakery/cafe a street over, Pearl, would sigh, share an exhausted look with her wife, the local jeweler who specialized in rare metals, Bismuth, and say it was because of a cat.

Some years back, an ex-Diamond Authority Officer, Peridot, arrived with her fat, orange-striped cat, Pumpkin, and started a flower shop selling whatever she could grow in the small backyard behind her shop.  Most eyed her warily, as the Diamond Authority wasn’t exactly favored in this part of town, but she was friends with the youngest child of the DeMayo family, Steven.  Since the DeMayos had been a part of the neighborhood as long as anyone could remember, it was communally decided that Peridot could stay.  And then, it was found out that, if you spent just five minutes with Peridot, you’d learn she was just as weird as everyone else, so she quickly fit right in.  Plus, everyone loved Pumpkin, who won a couple awards for Sweetest Cat Ever, which Peridot proudly hung behind the counter of her flower shop.

More recently, one Lapis Lazuli, also a friend of young Steven and someone who didn’t share much about herself, moved in to start Painted Wings Tattoos.  Unlike Peridot, who’d quickly involved herself in every aspect of Beachtown life, Lapis kept to herself.  She only really travelled out of her apartment above her shop to buy groceries and the occasional drink/donut combo from the Big Donut on the street corner.

That is, until Pumpkin decided to intervene in her life.  And Peridot’s.

“For the last time, I do NOT have a crush!”  Peridot slammed her hands down on the counter, causing her to lose her balance.  The stool she used to be able to see over the counter wobbled, but, by now, Peridot was an expert in not letting it tip over.

From where she browsed that day’s selection of flowers, Bismuth laughed.  “Sure you don’t, shorty.”  She gestured to the flowers.  “This all you got today?  It’s our anniversary in a week but—”

“Your bouquet will be ready at the agreed upon pickup time of 9 am.”  Peridot interrupted, relieved to jump back to the familiarity of work orders.

“I know, I know, but Pearl’s being having such a hard time getting her latest tart recipe juuust right.  She won’t stop until it’s absolutely perfect.”  Bismuth looked back to Peridot.  “You know how she can get.”

Peridot nodded.  There were Reasons she dreaded when Pearl came into the shop looking for flowers for Bismuth.  She, Peridot, was the only perfectionist allowed to reign in Pumpkin’s Premium Flowers.  Absolutely no one else ever was.  Including Pearl.  Who always, always tested that rule.

“Anyway, I was thinking I’d get her something small and special now, you know as a pick me up.”  Bismuth approached the counter.  “So, you got anything good for me?  And remember, absolutely no roses.”

“I am aware of the ban on roses you two have,” Peridot answered.  She prided herself in remembering all her regulars’ preferences, yet these two never failed in reminding her of their “no roses” rule.  It was irritating to constantly be reminded, but she could say she understood it.  She herself, wasn’t fond of being reminded of the past.

Peridot glanced all around at her stock, but there was nothing particularly extraordinary in the showcased bunch.  “I’ll check the back.” She told Bismuth.

In her backroom, Peridot checked over her more unusual flowers.  Most of what she grew were the normal fair; tulips, roses, daffodils, the general flowers customers wanted.  But she also did a bit of experimenting where she could and her results were one-of-a-kind.  She had flowers with petals each a different color.  Flowers that chimed little melodies when they bloomed.  Flowers that were so saturated in color that they made you want to stare at them all day long.

While she determined that a small, potted violet with crystal-like petals that refracted light beautifully would do nicely for Bismuth, Peridot heard the merry ding-ling of her shop bell.  She returned to the main room.

And her entire world ended.

Lapis Lazuli was in her shop.  Lapis Lazuli, who ran the tattoo shop across the street, was in her shop.  Also she was holding Pumpkin in her arms.  But the main thing here was that she was In Peridot’s Shop.

Instead of her usual welcome that she gave customers, a garbled mess of sounds spilled from Peridot’s mouth.

“Right.  Absolutely no crush here.”  Bismuth rolled her eyes.

“I—errr—I—um—I—”  Peridot clamped her mouth shut before my syllables escaped.

Lapis approached the counter.  “This is your cat, right?”  She held up Pumpkin, who mewed.  “Cause he wandered into my shop.”

