#NOT a shroom approved boyfriend

[silvesi]

*rotates a trahearne lives AU rly fast in my brain*

Sometimes a functional family can be you, your husband, a shitty little vampire you accidentally adopted 4 years ago, and-

elder dragon.

[star-girl69]

Ultraviolence

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: exams are crazy these next few days so expect delays in chapters 💔 but i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: murder, death, blood, knives, mentions of drugs (shrooms), kissing, mentions of sex, swearing, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Eighteen - Everything

Chapter Eighteen - Everything

—-

2021-

Shauna called you early in the morning when you had just gotten on the road, your Starbucks in your cup holder, and you had almost considered not answering it. The hunt was over, and you wanted to go home, and go back to your boring life as a Whole Foods cashier.

You wanted to go back to the normalcy you had worked so hard to make yourself accept- and this short little trip would have to be enough for the rest of your life.

Shauna had called, and she had sounded so scared, talking about her murdered lover, and at first- you really didn’t believe her. But, you turned around anyways, heading back towards the address she had sent you.

You met up with Taissa and Natalie in the parking lot, where in the elevator Taissa ended up asking for a sip of your coffee. You had shared much worse together, so what was one sip?

“Jesus Christ,” Tai spat. “Why the fuck is that so sugary?”

You put the lid of your coffee back on, shuffling around awkwardly. “I like it sweet.”

Tai shoots you a look saying she clearly doesn’t approve, and just Natalie laughs slightly, thinking about something.

The elevator dings to a stop, and Natalie walks out and bangs on the apartment door, rustic farmhouse style, and Shauna opens the door with a shush.

“Is this his apartment?” Taissa asks, and the three of you file in, looking around awkwardly. You step around the counter, expecting someone to walk around from around the kitchen, or the bathroom, still not quite believing he’s dead- but Taissa suddenly lets out a loud gasp. “Oh, my God, Shauna… you killed him?”

A man lays on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth, an open stab wound in his chest.

“You guys are, like, so fucking insane,” you mutter, not able to take your eyes away from the pooling blood.

“Who is he?” Nat asks, less shocked by this, for whatever the reason.

“I met him a few months ago. We got into a car accident and then we started… sleeping with each other.”

“For fucks sake, Shauna, this is your boyfriend?”

“You were seeing somebody around the time that all of us got blackmailed and didn’t think to mention it?” Nat asks, throwing her hands around in odd ways.

“I’m telling you now,” she sighs.

Nat gestures to the dead body. “When he’s dead!” she shouts. “When he can’t fucking mumble a word to us. What the fuck, Shauna?” She starts pacing.

“Jesus Christ, are you even sure he did it?” Tai asks.

“Well, um… he went out to get coffee for us this morning, and when he was gone,” she picks up the duffel bag with Callie’s handprints on it, “I found this in his closet.”

Natalie snatches it for her.

“He came back and he saw me with it, and, you know, he realized that I must know what he did, so, he attacked me.”

You look over at Shauna, but she doesn’t seem hurt.

“And, I, um, you know, I had no choice.”

“Where’s my money?” Natalie asks, throwing around the empty bag.

“Where’s your money, Natalie? I’m not sure. Maybe he booked a cruise with it,” she sighs.

Natalie slams the bag onto an armchair, and you roll your eyes.

“Uh, it’s not here, but the burner phone, the one with the texts from your guys, it’s…” she holds up the small black flip phone.

“How did he know anything about the symbol?” Tai sighs.

“Well, um,” Shauna starts, digging through the bag and clearing her throat, “He also had these.” She holds up a small leather bound notebook.

“Oh, Shauna,” you mutter. “You didn’t.”

“What the fuck is that?” Tai asks.

Shauna sighs heavily, looking away from everyone. “They’re my… journals… from the wilderness. I-I couldn’t get rid of them. I’ve been really careful, they’re in a safe in my closet, but… he must have broken into it sometime pretty soon after we started seeing each other.”

“Holy shit, Shauna. You let this guy in your house?”

“Can you try to be a little less judgemental? I already feel stupid enough as it is.”

“You really think this is the guy who killed Travis?” Nat asks, leaning over the body.

You want to say something, to smack her, make it get through her head that sometimes death just happens. And she, out of all people, should know that.

“I-I don’t know.”

Natalie leans forward and starts touching him, and you bite back a gag.

