Hiii! ☺️💖 I saw u said u do monster bf matches? I’m 20, trans guy, 5’2, shy at first but loves to joke around when I warm up to people, loves theater, movies, makeup, art, tattoos, paranormal stuff. 👻✌🏻✨
Your Monster Match is a ✨Djinn✨
The old theater is...well, old. Built before the turn of the century, the coffered ceilings and polished dark woods of the original construction are offset by the art deco detailing added in the roaring twenties. It’s your first week of a summer internship in the makeup department of one of the resident companies, and you are already in love with everything about the place.
It’s been an overwhelming few days, with all of the information being thrown at you every afternoon and all of the new faces, and you find yourself seeking out dark corners and hidden nooks throughout the the theater—of which there are many!—a few times a day to decompress and recharge. It’s not that you don’t like your new co-workers, you do… but you’ve always taken a bit of time to come out of your shell with new people, and it’s been non-stop.
It’s during one of these breaks that you find the old staircase. You were too busy admiring the stained glass windows, your hand gliding over the sleek, curling mahogany bannister, to pay attention to your steps, and your toe catches on the thick, aubusson runner, sending you careening forward. You manage to catch yourself on the newel post lamp, your hand sliding over the smudged bronze surface as you regain your footing.
The lights flicker.
Balance restored, you look up sheepishly, hoping no one entered the space to catch your clumsy performance, when you see them standing before you at the bottom of the steps.
Pixieish features, high cheekbones, and shiny, short black hair, the glossy bangs curiously cut in arcs over their eyes, and ending in a point just above the bridge of their slim, upturned nose. Delicate golden henna adorns their skin, curling around glowing amethyst eyes.
It takes you several weeks to learn their name. Azmi is bound to their lamp, you learn, stolen from their land a century earlier and smuggled overseas, and you are not able to wish them free.
Instead, you wish for their friendship, a concept they are deeply confused by at first.
“Do...do you want to be friends?” you ask hesitantly, not wishing to cause offense.
“It is the duty of the lamp-dweller to uphold the oath entrusted with them. I shall grant whatever you wish. But,” they go on with a wrinkled nose, “I am not familiar with this friend of which you speak.”
Every day you eat your lunch at the foot of the stairs, and Azmi sits with you, learning the art of trivial conversation. They are a wealth of information on the theater, telling you of the ghost who haunts the upper balcony who was once the projectionist, back during the silent film era, and of the cold hallway in the third basement, which they say you should stay away from. They do not elaborate, but from the way their delicate features crease, you know to take their words seriously.
Azmi is fascinated by modern cosmetics, and you wind up spending time at the end of each day a the foot of the stairs as well, showing them the array of pigments and creams in your setup box. They teach you how to draw the intricate henna design they wear, and you show them how to contour. It frivolous and fun and you can’t remember the last time you’d connected with anyone quite like this.
They are able to move about the theater, only needing to return to their lamp by the day’s end, and you find them waiting for you at the end of your work day, wherever you happen to be at the time.
Your first kiss coincides with an announcement that there is a studio apartment available for rent above the theater offices. You’d been stressed over your living situation for the last several weeks—your lease would be up at the end of the summer and you couldn’t afford your small apartment alone now that your roommate was moving out at the end of the summer.
“Azmi, are you able to go as far as the offices?” you ask, your stomach in knots.
There was only one place you wanted to be—close to them. Their small nod of confirmation is all you need. Bending forward, you brush your lips to theirs gently, relieved to see a small smile on their heart-shaped mouth as you pull back. The cost of the apartment didn’t matter, after all. All that did was knowing you’d not have to leave your Djinn’s side.
“Then I know what I want my next wish to be.”