Peridot was still in ‘Most Beautiful Person Ever Is In My Shop And Holding My Cat’ world, so Bismuth replied for her, “Yeah, that’s Pumpkin.  Everyone knows her so Peri here lets her wander around to say hi.”

“Oh, um, ok.  She’s really cute.”  Lapis placed Pumpkin down on the counter.  Pumpkin padded over to Peridot, rubbed against her arm, and purred.  “But I don’t really want her in my shop.”

Lapis looked once between Bismuth and Peridot, who still hadn’t managed to remember how to do words.  “So, yeah, um, I’m gonna go now.  See ya later.”  She left.

After the door closed behind her, Peridot inhaled a breath that could have set a world record.  Then, “BISMUTH DID YOU SEE THAT SHE WAS IN MY SHOP AND SHE TALKED TO ME AND SHE LIKED PUMPKIN AND SHE SHE SHE—”  Peridot fell backward off her stool.  She landed on the floor and just lay there.  “That’s it.  My life is officially complete.”

“So…you’re not going to ask her out?”  Bismuth leaned on the counter.  She gave Peridot a knowing look.

“I—how can I?  I can’t even speak around her.  I wouldn’t know where to even begin.”

This time it was Pearl who was in Peridot’s shop when Lapis came in.  Things, for once, were actually not going horribly.  Ok, Pearl had only been inside three minutes so there was still time since she usually spent an estimated 30-40 minutes being wishy-washy over what she would purchase, but still.  Those first minutes were usually an indicator of how things would go and, today, they were good.

“Um, hey.”  Lapis offered a noncommittal wave of her hand as she walked in.  “Your cat wandered into my shop again.”  She held up Pumpkin, who mewed accordingly.

“Oh, hello.  You’re Ms. Lazuli, right?  From across the street?”  Pearl spoke before Peridot could muster herself to do the same.  “Bismuth just loves her new tattoo.  You’re a very talented artist.”

“Thanks.”  Lapis shrugged.  She put Pumpkin down on the counter.  The cat sat down, and then looked up at all three of them expectantly.

“So, how did you get into art, if you don’t mind me asking?”  Pearl apparently wanted to make smalltalk.

Peridot scratched Pumpkin behind the ears, unsure of whether to be thankful or not that she didn’t necessarily have to navigate taking part of the conversation.

Lapis answered, “I’ve always liked drawing and ink is a nice medium to work with.  It seemed like a natural path to take.”  She turned to Peridot.  “Hey, Peridot right?  I’ve been thinking, you’ve got some cool plants in here.  Would it be ok if I came in and drew them sometime?  I don’t have many floral designs and they’d make for some wicked inspiration.”

“Yes!”  Peridot winced.  That sounded waaaay too excited.  She gulped and tried again.  “Yes, yes of course.  Come over any time!”

Lapis smiled at her.  “Thanks.”

“Yup.”  Peridot tried to lean on the counter, but her elbow missed and she fell.

“Nice.”  Lapis laughed before helping her up.  “So I’ll come over tomorrow then?  Around 8?”

Peridot pretended that she wasn’t blushing.  “Yes, yes that is compatible with my schedule.”

Pearl looked between the two, noted the looks they were giving each other, and smiled to herself.  “I’ll just let myself out.”

The next day, Peridot took all her unique flowers (even the ones she wasn’t really prepared to part with—look, when you spend hours of your life tenderly caring for a plant, naming it, and talking to it… yeah there were some emotional investments in being a gardener that Peridot had not foreseen) and set them up in the shop.  She stared at them.  Did some mental calculations.  Reset where each and every plant was.  Stared at them again.  Was about to move them a second time, but Lapis walked in then.

“Hello!  I’m glad you’re here!  I was just getting them all set up!  But I can move them if you need me to!”  Was she yelling?  Why was she yelling?  Peridot grabbed Pumpkin and hugged the cat to her chest as if that would soothe her nerves.  Which it did.  A little.

“Sweet.  These look great.”  Lapis offered Peridot a small smile and it melted her heart.  “I’ll just be here.”  She sat down on the spare stool Peridot had set out for her.  “I won’t be in your way at all.”  Pumpkin jumped up on her lap and Lapis stroked the cat.