“Oh, my God, don’t start touching him-”

“Natalie, don’t do that!”

“Jesus Christ!” you shout. “What if he has like, fucking HIV or something, Natalie-”

Shauna shoots you a wide-eyed look.

“-or something else!”

“I can’t believe you killed him, Shauna!” she shouts after she’s done with her search. “Now we’re not gonna know anything!”

“Well, you were gonna shoot him at the warehouse,” Shauna retorts.

“Okay, which, recall, we told her not to do.” Tai says.

“I wouldn’t have fucking killed him, I would’ve just hit his knees-” Nat starts to explain.

“He was lying to me,” Shauna says. And you look over and there’s tears in her eyes. “He was going to hurt me. I thought that- that he loved me, I trusted him,” she cries.

“Shauna,” you mumble, giving her a small hug as she turns around and wipes away her tears.

“Well, I needed answers. So, fuck, Shauna!”

“So, now what?” Shauna says after a moment, and you let the hands around her fall.

“Well, we can’t just leave him here.”

“Well, we can’t exactly- Weekend at Bernie’s him out the door, either.”

“Getting rid of the body isn’t our only problem, Shauna. Your fucking DNA is all over this place. Your fucking texts are in his cloud. God, the police are not gonna have to dig deep to find you.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Shauna says after Tai’s outburst. “You’re a lawyer. What-what do we do?”

“I practiced land use, not murder clean-up.”

Natalie finishes walking around the apartment, whatever she was looking for still not found.

“Hey. You’re all silent over there, that’s unusual. You got any ideas?”

Natalie sighs like she doesn’t want to say it.

“Yeah. One.” She rolls her eyes.

—-

1996-

You wake up on the cold ground, feeling like you had just committed a murder. There’s something sticky running down your chest and throat, and you’re covered in dirt, and you can tell your makeup is smeared.

Natalie groans.

You don’t remember how you got here last night, besides for faintly stumbling through the woods, Natalie dropping the knife they had almost killed Travis with, practically boiling in anger. You remember before that more clearly, the trees bending, looking for her, finding her and then Jackie.

Natalie sits up next to you and stares at you with wide eyes, your lipstick smeared all over her face and neck, and when you feel your tangled hair and look at your ripped dress, it’s not hard to figure out what happened.

“My neck hurts,” is the first thing you say.

She laughs. “Well, sleeping on the ground will do that.”

She’s still angry, you can tell, but all of last night is so hazy.

“What-what happened?” you mumble, trying to fix your dress, dusting the dirt off of you.

“Misty poisoned us,” she mumbles, bringing her knees up to her chest as she stares off into the distance. You stop.

“What? I mean, I know now that I was hallucinating, but, I-”

“Yep. Shrooms,” she whispers.

You reach forward and place your hand over hers.

“Natalie… what happened last night?”

She stares at you for a long moment. “I don’t know.”

—-

The two of you walk through the vaguely familiar woods, and after a moment, her hand slips back into yours, and you start to head towards the cabin.

Natalie squeezes your hand. “What did she mean, last night? Do you know?”

“Know what?” you frown, looking up at the trees, trying to remember what happened last night- but parts of it are covered in a haze.

“Lottie? How we’ll all see it like you soon?”

When you look at her, she looks scared.

“Lottie was high off her ass last night. Don’t- don’t listen to her, Nat.”

She pulls you to a stop.

“What do you remember from last night?”

“I hallucinated trees moving. I… I remember wanting to find you. I-I wanted to apologize, Natalie.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. “You don’t have to.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you whisper. “It was stupid, and I-I don’t know what I was thinking. I care about you, Nat, and not your past.”

She smiles and looks at the ground before looking back up at you, her crown of sticks hanging out of her hair. She looks back up at you, and her eyes soften, and she places a tentative hand on your cheek.

“I would have nothing if I lost you,” she whispers. “You… you’re my best friend, Y/N. You’re everything.”

What happens if violence and peace aren’t different? What if they’re one in the same? What if it’s the sun and the moon, constantly chasing each other through the sky, never quite meeting. What happens if peace and violence are connected in a way that is beyond your understanding?

“We’ll be better this time,” she says, staring at your lips. You hum, staring at hers.

You lean forward and kiss her.

This is what happens.

