#and the pretty yarns keep calling my name.. and calling me names if I don't pick them up which hurts actually :(

[mor-and-more]

My sweater plans for the nearest future are

The Sock Yarns Abomination One

The Bright Bright Green (where I need to see if the same yarn in what I'm gonna call the Yelling Pink is available, because the idea of all ribbing in a contrasting colour is oh so tempting)

The Neon One. Yellow with green ribbing. Maybe also green transitioning into yellow on the sleeves through colourwork, but I need to ask myself if I actually have the energy for that

Extremely Thick Bright Cardigan. Cyan+magenta stripes. 10mm needles. Need I say more?..

And YES most of them worked in good ole stockinette. I'm not ambitious with my Relaxed Time Knits. Also if my knits don't require me to look at a pattern, it's so so much more definite that I WILL knit them more. Like there's this lovely sweater WIP I got lying by my side, but... What am I more likely to grab for 10 minutes of knitting while waiting for Dungeon Queues in FFXIV: the loveliest sweater that has an expansive cabled pattern in the middle, or my dearly beloathed shrug on 2.5mm needles that has an EXTREMELY memorable pattern and is bound to get faster when I get to 2x2 ribbing in 20 rows??

[zablife]

Johnny's Meets a Glamour Girl

Johnny Davis Masterlist

Summary: Johnny offers you a ride when he finds you stranded outside of town, but you're wary of motorcycles. Can he find a way to persuade you to trust him?

A/N: Requested by a lovely anon who wanted to see Johnny with an elegant woman who doesn't like motorcycles. This began as a simple set of headcanons, but I couldn't stop adding detail!

♡ You met Johnny the day your car broke down at the edge of the field where the Vandals were holding a race. Cursing under your breath, you struggled to restart the flooded engine as a group of mud caked bikers ambled toward you in a menacing throng.

♡ Your heart clawed at your throat as you listened to their approaching voices over the sputter of the engine, hand trembling helplessly at the ignition just as a broad shouldered man began tapping at your window.

♡ The moment he caught sight of your panicked expression, a large hand fell over his heart in silent apology before motioning to the others to leave. His eyes softened as he mouthed an instruction for you to roll the window down, taking a step back as he waited patiently for your well manicured hand to crank the handle.

♡ Something in his gentle demeanor convinced you to take the risk, cracking the window as he leaned down in polite introduction. "My name's Johnny," he began, explaining he was the president of the motorcycle club you'd just encountered and assuring you with a kind smile, "don't worry, I won't let nothin' happen to you.”

"Wh-what's gonna happen to me?" you gulped, stealing a glance of the motley crew in your rearview mirror.

"Nothin'," he emphasized, holding your gaze confidently before giving a firm nod.

♡ True to his word, you remained unbothered as you passed the time reapplying your makeup in the passenger seat. However, a mutual attraction seemed to grow the longer he took to assess the problem.

♡ You seemed to catch his eye a few times as you puckered your lips for a swipe of ruby red lipstick, but it didn't bother you. If you were honest, you were using your compact to ogle his glistening biceps whenever he peeked around the bonnet.

♡ Johnny worked until the golden light at his back faded and the evening air turned chilly before calling you outside for the bad news about some faulty spark plugs. He didn't hesitate to drape his leather jacket over your shivering form, smiling sheepishly as he admitted, "Ain't no mink, but it'll keep ya warm."

♡ The wholesome gesture surprised you, but not so much as the comforting weight of it enveloping you safely in his distinctly masculine scent. And Johnny couldn't help but beam with pride when you clutched it to yourself tightly, exhaling a sigh of relief that you hadn't scrunched your nose in disgust at the tattered sleeves or protested about getting motor oil on your expensive dress.

♡ In an attempt to lighten the mood, he told a few amusing tales from his travels as a truck driver and offered you a cigarette to ease the lingering tension you held in your shoulders. When you finally leaned in for a light, laughter bubbling in your chest, he grinned widely at his accomplishment.

♡ By the time he'd gotten around to recounting the time a milk tanker overturned on him, attracting every cat in three counties, you were covering your mouth to hide an unladylike snort. But Johnny was charmed by the noise, realizing you weren't as haughty as he'd assumed.

And you couldn't help but be enamored by the way the sides of his eyes crinkled as he chuckled good naturedly in return. "Reckon I spin a pretty good yarn after a decade on the road," he boasted.

♡ Things were going well until he had to convince you to climb aboard his Harley for a ride to town. It seemed you saved all argument for that moment, listing a myriad of reasons why that would be unsuitable--the wind in your perfectly coiffed hair, the length of your dress, the impossibly high heels strapped to your feet.

♡ Johnny listened patiently as your anxiety ridden voice rattled off a laundry list of worry before finally stumbling to a halt. He nodded his head in understanding, then countered with one very valid point. Your car would have to be towed back in the morning. "Bike's the only way I can get you outta here tonight," he offered with a small shrug.

♡ As he attempted to gauge your degree of stubbornness on the issue, you took in the deep furrow of his brow and how adorably perplexed he looked as it knit together in concern for your welfare. You found the sincerity of it endearing and knew instantly you could place your confidence in him, so you gave a small nod of consent as you began tying a scarf over your intricate hairdo.

♡ Once again he surprised you with his chivalry as he walked you to his motorcycle, carefully placing your bag and shoes in a saddlebag before extending a hand to help you position yourself on his bike. "I'll uh...give you a minute," he mumbled trying not to stare as you struggled to arrange the layers of your dress beneath you.

♡ As the roar of multiple engines announced the presence of the other Vandals, Johnny quickly took his place in front to protect your modesty, calloused fingertips brushing against your exposed thigh with his haste. Though you couldn't be sure in the dim light, his cheeks appeared flushed as he looked over his shoulder to remind you to "hold tight, sweetheart."

♡ It hadn't occurred to you that you might be flirting with him as you bit your lip to stifle a giggle. That is, until you placed your hand at his chest for security and found a rapidly beating heart thumping against your palm.

♡ It was your turn to be nervous as he revved the engine of the bike, watching the others tear away into the night at high speed and waiting for Johnny to do the same. You unintentionally fisted the fabric of his shirt in your hands so tightly, you felt him inhale sharply.

♡ In the same way he'd been quietly comforting you all evening, his thumb grazed over your knuckles softly, repeating a familiar promise, "Won't let nothin' happen to you." You began to relax against his strong back as he hummed, "M gonna take it slow."

♡ He was a man of his word, pulling onto the highway behind the others at a more leisurely pace and easing the bike around corners so smoothly, you actually leaned into the wind to feel it grace your cheek. By the time he was parking at the curb in front of your house, you felt as though you'd been lulled into a dreamlike state, a pleasant weightlessness to your body unlike anything you'd ever felt.

♡ As Johnny helped you off the bike, he held your waist a moment longer than necessary to linger over the glimmer in your eye. Suddenly aware of your appearance, you rushed to smooth your hands over your head, finding you'd lost your scarf somewhere along the way. "My hair must look..." But he stopped you with a chuckle, one hand reaching out to tuck a stray lock behind your ear. "Looks real good to me," he winked. "Don't matter as long as we had fun, right?"

♡ It might have been the first time a man valued your company over your looks and you nodded in speechless awe. When Johnny reached past you to retrieve your belongings without a single attempt at a kiss, your heart sank a bit. Thanking him for the ride in a reserved voice as you returned his jacket, your eyes traced the pavement as you shivered up the front walk alone.

♡ However, as you unlocked your door, you realized he was still standing at the curb and you could practically feel his eyes boring into you. Then his voice boomed into the cul de sac, "Tell me somethin' before you go...Was it worth it?"

Observing your rumpled dress and mussed hair in the reflection of the large picture window, you spun around to face him with a smirk. "Looking like I'm taking a walk of shame before midnight?"

"Takin' a chance on me," he ventured through a nervous squint.

"Bring my car back tomorrow and I'll tell you," you baited him with a mischievous raise of your eyebrow.

"It's a date," he agreed. "Somethin' nice this time," he promised with emphasis.

"Then I'd better get my beauty rest," you teased before giving a little wave and ducking inside the house, heart fluttering in anticipation.

[bugsysaboy]

Kite Headcanons <3

ALRIGHT THIS ONE IS FOR MY FELLOW KITE STANS!!! all 5 of us!!!!

No content warnings, sfw

-has the worst appetite known to man /hj

-he usually just eats soup

-he can easily be thrown off by the texture of certain foods (certified jello hater!)

-although, honestly, if he's hungry enough he'll eat anything.

-autism be damned, my boy can work a grill campfire.

-anxious as FUCK in restaurants. He's too awkward to order and will just s t a r e for too long unintentionally at the waitstaff.

-also will be awkward about starting his meal and will just hork it down when no one is looking. (Look, he grew up on the streets, eating fast so no one takes his food is just a hold over.)

-REALLY GOOD CANDID PHOTOS BUT DO NOT ASK THIS MAN TO POSE! HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE'S DOING!

-you know that meme that's the person doing the half a heart with their hand and the other person has a thumbs up? ...yeah.

-ACTUALLY THAT BEING SAID he's really handsome when caught off guard, but when he's actually engaging in conversation with someone he's kinda funny looking? Like he'll suddenly be aware of how he's carrying himself and maintaining eye contact and he will over correct.

-This man has no game!!! This man can neither pull nor flirt! 29 years old and even the idea of holding hands gets him flustered.

-on top of this if he's romantically interested in someone he's really prone to just avoiding them.

-KITE AND CRAZY SLOTS IS JUST MANZAI! KITE IS THE STRAIGHT MAN AND CRAZY SLOTS IS THE FUNNY MAN! KITE SAYING "ah, bad roll" AND GRIPING ABOUT CRAZY SLOTS IS JUST A BIT TO HIM! HE THINKS IT'S HILARIOUS BUT NOBODY SEES THIS.

-dad jokes and puns all day everyday

-also he can actually be pretty chatty, like don't get me wrong when he's really focused he'll probably just shut up but during downtime? Around a campfire? He loves to spin a yarn or talk about his work.

-He also loves to hear about what others are passionate about!

-gets a general feel for people really quickly- he'll open up to people he gets good vibes off of pretty fast, but others he's more iffy on he may keep things cordial. This can, however, lead to snap judgements about people that might not be always correct.

-excellent pickpocket, now that he has a stable income through being a hunter he won't use this ability often...

-okay might do it to prank someone

-...or humble them.

-Met Ging when he was 15 and Ging was 18

-if he sets an alarm he somehow always manages to wake up just before it goes off

-hammock conoisseur 😌

-if he was in the real world he'd be Russian. (This is literally just based off of vibes and some edit an artist made of Kite running to Russian hardbass.)

-thinks it's really funny to say "have you considered..." to someone and when they ask him to elaborate he just says "...just... have you considered."

-loves sunflowers, loves sunflower seeds

-likes to keep a spare scarf handy in case someone needs it

-makes the crazy slots noise when he's really trying to concentrate

-favorite candy is saltwater taffy

-I like to imagine that he got the idea for crazy slots because of a boardwalk carnival in the town he grew up in. The carnies knew that Kite could win any of the games they had, no matter how rigged, it was uncanny.

-...probably used the plushies he won as pillows, maybe with the smaller ones he'd let his dogs play with.

-AND YES, HIS DOGS ALL HAD NAMES. ALEXEI, BORIS, SERGEI, PUSHKIN, FYODOR JUST TO NAME A FEW

-Favorite author is Dovstoevsky

-legitimately does not remember where he got his hat from, it's just kinda always been there, you know?

-he's not super focused on material goods and he doesnt really like receiving gifts (exceptions are made for anything handmade or a really cool rock.)

-...call him pretty and he'll fold

[ice-cap-k]

Where did the fae brainrot come from? What started it? 👀

Fair warning: ramble dead ahead.

To be honest, I've always been really interested in fantasy and the idea of fairies. Tinkerbell was basically my thing growing up. I had plenty of kids' books about fairies based on gemstones and animals and things. And I was always interested in the historical side of stories. I would check out history and nonfiction books on obscure topics. Some of my favorite podcasts were educational in that they delved into the roots of modern myths and legends. Shows like Lore (which is now also a book and a TV show), The Midnight Library, 30 Morbid Minutes, Freaky Folklore, and so on and so on. Me and my dad would watch the weird side of the History channel together. And with the fun fae lore and character options in dnd, I was fairly aware of some of their cool implications.

Now, none of this particular started the brainrot. It just made me a bit more predisposed.

Because the real moment I latched onto fairies with respect to a mythological standpoint was almost exactly 4 years ago when I grabbed a random book off my local library's shelf.

This book's synopsis on the back cover painted it as a modern day mystery where a detective tracks down a missing girl and ends up biting off more than he can chew. Pretty generic setup by all means. There was nothing there to hint about any fantasy elements, and for most of the book, there weren't. It was only when you get to the end where it became clear that the girl the detective was looking for wasn't kidnapped or killed or anything like that.

No, the twist was that she was reclaimed by her fairy husband from another life.

In truth, the book turned out to be a modern take and twist on the story Torchmarc Etain, or The Wooing of Etain. Up until that point, I had never heard of the story and knew little to no celtic/irish mythology. Little fae mythology in general, honestly.

I'd say spoiler alert, but the truth is, I can't remember what the book was called or who wrote it. I still regret not writing it down because I have been trying to find it again for the past 4 years. If I had known how pivotal this stupid book would be or how hard it would be to find, I would have written its name down, or heck, never bothered to return it. The library doesn't keep a history of what books patrons have checked out and no matter how many times I walk through the isle I first found it in, Ive never seen it on the shelves again.

I looked up the original myth after I returned the book and it's definitely wild. And weird. And yeah, it's mythology, so that shouldn't come as a surprise. And as you read the myth, it discusses other things. Things like Midher's family and the Tuatha De Danann. A couple of google searches later, and Im back at the library looking for anything they have on the Tuatha De Danann and celtic myths. Honestly, they dont have much. Three books total in the non-fiction section, one of which I've read for times.

The more I looked, the more fascinated I was. The more connections I made to things I knew from various other sources. So many things I was vaguely aware of but lacked the full scope of suddenly seemed to make so much more sense. It was like I had a mess of yarn in a tangle, but you didn't realize it was all one connected strand until the knot came loose. It goes so deep and covers so much as you work your way through stories across Europe. Characters. Magic. Chaos. A mythology vast and rich but yet I hardly heard any of, overshadowed worldwide by other myths. Notably, Greecian mythology.

And don't get me wrong, I had my time where I was fascinated by Greek gods and their antics, but that fascination didn't last near as long as this one. I love looking into the good god the Dagda and his dual nature club, or the story of Nuada's death at the hands (or really I should aay eye) of Balor, only to immediately be avenged by Long Armed Lugh. There’s the Ulster Cycle and the Cattle Raid of Cooley, and how the Aes Si, fae as we know them, descended from Tuatha. How the Catholic monks who came to the land both white washed, and saved most of the myths we are still aware of because back then it was looked down on to write written records of druidic beliefs previously carried down with spoken word, but the monks went and wrote it all down anyway. I could gush about all of it.