“Oh, and Peridot?  Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

[janakimurali]

The world changed while I slept

I usually write two part stories for Deccan Herald’s school edition, but this time, the story extended to three parts and the story had an open-ending too, which gave me an opportunity to invite the kids to come up with alternate endings. And, did we get some interesting entries, which Imtiaz and the DHSE featured in the school edition.  

The world changed while I slept  Part One

 The mellow sunlight beaming through the open window created lovely patterns on the floor. Some birds tweeted from the tree outside. A cool aromatic breeze wafted in.

Mita woke up smiling. ‘What a lovely morning.’

She jumped off from her bed and looked out of the window.

What? What had happened to the Raintree?

The tall and wide raintree which grew outside her window had dwarfed into a bushy tree. It had millions of flowers, all tiny and sparkling like diamonds.

The birds looked different too. There were a variety of multi-hued birds, some small, some slightly bigger.  But all of them were as tiny as a sparrow. And was that really a sparrow? She hadn’t seen one in years.

What had happened? She blinked and rubbed her eyes and opened them again. The birds were still there. They tweeted softly, tinkling like musical tones floating in the aromatic breeze. She took a big whiff of the scented breeze, hmm, the air smelt fresh.  

She must be dreaming. She pinched herself. ‘Ouch, that hurt.  I am definitely awake.’

She ran out into the kitchen shouting, ‘Ma, Ma, did you see what happened to our tree…and the birds…and the air…it smells fresh.’

‘Shhh,’ said her mother, looking up from a screen, which seemed to be hanging in mid-air. The news snippets floated before her and once she finished reading it, she swiped the screen away. She seemed to be whispering to herself.

‘Whom are you talking to?’ asked Mita.

‘Shhh, don’t shout. I am talking to dad.’

‘But how are you talking to him, I don’t see your phone, do you have a Bluetooth connected to your ear?’ Mita said, lowering her voice.

‘You’re still too loud. Lower your volume, the neighbours will complain.’

‘What? Why would they complain?’

‘Because you’re loud. You know of the decibels rule.’

‘What decibels rule?’

Her mother sighed. ‘What’s wrong with you,’ her mom whispered. ‘The decibels rule is 100 years old. You know about how our neighbour’s son lost his ears, when his father suddenly sounded the car horn. Poor boy, he’s in hospital now, getting a new silicone ear and the father is in jail serving a sentence.’

‘Ma, what are you saying, what decibel rule, nobody split their ears yet to a car horn. If so, we should all have lost our ears to the blaring sound of car and motorcycle horns through the day and night - there’s so much noise pollution…’

Her mother looked at her as though she had lost her mind.

‘What noise pollution, nobody ever honks in our city.  Nobody ever speaks louder than a whisper,’ said her mother softly.

‘We just had Diwali, people were bursting crackers all around, all the stray dogs and cats ran for safety…’

‘What crackers, whoever bursts crackers?  And what strays, we don’t have any stray dogs or cats in our cities. The only animals in the cities are pets and none of them bark or mew or growl either – they are all quiet and peaceful animals,’ said her mother shaking her head.  ‘I told you we have no pollution whatsoever.  All the cars run on solar energy and we have had clean air for years and years.’

‘The trees, why are they shunted and…and the birds are smaller…the sparrow seems to have come back too?’

Her mother scoffed. ‘Who needs tall trees, they block the sunlight, all our trees are the same size, all their flowers are scented, so we get clean and aromatic air.  And, who wants predatory birds. All our birds are genetically modified. They only tweet musical notes. And, you’re still too loud, my ears are ringing with the noise.’

Mita opened her mouth and then closed it again.

‘And the newspapers, we have no newspapers either?’ Mita whispered. ‘I saw you reading from a screen suspended from the air, how…how does that work?’

‘It’s beamed from a satellite, directly to each home. We don’t need a television or a computer to receive it, we just need a smart home,’ answered her mother patiently. ‘And we don’t have mobile phones anymore, artificial intelligence in the smart homes connects us directly. ‘

Mita shook her head.  Something was wrong with her world…or should she say, something was finally right with her world. No print newspapers, which meant no trees were being cut. Perfumed shunted trees, smaller and cuter birds. Wow!  No noise pollution, no vehicular pollution and clean, scented air. She could live with that. She definitely wanted this world. She never wanted anything to change, ever.