—-

taglist:

@sweetdayme4427 @dreaming-for-an-escape @peachydoki @happysparklingshadows @zhivaxo @maraudeerrs @karsonromanoff

everything taglist:

@emilynissangtr

[all54321]

(I've been reading too much angst, so take fluff) -

Jade felt a bit silly for this, but, she often didn't know how to voice how much she cared for people. Being in the Hivemind helps, being able to communicate feelings rather than words. However there are moments she likes to show how she feels to people. How grateful she is for what they do.

She had been scared when she first was to join, and Mother Spore had been ever calm with her. She had been infected, it was slow spreading, her friend gave it to her. And the options were either let HEP lock her up to look 'for a cure' or go to the forest like the other were doing.

Gosh were both options terrifying. And sitting alone outside, she met Grian. Who saw her hands even when she tried to hide them, and listened to her talk about her fears. He reassured her that Father Spore, his lover, his boyfriend, was a kind person. He would accept her, and it wouldn't hurt at all.

Leading her to the mycelium territory and giving her comfort that she'd be okay. Jade never had a good mother figure in her life, and she guessed this was what it was like to have one. Mother Spore was caring, understanding, firm, and loving. Father Spore was silly, joking, protective, and soft. They felt like parents in a way, but the loving couple who clearly cared for one another.

So she spent her time on this gift, as a thank you in a way, the soft red threads coming together. It was oversized, but that was the point, she had remembered how the older sporelings talked about how Mother Spore's sweater pushed on his shrooms. And she folded it up neatly and caught Father and Mother Spore alone, and silently handed the gift to him.

Grian had been confused, but through the link he could tell what she mean as he opened it. And pulled out the oversized red sweater. The yarn was so soft, and it was well made. With little mushrooms embordered around the collar of the sweater. Jade rubbed her arm as his look of shock and happiness. Jade watched him put it on, and seemed the adore how it gave him sweater paws with the long sleeves, and how the collar of it could allow him to sink his face into it. She could feel his happiness, and she could feel Father's approval. He smiled at her with a nod. Ruffling her hair, she sent feelings of love and thanks back. Before leaving quickly to get back home and now feel embarrassed. Grian looked up at Scar, "Is this what it's like to have kids?" he asked Scar in awe, hands holding the collar and tracing the mushrooms on it. It fit so nicely, didn't push on his mushrooms, and was breathable yet warm. Scar laughed a bit, "They are adorable little shrooms, aren't they?" he joked. He loved how much they loved him and Grian. their little sporelings were so cute.

This is so sweet and soft and I love it.

[givememypumpkinspicelatte]

Okay so I'm asking myself all of these because nothing is real and we live in a simulation 2020:

1. I like all of those, I would go anywhere to those places in a heartbeat.

2. Summer!!!

3. Curry rice Anime style 😎

4. I've never grown anything impressive, just flowers uwu.

5. Favorite wildflower: dandelion! Favorite herb: rosemary.

6. Perfect date: I strongly believe that Who is more important than Where or When, but provided that the company is good, I'd love to go picnic to some mountain right now. We can pick up flowers, pinecones, nice small stones, hold hands, kiss under some trees, make a campfire, cook something on it, be in love idk

7. Favorite spice: cinnamon!!!! (Not pumpkin spice because I'm fake af). Favorite herb: Oregano.

8. I feel the coziest in a small room with a comfy bed or sofa, pillows, blankets, fairy lights, candles, dim lamp, snaccs, warm drinks, ghibli movies

9. I could dress more cottagey, I only have One Cottagecore Approved Outfit but I haven't been able to wear it yet because I was supposed to do a photo session the same weekend the quarantine started so that didn't happen. Also, It's hard to find cottagecore male inspiration but I'm working on it

10. Yes I do. But not shrooms or mushrooms because I don't really know them and they don't really grow a lot in my mountain, so I gather other things.

11. Rain inspires me to write and/or get metaphysical.

12. *chuckles*. I have tw-- three* recurring daydream themes. The romantic 'always yearning' one about having a boyfriend and getting married in the future. The I have friends and the perfect squad one and we are enjoying our youth to the fullest. And finally, the I'm a successful author with many published novels and I do interviews about my novels and I have readers that care about my writing and I go to bookstores and libraries to sign my books and there's people online talking about What I Wrote (skskdidjaksdk and I oop).

13. Kinda allowing myself to forget about past experiences and to move on. But that's kinda abstract, something more tangible would be 3 months ago when I decided to go off the dating market and focus on myself and my writing career and my mental health and to put myself and my passions before potential relationships. (Growth) (still want a boyfriend but I'm patient because patience is a Virtue and I'm doing Areté by being patient).