And to top it off, like those podcasts and shows and books I enjoyed growing up, it explained how certain things got to the point they are known as today. For example, banshee were once known as ban - sidh (pronounced nearly the same). Sidh denoting fae ties, though the concept originally came from the practice of keening. Keening was a traditional form of mourning the dead. It was a vocal lamentation: crying weeping, shouting. Professsional keeners could be payed to attend funeral rights and processions when people of high birth died, as it was considered dishonerable for others of high birth to display grief in such ways. It is here where the story of the woman whose screams fortell death started to become the banshee, a creature people can easily identify. And yet... you have to go digging to find out its mythological roots.

Maybe it's just me, but I find that kind of sad.

So I keep digging. I keep looking. I keep learning. There's certainly no lack of material.

That book was my white rabbit, and I chose to jump headfirst down the hole. I've been down here long enough to realize it's probably not a phase. Maybe this version of Wonderland is where I belong, or maybe not, but I'm going to enjoy my time here and relish in the nonsense of it.

[wherefore-whinnies]

how i learned to crochet amigurumi!

this is for @jetset-rain but I thought I might was well just post it to everyone!

I taught myself to crochet back in 2020 for the sole reason that there was a really really cute Wooloo pattern and I wanted it. no other loo would do. so I wanted to share some tips and such!

to get started I got a few things:

a crochet hook, or multiple: I bought a super cheap set of like 10 different sizes on amazon for like $14. (unfortunately I don't know where besides amazon you'd look; at craft stores they'll be brand name and much more expensive.) since you're just starting out and seeing if you like it the quality really does not matter imo. so yeah I'd totally just grab some cheap no-name/knock-off set from somewhere, it's fine. the two hooks I used from the set most often until I replaced them with higher-quality ones were size 3.0mm and 4.0mm. I think 3.0mm isn't a common hook size in North America; when I replaced it I got a 3.25mm hook instead. these hook sizes might also be referred to as size D (3.25mm) and size G (4.0mm). I think for some of my very first attempts I used a 5.0mm hook (size H). so really I would have only needed those 3 sizes.

some cheap yarn from my craft store. the yarn weight I used might be called "medium", "worsted", or just "size 4" (in the UK I think it's called "aran") and it's the most common size at least at my craft store. I just looked for something cheap with a lot of yardage in a colour I liked. I think mine was Bernat Super Value Solid in Lush (green) which was 426 yd - I still haven't run out 3 years later although I'm getting close now. you might want to get two different colours.

stitch markers - these are little things like safety pins that you insert into your stitches to help you keep track of the counts. I think I didn't get any right away but they are very helpful! I think once again the cheapest way to get some is somewhere like amazon unfortunately. you can get a large quantity for a lot cheaper than in craft stores. or you can skip buying some initially especially if you have safety pins or something you can use as a substitute.

a yarn needle - you'll need this to weave in the loose ends of your yarn at the end of a project. I got a couple relatively cheap from my craft store. you can skip buying some initially and just leave all the ends chilling hanging out.

I then proceeded to teach myself stuff off of youtube videos. if you're left-handed like me you can look up specifically left-handed videos or you can just use one of those sites that lets you mirror youtube videos.

this video below seems super familiar and I'm pretty sure it's one of the first videos I ever used.

I also used the video below this for my first ever "project". there's a right-handed version on their channel somewhere.

at first it took me several minutes to make just one single crochet stitch. it was so frustrating and I was like how tf do people just do this (I have pretty poor fine motor skills). but I kept at it!! here is the first square I ever made (following the above video) on the right, and the second square I made on the left:

the next thing I learned was how to do a magic circle so that I could crochet in the round to make amigurumi. I think I used the below video (there is probably also a right-handed version, otherwise you can watch a mirrored version):

and then after that I was ready to make cute creatures! I made a whale following the below video! (also I had to buy safety eyes for this, on amazon again)

and now you have amigurumi!!!

[phanamu]

I'm having a highly self-indulgent writing day so I'ma post a thing I just wrote about some OCs I got rattling around.

Peer beneath the read more if you're curious.

Have you heard? There's a new shop in Elmerton.

It's on the corner of 31st and Ocean Avenue, you know, where the old jewelry store used to be? It was bought up recently by a single mom with two kids. Sweet lady, very pretty, Greek. Goes by "Faye" or something, though I don't think that's how it's spelled. Don't ask me to even try with their last name, all I got was that it started with a K.

Anyway, this shop, it's called The Serpent's Nest. I think it earns its name on account of all the snake details in their decorating, especially the wallpaper. It sells occult stuff. You know: crystals, incense, bells-books-and-candles. She uses the old display cases to show statues and burners and cards and stuff instead of jewelry and she turned the bay window into a reading nook for people to try before they buy.

Not that kitschy kid stuff either I'm talking at least three double-sided bookshelves worth of spellbooks and junk written by people who take it serious. The ones that tell you what to do when the sixth moon is in the house of whatever, like they got in the Skulk and Lurk. The kind of stuff that would make most people ask what she does every month outside October if she wasn't setting up shop next to the most haunted town in Illinois.

Oh, and she's got a massive herb and spice section along the left wall and a fridge at the back so that she can make that crunchy health-nut money, too -- almost everything homegrown and homemade, apparently, or else sourced local. She said she had a garden or greenhouse on the roof of the building she keeps tended, along with a couple of those big boxy beehives beekeepers got. I guess they own the building and live on the upper floor.

Anyway, I got a really nice pomegranate honey for my granddad there, and she let me put up a flyer for his yarn stall at the Farmer's Market on the board she's got next to the door. Showed up the Wednesday after, too, and actually bought something. Like I said, sweet lady.

She doesn't dispense drugs, far as I know, but she's apparently working on getting a pharmaceutical license. Getting in on that holistic medicine business too, I guess, though she was pretty quick to tell a guy that his eczema problem is probably better taken care of at a doctor's than anything she's got. Pretty sure she was letting him down gently, but you know. Classy.

Yeah yeah I know I sound half in-love but if you'd seen her you'd get it. She's got that classic dark lady witchy thing going with the long purple dresses and the smoky eyeshadow and bold brown lipstick. She keeps her black hair tied back in this scarf up-do thing and she has curls and waves my sister would kill for. I know her eyes are brown but I swear that they look gold in the right light. Whole family has that, actually. And she's got this little smile like she knows something you don't but you can find out if you pay attention.

Some people get all the charisma, I tell you. Must be great for business. Well, when she's behind the counter, anyway. Sometimes it's one of her kids instead. Day and night, those two.

The older one is built like an Amazon and dresses like she either just got back from beating the hell out of a punching bag at the local gym or like she just got out from under a car that needed a tune-up. She works that whole atheleisure style with a long braid and extra grease stains. Maybe a leather jacket. Killer smile, must be another family thing, though hers made me feel a little bit like she knew she could crush me like a soda can if I crossed her and it's lucky for me that she's in a good mood today. Pretty, but intimidating, y'know?

Name's Diana, if I heard her mom right, though they were speaking Greek at the time so that's just a guess. I pity the guy who tries to hit on her mom while she's in earshot.

The other kid? Man. That one is... Well, they look like their mom? Except. Shorter and sharper. And more dark, like, dressing for your funeral but there's an MCR concert later kind of dark. You know how some people in that scene do. They didn't tie their hair back so it was just curl city like a cross between a Gothic dandelion and a sheep from hell, add some silver jewelry. Their eyeliner had wings clean enough to slice a man but they're also flat as a board so I mean. Hard to tell if they're a boy or girl.

Hey, I'm not saying that to be mean! They look like the kind of person that either likes confusing people, collects knives, or both. They were professional enough behind the counter -- not your typical glass-eyed Daria wannabe -- but they had this way of staring into your soul like they were debating how hard it'd be to pick you out from between their teeth if you took too long to get your change out of your pocket. Not sure if I ever actually saw them blink while I was working that out.

I only got some of their name because their sister wrangled them into something like a human shape when they had their shift change. Still speaking Greek, mind, so it was either Andre or Andrea. Something like that. Wasn't like I really had room to ask for clarification when they were up the stairs so quickly. Barely even heard their footsteps hit the ground.

I think the both of them are going to Casper High next semester. I tried to give their mom a heads up about our whole ghost thing, mention how Phantom pretty much called dibs on our airspace. She didn't seem too worried, but hey. The new people rarely do.

Anyway, it'll be nice to have a fresh source of ghost gear that doesn't have the name Fenton on it, even if it is a little old school. Assuming any of it works, I think those three are going to do pretty well for themselves around here. Can hardly do worse than the old mayor, right?

So. Wanna go?

[bibliophiliac-bisexual-disaster]

Hunger Games fanfic blurb:

I sipped the last of my water, slow as I could, hoping it would tide me awhile through the heat of the Hobb. Business was slow today. Not that we make much on other days, selling trinkets and scraps of metal and cloth in a district where most people could barely buy bread. But we scrape by.

But today, I hadn't a single body come by to look at the wares. Although, I s'pose, when you've got a Reaping tomorrow, you're probably not in a buying sorta mood. Even Greasy Sae is selling her stew for half price today for the youngins that usually come around to her corner.

Speaking of the youngins, one of them walks my way. The one with stern eyes who brings fresh game from the woods. The butcher's wife says she hunts 'em with a bow and her arrows never miss the mark. Must be nice to have a useful trade like that. Sometimes, she trades me berries for balls of yarn. That's probably what she's making her way over for.

Never got her name. I call her "Stern Eyes" and word around the Seam is she sings like a songbird. My Gammy Maude would've liked that. She gives me berries wrapped in cloth, and I give her the yarn. But she doesn't walk away.

She reaches her hand into one of the boxes, the one with old pins for hair and clothes that might've been pretty once but had gotten rusty and dusty since. Then she pulls out that pin. Gammy Maude's pin that used to belong to her friend. The friend with bad luck in love and even worse in life. Some say she ran away, and some say got shot in the woods by her lover. Gammy said her friend used to sing too. Like a songbird.

Gammy never liked that pin much. Said it never brought nothing but bad luck. I think it just reminded her too much of her friend and the lover who might've shot her. But she still kept the pin till she died. Guess reminders are still reminders.

It's a mockingjay pin. Might be gold, but it's too old and grimy to tell. Could've sold it for scrap metal, but after hearing Gammy's stories, I could never bring myself to melt the damn thing down. And it's not like I could just walk up to the fancy parts of town with a mockingjay pin to sell. The peacekeepers would have cuffed me before I could quote a price. Probably really is bad luck anyway.

Stern Eyes is holding the pin and askin how much. I think of asking for a couple of coins, and then I remember the Reaping. She's probably young enough to have her name in the bowl. More than a couple of times, like every Seam kid. I wonder if it'd bring bad luck to her too. Or maybe it'd bring her good luck. If I'm being honest, I just want the pin gone. Can't keep holding on to a thing like that.

I tell her she can take it. No charge. Can't ask people to pay you for what could be bad luck. Don't know why she picked that one, but I wonder if she knows anything about the last songbird who had it.

I really hope it brings her better luck than Gammy's friend.

Writer's note: I know this isn't accurate to the books where Katniss gets the pin from Madge and the pin isn't really mentioned in TBOSAS. But I remember she gets it in the Hobb in the movie and it does make an appearance in the prequel movie as well. Soooo, that's where this idea came from!

[shadowonwater]

Pokemon Scarlet, part the 4th. I fought a giant crab and then beat an avant-garde artist.

Whenever I start these it always feels like there's so much to cover. Well I guess one of the first things of note that happened to me since my last post was that Yarn Ball evolved. It turned into a spool spider. Well I don't think it's as cute anymore and it's clear it's not evolving again so I made my first teammate switch in a while. I replaced it with Tinkerton (the small pink thing with the mallet).

I had fun exploring the maze that is that rocky area. At one point I ran into a level 25 Hariyama, which was pretty high for the area, at first I was intimidated, but then I was like, nah, my Flamingo can take this guy. And it totally could have too! But the coward used Whirlwind and disappeared! I was like "Come back here and fight me like a Poke-MAN"

When riding on Koraidon, I keep finding myself trying to click on the button in PLA that let me dash, only to be disappointing at my lack of dashing. I really wished I could Dash, this will come up later.

While I was in that maze I saw a tera raid. The silhouette reminded me of a Tailow. Now I don't know what Pokemon are in this game and what are not so I thought it might be a Tailow. But instead it was something new! It was called Wattel I think? So now I have a tera bug Wattel, named Watt. (really creative, I know).

So I get to the Pokecenter next to the town so I can heal up before seeing the first titan. And I see those Squakabilly birds, so I catch the which plumage one and blue plumage one. I didn't see anyother kinds around there so I assume the green ones are found else where, I think there are also orange ones too. I'm not sure how many colors there are.

I also saw red Oricolo, I went into a battle with one and tried to catch it before going to the center. A bit of a mistake because I was starting to run low on balls. It had just a sliver of health left, yet it kept breaking out of the ball. I eventually caught it with the very last ball I had left, a Nest ball. I ran out of everything else. Glad my effort still payed off I guess.

So I go back and follow the map to try to find the titan crab, and it doesn't take too long. Oh btw, I also caught one of the non titan crabs that were around. I spent a bit of time beating up random crabs in the area because Floragata had such a nice time advantage. I kept one-shotting them. Soon both Lechonk and Wooper evolved while I saw doing this. I didn't even do it for long, they just both close to evolving. So I had a Cludsire and a female uhhhh whatever the Pig's evolution was called, Oinkage?

So I walk up to the crab on the wall and it just kinda scuttles away from me, and I was a little bit confused because I thought it would fight me right away but I guess not? So I follow it up the hill and *then* I battle it. I tera my grass cat and Magic Leaf it, suddenly it's low health and the battle is already over.

The crab goes back down and the game is like "follow the crab!" so I try to directly follow it down the cliff but the game is like NO that's too steep! So jump on Koraidon and go down there anyway. I tried to land atop the crab, but I don't the game expected me to do that so I went right through, so I was under the crab. Then the cutscene plays and I am no longer under crab. Arven also shows up, guess he's just been hanging nearby?

We battle the crab again together, which is cool. I was worried I wouldn't be able to Tera my grass cat again because already just used it, but the game let me, so cool. And it only takes 2 attacks. Sorry Arven but you really weren't needed here.

He makes sandwiches. And I already knew that completing one of the different paths was supposed to give Koraidon more abilities. And I figured it was this one, what with the herbs healing abilities. So no surprise when Kori wanted my food, so I gave it to it. And just as expected BOOM! New ability, I was delighted realizing it was the Dash ability, because I really wanted to Dash! :D

Arven gave me the other half of the sandwich, very nice of him actually. He doesn't seem to be very found of Kori though. (btw I decided to call Koraidon, "Kori" for short if you haven't already picked up on that).

Anyway the weird part is that I leave and Arven is talking to something or other. I assume a Pokemon, but we don't see what it is. He seems to be trying to heal some Pokemon. Whatever it is, it must be something major because the game won't show me it.

