i saw a pattern and i just went with it

“one of these days you’ll finally get used to making breakfast for one.”

ok I saw this and i just couldn’t stop myself lmao pls my probably pining boi needs some love

also !!! I went for a new format on this one instead of the old pattern and i like it !!!!

art by @velocesmells !!!!

r-nd  asked:

Hello. I've been tracking your tumblr for a while now and finally got around to following you. If I may take a crack at Tony being Villains’ Favorite? Heads up, though: As a noob, I’m not sure how to do breaks in asks, or how to do italics, so bear with all the capitalizations please. I’m an italics-abuser. Also, there's going to be SO MANY messages coming your way. (1/?)

Consider this: For a guy who talked to (with?) Loki for a few hours MAX, Tony figured out his plan pretty quickly. Maybe it was part of Loki’s plan for Tony to figure him out and stop the invasion, but what if instead Tony’s just that good at reading people? Enter villains with all their broken-ness. (2/?)

The first is Doom, mostly because the bastard sent over a couple of drones when Tony first came out as Iron Man. So of course he has to go to Latveria personally to investigate. It’d be rude not to. And Jarvis, resigned to it all, just compiles a shit-ton of research on Doom because if Mr. Stark simply HAS to go to Latveria, perhaps Mr. Stark should look into the country’s laws, customs, and her psycho king. (3/?)

But instead of taking the hint, Tony SEES something in those footages. So he builds a quick little thing and then goes to Latveria. Doom, understandably, almost has him arrested for trying to invade his country, and since Tony had flown using the Iron Man armor, he considers taking the armor and studying it. Copying it. Whatever. But then Tony gives him a gift. (4/?)

It looks like some sort of obsidian statue of a cat, but then the statue MOVES. It’s a ROBOT. With an A.I. because why not? Besides, everyone needs their very own Jarvis, right? Right.(The truth is, though, that Tony noticed in Jarvis’s compilation that Doom really, REALLY doesn’t like people in his space, and he HATES people touching him. But more than that, he kind of reminded Tony of a weird cross between a soldier and a cornered animal, so Tony got him someone to help. (5/?)

It’d be all kinds of fucked up not to, no? But, like, a robot, not a human someone, because he didn’t forget that Doom didn’t like people in his space.) (6/?)

And Doom wasn’t about to let himself be bribed, he wasn’t, but then the cat jumps to the ground and looks up at him with glowing green eyes and asks him what her name is. IN LATVERIAN. And she’s just outside his personal bubble, sitting close, but not too close, and Doom, he just. He can’t understand. Why would Stark give him anything after he sent drones to steal whatever intel they could about his armor? Why would Stark give him what he very much suspects is an honest-to-God A.I.? (7/?)

Tony offers to take it back when Doom interrogates him (without torture, he’s gone soft, has let himself be bribed, damn it), but Doom just flat-out uses his magic to basically kick Stark out of his country. Whether or not she’s a product of insanity or stupidity or both, Vesna is HIS. Take-backs aren’t allowed. (8/?)

The rest of the world wonders what the fuck happened in Latveria that’s made her patriarch so much more stable than he’s ever been, but no one really tries to look into it. Doom isn’t making trouble for once, and they’re all for not looking a gift horse in the mouth. (9/9)

Well in that case, welcome to the craziness! I’m glad you chose to stick around, especially with all the asks you just sent me!! (Don’t let my complaining and terrible response time fool you, I love getting asks)

I’m not sure if you want me to expand on your headcanon or just wanted to share it, but can I just say I ADORE this idea that Tony was just sitting in his workshop, studying Doom’s behavioural patterns etc (possibly for a half-serious fight preparation, possibly to keep JARVIS from nagging), saw that Doom was lonely and was just like- hey, I can do something about that, then went ahead and did it. Just because he could. (”So why wouldn’t I?” he asks Rhodey, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.)

Also yes, Doom clearly has gone soft. (He doesn’t offer Tony something to drink though, so that’s something, he’ll tell himself later.)

Just out of curiosity, since you started this with the words “The first is Doom”, do you have any headcanons for other villains?

( week 12 : 3/19 - 3/25 )

coming back from spring break isn’t easy - there’s loads to pick up after relaxing for a week! doctors appointments litter this entire week, & my sleep pattern just went haywire after i got an implant in my arm on that monday, plus getting on anti-depressants for the first time. this week was themed after the astounding greenery i saw on my travels during spring break. you could tell i love succulents, but all plants are good plants!



So I’ve made my own crochet sweater pattern for the first time! It’s gonna be a silver and black Venom pullover based on the one featured in @hannahblumenreich‘s wonderful comic, which you can read here: http://hannahblumenreich.tumblr.com/post/140880595913/aunt-may-does-right-by-her-nephew

After I read it, I HAD to looked at pretty much all of her spiderman art, so I REALLY recommend you at least look at the comics on her blog, they’re ALL good. (now that my nose is good and brown, let me talk about something else) After I saw the sweater in the comic, I realized that I NEEDED that sweater, but I couldn’t find one like it ANYWHERE!! So I just went “fuck it, I need that, I’m making one.”