14. My picnic basket would have a chocolate bar and pineapple juice and some bananas.

15. Hot chocolate with some vanilla extract and whipped cream on top of it AND cacao powder ON the cream. Because why not

16. Actually I do not

Thank you for joining my journey of vulnerability and being extra. Quarantine makes me want to spit out details of my private life but luckily the only social media I have it's this one which is not so public anyway.

Short cottagecore asks!

🏡: are you a forest, ocean, farm or mountain cottage dweller? (Or other)

🍁: what’s your favorite season?

🥐: what was the best food you have ever made yourself?

🍓: do you garden? If so, what’s the most impressive thing you’ve grown?

🌼: favorite wildflower and/or herb?

💐: what is your idea of a perfect date?

🍪: what is your favorite spice to cook/bake with?

🌱: where do you feel the coziest?

🌲: if you could make your life more cottage-y by doing one thing, what would you do?

🍄: do you forage?

☁️: what weather inspires you the most? What does it inspire you to do?

🐝: what do you find yourself daydreaming about?

🌻: what is the nicest thing you have ever done for yourself?

🧺: if you were to pack a picnic basket, what would you include in it?

🍵: yummiest warm drink for cold cottage nights?

🐌: do you have any cores outside cottagecore?

[thegalexiesthirdeye-blog]

Unspecified psychosis and my experiences with the earth... (True story 100%)

Its all started when i was 17 years old... I was just a typical suberban white girl who had every thing she ever wanted. Vactions to florida every year. Everybody loved me....lived in a big house with my parents and my cat bubba. I have two sisters. Anyway lets get the good stuff shall we.? It all started with my boyfriend paul at the time. He was quite the sex addict and loved to control how i did my life. In april of 2012. I took a very small amount of shrooms with paul... Note i never have taken shrooms before... what i Didnt know is that this would change my life forever.... Three days later i started to feel different thinking bazzier and grandios thoughts.. believing i was psychic and can hear peoples thoughts and have ability to read people. I was convinced i murdered my whole family. I was convinced i was blind and could not see i sat there thinking my boyfriend wasnt real when he was kneeling next me balling, scared and confused. I sat there thinking i was another person.... These scenarios changed drasticlly and got so much worse. They asked me to draw a clock i drew all the numbers on one side. They did multiple tests and sent me to generose at saint marys mayo clinic. The drs confirmed it as psychosis unspecified. I was trapt in my mind not able to escaped the altered reality that made sense to know one.

The drs. Wanted to preform a labotamy on me but since i was 17 a minor rhey indeed could not without my parents approval.

[allmymisters]

Mr. Etch-A-Sketch

When you date an artistic person, you have to accept all their sensitive sides. Some tend to be self important, moody, and flippant, but also easily intriguing and passionate. This is the tale of Mr. Etch-a-Sketch, an artist in training that began one eventful evening and ended on a tearfully rainy day.

Mister was unexpected. The ones you fall hard for always are. I was 22 and at my second attempt of my college career. VCU at that time was an art driven school and was mostly made up of outcasts and those seeking the sought after, “Liberal Arts Degree” After failing at my future Fashion degree, I didn't know what I was going to be when I grew up.  At that time I really didn’t care about anything real worldly either. All I cared about was falling in love, going to shows, and finding freedom. Wasn’t that what college was for...again?

I had just gotten out of a fauxship and Mister was just another boy I had seen at another party who I found to be interesting.  This night was no different than any other Friday night in the Fan District and this night would consist of drinking with friends at one of the three main party houses.  I would do the usual, take way too long to figure out what I was gonna wear, because black is very hard to differentiate sometimes.  I would meet up with my lady entourage, drink a beer, listen to some music, tell each other who we hoped to run into and then we would venture to a gathering to be held at one of the main party houses. We had three. These houses would form a bit of a triangle starting with the legendary Red Zero with at least 10 occupants. A place of remarkable memories and a den of Star Wars geeks. Right down the road was 411. I had no idea how many people actually lived here, but the guys were older and intellectual making them great purveyors of philosophical babble. Then there was 1208, which consisted of a slightly younger population, but had the best house shows and where all the cool indie kids hung out. Come to think about it, I never really knew who actually lived in that house at that time. We were invited by the boys of 411 for a kegger this particular night and it would be my first time attending. We all agreed to meet at Lana's apartment that night. There we would wait for three more lady friends. When I arrived, Lana asked if we would mind if her roommates joined us. I met the first one whose lanky body barely covered a half painted canvas in his bedroom. He was sweet and had really great sneakers. He listened to Tortoise as he painted his canvas with muted colors of orange and yellow. Lana's apartment was nicer than most apartments my friend's occupied. Funny enough, I stayed in the apartment downstairs one weekend a few years back. Some college students came with mom and dad's money and their apartments showed.