‘But you still have to go to school, so get ready, while I get you farm fresh organic breakfast – we have nothing that has pesticides in them.’    

‘Farm fresh food, wow,’ said Mita.

She was smiling ear to ear as she ran to her room to get ready for school.

‘Wow, no gadgets, no pollution, farm fresh food, the world changed while I slept.’

To be Continued…

The world changed while I slept Part two

 Mita was living her dream.

 Every morning, she woke up and looked out of the window. The dwarfed tree with the white diamond flowers was still there, as was the tiny, colourful birds. The aromatic breeze still wafted in through her window as did the mellow sunlight. Mom still served farm fresh food and nobody had mobile phones or other gadgets.

 All the news was still streamed to them from satellites and there were no more noisy debates on any news channel. Their Artificial Intelligence in their smart home was called Zero. All they had to do was ask her anything and pat came the answer from Zero. She played music, turned on the TV channels, switched the lights on and off, fumigated their house and turned on the vacuum cleaner and the washing machine. Theirs was a zero-waste home, as all their waste was recycled.            

 Mita went to school in a solar powered school bus.  All the other vehicles on the road too were solar powered. Everyone car-pooled, so there were always random groups of strangers in each car. There were also fewer cars on the roads. The roads were smooth and pothole free. Nobody honked. There was no road rage, as the fine was very hefty if anyone lost their temper on the road.

 The familiar petrol bunks on the roads had given way to smart malls, where people were spoilt for choice. There were lots of video games in the sport pavilions, but everyone had to have headphones to play them. All the trendy garments in branded stores were free of child labour.  The food courts served only farm fresh organic food. All junk food was totally banned. The smart theatre complexes beamed movies directly to big screens which hung in the middle of the auditorium. People sat around in a circle and watched the movies. It somehow made it all look so cosy. All the loud stereophonic speakers in the theatres had been done away with and every movie goer was given headphones.  

 There was no crime anywhere in the city, girls and women could walk freely on the roads, without fear of being molested.

 ‘After all we won the annual award for being the most peaceful city in the world. And mind you, we have been doing so for the last ten years,’ said her mother.

 ‘You mean I can walk home at any time, without being afraid of my own shadow? Wow, that’s so cool,’ said Mita. ‘I am sure this is a dream, but I am not going to pinch myself, I want to stay in the dream.’

 Mita’s school had been transformed into a stunning green campus. There were cobblestoned pathways and a beautifully manicured lawn. Recycled water was used to water the lawns.

 The school had thought it best to stop all noisy sports, like basketball, volleyball or cricket, as crowd enthusiasm raised the collective volume decibels to beyond allowed limits. So, all sports courts had been converted into green walkaways.

 All the students wore soft rubber soled shoes, which made no noise as they went up escalators to the various floors. As stairs made too much noise, the school had converted all the stairs in the schools to noiseless escalators.  

 There were no scratchy, screechy chalks boards, teachers taught through screens that hung from the middle of the class room. Children sat around in cosy groups around the teacher. There were no desks as there were no text books or notebooks. No trees could be cut for paper, so everyone just memorised what was being taught.

 That’s what Mita loved best - no school books, so no heavy school bags to carry either.  

 ‘What about exams, how do we write them, how are we supposed to remember everything. There are no reference books, the school does not have a library anymore,’ Mita whispered to her friend, Rita, as they walked back from class.

 ‘How can we have libraries, we are not allowed to print and the school board had to do away with exams for the same reason. With a ban on paper and all gadgets, they had no clue how to set exams for the school children,’ Rita whispered back.

 ‘This sounds like fun, no books, no exams.’

 ‘But if you do want to recall anything, just ask Zero, she is your memory bank. Anyway, why do you want to remember everything, I take in only what I’m going to use later in life. I am not going to use calculus or geometry ever in my life, so I blank out during the maths class.’

 ‘Hmm. but I do miss my music class. I heard nobody is allowed to sing, play the drums or play any musical instrument, as the school is afraid it would raise the decibel levels.’

 ‘Naturally, the school does not want to lose its licence, crossing the decibels levels is a very serious offence. But why do you want to sing Mita, doesn’t Zero pipe in good enough music into your home?’