Oh man this has been a lot of typing only to just now get to the end of the titan part, now to get to the gym leader! I pretty much went to the gym leader right afterwards, no dilly dallying.

But one random thing I meant to say but haven't yet- Washing! During the picnics I mean. Washing my Pokemon. Similar to a feature from the Alola games, where you clean up your Pokemon to heal them from damage and status conditions. So similar feature, similar function. Playing it reminds me of giving my nintendogs a bath, what with the suds and shower-head.

Anyway I was washing all my Pokemon up to heal them one time. And I wondered if I could also give Kori a bath despite not battling with it. And I can! This pleases me :3c Can I pet the dog? Yes I can!

Anyway the gym. Apparently the town has a real artistic population, and I can see that reflected in how beautiful the town is. I was told to find 10 Sunflora hidden around the town. Was a bit worried about my frame rate already cause I heard about the sun flora messing with it. Well it didn't really affect me.

Anyway I wonder if the sunflora locations are randomized or not, I already found 3 just a laying there immediately outside of their pen, not very good at hide and seek, are they? It wasn't much trouble finding the rest, one battled me but that was it (I wonder if something like that is also randomized too). I also climbed around on that playground, that was neat, even if there wasn't anything that cool on it, just being able to climb it was cool.

Anyway, I forgot to also mention this but I switched out my pig for my electric bird Watt, was kinda excited about the bird because I had no clue what it would look like when evolved. So I used Watt to take out the grass leaders first 2 Pokemon and used my Flamingo for the last one. It was pretty easy, I'll be honest. Had a bit of trouble with Petlil's sleep powder but a berry was all I need to wake up my bird again.

Anyway the plant guy is... interesting? Didn't really expect the personality he has with the look that he has. If he were a Pokemon, he looks like he would be a grass/dark based off of appearance. But maybe not. He's just some eccentric artist and a bit of a weirdo.

"Avant-garde"? Nah All I did was creme you with a type advantage. There wasn't really skill to that at all. Anyway he's an artist, but of what? fine art I assume. But is it paintings? sculptures? Also do you think he's be friends with Burg? After all they are both gym leaders and artists. I assume that someone out there has already made fanart of them hanging out.

Anyway I talked about the titan, I talked about the grass gym leader, so you think I'm done right? No, I got more to say! I walked around in the area around the town and caught the fighting Tauros. As well as Dunsparce, the koala (which really packed a punch), Tandem mouse (which reminds of Pokemon like eggsacute and falinks), and Flabebe. I'm forgetting anything else I caught.

Then I went towards the 1st Star base. I haven't started the raid yet but I will soon. Something I only just now noticed, 18 types, 8 gyms, 5 titans, and 5 star bases. I bet all of them are a different type right? that's cool, I like that!

I haven't been battling random trainers much, because the game no longer forces it, I have a hard time keeping track of who I fought and who I didn't. I keep passing up fighting trainers because I want to keep exploring.

Anyway I love my shit when "Clive" showed up. You ain't foolin' anybody Clavell! I guess when he overheard all the way back in the school he wanted to get involved with Starfall. I must say, from the trailers I didn't trust him, but he's really endeared himself to me now.

I wonder how he's going to help me with the raid, will he be healing me maybe? I guess I'll see.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Dead City 1x01: Old Acquaintances and 1x02: Who's There?

So, I didn't do a post about the first episode of Dead City last week. (Can I just point out that the abbreviation for Dead City is D.C.? As in, Beth's D.C. spoon?)

The pilot episode was fine, but it was setting up the story, and we didn't see a ton of symbolism or Beth callbacks in it. Episode 2 this week was a different story.

Here is just a little bit of discussion about ep 1:

@wdway:

I finished that Dead City a little while ago. It's the pilot episode, some interesting things but they're just laying the groundwork, trying to get the story started which is very much expected. I just want to mention two things .

One is about Herschel. We knew that this is supposed to be a few years after the take down of CW. I'm just questioning tptb thinking in choosing their young actors for whatever age they're supposed to be, they change so rapidly that it would make more sense to me to have kept the original Herschel because the new replacement is obviously a few years older and yet, I swear by the end of the sixth episode he'll look like he's ready to be married with children, haha.

Okay, maybe not quite that bad but I'm just looking at this young man thinking he is going to age up real quick. They've already basically said that they'll be other seasons, that this is just the first, so obviously Herschel will be aging rapidly and I don't know if it will match the timeline going forward.

First there was the all the empty chairs in s11 then we had the green empty chair in Fear. In dead City near the start of it we see Negan with a motorcycle on one side of him and this empty chair on the other. Coincidence I'm sure. That empty chair nor that motorcycle doesn't has anything to do with the plot of the episode, so I'm not giving anything away, but it's a visual that I suspect Gimple had something to do with it.

@galadrieljones

A character named Ginny?

They called Virginia “Ginny” in Fear, I think!

@wdway

Morgan, I believe called his wife Jenny, with a J, but still.

@galadrieljones

Yeah I always thought that Virginia/Ginny/Jenny was meant for Morgan. Like he was being haunted.

I am looking at the caption under Negan though in that picture. Who’s he talking to? Is there someone named Ginny in DC?

Also idk why they keep casting weirdly old characters in TWDU. It’s not typical for them and I’m wondering if maybe there was some new rule or by-law passed by SAG or something to do with child actors and they can’t cast anyone under the age of like 13, or they can but it’s a major pain so they’re just asking us to suspend our disbelief.

@wdway

You'll find out who Ginny is pretty quickly. I won't go into it, not that it would spoil anything, but I think we'll see more of her going forward. She doesn't appeared to have a big purpose, which tells me that her character must have a purpose going forward.

Discussion on Episode 2: Who's There?

@wdway

I enjoyed the episode. There are things they're holding back to lead us along, I hope this isn't too big of a spoiler, but we don't find out about Annie or the baby. I think we probably won't for a while.

@twdmusicboxmystery

Just finished watching DC. I actually really liked this episode (minus all the intestine-spillage). I thought there were quite a few Beth callbacks in it. My favorite line? Maggie spun some yarn about "Canada and a shipwreck." 😱

@wdway

When Maggie mentioned Canada, I immediately thought of Tales. That he was headed to Canada. Of course, the shipwrecked parts stood out because well you know...

You guys know how bad I am with names so just excuse me. The girl that was originally with Negan who is being watched over by the group (I guess Maggie's group) while Maggie and Negan are away, they brought her to what is the kids’ school and was introduced by saying that she was from Oceanside. I'm wondering where this group of people, this community that Maggie and Herschel have been with is located.

@twdmusicboxmystery

Yeah, I don't know. Obviously, she isn't gonna just stay put and wait for Negan, so it will be interesting to see what her storyline is. When she left in the night, she went over to a bike. That's all we saw, but still. Bicycle symbolism.

Negan told a story about a girl "holed up in a car." He said she was "just a kid." Sounds like she was tortured and killed by the Croat eventually, but still. Negan then talked about having "one shot" and "missing." He was talking about the bad guy, rather than the girl, but they were all related, and it felt like a Beth parallel to me.

Then there was the part when the Marshal went into that apartment. I got such heavy WHAWGO vibes. There was the picture of the two brothers.

They weren't twins, but they were situated spatially in the photo the same way Noah's twin brothers were, and the way Robert Patrick's character and his twin brother were. Finding the dead guy, one of the brothers, in there felt similar to finding Noah's brothers.

And then there was the rosary he laid over him. We did see one of those with Carol at the end of S6, but Beth wore the original around her wrist at Grady. Oh, and the Marshal covered him with a blanket, much like Bethyl did to the Rich Bitch walker, and like Daryl almost did for Len, before changing his mind.

Even Maggie and Negan being imprisoned in the bathroom jumped out at me. I've harped on bathrooms since S4 when Rick escaped the Claimer house through the bathroom, and the walker that came after Carl in the pudding house (the one he shot in the forehead in the EXACT place Beth was shot) came out of the bathroom.

I also thought of The Same Boat. That wasn't a bathroom per se, but it was filmed on the same set as Saw, which featured a gross bathroom, toilet and all, and had a man who was presumed dead suddenly stand up and reveal himself to be alive at the end.

That may be all I have for now. I didn't really take notes, so I'm doing this from memory.

Negan had some funny lines. I loved his "how about everyone just untwist their undies." They featured it on the after-the-episode part, so I heard it twice, and laughed both times.

I also thought the flashback between Maggie and Hershel was super interesting. Not sure where they're going with that, but I look forward to learning more.

What do you think the purpose was of Maggie not making it all the way across the chasm? That seemed too purposeful to not foreshadow something, but nothing really came of it here. Just had me wondering.

@wdway

It's hard to tell right now because they're just lying and foundation for the series, I did appreciate the description of the three (3) separate groups. I didn't take notes either, but I was so glad the showrunner/writer explained what was going on.

When Negan was talking about the girl in the car, I immediately thought of Beth. Not that I thought he was talking about Beth, but I felt that that was purposely put in to give a nod to us. I don't know that there will be any clues that would lead to anything about Beth in this spinoff, but I do think that they will sprinkle reminders throughout.

I have the same feelings as you did when I saw the bathroom, that it was a reminder of Same Boat.

That scene where Maggie was somewhat freezing up as the Walkers were coming at her and she was so hesitant to use the zip line, then got hung up. It did seem kind of purposeful and I was trying to wreck my brain to whether or not we had known she has a fear of heights, kind of like Carol in the caves in s10 with it being a reminder that Carol was claustrophobic, but I couldn't remember anything from Maggie's past. It might be something in recent years (in the show) that we will find out later about.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

I was getting some screenshots for it. That always reveals new things to me because I'm watching more closely, instead of casually. It's nothing super groundbreaking, but I saw some interesting things, and a few insights on what we've already discussed.

First, the thing where Maggie didn't make it across on the zip line. Rewatching that part, I realized that the physics reason for why that happened is because she hesitated. She was clearly frightened of the distance down, and didn't want to just go for it. Her foot literally slips off the box, so she doesn't get the same momentum Negan and the first lady did. That's why she didn't make it to the other side. I still think that's a foreshadow, tho. Maggie being hesitant rather than going for it, and something goes wrong or something bad happens because of it.

The scene with the marshal we compared to WHAWGO? Watching it a second time, I realized it doesn't explain why he went there or how he knew to go there. He went looking for a gun, but it was gone. All he found was the box the gun used to be in. But how would he know it was there?

I think it's obvious he had been there before and knew the man who's body he found. That's probably why he covered him up: because he knew him. I'm wondering now if he, the marshal, is the second brother in the pictures. If so, that means he left his brother behind at some point. Between that, covering him up, and laying the rosary over him, it's an even more potent parallel to Beth.

Also, in that scene, he sees the corpse of his brother first in a mirror. I didn't catch that at first. So, it's a mirror image and then he turns and goes into the brother's room. Just kind of interesting.

And then about the girl--Ginny right?--who was with Negan? Something is bothering her about the water barrel. It's at Maggie's community, and like 3 different times she stops and stares at it, including at the end just before she steals the bike to leave. No idea what it means, but the fact that it's a water thing caught my attention. That's all. ;D

What did everyone else think about DC ep 2?

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m jumping on the baby fever train! Choo choo. But I don’t have any money for a ticket. I’m a transient riding the rails with my stick and bindle. all I can offer you is half a tin of beans and the company of a scraggly dog that follows me on my travels. I’ll let you pet the mutt I’ve named Sparkplug if you’d be so kind to spin me a little yarn about Santi having a baby with a reader with whom he had a one night fling…. *shakes can of beans at you* I’ll even let you have the first bite o beans.

Why thank you!! I will let you take the first bite of beans if I can sit next to Sparkplug. May I call him Sparky?

Alright, heat those beans up while I weave this tale (this tale that got too long, oh my god I hope the beans are still warm)

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, angst, ends in fluff

It's hard to tell Santiago what happened

He gave you his number, but he did so in a way that he obviously doesn't expect you to use it.

It was in like a passing, 'let's get dinner some time' but said in a way that he clearly never expects to see you...Ever again.

So when you use the number, when you call and not text, he sounds confused. Confusion melts to flirty intrigue, jokes about coming back for seconds.

You ask him to meet you for coffee. You barely know this guy, this is big news. A public space would be better.

Santiago comes in all cocky, grinning. He must assume you're gonna fuck in the bathroom.

You wait until he's two sips into his coffee to tell him that you're pregnant.

You try not to be too offended when he asks, "Are you sure it's mine?"

"You're the only person I've had sex with since, like, last year, so...Yeah.”

Santiago leans back in his seat, eyes sweeping your face before he turns back down to his cup of coffee. You can see his jaw working.

"What do you wanna do?" He asks.

You've been asking yourself that since you found out. You haven't told anyone in your family about this, none of your friends. You've been stewing and worrying alone.

"...I don't know." It comes out of you quietly, shaking like a rattle.

Santiago doesn't coddle you. He doesn't tell you that it's going to be alright. He just tells you that he'll support whatever you wanna do.

"What if I wanna have it?" You ask.

"I'm not gonna try and stop you."

"Would you want to be involved?"

Santiago sighs, and your chest twists with discomfort. You have to stop yourself from raising your hand to protectively and defensively rest on your stomach.

“With what I do, I’m not...I don’t spend most of my time in the States.”

“What do you do?”

“Is that important?”

“That’s a pretty stupid question if I’m gonna have your kid.”

Santiago grimaces, leans in and lowers his voice, and tells you.

It’s startling, but not wholly surprising. You’d seen the scars, the dog tags.

“Look,” Santiago adds. “I’m just—I’m trying to set your expectations here. If you decide to have it, I’m not necessarily going to be around.”

“No, I—” You shake your head. “I appreciate it. Seriously, I do.”

Santiago nods a touch, though he doesn’t seem to believe you.

“I’m leaving at the end of the week,” He says. “Think you’ll decide by then?”

“Maybe.”

“...Don’t rush it. I was just wondering.”

And then Santiago slides out of the booth. “You’ve got my number. Let me know.”

You do let him know. You call him two weeks later, and tell him that you’re keeping it.

“...Alright,” He says.

You don’t ask if he wants to be involved, if he’s mad at you. They’re answers that you’re not sure you want.

“I’ll send you updates if you want updates,” You tell him. “Either way—You know, no worries.”

“...Sure.”

The space that he puts into these answers is concerning, but you try not to read into it. 

“Bye, then.” You hang up without another word and toss the phone onto your bed. Then you look down at your belly and poke it. “Guess it’s just you and me, huh, kid?”

You send Santiago updates.

You start getting checks. When you text him about them, he just says, ‘Baby shit is expensive’.

He tells you he won’t take any of it back, even when you try. The two of you settle on an amount for him to send regularly.

You only send him ultrasounds and doctor’s notes—not pictures of the bump, or thoughts that you have on names, or the progress of the nursery.

You’re eight months along when your buzzer rings late at night. You frown, pushing yourself up from the couch and setting aside your nearly-decimated pint of Ben & Jerry’s. 

“Who’s that?” You murmur to your belly as you head for the door. You press the ‘talk button’ and ask who it is.