The front door opened suddenly with a bike tire leading and another roommate to follow. I immediately recognized him  from a house show a few months back, except he had magenta hair at the time. Nope, no Lana, I didn't mind if these dudes accompanied us at all. Not one bit. Hopefully, that thought wasn't completely displayed in some goofy form of a smile as I replied to her earlier question.

Mr. Etch was of average of height – 5’11” maybe. Shorter compared to my particular criteria. He came equipped with sketchbook and pen, a Sharpie, and a distinct voice which orated a higher pitch and slightly feminine. He dressed like most boys of the time, cords and vintage tee with a cardigan ala Mr. Cobain. His hair was right below the ears, black and loose, a soul patch adorned his chin and two rings hung from his earlobes. The cuteness factor was up high with this one, but he also had a twitchy nature about him, like he was ready for some excitement. He wasn’t like the artistic types I was accustomed to growing up with. There was no mope to him. No brood or obscurity to him. He was indeed a flirt which complimented my own quiet brooding nature.

We fell in love during a game of telephone. What was supposed to be “The monkey is in the kitchen with a banana in his ear, “ turned out to be “I’d really like to hang out with you sometime." Well played sir. Well played indeed. I fumbled this game by having to guess what was originally whispered. So, I turned to my friend and whispered in her ear, “I’m getting up to get a beer because I have no idea what was said.” Got up. Walked towards the keg and poured myself another beer. Game won.

He was quirky.  He was expressive and fun. The night of the party I went home with him and the others and ended up staying for a few days.  We talked about music, art, tv shows, movies and we smoked a lot of pot doing it. It was the kind of infatuation which happens in an instant, where you lose yourself completely. It's full of passion and throwaway sentiment. You forget what time it is or what day it is. Cell phones were non-existent so there were no distractions.  For the next few weeks, I went down an Escher staircase with him. Everyone approved of our dating status, except his guy friends I think. I took too much time away from them. I would attend his band gigs and his art shows. We would meet for coffee in the middle of the day between classes, while I was still going. He was absolutely adorable with me and I with him. You can gag now. The first week we were together he asked me to join him for a fashion party of sorts. How ironic it was in the last apartment I resided, the green porch light still present. We were asked to come in some sort of costume.  Mister decided on a bright orange basketball jersey with an ascot-like tie atop a black short sleeved button down and plain black pants.  It was quite comical and while he decided on a more humorous ensemble. I, opted for my basic color scheme of black and white. I tended not to step out of my element at that time. Little did I realize that the red lit warmth of the apartment amidst a sea of balloons would be the location of my first dose of Ecstasy. Fantasia played on loop on the TV.  “You can just take half, it will be ok,” he coaxed me.  All I kept thinking was, “Can I die from this?”  He had this smile about him. It was a smile that belonged to Loki. His brown eyes sparkled and his gaze made me feel as though I was the only other person in the room. The next thing I know, that tiny bit of a pill was in my mouth. My world was about to get a lot bigger.

Our relationship was pretty serious, I thought. As serious as a 22 year old can be about such things. We had met each other’s families.  I had practically moved in with him.  We were the couple that stayed in the bedroom for days only to utilize the bathroom and eat shells and cheese occasionally.  We listened to Philip Glass, Sonic Youth, and the Boredoms constantly. We made sure to watch the X-Files diligently and we would go on about the mysteries of the universe and pick apart the genius of David Lynch. He was entranced with all that was noise and his artwork reflected that kind of frenetic chaos. He would sketch these layered shapes with bears, faces, and random objects all embedded in this labyrinth of colored lines. It was truly meditative.