 ‘Yes, that Zero does, the softest, soothing and most melodious and tuneful music ever. But someone must have made those tunes, right?’

 ‘They’re a medley of all the music anyone has ever heard, The AI has dipped into all our memories and created music which people love to hear.’

 ‘Okay, but what about sports? Don’t you miss it, I know you’re a good basketball player.’

 Rita shrugged. ‘I play basketball video games at the malls and on my screen at home, but yeah I agree, it’s not the same.’

 ‘By the way, what year is this, it’s still 2018, isn’t it?’

 Her friend looked at her as though she was a stranger.

 ‘What’s wrong with you Mita, it’s 2118.’

 To be Concluded…

The world changed while I slept Part three

 So, this was no dream.

 Mita had been catapulted 100 years forward to 2118. Everyone around her was the same, her parents, her friends, her school. Yet, everything had changed. The world had changed while she slept – was it just a few days ago, a few weeks ago, a few months ago - or even 100 years ago? How was it that nobody had aged? She didn’t know anymore.  

 She learnt from Zero that the world’s scientists had found ways to beat climate change. Every city in the world now had the same climate – not too hot, not too cold, just the right temperature. There were no snowstorms, hailstorms, earthquakes or tsunamis. None of her friends at school even remembered them.  In fact, none of her friends remembered anything.  They never bothered to pay attention in class, as they could always go home and ask Zero about anything they needed to know.

 ‘Why does anyone even come to class, if they’re not going to pay attention?’ Mita asked Rita.

 Rita shrugged. ‘I come to school to meet my friends. You?’

 ‘I don’t know anymore. Nobody does anything. There is no library, no sports, no music, no…no debates anymore…don’t you miss them?’  

 Rita looked strangely at her.

 ‘And, you miss them?’

 ‘Of course, I do. Nobody at school talks about their dreams…or…or ambition? I wanted to write music and sing, now I find, I can’t do that anymore. I am trying to figure out what to do with my life.’

 ‘You’re a funny one, aren’t you? What ambition, what dreams? Everyone works for the system and Zero will allot our work for us, when its time.’

 ‘But why should Zero do that? She’s Artificial Intelligence, just a machine. Shouldn’t we have the choice?’

 ‘You’re going to get into trouble talking like this. Especially as your parents are the system.’  

 ‘What?’

 Mita was too shocked to say anything more. Her dad and mom were activists who had wanted a different world, pollution free and garbage free cities and a reversal of climate change. That was not wrong, was it?  She remembered they had led protest marches in the city, before…before all this. So how did they…when did they become the system?

 She soon found out that the reason her dad travelled so much, was because he was a trouble shooter and handled breakdowns of the system at various cities in India, China, America, Japan, Germany, Britain and Russia. And her mother was one of the many administrators in the system, which ensured everything in their city was as it should be.

 Mita wasn’t so sure she liked her perfect world anymore. She wanted to be able eat junk food sometimes, sing sometimes, laugh loudly at some joke her friends made and not worry about the decibels count all the time. More than anything else…she wanted…she wanted to be able to have a choice.

 But Mita kept her thoughts to herself, she wasn’t sure Rita or any of her classmates would understand. And she definitely couldn’t share her disquiet with her mom or dad. For, they were the system.

 ‘You’re very quiet now. You don’t ask any questions anymore?’ Rita asked one day, as they were waiting in line to collect their fresh organic lunch in the school canteen.

 ‘I…I don’t know what to think anymore.’

 ‘Come to the basement at 3 p.m,’ Rita whispered in an aside.

 ‘What’s happening there?’

 ‘Shh, just come.’

 When Mita went to the abandoned sports equipment room in the basement at 3 p.m, she had no idea what to expect, yet she was astonished to see so many of her fellow classmates from the tenth. The ninths were there, so were the eighths.  She even spotted a few sevenths.  

 ‘Come in Mita,’ said Rita. ‘Meet the Disrupters.’

 Rita stood at the head of the room along with a few other boys and girls from their class.  

 ‘We were not sure, we could trust you, for your parents are the system…’ began Rita, as she dribbled a basketball.

 ‘So, you do miss your basketball,’ said Mita smiling.  