When Santiago’s voice crackles through, you’re briefly stunned. And then you hit the ‘open’ button.

You stare down at your maternity PJs, and the swell of your belly peeking out between your sweatpants and top.

When there’s a knock on the door, you jump just a little. You take in a deep breath and swallow thickly before you open the door.

Santiago looks as surprised to be there as you are. He searches your face for a moment before he says, “Hi.”

“Hello.”

His eyes drop to the swell of your belly and his mouth works wordlessly for just a second. Then he asks, “Can I come in?”

It’s weird being around him. There’s no crackling sexuality between the two of you as there was that first night, and far less tension between the two of you than there was at the coffee shop.

Santiago just looks around, then down the hall. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, and you nod, saying, “The one on the left.”

Santiago goes, and you follow. He takes his time after he flicks on the light, looking around the cool mint green of the nursery—the crib, the toys, the rocking chair, the changing table and dresser. 

“...You’ve got clothes?”

“In the dresser and the closet.”

“Diapers?”

“Uh-huh.” Then, “I got a lot from the baby shower.”

Santiago nods a little, walking over to the dresser and pulling the drawers open to look at them before he nudges it shut again. He turns to look at the window, the baby monitor, then you. “...You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” You nod. “You?”

He doesn’t answer that, just takes a moment and says, “I’m going to be, um...I’m back in the States—for good.”

“...Okay.”

You don’t ask if he’ll be nearby, if he has plans. They’re questions that you don’t think you want the answers to.

“...Will you tell me when you go into labor?”

“Yeah, of course,” You insist, “I was always gonna—I mean I wouldn’t have not told you.”

“Okay.” Then—“I should get going. I have to unpack.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you—“Nearby?”

“Bout five minutes away.”

You tell yourself not to read into it, not to expect support, but it makes your heart tick up in your chest. You just nod, and step back to let Santiago out of the room, and follow him down the hall to your front door.

He stops at the door and turns back to you, looking at your belly.

“Can I, uh...” He starts, brow furrowing a little. You lift your shirt wordlessly and reach out, taking hold of his hand and placing it on your belly.

You see a shift in him, and he takes a step closer.

You watch him raise his other hand, gently smoothing his hands around your stomach. You lift your eyes to his face, taking in his warm, watering eyes, his full lips pursed into a thin line, and his lashes fluttering as he blinks rapidly, perhaps trying to hide his tears.

You hope the baby has his curls.

Santiago becomes a more frequent visitor in the last two months of your pregnancy.

He starts visiting not only to check in on how the baby’s doing. He starts speaking with you, too. You start getting to know the father of your child.

It’s...Kind of nice. The film of nerves and distance drop away, and the teasing and smiles that led you to sleep with him in the first place sneak back in.

A week before your due date, you sit on your couch with Santiago, watching a movie, Santiago’s hand absently resting on the swell of your baby bump.

“...Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” He suddenly asks.

You glance over at him and nod, “Yeah.” Then, “You wanna know?”

Santiago glances down at your belly before turning back to the tv.

“Nah.”

You smile a little bit, turning back to the tv. “Alright.”

“I can wait.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s only a week.”

“Sure, Garcia. Keep protesting, I’m finding it cute.”

When you go into labor, Santiago is the first person you call.

He’s at your apartment in three minutes.

When your baby girl is born, Santiago is right there with you, telling you to push, telling you you’re doing an amazing job

As Santiago cradles the baby, as he strokes over her tiny nose, he mutters, “You could’ve just told me it was gonna be a girl.”

You smile tiredly up at them, eyes on the bundle. “You actually waited the week. I’m impressed.”

Santiago spends the first few months close to you. He starts to sleep on your couch.

When that begins to bother his neck, you offer to let him sleep in bed with you, “Just so you—Oh, don’t look at me like that—”

“You want another one already?”

“That is not funny, Garcia. But you know what, fine, sleep on the couch, enjoy the crick in your neck.”

He starts sleeping in your bed. He has a few changes of clothes at your place.

He has a level of involvement that you never thought he’d be around for, but you’re incredibly happy with.

The two of you are also becoming more...Friendly.

You don’t know if it’s the fatigue, or the fact that you wake up in his arms most mornings, but Santiago is being more affectionate with you these days—touchier, lighter to tease.

It’s still not like that first night—things have shifted in a way that you can never change, and you know it.

Seeing the way he is with the baby helps, too.

Santiago is so good with the baby.

He’s calm. He speaks to her in tender tones. He sings to her in spanish under his breath when he’s trying to get her down.

He encourages her, teases her, is always careful with her.

Santiago is present when you need him to be. And he’s pretty sweet with you, too. 

He takes the baby to give you an afternoon, spoils you with little surprises—from a gift card for a pedicure to your favorite candy bar.

You’d never thought that it would be like...This with him. You thought you’d raise the baby alone, and that Santiago would drop in every few years to see how the kid is doing, if that.

“...She’s sleeping better now,” You tell him when the baby is around five months old.

“Yeah.”

“So...” You bite your lip, watching him wash the dishes, “So you don’t have to...I mean—” You go quiet when he looks at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I mean...” You avert your eyes as it seems to click with Santiago.

“I’ll stop crowding you,” he says.

“No! That’s not what I—I just, you’re paying rent for an apartment you’re, like, never at. It doesn’t seem fair to you, it’s a waste.”

“I deal with it.”

“I know you do, but that doesn’t mean you should.” And it’s stupid to say, but—“So you should move in.”

Oh. No. 

Santiago freezes for a second before he reaches out, shutting off the faucet.

“You sure about that?”

“Sure,” You offer, a little nervey, “I mean, I know it’s only five minutes away, but I’d miss you—She’d miss you, you know.”

Santiago turns to face you, and your heart thumps roughly in your chest.

“You would miss me?” He repeats.

“...Yeah,” You admit softly.

Santiago drops the dishtowel and crosses the kitchen. He cups your face and draws you in for a tender kiss.

It’s like an electric shock, it shoots right through you. Your eyes slip shut, and you raise your hands to grip his shirt tightly. 

Santiago crowds your back against the counter, his hands wandering your body covetously.

You bite back a whimper, and then groan as the baby’s wails come through the baby monitor.

The two of you part, and Santiago takes a step back, muttering, “I’ve got her.”

You tug him back in before he can get far, planting another warm kiss on him before finally letting go. He grins at you as he goes.

You raise your hands to your face once he’s gone, hiding your own grin, and its softening when you hear Santiago’s voice through the monitor just a moment later.

[coldmilkcreamery]

ornaments.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: seo changbin x male reader 🥀

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1403

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: in which changbin asks about the bracelet Y/N never takes off and finds out it’s from his friend that committed suicide.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝘀: mentions of blood and death; suicide

𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝘆 🌙

𝗮/𝗻: i took a lot longer on this fic because i lost motivation so many times, but looking at the finished product, it’s my favorite out of the four i've made so far !! thank you so much for requesting @mrsunshine999 !! please continue supporting us !! <3

> 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 <

-

Changbin was naturally curious. Whether it be about his cousin's current class, what his bandmate ate for yesterday’s dinner or the weather of a country on the opposite side of the globe. He was curious about anything and everything. So, naturally, after dating Y/N for about two months, he would get curious about the lime bracelet that wrapped itself around his boyfriend’s hand. The said trinket was held together by a single thread of yarn, decorated with miniature glass beads and a tiny, fluffy frog in the middle. If he was being honest with himself, it did not look aesthetically pleasing. In fact, it wasn't. The beads were uneven and scuffed up, the color choice was horrible and overall it just looked like it hadn’t been washed in a while. He was afraid to call his partner out on this, being the shy bear he was, but after seven weeks with his boyfriend, both his curiosity and hygiene-oholic self got the better of him.

“You know,” Changbin mumbled in a sing-song tone, staring at the unattractive accessory, “you never told me about that…” he pauses, rethinks his words and continues again as his boyfriend locks eyes with him, “bracelet around your wrist.” Y/N freezes, resulting in both of them halting, and with them, their stroll at the park.

“You okay?” Changbin asks, half confused, half worried, “I’m talking about the—”

“Yeah, I know what you’re talking about.” Y/N cuts him off, lips quivering as he tightens his grip on the paper bags he holds, almost ripping the fragile sheets, “Let’s just drop these off at Nicky’s first.” Nicky’s is the name of the local bread shop they deliver to and for. In fact, both men had met each other there as delivery boys. To the owner’s surprise, both hit it off pretty well. Too well to the point that they started dating.

The walk out of the park and into the autumn street was quiet, way quieter than it was supposed to be. The street was bustling, there were cars honking their horns and bicycles ringing their bells, but it was all ear-splitting silence with Y/N. After dating him for seven weeks, and knowing him for even more, he was sure his boyfriend was always bubbly and upbeat. But in this moment, something about his actions, or the lack thereof, said the exact opposite. And to be really honest, it made Changbin uneasy. He knew what he said had upset his partner. He wanted to apologize but was too afraid—to sound dumb and repetitive or to hurt his feelings even more. Which of the two was it? That he was unsure of.

“Good morning Mrs. Park!” Changbin greets, showing his dimples off as both boys enter the shop.

“Good morning!” Mrs. Park chirps back, raising her head towards both men, retracting the knife from the loaf she held. “Oh! Those must be the bread I ordered! Thank you for getting them, you know me, too old to walk all the way to the supplier. Too old to remember to do so too.” She laughs, putting the bread knife flat on the wooden cutting board as she shifts her gaze from Changbin to Y/N. “Oh! You can put that in the back.” Y/N nods as he drags his feet towards the back of the shop, slowly disappearing into its retro-ness.

The store’s aroma was always the same, the smell of lavender and the chilly air slapping them in the face whenever they went in. But Y/N’s aura wasn't. And Mrs. Park could tell.

“What’s up with him?” She asked, raising a brow, not really expecting the answer she would get.

“I asked him about that lime bracelet he has on all the time.” Changbin replies, sighing, “It’s… kinda dirty don't you think?”

“Oh.” is all she replies. She stays silent for an uncomfortable amount of time until Changbin realizes.

“I… didn’t do anything wrong, right?” He says, hoping for the best, “What is it any—”

“I think it would be better if you ask him yourself.”

“Well…” Changbin doubles back, “if it’s anything uncomfortable for him to share, then I won’t bug about it anymore. I don’t want to sacrifice his feelings for my curiosity.” He replies, unsure of what to think.

Mrs. Park nods and as if on queue, Y/N reappears and steps out the pantry, paper bags that were previously held by his hands gone. He smiles at the lady in her 40’s and heads straight to the door, leaving the scent of lavender and bread behind. Changbin follows suit, looking at Mrs. Park as she nods back, sending him a reassuring smile.

Changbin steps out into the breezy autumn eventide, hues of marigold and tangerine painting the afternoon skies like a canvas. Y/N trudged and crossed the street, entering back into the park, the aura much different from before. What was bright and warm this afternoon became darker and colder as the moon began its daily process: replacing the sun. What was once a yellow orb glowing high up in the sky was now just a small orange blob on the horizon, and on the opposite side of the colored canvas, a glimmering white crescent, slowly rising through the blue hues. Changbin found the indigo, azure, tangerine and marigold ombré charming, a sight he would never forget. Y/N spotted a nearby bench and sat down, his boyfriend taking the empty space beside him. They sat there for a while, staring at the moms telling their children to get off the swings so they can go home, and the hotdog vendor packing up and calling it a day. In a way, both the swings and the hotdogs reminded him of someone… special.

“I—” Y/N pauses, trying to rephrase his words once again, “I haven’t really told you about this,” he says, brushing his fingers ever so slightly over the lime fabric on his wrist, “gift.”

Changbin is confused, visually confused at that, but keeps quiet and lets him continue. “A friend of mine… gave this to me.” Y/N says, looking up towards the darkening skies, holding a tear back, “At first I thought it sucked, you know, the beads don’t look that nice. I didn’t see its value.” He said, face scrunching as he tries his hardest not to let a tear out. “So I didn’t wear it.” Changbin nods, unsure of what to say.

“He passed away a month later.” He fails to keep the cap on his bottled feelings on, a tear or two slipping out, “I found him in the bathtub, blood everywhere, and his face… oh his face,” Changbin wraps him in warmth, “it looked lifeless and yet so… sorrowful.” He says, clenching the left side of his shirt, more tears dripping down the side of his face, only to be dried up by the fabric of his boyfriend’s shirt, “I didn’t know that was possible.”

Changbin hugged and patted his back for a while until he calmed down, until he could finally form a proper sentence. “He helped me figure out and accept who I am.” Y/N says, the left side of his lip pulling up as his face forms a melancholic smile, “I didn’t realize it back then, but I wouldn’t have been so open with my sexuality now if it wasn’t for him.” Both stared up at the young night sky, the elegant stars beginning to show themselves. “I’ve worn this,” he says, fiddling with the dirty cotton frog in the center of the trinket, “since the day we buried him.”

Y/N lets a tear fall once again as he leans his head on Changbin’s shoulder, finding the closure he thought he’d already found months ago. “I loved him. Still do. I just wish he would've told me about his problems. Just wish he would’ve stuck around for a little longer.” Changbin nods once again, still unsure of what to say.

“But that was all in the past. There’s nothing I can do about it now.” Y/N says, ripping his eyes away from the lime bracelet, staring up at the midnight blue sky, the bijou stars twinkling in the distance, “Nothing but remember him with this ugly ass ornament.” Changbin looks into his eyes, confused.

“This ugly ass ornament that means the world to me.”

End.

-

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙: 01.15.21

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙: 01.21.21

[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 3

Percy's POV

Confession time: I ditch Grover as soon as we get to the bus terminal.

I know, I know. It was rude. But Grover is kinda freaking me out, looking at me like I am a dead man, muttering, "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to be the sixth grade?"

Whenever he gets upset, Grover's bladder acts up, so I'm not surprised when, as soon as we get off the bus, he makes me promise to wait for him, then makes a beeline for the restroom. Instead of waiting, I get my suitcase, slip outside, and catch the first taxi uptown.

"East One-hundred-and-forth and First," I tell the driver.

A word about my mother, before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck. Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.

The only good break she ever got was meeting mine and (Y/n)'s dad.

We didn't have any memories of him, just this warm sort of glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. Our mom doesn't like to talk about him because it makes her sad; she has no pictures.

See, they weren't married. She told us he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

Lost at sea, my mom had told us. Not dead. Lost at sea.

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me and my twin on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I wasn't an easy kid.

Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When I was young, I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts.

Between the two of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and I got along...well, when I came home is a good example.

I walk into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe is in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blares ESPN. Chips and beer cans are strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking, he says around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's Mom and (Y/n)?" I wonder aloud.

"Your mom's working," he says. "You got any cash?"

That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?

"I don't have any cash," I toll him.

"Here," comes a voice, holding out a ten to the man.

Instantly, a smile sneaks its way onto my face.

"Hey, Perc," my twin sister says with a smile.

(Y/n)'s POV

I grab my brother's suitcase and carry it into his room; I set it down on the bed.

"You wanna come sit in my room?" I ask and Percy nods, a smile still on his face.

