August 2020

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Aug. 7th, 2020


[info]patchworked

Mars M

[Locked]

If you're here. I'm sorry.

Aug. 22nd, 2018


[info]meangirl

public, hannah s, griffin a

[PUBLIC]
Why is this town the actual worst?


[Hannah S]
You probably want to hang out now and braid ribbons into each others hair. I'd counter offer with a suicide pact. We'll ultimately meet in the middle where we end up in some public setting and you buy me a milkshake. So, tomorrow?


[Griffin A]
Hey, zomebie boy.

Apr. 16th, 2018


[info]nishka

Log: Nish & Griffin

Who: Nishka Griffin
What: Long day was long.
Where: Pizza Parlor
When: Dinnertime

...with mushrooms, green and black olives, bacon, hot peppers and extra sauce... )

Mar. 27th, 2018


[info]meangirl

griffin a, public

[Griffin]
Are you out? Where are you?



[Public]
Is becoming a man always an extremely violent experience or was I just lucky?

Mar. 8th, 2018


[info]patchworked

public.

book recs?

Mar. 6th, 2018


[info]patchworked

Log: Griffin & Mars

Who: Griffin & Mars
What: Breakfast
Where: Apartment above the pizza parlor
When: Now
Warnings/Rating: Likely none

New town. New apartment. New sights and sounds and smells. Something to get used to until it all changed again, but she said that this time it might be different. Maybe they'd stick around for a while. Information had brought them there, and perhaps information would keep them there long enough for a stop to turn into a home.

It wasn't that he longed for a home, no. That was a foreign concept that held no real emotion for him. But there was a part of him that enjoyed routine, a world without having to readjust every five seconds to account for some change in the atmosphere. It would be nice to get used to things, for the scenery to be familiar.

But one thing that was familiar was breakfast. He didn't sleep much, hadn't in some time, surviving on a handful of hours here and there and managing to function. So he was up early, earlier than her, the sun not even peeking over the horizon just yet. Cast iron skillet. Eggs. Bacon. Potatoes. Toast. Juice. Routine and familiarity, a full plate and two glasses balanced somehow, a book tucked under his left arm. He was a silent ghost in the apartment as he entered her bedroom. The plate and one glass was sat next to the bed for her when she woke. The other glass was for him, and he sat on the floor beside her bed and began to read by the morning light just starting to peek through the windows.