 In the next hour, Mita learnt that the Disruptors met secretly every Thursday in the basement, as it was the only place, the school’s Artificial Intelligence spy network of drones and listening devices couldn’t reach. Like her, the Disruptors too were disturbed with their ‘too perfect world’ and wanted change.

 ‘We’re not saying we want to go back to 2018.  There are a lot of things which have worked well, like the pollution free cities. But we can’t have machines controlling our every move. Our free will has been taken away,’ said Surya, one of the boys in her class.

 ‘Hear, hear,’ said the other students in the room.    

 ‘Next, they will put a chip in our brains,’ said Rita.

 ‘What?’ said a shocked Mita.

 ‘The system is planning to do that supposedly to wipe out crime, but we suspect it is to ensure everyone conforms.’

 ‘But our thoughts are all we have.’

 ‘So, here’s what we are going to do…’ said Surya.    

 Concluded

Write your own ending:

 The World Changed While I Slept is an open-ended three-part story.  Read

all the three parts of the story and suggest your own alternatives to a better world.

 Write your ideas in 400 words and send them in to DHSE by December 20th. The best five entries will be featured in DHSE.

[wanderlust225]

Kuala Lumpur - the same, but different

I knew the day would come, but I must say I was pretty sad to see Amy go back to SF. Alas, she is still full-time working and she was able to swing a long 2-week holiday but not much more, which means I had to start my solo travel. I have read a few articles recently that talk about the benefits of being alone, about it being the only time when one can reflect and truly think for themselves. I am not completely sure I buy that, but I do think 2 weeks by myself will be an excellent chance to think, write and (hopefully!) make some headway in defining a structure for what I want going forward. It is still very much a work-in-progress but, besides travel and visiting family and friends, one of my very important projects during this time off. Solo travel is wonderful in the sense that you can indulge in anything and everything, or nothing at all. Over the past few days in KL, I have done all of those. After Amy and I split, I found a kaffe and toast stand, the namesake and traditions certainly a holdover from Dutch rule. The coffee was nothing more than drip coffee with loads of condensed milk (though I didn't complain) and the famous toast was white bread without crust. To make matters worse (or better in my mind), I didn't even get the traditional slab of butter with jelly, because I just couldn't resist peanutbutter. It was a lovely breakfast. The flight to KL was under an hour and the Ekspress train to Sentral was super easy too. From there I transferred to a local line (I owe all my public transport savvyness to London) and then walked through a fairly seedy neighborhood to my hotel. The problem with new cities is that you never know if the city is kind of like that, or if you're in a bad part of town. I was happy to see security at the entrace to my hotel and fairly busy hallways and, for $35 a night, not too surprised at the clean but unceremonious room. I had caught a cold in Sing, of which the effects were becoming particularly brutal so I crashed for a few hours in the hope of kicking it. When I woke up I decided to go on an afternoon wander and realized the hard way that KL really isn't a walking city. I found my way to a hawker street but with all the food sitting out in the sun and having left my travelan pills at the hotel, I decided instead to wait to eat. The next stop was a cafe called VCR, which had won a number of awards in latte art design! Thus, I had to break my one coffee a day rule and with it I had a delicious bowl of yogurt and granola. (It also had draggonfruit in it, so I'm going to count this as "local" fare.) Later that night I met my friend Gaj and her family at their home. Gaj is a great friend from London, who grew up in KL and it was so cool to meet her family, including her Aunt and grandmother visiting from India! Although I was lucky enough to meet her little baby Lara back in June in London, it was incredible to see how much she had grown in just a few weeks - and it was crazy to think how long ago my trip to London felt... I suppose that is what traveling to 9 cities in the inermin will do to you! It was also interesting how international everyone was - if family wasn't in KL they were in India, Australia or Europe, which covers a pretty big space of land! We went with her neighbor to a Sunday night market, Gaj indulged in some fried fish dish that she adores (she offered me a taste but it was a pretty strict no thanks from me) and then we headed to a nice restaurant. I had some traditional chicken and rice, similar to Singapore, but with nice sauces and chicken soup which felt incredible on my throat. It was fun, but both the baby and I were fading fast. Gaj's brother was sweet enough to drive me back to my hotel, and Gaj confirmed it was a seedy part of town. That, my cold and super thin hotel room walls was enough to keep me awake for most of the night. The next