I lead the way to my room and when I open the door, Percy sinks into my desk chair.

"Percy?" comes our mom's voice.

She opens my bedroom door.

Our mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Percy or Gabe.

"Oh, Percy," she hugs her son tightly. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas.

Percy's POV

Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home.

We sit together on the edge of (Y/n)'s bed. While I attack the blueberry sour strings, (Y/n) stealing a few pieces of candy from the bag, Mom runs her hand through my hair and demands to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She doesn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She doesn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing all right? The whole time, (Y/n)'s eyes were sparkling with amusement.

I tell Mom she is smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her and (Y/n).

From the other room, Gabe yells, "Hey, Sally—how about some bean dip, huh?"

I grit my teeth.

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

For her sake, I try to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy. I tell her I'm not too down about the expulsion. I'd lasted almost the whole year this time. I'd made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convince myself. I start choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly doesn't seem so bad.

Until that trip to the museum...

"What?" my mom asks. Her and my sister's eyes tug at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. "Did something scare you?"

"No, Mom."

I feel back for lying. I want to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I think it'd sound stupid.

Mom purses her lips. Both she and (Y/n) could tell I was holding back, but neither push me.

(Y/n)'s POV

"I have a surprise for both of you," Mom says. "We're going to the beach."

Percy's eyes widen. "Montauk?"

"Three nights - same cabin."

"When?" I ask excitedly.

Mom smiles. "As soon as I get changed."

I can't believe it. Mom, Percy, and I hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money.

Gabe appears in my doorway and growls, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

"I've got it," I offer, rising from the bed and walking out into the kitchen to make the dip for Mom.

An hour later, we are ready to leave.

Gabe takes a break from his poker game long enough to watch me and Percy lug Mom's bags to the car. He keeps griping and groaning about losing her cooking - and most importantly, his '78 Camaro - for the whole weekend.

"Not a scratch on this car, you two," he warns us as I load the last bag. "Not one little scratch."

Like we'd be the ones driving. We're twelve. But that didn't matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame us.

We get into the Camero, me in the passenger's seat, and Percy in the back.

Our rental cabin is on the south shore, way out at the tip of the Long Island. It is a little pastel box with faded curtains, half-sunken into the dunes. There is always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea is too cold to swim in.

Percy and I love the place.

We'd been going there since Percy and I were babies. Our mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place she'd met mine and Percy's dad.

As we get closer to Montauk, Mom seems to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turning the color of the sea.

We arrive at the cabin, open all the cabin windows, and go through our usual cleaning routine. We walk on the beach, feed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and much on jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

I guess I should explain the blue food.

See, Gabe had once told Mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a small thing at the time. But ever since, Mom had gone out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This - alone with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano - was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like Percy.

When it gets dark, we make a fire. We roast hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom tells us stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She tells us about the books she wanted to write when she gets enough money to quit the candy shop.

Finally, it seems that Percy gets the nerve to ask about what was always on our minds when we come to Montauk - our father. Mom's eyes go all misty. I figure that she was going to tell us the same things she always said, but neither Percy and I ever got tired of hearing them.

"He was kind, Percy," Mom says. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, two. You have his black hair, you know, Percy, and you both have his green eyes."

Mom fishes a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Percy, (Y/n). He would be so proud."

Percy's POV

I wondered how she could say that. What's so great about me? A dyslexic, hyperactive boy with a D+ report card, kicked out of the school for the sixth time in six years.

"How old were we?" I ask. "I mean . . . when he left?"

Mom watches the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin."

"But...he knew us as a baby."

"No, honey. He knew I was expecting twins, but he never saw you two. He had to leave before you were born."

I try to square that with the fact I seem to remember . . . something about my father. A warm glow. A smile.

(Y/n) and I had always assumed that he had known us as babies. Mom had never said it outright, but still, we'd always felt it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen us . . .

I realize I feel angry at my father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resent him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry Mom. He'd left us, and now we are stuck with Smelly Gable.

"Are you sending me away again?" I ask her. "To another boarding school."

She pulls a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey." Mom's voice is heavy. "I think . . . I think we'll have to do something."

"Because you don't want me around?" I regret the words as soon as they come out of my mouth. (Y/n) bows her head, looking at the ground and Mom's eyes well with tears.

Mom takes my hand and squeezes it tight. "Oh, Percy, no. I - I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."

Her words remind me of what Mr. Brunner had said - that it was best for me to leave Yancy.

"Because I'm not normal," I say.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Percy. But you don't realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe.

"Safe from what?"

She meets my eyes, and a flood of memories comes back to me - all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me and (Y/n), some of which we'd tried to forget.

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked us on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed (Y/n) when she'd told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.

Before that—a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.

In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move.

I know I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. But I can't make myself tell her. I have a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I don't want that.

"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," my mom says. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy—the place your father wanted to send you two. And I just...I just can't stand to do it."

(Y/n)'s POV

"Our father wanted us to go to a special school?" I ask, a little confused.

"Not a school," she says softly. "A summer camp."

My head starts spinning. Why would my dad - who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me and Percy be born - talk about a summer camp?

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)," she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I—I couldn't send you two to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good."

"For good?" Percy asks. "But if it's only a summer camp.

Mom turns towards the fire, and I know from her expression that if either of us ask her any more questions, she would start to cry.

I have a weird, vivid dream. It is storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse, and a golden eagle are trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swoops down and slashes the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse rears up and kicks at the eagle's wings. As they fight, the ground rumbles and a monstrous voice chuckles somewhere and beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

I run towards them, knowing I have to stop them from killing each other, but I am running in slow motion. I know I am too late. I see the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I scream, No!

I wake with a start.

Outside, it really is storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There is no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery.

With the next thunderclap, my mom and Percy wake. Mom sits up, eyes wide, and says, "Hurricane."

I know that's crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seems to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I hear a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that makes my hair stand on end.

Percy's POV

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice - someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mother springs out of bed in her nightgown and throws open the lock.

Grover stands framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he isn't . . . he isn't exactly Grover.

"Searching all night," he gasps. "What were you thinking?"

My mother looks at me in terror - not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come.

"Percy," she says, having to shout to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I am frozen, looking at Grover. I can't understand what I'm seeing, and I see (Y/n) looking at my friend.

"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yells. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?"

I am too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly. I am too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover doesn't have pants on - and where his legs should be . . . where his legs should be . . .

Mom looks at me sternly and talks in a tone she'd never used before, and (Y/n) flinches: "Percy. Tell me now!"

I stammer something about the old ladies at the fruit stand and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stares at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabs her purse, tosses me and (Y/n) our rain jackets, and says, "Get the car. All three of you. Go!"

Grover runs for the Camero - but he isn't running, exactly. He is trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs makes sense to me. I understand how he can run so fast and still limp when he walks.

Because where his feet should be, there are no feet. There are cloven hooves.

Word Count: 3041 words

[kileyrose-2003]

Rose the Hat x Fem! Reader

A/N: Hello lovelies! This request was made by @mewbleu I hope you enjoy. I'm sorry it took so long to write. Bare with me everyone as I have another imagine coming out this week and part 2 of the fanfic coming soon.

Warnings: Child death, violence, implied alcoholism, blood, implied sexual content, violence against children

From the time you were small, you always knew you were different. Your parents both had the shining like you. They always insisted it was good thing, a gift in all actuality and that you were special. Most people couldn't do things like project out of body or see things so far in advance it benefited others, but you could.

Though you didn't know if being special was a good thing in your case. You had a natural healer energy and people often grew attached to you but with its pros came its cons.

Dark entities or 'ghost people' as you liked to call them, sometimes found their way to you. The pretty woman in the hat being the most recurring one in particular.

She was different than all the other ghost you seen. For one thing, the beginning interactions you had with her were friendly but also she wasn't dead. She was alive.

When you first talked about it with your mom she was confused. She too could see spirit but they never were alive.

Your mother thought she had to be dead based off the way you described her. While your own parents raised you in a very bohemian upbringing and they considered themselves to be hippies, they didn't dress like Rose.

They didn't know anyone who still owned silk top from the sixties and had such antiquities adorn in their hair. At first she brushed it off that maybe you were mistaken and that maybe it was possible you did make friends with some young hippie that may be possibly dead but it didn't bother her. She was oddly happy for you.

In the beginning, Rose was sort of your friend in a way. It brought you a sense of warmth that you never felt before. You didn't have any friends your age that could do any of the same things that you could and while Rose was far from your age, she'd still show you little tricks with her mind and reaffirm your thoughts and that was good enough for you.

"I feel lonely," You told her one night as her apparition stood in your room, staring at you silently from the empty side of your bed. "My mommy and daddy are like us but I didn't know there were people like you out there who could see ghostie people too."

Rose smiled at you and sat down at the foot of your bed. "There are alot of people like us out there. It's just a matter of finding the most special ones and you my darling, are very special."

The words brought a smile to your face and you blushed, feeling a sense of secureness in knowing that it wasn't just your parents who seen how different you were.

"Thanks. Am I ever going to meet you, pretty lady in the hat? I like you." Normaly you enjoyed Rose's smile but in that moment the grin on her face hinted at darkness that laid below the surface of her beautiful front.

"Maybe when you're a little older and you have more magic in you but for right now, no." You frowned and Rose reached her hand forward to take your petite one in hers, although it did no good because your hand sunk right through her transparent ones.

"Don't be sad though, it's a good thing," She reassured you. "Okay." You laid back in bed and rolled onto your side. "Goodnight, pretty lady in the hat."

"Goodnight, Y/n." She'd stay with you until you fell asleep and when you woke up in the morning, she'd be gone. It was an enjoyable having a friend like her.

As you got older though, the more you started to question just exactly how much of a friend she really was.

You had a baby sitter who was a bright, young college student who liked to indulge your 'over active imagination' as she called it but you didn't mind that she didn't understand. Just that she listened to you was enough to make you happy to be around her while your parents were out.

The one night as you got ready for bed you begged and begged for her to braid your hair. Of course she obliged but it wasn't without curiosity.

"Can we put ribbon in it too?" You asked excitedly, practically bouncing up and down. "Like weave it in there?"

You nodded excitedly and she attempted to add the ribbon in. "Did you see someone on TV with their hair like this and that's why you want it like this?"

You giggled and shook your head. "Not on TV, in my room!" The girl would of been lying if she said she didn't feel a hint of chills running down her spine.

"Your room?" You nodded happily and snuggled your patchwork doll close to your chest. "Mhm. She's really pretty but she doesn't have ribbon in her hair though."

"Oh? What does she have then?"

"Buttons and yarn. I think she might have that metal thingy on a bike too."

Your baby sitter narrowed her eyes. "A bike chain?" You shrugged. "Maybe. I think that's what it's called anyways. What's the matter? You looked scared."

The young girl shook her head and smiled. "I-it's nothing, sweetie. Come on, let's get you all tucked in bed."

You eagerly snuggled into the covers, hiding yourself away from the cold outside. "Sweet dreams, Y/n. Dream safely."

"Goodnight," You hummed softly and rolled onto your side, quickly drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

When your parents got home later she voiced her concern to your mother in quiet. "I know Y/n is different from other kids she..understands more but I just thought I'd tell you because I thought it was a little alarming."

"We've known about this for a while," She mused as she watered some of her plants. "I don't see her. Y/n does but I'll look into it."

Over the next few weeks your mom began asking more about Rose, trying to pry information about her out of you.

"Why does her name matter?" You snapped as your mom tucked you in. "Because if she's your friend you should at least know her name. So what it is?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. She never told me."

"Why is that?"

"I don't know mommy. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay," She hummed and kissed the top of your head. "Goodnight sweetheart."

"Night mommy." You rolled over onto your side, staring at the wall for a while. By that point Rose would of normally be already sitting at the bottom of your bed, but not tonight.

'Maybe she's busy.' You told yourself as you pulled your stuffed doll close to your chest. "Goodnight pretty lady in the hat," You mumbled into the air and began to drift off to sleep.

Normally when you slept it was uninterrupted and deep but that night was different. You kept tossing and turning. Not because you weren't comfortable but because something was wrong somewhere.

After another ten minutes of rolling around you sat up in bed, still holding your doll close. You looked around your room for a few seconds, trying to find anything that could be the source of discomfort but nothing.

"It's just like pictures in a book," You whispered aloud and closed your eyes. "They're not real." When you opened your eyes you found yourself standing in the middle of the woods. The weather was warm and muggy. Even in your light fabric pajamas, you were hot.

When you breathed in you could smell the overwhelming aroma of embers burning from a campfire. You let out a cough and followed the burning light through the woods.

'Don't do it.' That inner voice inside said but you pushed it away, thinking that maybe if you seen what was going on you could help. But something kept pulling you forward.

We are The True Knot

What is tied may mever be untied

We Endure

Your made your way down the beaten path and what was there horrified you. A group of people stood their. Like a chain of paper dolls or snowflakes chanting.

You seen your mother do chants in her meditation but this was completely different.

The worse part was the body on the green grass. The girl on the ground was maybe your age. 5 to 7 years old.

You heard the name Violet being whispered in your ear and you let out a scared cry.

A cloud of what you hought was campfire smoke was above the group. Next to the body was Rose. Her hands like bloody gloves confessing to her sins and a man with intense eyes. Like a Crow. They all turned to stare at you.

The pretty lady in the hat, no Rose! That was her name, smiled at you contently. "Well! Hi there!" She greeted and you immediately started to cry.

"Aww, what's wrong sweetie? Aren't you happy to see me?" You shook your head, backing up towards a tree. "Y-you can't hurt me when I'm like this!"

"Oh silly girl. I'm not going to hurt you." She pinned you against the tree and you dug your little hands into the bark.

"Then what are you going to do to me?" You sobbed and Rose knelt down to your level. "I'm going to keep you here. Don't you want to go home and join our family?"

Her hand bore down on your wrist hard enough to hurt and you let out a scream. As Rose was about to drag you away a light shined above the two of you and the entire space faded away into darkness.

"Get the hell away from her!" Your mother bellowed and Rose let go of your wrist. "Mama!" You cried and looked up at the light.

Rose growled and narrowed her eyes. "You just messed with the wrong bitch! She's mine!"

"No, she's not!" The environment around you both shook and Rose went flying into the darkness and before you knew it you were back in your room, crying into your mother's arms.

"It's okay," She soothed and kissed the top of your head as she rocked you back and forth. You cried and held onto her shirt.

"They killed her!" Your mom rubbed your back and let out a pained sigh. "I know..I know."

You sobbed into her that whole night, desperately wishing for the first time in your short life you weren't special.

You felt hurt that someone you had grown close to could hurt someone like that. It was a recurring theme and lapse of faith in yourself you had to deal with every day over the years.

You never seen Rose again after that but her presence in your house left an aftermath of chaos and your mother devoted all her time to protecting you from her because she was sure even if it wasn't in the near future you would see her again.

It tore your parents relationship apart and not after, they both decided to go their seperate ways. Even though both of them insisted it had nothing to do with you, you couldn't help but blame yourself.