I'm a pretty adaptable person. I tend to transform to who I date. He was no exception. I went from the moroseness of being a goth girl to transforming into an Electric Kool-Aid kid. My blacks became oranges and reds and blues and my curiosity about drugs became more loose. My first raves were with him. He introduced me to a whole new world of dance and movement. Oh, how he loved to dance. His dancing was just another way to get his art out there. He would get lost on the flashing lots and strobes and then he'd find me. I don't know if it was the Molly or if we really did have this cosmic connection with each other, but it felt fantastic.

Although my introduction to the world of recreational drugs was with him, I found it only to be a short phase in my life that seemed like an ongoing adventure with his. Soon, getting high became uninspiring to me. I had done all the drugs that weren't hazardous to your immediate health --- LSD, Marijuana, Mushrooms, Molly, and Opium. I had a good time when it was an event-like circumstance. Going to art shows and parties were more interesting for sure, but there were times when it was depressing. Being on Shrooms in the woods at night when you have an intense feeling your boyfriend is over you, is not a fun-filled evening.

He lost himself in his work constantly, sometimes sketching and creating for hours ---painting, filming, photographing, writing songs. I noticed he began to distance himself from me. Our outings became less and his drug use became more predominate in the relationship. He would have conversations I didn’t get and philosophize about numbers and patterns constantly. He would snap at me in frustration and leave the house to get away from me. He started finding excuses to go to his studio or extend his band practice time and I felt as though my pining was becoming a plastic bag around his head. He then decided to go on a trip out West and when he returned all infatuation was deflated.

It's true, I was what I had feared being the most...The Clingy Girlfriend! We sat in his car as it rained. I had remembered the day we had gone out to a movie and returned home as it poured. That was a good day. We danced and laughed in it like we were kids. Now, I just stared at the rain from inside the car as I tried to ignore the fate of our relationship. 

He said I was too much for him, that he didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore. I could feel the burning in my chest, working it’s way up my esophagus and the lump sat in my throat. I cried, the way I always did, with begging and pleading that I could make it work. His apathy hit me hard and I knew that was it. He dropped me off at my friend's apartment and drove away. I wiped the tears and knocked on the door for what would become the consoling party --- Lot's of alcohol, pizza, and why me's.

In the next few weeks, he would call me and ask if I wanted to come over. We would ultimately have sex and then he'd gently nudge me out the door. I wasn’t emotionally secure at that time in my life, so every time I did that I had a spark of hope. I didn’t have the capacity to be apathetic in that realm. I would see him at random parties with random girls, including very good friends of mine. That stung a bit. He still had that cute mischievous smile.  He would soon find a new girlfriend. He would soon move away and it would ease my pain for a while, but we would not speak for some time after this.  I would tell myself I wasn’t good enough and that’s why he left.  I would tell myself I wasn’t ambitious enough with my school or that I wasn’t pretty enough. I had all kinds of excuses and was really a pathetic mess for a while. Years later, he would come back to Richmond and I would see him crossing the street after a show. He looked up and waved with that smile.  I knew we wouldn’t be far from each other again, but I had moved on and was in a new phase of my life. I will never forget the day I randomly saw him at the bar we used to frequent. We were catching up on each other's lives and he kept looking down at my hands. He gazed at my chipped red fingernails and said, “Mmmm….chipped red fingernail polish, I remember that.”  With a wicked smile he would say it and for just one moment I thought, “Ha, I’m still with him.”  

It took about eight months, give or take a few weeks of back and forth, for this relationship to run its course. In that time, I managed to be as clingy as the static from the dryer sheets on my socks, but I also learned that I'm worth more than I had given myself credit for. I didn't need to impress him because he was occupied with stepping out of his head. He didn't live in my world and I didn't want to be in his. He had taught me a lot about art and I used to love watching him draw. I still have all the pieces he gave to me and I look at them fondly. It reminds me of the brief moment I had with him and all his floaty thoughts he put to canvas.

He married a few years ago. I went to the wedding and saw all the friends I had during that time in my life. We danced like we used to and hugged each other while sharing memories of fun times together. We are all grown up now and in different parts of our lives and at that moment, as we laughed, I recalled all of us sitting on the floor in his room that very first night I met him. The night I began my kaleidoscope adventure with him. I glanced over at him and he was already looking at me and I smiled.  He returned it with a wink and that was my cue to depart. I said my goodbyes, understanding that I would not be seeing these ladies again for quite some time, got up and slowly walked out the door, like some fucking John Hughes movie. I realized I was no longer his muse and he was no longer part of my landscape.