morning I remembered that I have worked extremely hard the past decade and saved enough to make this trip enjoyable, which in this case included treating myself to a nice hotel. Gaj had mentioned the historic and beautifully redone Hotel Majestic the night prior and at $110 a night seemed like a very affordable luxury to indulge in. After a strong conversation with the hotel manager I got my money back and left the Hotel Maison Boutique - forever. Important travel lesson: the place you stay, which includes the neighborhood, can really influence how you feel about a city. The lobby of the Hotel Majestic smelled like flowers and there were beautifully dressed door and reception attendants. They put me in a corner room and I had a beautiful view of the city. It was tough to leave such a nice room, but I set off to explore. The really cool thing about KL is that although it's majority muslim (I think ~60-70%), they have considerable Chinese and Indian populations and everyone (seemingly) lives in peace together. (Side note: I was reading earlier this morning that many are at odds with the government on suspected stolen funds, but still the people of many religions were fighting together.) I visited the Sri Mahamariamman Hindu Temple first, then the Sin Sze Si Ya Chinese Temple 2 blocks over and then the Masjid Jamek Mosque a few minutes walk away. All were open and very welcoming to tourists (except the mosque which was closed to non-muslims for prayer) and all were relatively simple. Perhaps because they were neighborhood places of worship, but especially for the Hindu Temple I was surprised that their gods were just small painted (clay?) statues. I had to take off my shoes to walk inside which just feels terribly unsanitary in a city, but once inside I had a treat as they had a little ceremony at noon with drums and a little guitar playing very chaotic music and the Hindu version of a priest taking light to all the gods. I had to laugh as there were equal numbers Hindu people and white and Chinese tourists, following with cameras and dressed in loaned skirts to cover their legs. (I will have you know that yours truly had dressed for the occasion in a proper past knee length skirt!) I then wandered through Petaling Street in Chinatown. I can't be sure but if I was a betting woman I would say they were getting at peddling street - but honestly it doesn't matter because they had some great knock-offs which was fun to look through. Then the skies turned dark and I praised my Florida routes for helping me pinpoint the exact time the skies would open up. I found a cool local Indian spot and, with the confidence of my travelan pills, ordered some curry and naan with a bottle of water (come on, I'm adventurous, not crazy enough to drink the local water!) As I was waiting I realized everyone was eating with their hands, which is very common in Malaysia. I was happy I had ordered naan but they must have taken pity on me and brought me a spoon and fork. (Fun fact: In most of SEA you never get a knife and the closer to China you get, the more common it is to put the entire piece of your mouth and "figure it out" in there and finally spit out the bones. If I had grown up in China, I would certainly be vegetarian. Thankfully, I have figured out "cutting" with fork and spoon pretty decently by now!) Eating customs aside, I got to watch them make the naan, which was super cool and my curry was delicious, so win win! On my walk back to the hotel I passed by a lot of other public buildings, most built with Islamic influences. I worked out and then decided to head into KLCC (KL City Center) to see the Petronas Towers. This is in the downtown business district of KL and was about a 20 minute taxi from where I was staying (thank goodness!). The towers are in many ways the emblem of KL, though they were only built in 1998, and were acutally designed by an Argentine architect. True to KL though, there are many islamic influences, including the tower's five tiers that represent the five pillars of islam. I went to dinner at a cool place called Troika, 3 restaurants on the 23rd floor of a skyscrapper, and although I chose the latin-themed Fuego for the best view of the Petronas towers at night, they had recently been trumped by a huge, dark, ugly building (pun intended). The view wasn't great, but the food was, especially the grilled watermelon with halumi and pickled tomatoes. YUM. There was also a super nice waiter that started talking to me - but I escaped quickly after he gave me his number, afraid I miscontrued a sign of friendship! After dinner I walked to KLCC and stood at the base of the towers to get an excellent look and the twin towers were pretty spectacular all lit up. So after a full day in KL, it became more familiar and I saw a ton of similarities with Singapore including: the many official languages, the kaffe and jam toast, the many religions living together and the very recent Western imperialist history. The differences were also stark: most women in head scarves, nothing close to the maincured streets of Sing (though to be fair, neither is SF) and a sprawling city. So close and yet very different.