Everything was so normal and so at peace until she came along. As you grew older you grew to despise her and tried your hardest to block her out of your thoughts but sometimes your memories of her managed to slip back in. The pain she caused you was so great it was hard to forget.

You were twenty now and on your way back from the grocery/ liquor store run when you felt like you were being watched.

It was unusual because after the whole ordeal with Rose, you were paranoid of being watched to begin with but this was a different feeling. Someone was in your mind.

You were about look out of the mirror of your car to see if anyone was behind you when you felt your phone ringing in your pocket.

You pulled it out and answered and as you turned into the road leading to your apartment complex.

"Hello?"

"Y/n?" You let out a sigh and grip the steering wheel. "Hi mom."

"Why haven't you called me? It's been three days since I've spoken to you."

"I know, mom. I-"

"Have you been drinking?"

You looked down at the bag of liquor sitting in your passenger seat. "No," You answered carefully. "Of course not."

"Bullshit. You forget you lived with me as a teenager and I know your drinking voice."

You drove up into your parking spot and stopped the car. "I know, mom. I know."

"Then why are you lying to me?"

"C-can we please just get off the subject?!" You whispered harshly and grabbed your bag of liquor off the seat.

"Sure, sorry. I just worry about you, you know?" You could hear the tiredness and hurt in her voice.

"I know mama. I'm sorry," You whispered softly and walked up the stairs to the second floor. "It's okay sweetie. How was your day?"

You put the key in the lock to your apartment door. "It was alright. I went grocery shopping today."

"How was that?"

"Good." You opened the door. "I got some really cool looking-" You seen a woman sitting on your sofa and let out a scream.

"Well, hi there!" You dropped your bag of groceries on the floor, picking your head up to look in your living room.

"Y/n?! Is everything okay?" You debated on saying something but Rose made a silent tutting gesture with her hand.

"I-i'll have to call you back," You mumbled into the phone. "And if I don't, know that I love you."

"What?" Your mother screamed. "Y/n, don't hang you up on me! Y/n! Y/n-" You hung up and shoved your phone in your pocket.

"I-i remember you. You're the-" Rose smiled viciously and stood up from her spot on the sofa. "The pretty lady in the hat? Such a fitting name for me, isn't it?"

You nodded nervously, eliciting a giggle from Rose. She was by far the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen but mixed in with that beauty was her insanity. Just by looking in her eyes could tell this woman was an utter psychopath.

"No need to be scared of me, sweetie." She kicked the bags of groceries aside and moved closer to you, pinning you against the wall. "I told you you'd see me one day."

"What if I made up my mind?" She grinned and caressed your cheek. "Why on earth would you want to do that, huh? Still such a bright and clever girl, so so pretty too."

You lowered your head, refusing to look at Rose. "What do you want?" She picked your head up with her fingers and held it high. "I want to take you on a trip. Don't you want to meet my friends? I remember you did when you were little." She placed a kiss against your cheek.

You pushed her away and Rose looked on at you slightly taken aback. "No, I don't. What I want is for you to get the hell out of my apartment."

Rose shoved you against the wall and caressed your cheek. "My, such a temper. You know, I don't care for being talked back to."

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut, feeling so small and trapped. "Please let me go."

"Aww, no sweetie. No, I won't. You already got away from me once and it won't happen again." She kissed your neck, nipping at your cartilage afterwards. Her bright, murderous eyes you remembered all too well shone when she pulled away and you felt the hair on your arms stand straight up. "Still such a special little thing, aren't you?"

You gasped and tried to run from her but Rose was quick, wrapping her arms tightly around your waist. "Only a little pinch."

"No! No! Please!" You begged, hearing her uncap the needle. "I'll see you later, sweetheart."

"No! No-" The needle of the syringe pricked the sensitive skin on your neck and as Rose pushed down on the plunger flunge you felt yourself going limper. After a few seconds your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you dropped to the floor.

"That's it," She cooed and scooped you up in her arms. "Hope you're ready for our little road trip." She carried you out to her trailer and you were never seen by anyone who knew you again.

Part 2

A few hours later you kicked and screamed as Rose carried you out of the RV. "No! No! No!" You begged and flopped against her. "Please..please! I won't tell! I swear."

"Honey, it's not personal and I know you wouldn't but it's just not a practical option." She dropped you on the ground roughly and the other's began to tie you up.

As you stared up at the sky in distress, you pictured Violet's little face in your head and felt your anxiety rise.

Tears started streaming down your cheek and Rose stood infront of you. A part of her that still felt attached to you hurt to see you in pain but she needed to eat. The whole family did.

She raised the knife above her head, balancing it inbetween the tips of her fingers before resting it at her side. "Are you going to hurt me? Like you did to Violet?" Your inside burns and you felt like you wanted to throw up.

"Yes." You let out a pained scream as she rubbed the blade against your cheek. "Pain purifies steam, fear too. So now you understand."

"No!" You sobbed as you watched Rose raise the knife above her head. "No, Rose..please.." You continued to beg until she plunged the knife deep into your calf.

You shrieked and a large cloud of steam came floating out of your mouth. You felt weaker as the steam came out but the worse was sense of humiliation you felt. Like you had been violated or stolen from.

"Oh damn!" Rose rasped in an almost sexual tone. "Even at your age, you taste so good. Like flowers and liquor."

She clamped her hands around your throat and you winced, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt your steam poured out of your mouth more. You choked on your own sobs and dug your hands into the dirt.

Rose's eyes softened a little bit, her glowing blue orbs staring into yours. "So much fear for most of your life, huh?"

You didn't respond to her and Rose roughly tugged on your hair. "Answer me!"

"Yes!" You barely managed to scream out the word and let out a pitiful whimper. "W-why?"

"Why what?" She spat, keeping her firm grip on you.

"Why me? You could of had Violet, any other girl that was born around the time I was. Why me?" You didn't meet her eye. "I-i didn't want this! I didn't ask for any of this. I just-"

"Just what?" Rose asked softly.

"I just want to be normal! I don't want to special anymore. I just want to be loved. I just want it all to stop!" You hitched a sob and Rose released the grip on your neck.

She stood up and paced back and forth, trying to get her head back in the game.

"Rosie, you okay?" Crow stood up to her level. "Yeah, I'm okay..I just..you know what, it can wait til later."

"You're sure?" He asked.

"Yeah." She ran her thumb over your cheek as if to give you some comfort and raised the knife above her head. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting to feel pain radiating through your body but nothing happened.

Why couldn't she hurt you? Rose, who considered herself to be quite numb to the feelings of others but highly intuned with her own needs didn't know. Even after everything you seen and how long it had been since she seen you there was something about you, some steamy element that made her feel attached to you like a magnet.

"I-i can't do it.." Rose stabbed the knife into the dirt beside you and put her hands over her face.

"Why not?" Crow asked, trying his hardest to keep his infrequent temper at bay. The rest of The Knot looked visibly displeased and hungry which set your anxiety even higher than it was.

"I-I feel something for her." Rose's eyes brimmed with insanity and you tried to squirm away her despite the pain radiating through your left leg and the restrains on your wrist.

"What? Rose we don't feel things for a Steamhead. If you keep it alive it's dangerous. It will-"

"I know!" She tightened her grip on your wrist. "She's special though and like I did many years ago, I want her." She let out a maniacal laugh that made Crow's shoulders stiffen. "I fucking want her." She stared deep into your eyes.

"I just want to go home!" You sobbed, fat tears running down your cheeks. "Shh.." Rose wiped your tears away with the back of her thumbs, staining your skin crimson with your own blood. "It's okay."

"No, it's not! Please just let me go home," You begged. "You know I can't do that. Can you all start untying her, please?"

The others nodded and quickly did as she asked. "Then what are we going to do with her?" You heard the Crow ask.

"I have a different plan for this one because she's special. Fitting how everything comes around, right sweetheart?" She gestured to the little scar on her hand.

You gritted your teeth in pain and spit in her face. "Fuck you." You raised your good leg up in the air and connected your heeled boot to her pretty face.

"Oh, you little bitch!" Rose screamed and raised her hand at you, swiftly smacking you across the face before falling back. It was loud enough for the sound to radiate for a good distance and you winced it the stinging sensation on your face.

Rose was distracted by the pain and others seemed to paying you no attention at all. You seen your chance to make your get away and made a run for it as soon as you got the chancs.

The dirt beneath you kicked up into the air as your shoes collided roughly into the ground. Your blood sputtered out on impact and the further the distance you walked, the limp increase.

Your chest felt tight and everything burned but your fight or flight instincts were on high and you were ready to take on everything or anyone.

As you began to slow your running pace you could vaguely hear the sound of bare feet crunching against the leaves behind you.

"Y/n!" You struggled to straggle forward as the light limp in your leg grew worse. "Where are you, honeydoll?"

You found the nearest tree close by and grabbed onto it, flinging yourself behind it. "I know you're around here somewhere."

The crunching of the leaves stopped momentarily and you could feel eyes burning in your direction. "You know if you're going to run from me then mine as well you try and cover your tracks. I see your blood."

"Shit." You darted out from behind the tree and tripped over a cut down stump from a tree that previously grew there.

You pulled your already injured leg up to your chest and slid backwards against the dirt each step Rose took closer to you.

"Y/n-"

"Don't! Just get away!"

"Y/n-"

"No!"

You squirmed back forward and Rose got frustrated, roughly taking your wrist in her hands. She knelt down to your level and your eyes interlocked with her stormy grey ones.

"If I was going to hurt you, I would of done it by now." You nodded nervously. Rose ran a finger across your cheek. "Poor darling, you're so cold and bloodied." She grabbed you enough your arms and lifted you up. "Come on."

"W-where are you taking me?" She grunted as she placed your arm around her shoulders. "To my trailer. I have a first aid kit in there. I should be able to fix you up there."

"Okay." You nodded lazily, starting to feel the blood loss getting to you. You fought for your eyes to stay open and keep moving.

"Just a little longer, Y/n." Rose winced and helped you up the stairs to her trailer. Once you got inside she set down on her. "There we go, lay back."

You willing complied and rested your head against one of the many pillows Rose collected over the years.

"This is going to sting, okay?" She warned. You nodded and gripped onto her blankets as she put the hydrogen peroxide over your cut.

You hissed in pain and bit down on your lip. "Fuck." Rose laughed throatily. "I told you it was going to sting. Maybe if you didn't run from me none of this would of happened."

"Well maybe if you weren't trying to kill me I wouldn't of ran!" You spat defensively. Rose glared and began to wrap up your leg.

"..I told you I was going to let you be." Your eyes went wide. "After you stabbed me! Rose, I just want to go home."

"I can't do that sweetheart." As she finished wrapping up your leg she helped you sit up on the bed. "Then what are you going to do with me?"

"Option A: You go outside and I let whichever member of my family that is standing closest by drop you off somewhere and let you wander around bloddied in the woods because I will strip you of your bandages and I can't promise it will be painless death or, you stay here with me."

You looked away with uncertainty in your eyes. "You don't have to be turned yet if you don't want to but you will want it eventually, I reassure you." She grinned.

"I could never be like you." Rose rolled her eyes. "Oh please, you rubes know nothing on what it's like to be us. To live like the kings and queens of humanity and the pleasures in the aftermath of taking steam and the chaos that ensued afterwards."

"Killing people makes you horny?" She laughed. "More amorous then anything, my sweet." She got her knees and leaned forward to kiss your lips. "I can give you a comparison on the steam part, if you'd like."

You shoved her away. "No, I don't want you to touch me like that. Ever." For a reason Rose couldn't fathom, she had to push away some pain caused by your words.

"It's not going to be a terrible existence, Y/n." She took your hand in hers. "You kill people, Rose! I seen you kill someone."

"Violet? Oh yes, we actually just finished her steam a few days ago. It made me think of you."

"And you tried to kill me! I can't trust you as far as I can throw you!"

"You learned to like being around me as a little girl. I can't why you can't learn to again." You glared at Rose. "Because I thought you were my friend."

"I still am, aren't I?" Rose was met with silence. "Y/n, for fucks sake would you just say something?"

"I-" You broke down in tears and Rose felt a pang of guilt blooming inside her. She pulled you close to her and ran her fingers through your hair.

"You took everything from me!" You sobbed into her. "I know. Either way we were going to have you though so you should of just gave in. Some of it is my fault though." Your tears soaked her chest.

"I feel so broken..and so confused! I just want to be loved but I don't know how to even love me anymore!"

"I know and we'll fix that. Come on, don't cry." You sniffled and tried to wipe some of your tears away but they just kept flowing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You kept saying over and over again. "Shhh..it's okay. Nothing to be sorry about."

"You scared me when you killed Violet. You scared me!" Rose wiped your face off with her sleeve. "I know but it's all out of survival and I won't hurt you like that ever again, I promise."

You nodded and wiped some of the tears away, just trying to calm yourself down a little bit. "So what do you say?"

"I'll stay." Rose grinned and placed a kiss against your cheek. "Good." She pulled you down on her bed and wrapped her arms around your waist. "You're freezing. I know ways of warming you up, you know."

You let out a laugh which brought Rose some relief. "Maybe when in a few days when I'm back to normal."

"Whatever you're comfortable with." She ran her fingers through your hair. "Get some rest, please?"

"You won't leave me?" You asked softly. "I won't. I promise." You let out a peaceful sigh and nuzzled closely to Rose's chest.

She drew small circles on your back with her fingers and sent you waves of relaxation. "Sleep." You eyes fluttered shut and soon you succumbed to a peaceful slumber.

Rose stayed up for a while, searching through your mind and taking in all the information about you she missed from the years you spent apart.

"So much anger and fear." She whispered softly. "Bouncing back and from place to place and surpressing who you really are. Oh yes, you're going to be a clingy little thing for a while but I don't mind."

You shifted in your sleep and Rose tightened her grip around you. "Relax, you're home now."

"Home," You mumbled softly in your sleep and Rose smiled softly. Sne placed her hat down behind her on the bed as if it was a prized crown and spooned you. "Yes, home. Just exactly where you're supposed to be."

[deliciousparadiserebel]

Free Dating free Messaging Meet new People! meet new people!

Online dating sites have revolutionized the world of relationships. If you've ever been curious about the world of online dating, you may have come across the term "Twitch." But what is Twitch, and how does it work? נערות ליווי בהרצליהShowing that you want to experience certain things together doesn't just help alert someone to the fact that they may be right for you, it sends signals that deter people who aren't. The Denver Dating Company is an all-inclusive service that helps you meet positive, personable individuals who are interested in developing real, tangible relationships who live, work, and socialize near you. When using Topface, you’ll see that you can meet with those who you want. I'm not sure either of us can remember. Relationships and dating Orlando can be hard especially if you’re no longer in the going out scene. Consequently, the other person doesn’t have to go through tracts of meandering text to find out if you’re what they’re looking for in a partner. Be honest about what kind of partner you’re looking for, and what preferences you’d like him/her to embody. Happy, because they're just like me! I like everything they do!

One misstep -- whether you smell like smoke because you had a quick cigarette to calm your nerves, or you accidentally spill ketchup down your shirt -- and you might not get another chance. No one is out of my league! There is no other script with such a wide range of functionality and such good UX/UI out of the box. Humidity is not good for horn bows and the humidity could affect the adhesives that held the layers of material together. To that end, he extracted the parsing code from his software, and released it as a library I could include in Yarns’s code, called Parse-This.21 As described earlier, parsing was the most laborious part of building Yarns, so this was a good way to avoid us overlapping work on the same task. This digital library was born out of a need to make resources about Black music history as comprehensive and accessible as possible. Building what one needs, and then sharing knowledge and resources that result from that endeavour, demonstrates a commitment to benevolence.

Then maybe "the popular type" is right for you. Which is right? Both. More relieved than proud right now. Or, maybe you're a super shy and quiet person who wants to date someone that can help you feel more confident. I can make a few exceptions. She’s only used a few characters, yet we already know she’s traveled extensively and has a pretty varied heritage. We interviewed a few singles across North America who have used matchmakers. This kind of person is considered a perfect 10 who has brains, charisma and an outgoing personality. What kind of guy do you really attract? When she’s not writing she loves hanging out with her cat, reading outdoors and scrolling the depths of TikTok. Hicks, Chris. "The Dog Days of Summer Bring Out Movies That Are Dogs." Deseret News. Only the kids, but we keep meaning to go out. Keep the swearing to yourself on a first date, just as a matter of politeness and decorum.

Absolutely not, except that one thing. We're like slightly frayed versions of the same thing. Maybe this type of partner makes you feel like you're on cloud nine, or maybe they challenge you more than a difficult game of Sudoku. How about 11 or more people? I'm the same but they got even more beautiful! Got a crush on that cute neighbor but don't know his or her name? Many things, but we got stronger. K39 is chemically identical to K40; the only way we can distinguish between them is to use a nonchemical technique like mass spectrometry. The less you fight back, the less power you can give them over you, the better,” she says. He says people who say phrases like this are trying to say "being on here does not mean that I have deficits as a person". Four days, but it felt like a year. We wont show your exact location, but you will be able to find people nearby who like the same things you do. Would you rather date someone who is funny or intelligent?

[bearfeat42]

What about papa iii falling in love with a sister of sin? The sister sees him chasing the other sisters and be a huge flirt but is shy towards you. You don't know why but it makes you feel excluded and suspicious. U then confront him - which is rare for someone to do to a papa and ask him what the hell his problem is. he has a crush and doesn't know how to admit it. The literal leader of a church that worships Satan is shy and doesn't know how 2 express his love & how she's his muse. Just fluff!

Sister Laylasat in the sister’s common room, pulling the threads of yarn loose from themessy heap.

‘Fuck.’ Shecursed, trying to roll the dark blue yarn into a new ball. ‘What a mess.’

‘Knitting,sister?’ Sister Haley stood before her. Layla nodded.

‘A sweater.Sister Mercy asked me to make her one, since she admired my peysa so.’

‘Your what?’

‘My peysa.’Layla said. ‘It’s a traditional Icelandic-’ she fell silent when she looked upto her sister, and saw her holding a white rose.

‘Have you gotyourself a suitor, Sister Haley?’ She smiled. Haley gave her half a smile back,letting a fingertip go over a sharp thorn. She sat down next to Layla with asigh.

‘It’s fromPapa.’ She said. Layla’s smile disappeared.

‘Oh?’ sheanswered, as casually as possible. ‘That’s sweet of him.’

‘Not exactly.I mean, it would be if it were just a white rose, but he has been giving out alot of roses lately.’ She rolled her eyes and looked at Layla. ‘He fuckedsister An the other day. She told me it starts with a rose. It is to let youknow you got his attention.’

Layla’s handsheld still for a while. ‘So you got his attention?’ her voice was soft.

‘Apparently.And so does Sister Carla. And Sister Zenith. And Brother Vincent.’ She lookedat Layla, sideways. ‘He’s kind of a slut, isn’t he?’

Layla grinned,but said nothing back. Her blue yarn was tangled again.

‘It is apretty rose, though.’ She said after a while.

During mass, shewatched Papa Emeritus III speak with passion and call upon Satan, preachingdisobedience and self-love. He moved around the chapel, passing the Clergy inthe benches. She saw how he winked at Haley, but the sister only gave him ahalf smile back. Layla appreciated her not answering to his advances. When itwas time to receive the communion, they got in line. She heard how Papa greetedevery member of the Clergy by name, said a Hell Satan with them, and placed thecommunion on their tongue. It could be anything, really, since it was just asymbol of their devotion.

‘Chocolatechip cookies!’ Haley, who stood in front of her, turned and whispered.

‘Dear SisterHaley.’ They heard Emeritus’ voice when it was her turn. ‘Looking exquisitetoday, my dear.’

‘Thank you,Papa.’

‘Hell Satan!’

‘Hell Satan.’Haley received the cookie and turned back to her seat. When Layla finally cameface to face with Papa, she felt something sting behind her eyes. Papa greetedher and she realized she wasn’t breathing.

‘Hello,Sister Layla.’ He said. Layla looked to her hands. Papa’s voice sounded softwhen he spoke to her, and all the breeziness and flirtation he used on Haleywere gone.

‘Papa.’ Thesound barely passed her lips.

‘Hell Satan.’

She looked upat him, opening her mouth. She was glad he looked at her tongue when he placedthe cookie between her teeth, but in the last second before she returned to herseat, they locked eyes, and Layla felt it in her entire body. Before he couldsee her flushed face, she hurried away. Only when she sat down again sheremembered that she didn’t say the Hell Satan.

The yarn keptgetting tangled in her lap. She tried to keep up with moving the balls of woolalong with her twisting them for the pattern, but it was such a hassle to keepthat up. It was a classic peysa, with three shades of blue and a white zigzagover the shoulders. She should be asleep, she knew that, but if she worked foranother couple of hours she could finish the sweater before dawn. Sister Mercywould be so proud of her. A small sound disturbed her routine. She looked upfrom her knitting, letting her eyes glide through her chambers. She was unsurewhat it was exactly that she had heard, and she dug through her mind to try toremember the sound. Slowly, she started knitting again. Then, with haste, shepulled her blanket back and jumped up from her bed. She hurried through herroom and yanked open the door, which she now realized had been knocked on. Afigure down the hall turned. Layla held her breath.

‘Papa?’

‘Layla.’ Hesaid softly. He turned and walked back to her door. ‘I’m sorry, sister, did Iwake you?’

Struck by hispresence, she shook her head. ‘Why are you here?’ She whispered.

‘Today, inchurch…’ he stepped closer to her. ‘You looked upset.’ His voice got lower ashe got closer. ‘I wanted to know if it was because of me.’

Layla lookedat her naked feet and realized she was wearing nothing but her night gown. Butshe didn’t care. She was upset. Shestepped back, so he could enter. Still not looking at him, she closed the door.

‘I heard youhad sex with Sister An.’

‘Did she saythat?’ His voice sounded stern, but calm.

‘Is it…’Layla balled her fists in the fabric of her gown. ‘Is it because I told you Iwas celibate?’

‘Sister,please…’ She felt Papa’s fingers under her chin. He tried to make her look athim, but it hurt. It hurt to look at him now.

‘I’m sorry… Icouldn’t give you that… but I thought…’ she stammered.

‘Layla,please listen to me.’ He sounded fragile now, and she finally looked up to seethe concern and softness in his eyes. A solemn tear rolled down her cheek.

‘I did notsleep with Sister An.’

Layla nodded,but she wasn’t sure she believed him. He was so close to her now. She wanted tohold him tight, like she used to, but everything was different now.

‘You flirtwith Haley. And Zenith. And Vincent.’ Her lip quivered. Papa’s eyes grew withshame.

‘I am sorry,Layla. I did not mean to hurt you. I hate to see you like this, I am so sorry.’He placed his gloved hand against her cheek to wipe the tears away, but theykept coming, and Layla was not content with that answer.

‘Then why doyou do it?’ she sobbed. ‘You said… you said that I was…’

‘I meant whatI said, Layla!’ He placed his other hand to her cheek now too, trying to findher eyes, but the sister couldn’t look at him. ‘You are the only one.’ Hewhispered. ‘The roses, the flirting… I just did that because I couldn’t copewith your rejection.’

Angry, Laylapushed his hands away. ‘I did notreject you!’ She hissed. ‘I only told you I didn’t want to have sex. A-a…andyou left me.’

She feltPapa’s hands again, but she recoiled. ‘You left me because you only wanted mybody!’

‘That is nottrue!’ Papa said, loud now. ‘I have never lusted after you. I fell for you. Ifell for you so hard, Layla. I can’t think clearly because you are on my mindall the time. Do you think I want Haley? Or Zenith or Vincent? Or An?’ He reached for her hand, but shepulled it away.

‘I am sorry Ihurt you.’ He said again. ‘But I thought…’ his voice broke. Slowly, Laylalooked up, to see him sit down in her chair. He looked defeated, his head inhis hand. Tears were rolling down his face now too. ‘I thought you didn’t wantme. I thought you found me too dirty.’

Layla rubbedher face. ‘I never thought that of you.’ she sighed.

‘I love you.’Papa said. He looked tired. Heartbroken. ‘No one else. I don’t care aboutanyone else. No one.’

Sister Laylabelieved him. She felt it was true. She berated herself internally for beingnaïve, which she could be, but she believed him. She stepped closer to him,taking his hand. She couldn’t even begin to tell him how she felt about him.How she admired him, how honored she was to be chosen by him, and how hurt tobe made to feel as if she was just one of many.

‘I neverslept with anyone after I met you.’ He started. ‘I know you don’t believethat-’

‘I believeit.’ She whispered. She caressed his hand with both her thumbs.

‘Then I makeyou this promise: I’ll wait for you. I will wait until your vow of celibacy hasended, until the time is ready for us. I’ll wait until marriage if that is whatyou want.’

Layla playedwith his fingers. Her throat hurt from the sadness that was still there, butshe believed him. She believed him. He wrapped his arm around her as she satdown in his lap.

‘What if Inever want it?’ she said softly.

Papa’s whiteand green eye were wet and shining in her dim room. He gently stroked her side.‘I won’t ask anything from you that you don’t want to do.’ He rested his headon her shoulder, and she wove her fingers into his hair. They sat there for awhile, and Papa gently rocked them back and forth.

‘Will yousleep with me?’ Layla said. ‘Sleep next to me, I mean. I want to feel yourwarmth again.’

‘Yes.’ He answered,wholeheartedly.

Layla took herknitting work off the bed as Emeritus took off his shoes and socks. He strippeddown to his underwear and the t-shirt he wore underneath his robes. She gotcomfortable under her sheets and he looked at her.

‘What is it?’she said. She held the blanket up for him.

‘I’m nervous.’He said. Layla raised her eyebrows, and smiled a little.

‘To sleepnext to me?’ she said. Papa nodded.

‘I want to doit right. You make me nervous.’ He kneeled next to her and leaned on his sideas she attempted to tuck him in. Before laying down completely, he took herhand. He breathed a little more heavily as he pressed it to his chest. Shecould feel his rapid heartbeat.

‘See?’ Hewhispered. ‘Nerves.’

‘Lay down.’Layla said. She moved the blanket over him and pressed a sweet kiss to hisforehead. Then she took his hand and held it to her own chest. ‘Nerves.’ Shesaid. He turned to his side, so they were facing each other. As they slowlywarmed up to each other, a faint smile appeared on Papa’s painted lips. She sawthe bliss in his eyes, and she believed him.

[someraesofsun]

Hey I feel bad if you're getting hate, I honestly wanted to send a writing thing but I was like eh you don't wanna hear from me. But anyways what if like there were these two artists. One did photography and the other was a painter and they argued about which was better and eventually they find out they like each other because the photographer has secret pictures of the painter painting and the painter has painted the other while they were working. Hope that's decent.

Hey I made this Giles because you literally cannot stop me. Also sorry this took ten years. 

Title: In the Eyes of the Beholder

Pairing: Geoff/Miles

Word count: 3,874

Rating: E, some cursing 

There was always one person in your circle of friends that you just could not bring yourself to like. One person at least that you kept at an arm’s distance for their personality alone. For Miles, that person was Geoff. Among his found collective of artists, he met a variety of different creators that he would have never even known existed if not for the wonders of the internet. There was Kerry, a sculptor. Mariel did murals and graffiti art. Then of course there was Lindsay, a knitter, Michael, a cake maker with the most beautiful designs. Mica danced and Matt was a digital artist, Barbara designed clothes and Kyle wrote. All of them made such amazing, creative, inspiring things that in their own special way, affected Miles’ own photography work in positive ways.

Then there was fucking Geoff.

The first time Miles met said ‘fucking Geoff’ was at their first face-to-face meeting after weeks of talking with one another on a local forum started by Mariel to reach out to new fellow artists. Her original intention was to meet street artists, specifically. But instead, she was pleasantly surprised at the diversity of talent she brought together. Not a single one of them had the same talent. Everyone was so varied in what they not only considered art, but how they expressed that interpretation. It began a lot of discussions, it unified a group that would otherwise not talk to one another. Miles was proud to be a part of it.

Miles never liked Geoff much in internet form. He was a painter, and one that hardly took his own skill seriously, so why would he bother thinking much about anyone else’s? Well, that wasn’t exactly true… he was always quick to compliment Mica’s videos, Lindsay’s new knitting projects, Kerry’s realistic looking busts. But he never had anything to comment on with Miles’ pictures. What was the deal with that!? Miles wasn’t usually the type to take offense to ‘ghosting’ on the internet. But serious, what the hell!?

He got his answers at their first meeting. The coffee shop. The first time he ever laid eyes on Geoff’s stupid face which had probably the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, but that was beside the point. Those eyes belonged to a horrible, ignorant man. A fraud of an artist. An absolute dick.

They all dragged a couple high tables together to accommodate for their large party. Some people he immediately recognized, like Mica, who showed her face in her dance videos. Some people he had no idea on. Was that the elusive Kerry, elusive sculptor extraordinaire who turned scrap metal into one of the most haunting modern pieces of the decade? Was he sitting next to Matt, who knew his way around a muted fall color palette like nobody’s business? Everyone recognized Mariel, she posed with all her work in her pictures of it. Everyone mumbled out introductions amongst themselves. The man next to Miles turned out to be Michael, not Matt. He gave Miles a shoulder shove and spoke in a loud, matter-of-fact voice.

Miles was interested in the man with the blue eyes and the tattoos all over his arms. He sat across from Miles and kept glancing back at him. Each time he looked over, Miles felt his heart pound. Something about those eyes, he’d love to get a few pictures of the man. Maybe a number, a dinner date that ends at someone’s place, a marriage proposal and-

“Alright guys! Looks like everyone’s here! Time for the formal introductions.” Mariel stood from her seat and turned to her left, motioning to a blonde woman with a smile. Yeah, Miles wouldn’t mind a date with her, either! What’s her name? “We’ll start with you.”

“I’m Barbara, hi. I’m Blawndee on the forum. I see some of you are even wearing my designs today, so that’s really neat.” Barb! Wow, Miles had no idea Barb was hot. Why didn’t he wear anything she made for him today? Stupid move! He definitely blew all his chances with Barb the second he didn’t wear one of her shirts. Oh well, there was always tattoo man…

Next to Barb was Lindsay, also really cute. Miles was smart enough to wear a Lindsay-made scarf. Then came Kyle, cute. Matt, cute. Mica, who was really cute and laughed at the end of a lot of her sentences nervously which only made her more cute. He’d met Michael already and that left…

Oh, he was next. Oh. Social anxiety was suddenly haunting him. He stood from his seat, looking on at all his friends. Talented, wonderful friends who were also all far too attractive for his liking. “Um. Hello! I’m Miles, lunatic24 on the forum. And I’m the photographer!” He held up the camera looped around his neck for effect. Across the table, he heard a snort.

A snort!?

Nobody else got a snort!

Miles looked towards the direction of the snort, as did the rest of the group. All eyes laid on the tattooed man fidgeting in his seat. He did move around a lot, and cover his mouth with his paint covered hands to hide his smiles. As cute as the gestures were, Miles was no longer seeing a future with him. “Um, hi! Who are you?”

“Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to… ha! Sorry.” He looked erratic with how much he shifted in his seat. “Just… photography.”

“What about it?” Miles said defensively, the rest of the group went silent.

“No, no. It's just that… well come on, I can't be the only one here that thinks it's such a bullshit art.” Geoff looked around the table to very blank faces.

“You probably are, asshole. What the hell do you do? Who the fuck are you?” Miles glared, well, if he thought he was getting a date and marriage proposal, the tattooed dickwad sure had another think coming!

“Geoff. A guy who actually makes shit instead of capturing it.” Geoff rolled his eyes. “Don't take it so personally. It's not like you do much anyway.”

“Geoff-” Mariel was about to intervene, until Miles cut her off.

“Says the guy who probably hasn't picked up a camera in his entire life, but sure, go on.”

“Miles-” Mariel’s irritation grew with the interruption. Still the two continued to bicker.

“Oh buddy, I was a journalist in the army and took pictures of shit that would keep you up at night if you saw it in person. I can take pictures. It took me a week to learn how to do it decently? Not art.”

“If you learned properly, how could you possibly not consider it art!? The rule of thirds, the color theories and shit, it takes time to line up and get the perfect shot-”

“Bah! It's nothing! Taking a picture is easy! You press a button and there it is for you-”

“-A perfect shot which may never even-”

“-Have you ever even tried to paint a tree? No! You haven't! You just point a lens at one and-”

“-You truly know nothing if you're gonna compare two completely different-”

“-You take a stupid picture and you call it avant garde while I spend weeks-”

“-two complete different forms! Both of which are valid and-”

“GUYS!” Mariel's voice boomed through the cafe, her first slammed on the table, causing everyone's cups to slosh around and clatter. Silence once again. “I… I think we've had enough debate time for today. Before everyone even got to introduce themselves. So how about we just let it the fuck go. Yeah?”

That was the first time they met. They had since debated even more of whether or not Miles was a true artist. Something about the camera just put Geoff off. He was happily willing to accept knitting and writing as forms of expression, but he refused to ever see photography as anything other than taking pretty pictures of stuff that hardly matters on its own. Unread of his pretentious opinion that all Miles did was document. He didn't contribute to the beauty. He didn't create anything from what wound up on his film roll. It was all happily provided to him by nature and the grace of god and all he had to do was take the snapshot of it. Geoff, he argued, was a creator. He took the paints and the canvas and he transformed it. Barbara took yards upon yards of fabric and made it into something wearable. Lindsay knew how to tie yarn together in such a way that she made practical items. But Miles? He didn't even make the film. He was a spectator. He was a hobbyist. He was never an artist.

Every trip out, Miles was reminded this. Days out to the park were met with Geoff behind his easel, painting a stupid still life of a stupid flower while spouting off his stupid opinions. His way of capturing the beauty of the flower was far superior, far more crafted than Miles’ way. Art gallery trips were met with his distaste that they even had a photography section, as he went on and on about the value of real, fundamental art. It was always the fundamentals with him. Every pompous statement he had was met with gav rise of anger from Miles. Deep down, Miles knew that was exactly why he said all those things. To get a rise out of him. And yet here Miles was, giving him exactly what he wanted each and every time. From the red in his cheeks to the bite in his responses. All Geoff did when he got this way was smile. It was infuriating every single time!

Miles wanted to prove him wrong. He wanted to take his camera and create a photograph so perfect, it was like a painting on its own. All he needed was a subject, and the perfect lighting, manufactured by him of course, and the right mood. An unedited shot that showed beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was not only an artist, but a talented one at that. He talked in great detail about his mission among more polite company. He'd grown close with Barbara and Lindsay, in particular. They knew all about his struggles with the tattooed painter. All they had to say about it was just how concerned they were getting for the man's health.

“I'm concerned for your health,” Lindsay said over lunch one day with Barb. “You worry too much about what one guy thinks about your artform. So what he's got something against photography? He's an ass.”

“You do tend to obsess over everything he says. I don't think taking a really nice picture is going to sway him.” Barbara glanced at Lindsay with a frown to match her own. “It's… stupid to dwell on him.”

Miles narrowed his eyes at the two. “You think I'm obsessed with him? Oh no, this isn't obsession. Don't you see? This is drive. He wants an artist, I'll give him an artist.”

“He never said he wanted an artist out of you. He just said that you weren't one.” Lindsay pointed out.

“Well he's wrong, because I am. And I'm going to show it.” Miles said through gritted teeth. He looked too crazed for the comfort of the blonde and the redhead.

“Um... So. You've heard this sort of thing before, I'm sure. We all have. You're not a real artist. This isn't a real job. This is a hobby.” Barbara paused, choosing her next words carefully. “Why is it… different when he says it?”

“Well he's one of us! He shouldn't even be thinking like that! It's a betrayal to the arts, it's-”

“His own stupid, useless opinion.” Lindsay interrupted, eating a forkful of pasta. “Miles, he's literally doing this for a reaction. You're an idiot.”

Despite his inability to counter statement, Miles continued his pursuit of upstaging Geoff. For days he searched for that perfect picture. Rolls of film all used up as he furiously took pictures of everything and anything he could find. Nothing was just right enough, though. He struggled to find that perfect snapshot into life that would blow Geoff's mind.

It was bumming him out!

It wasn’t until one day, when the group all came out to help Mariel with a street Mural, that Miles finally found the perfect shot.

It was a sweltering hot day, the blank canvas came in the form of a brick wall in Central Austin. The only person who looked like the wanted to be there (and oddly, the only person who wasn’t a sweating mess) was Mariel, but it was good experience to see just how the artist made all her amazing designs reality. Everyone helped in painting in an already sketched out design. Mariel drew it out like an elaborate paint-by-numbers project, each individual sketched out spot was given a specific number for which places to shade and where what color went. Miles put himself in charge of the easiest looking parts, the light blue sky. Minimal change in colors. And he got to draw in the birds.

By 3 o’clock, everyone was exhausted from the heat, splayed out on the grass of a nearby park and taking advantage of the shady trees. All but one, Miles realized. For across the street, at the big brick wall with a half-done mural, was an tattooed man in cargo shorts, covered in paint, still taking a smaller brush to the wildflowers that lined the bottom corner of the mural. Miles watched him for the longest time, he sat up and after hastily wiping his hands on his own shirt, he pulled out his camera and snapped a picture of what he saw.

There was something compelling about what he captured. Geoff, all alone and still painting. The incompleteness of the mural. How the paints faded to red brick in unfinished places. When it was edited and printed, Miles couldn’t stop looking at the finished project. It told a nice story of commitment to work or something of the like, or maybe it just looked nice. Miles couldn’t decide what he liked about it, but it had to be one of his favorite shots.

Thus began a very strange fixation with taking pictures of Geoff when he went out with the artist group.

He carried his camera around his neck everywhere he went, still on the quest for more and more perfect shots. He couldn’t dare to use any pictures of Geoff to one-up Geoff, oh no, that was his pride on the line. But Geoff was quickly becoming his favorite subject. A night in playing cards with the artist group turned into a portrait Miles took from across the room of Geoff peeking up from behind his cards, a glint in his eye seconds before he laid down a flush. At coffee shops with him leaning against the wall, tall latte in hand, talking with Michael about something or the other. Snapshots of him in mid laugh so full of life, you could hear his trademark laughter if you looked at the photo long enough. By the end of five weeks, Miles had pictures of nothing but one pretentious painter and his beautiful, intricate tattoos. Geoff had no idea just how well-documented he was by Miles.

Also in those five weeks, Geoff was… less cruel. He wasn’t exactly nice, but he no longer tried to get under Miles’ skin. Miles didn’t understand it, nothing had changed much. Except that he talked less to the Geoff and the group overall. He was invested in his own project, finding that shot. Getting it on camera. Show Geoff how wrong he was about photography. One barbeque dinner on a gloomy day at Lindsay’s, Miles felt the gaze of someone while he was on laying on his stomach, taking a picture of a cat that had wandered into the woman’s yard. He turned and looked up, catching Geoff staring at him from the porch. For the longest time, the both of them were still, then Miles smiled, getting up and pointing his camera up at Geoff. He snapped a picture. It was all it took to snap Geoff out of his gaze.

“Argh! Don’t do that!” He broke eye contact with Miles, rolling his eyes. “I.. was supposed to check up on the ribs. Everyone went back inside, isn’t it cold out for you?”

“Kinda. But look. Kitty!” Miles let his camera hang off of him while he bent down and picked up the gray tabby cat. “He’s really fat, isn’t he? He’s collared though.” The cat mewed, as if offended that Miles would point out his figure.

Geoff looked briefly conflicted before he sat down at the abandoned table and chairs. “You ever thought about just… leaving that damn camera at home for once?”

“Nope.” Miles carried the cat over to Geoff and sat down next to him. He scratched behind the tabby’s ears, which was responded with a low purr. “Taking pictures is what I do! And this cutie was too cute to ignore, he’s so photogenic.”

“He looks pissed off.” Geoff replied flatly.

“That’s because you’re here.”

Miles dodged an arm swat with a laugh, and for a second, they might have at least appeared friends for a second. Geoff had a look in his eyes that Miles couldn’t place the meaning of. “You know, now that I think about it, taking pictures is about all you do. What’s up with that?”

“Well, uh,” Miles shrugged, faltering. “I guess I just see a lot of beauty in a lot of things. I wanna capture as much as I can, knowing that it’s not going to last forever. That’s why I like it so much. It’s quick. Painting takes time, you might miss a detail or something might slip by you. But a photo is, well, I guess you’re kind of right. It’s easy. You can capture an exact moment and it’s going to stay alive with you forever. The hard part is making sure you catch those moments before they get away. Kind of like catching butterflies in a net or something. You only have so many chances.”

Geoff didn’t say anything for a while, looking at Miles and taking all of what he said in. “That was beautifully put.” He looked away, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs. His hands fiddled about and he stared straight ahead. “When I was in the army, the stuff I saw through a lens was rarely pretty.”

“I can imagine reporting for the army wasn’t all… wildflowers and cats.” Miles swung mindlessly swung his feet before setting the cat back on the ground and removing his camera from his neck. He handed it over to Geoff. “Here. Try it now. There’s plenty of pretty right here if you look for it.”

Geoff looked at the camera skeptically, but took it and held it up to his face. He glanced around the yard for a few seconds, zeroing in on a stray dandelion in the grass. The camera clicked and he looked at the preview screen.

“Huh. Not bad.” He mumbled, tilting the camera towards Miles. “Wanna see?”

Miles looked at the picture and nodded. “Good. Yeah. A little out of focus… but good!”

“Oh shut up, Luna.” Geoff laughed and pulled the camera away. “What other shit you got on here?” He opened up the gallery, scrolling through all the different pictures. Miles was suddenly on high alert. He definitely had an old SD card in there.

“Oh, you don’t want to see any of my-”

“What the fuck is this?”

Geoff was stopped on a picture of none other than himself. Mid-laugh and taken today at the barbeque. He scrolled through and saw even more pictures of himself. All taken at different events and get-togethers. “...Holy shit dude, are you stalking me?”

“No! No, no! Not really! Fuck, shit! That’s what it looks like but no!” Several bells were going off in Miles’ head. He panicked and struggled to think of an explanation. “I just take pictures of things I like looking at, and you’re very… aesthetically pleasing. The tattoos and the eyes and… hair. Messy hair. I like it, I like taking pictures of… it.”

“My… hair.”

“No! Not just your hair! All of it, you, all of you. I just like your… look. That’s all. And you always seem to be the subject of some of my best work, so I developed this weird… fixation. Or something.”

“I’d call it obsession, but tomato, to-mah-to.” Geoff only seemed slightly phased. He shrugged and handed the camera back to Miles. “Well… thanks. I’m flattered, a little freaked out, but also flattered. I guess I can’t even fucking talk…”

“What do you mean?” Miles asked, confused.

Geoff sighed and pulled out his phone. “This isn’t some artsy bullshit picture, but I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of it anyway.” He opened up his gallery and scrolled through it, flashes of progress photos of unfinished work flew by until he stopped, tapping on what looked like a complete painting on an easel. He handed the phone over to Miles.

It was a portrait. A smiling man with eyes half-closed and a wrinkled flannel, holding a camera. It was Miles. “...You painted me?”

“I paint things I like looking at. You take picture of things you like looking at. There. Now we’re even.” Geoff mumbled. “Now I won’t immediately go to Kerry and Kyle and tell them that you’re my own personal paparazzi, if you make sure Michael never fucking knows about this painting. He thinks we’re going to hook up or something, teasing me relentlessly over it.”

Miles barely heard anything Geoff said, he was stuck looking at the picture of a wonderfully done painting. He captured his likeness perfectly, all while still flattering him. He smiled. “I like it. I love it, it’s amazing! I won’t tell anyone about it, yeah... “

“Great. thanks.” Geoff rubbed the back of his neck, red blush blooming on his cheeks. “...You take good pictures. Really good. I haven’t seen something with my face on it look so nice before. I guess you got some kind of talent in you kid.”

“You… you mean that?” Miles grinned and began to feel bashful. “Well, I mean, I spend so much time on angles and candids like that are pretty complicated, I’m still new to the idea and-”

“Put your number in my phone.”

“What.”

Geoff laughed, elbowing Miles in the rib. “You heard me! Put your number in my phone, i’ll call you up for dinner sometime. You can tell me all about angles then. For now, I should really check up on the chicken. It’s probably all burnt and shit because you distracted me with your stupid cat photoshoot.”

“I… okay. Yeah. Number in phone, you handle the chicken. Yep.” Miles closed out of the gallery, putting his number into Geoff’s phone with a small smirk. He looked up while Geoff tended to the food on the barbeque. “It’s a date. Don’t tell Lindsay I said that. It’s a date.”

“Sure. it’s a date.”

The chicken was very much burned.