For those that crochet, I made a chain of 45, skipped the last stitch, and single stitched until I reached the end again. Then, I did a 1:1 pattern of front-back double crochets for three rows. I switched to single stitch for the rest, and I’m basically going to do this for the entire sweater. Once that’s done, I’ll slip stich the sides and tops together and do the same 1:1 pattern of front-back doubles around the collar. I hope that was coherent. This pattern is pretty much free for anyone to use, just tell me if you make this, I’d love to see what other people make!!! (I’d also love it if you checked out @hannahblumenreich seriously I’m pretty sure she’s one of the few people I know of that loves Spiderman more than me) Also this is taking like six balls of THE SOFTEST yarn i’ve ever felt, I highly recommend Lion Brand super bulky, IT’S SO SOFT THIS IS GONNA BE THE BEST SWEATER!!!

BBMAs Votes-Info for ARMY

So I did a little math for the amount of votes Justin can possibly earn for the Top Social Award. This is all, pure speculation since I can’t find the data of the votes he got in 2016.

So I’ve seen on Twitter that Beliebers (can and plan to)make 10 accounts and use 1 for normal voting, and the other 9 they draft a 100 tweets containing their vote for Justin to be mass released during the last hours of voting. That’s 900 votes saved for the last minute.

So let’s say 1000 Bielbers are in this last minute vote.

  • 900(1000)=900,000 votes. Not much will come out of that, so I started to increase the number of fans that was in on this plan.
  • 900(10,000)=9,000,000 votes
  • 900(100,000)= 90,000,000 votes.
  • 900(1,000,000)=900,000,000 votes. See, that they only need 1,000,000 fans in on that plan to completely overwhelm the number of BTS votes. Frankly, I don’t see that as a possibility, but anything can happen. Keep in mind, that Bieber has about 93 million twitter followers, and if they were all to vote once, it’ll equal 93million votes.

I kept going with my math using the 90,000,000 votes.

So I’ve seen that Justin’s votes grow about 200k every 5hrs.(This is the pattern I observed for a few days, so I just went this number) I’ve set the condition to when I last saw his votes which were at 13.6 million at the time I worked this all out. Going with my set condition at the rate Justin’s vote increase by, he roughly gets 1,040,000 million votes in a day. There are 14 voting days left, so in those remaining days he gets about 14,560,000 million votes (give or take).

  • Add that to the set condition:13,000,000 + 14,560,000=28,160,000 votes.

So by May 21, Justin will have about at least 28,160,000 votes.

  • If we factor in the 90,000,000 million last minute votes then we can see that: 90,000,000 + 28,160,000=118,160,000 votes.
  • So Justin can have about 28,160,000 ~ 118,160,000 by May 21st, give or take.

This is not to say to go easy on the voting, this means to go harder, b/c the threat of 900,000,000 votes is still there (even though I doubt this will happen)

I hope anyone finds this helpful if they wanted to gauge how much Justin can win by. This is all very broad estimations so, please take this information lightly. Feel free to ask questions if you don’t understand how I got these numbers.

Playground Memory

At the elementary school I went to, there was a piece of equipment in the playground that was a set of three of four metal poles (it’s been a while since I saw them so I don’t quite remember) and there were thick plastic disks at the bottoms. The poles would spin (but only a certain amount) and you could stand on the poles and just sorta turn. I remember turning from pole to pole in an infinity-type pattern and I would do that for over 10 minutes, just spin-pacing and talking about a friend about a special interest (at that time is was genetics). I never thought I stimmed as a little kid until I remembered this!

Addicted to something? It’s alright. Look at me. I’m fine. Happy. Haven’t touched drugs in years. Clean air is my vice, my high is healthy living.

They told me these things over and over and over
Words like a broken record as if the constant repetition would make it more clear
Let go of the pills
You’ll be fine without them
As I struggled to be heard over their voices
Explain how I let go
Went not just cold, but freezing
Open palms dropping compacted cures to the floor

Those palms became clammy
Hands shaking even as everything else remained perfectly still
Except for the walls
Have you ever seen a pattern dance in front of you
A personal interactive exhibit only your brain experiences
As the world tilts back and forth like it’s on a see saw
But no one else is swaying
In fact their only movement is a brief arch of the neck
To get a better view of the way your feet inch back and forth to hold you upright

Withdrawal symptoms

But weren’t the side effects supposed to stop when the cap on the pill bottle closed
New prescription for a different colored medication in hand
The writing so fresh it smears when you try to read doctor’s orders

Everything is better now
Drugs can be terrifying
A nightmare never to wake up from
But they can be good
Reaching into synapses and tweaking things
Rearranging until dopamine is in perfect equilibrium

So in a way they are right
Those who boast of healthy living
Freedom from pharmaceutical prison
But they do not understand
The little green pill
Grass as a powder oval
Wouldn’t let go until it was forced to
But the less little white pill
Shiny and round
Allows me to live free of fear and instability
Drug free can be good
But there’s nothing wrong with the orders on the paper my neurologist gave me

Addition to the Family

Request: can you you do #75 with Hercules and a female reader? :3
#75: “Guess who’s going to be a father?”
Warnings: Pregnancy
Word count: 342
A/N: So cute to write- 10/10 would expand into a verse

You left the doctor’s office with wet eyes, unable to believe that you’d been right. You and Hercules we’re going to have a baby!

Eliza drove you home, gushing about "baby Mulligan” as she dubbed them. “I can’t wait!”

You laughed. “Don’t worry, Eliza. You, Angelica, and Peggy will be her aunts-”

“I feel old,” Eliza interrupted mournfully.

You spent the afternoon debating how to tell Hercules. The two of you had been discussing the possibility of starting a family- you just hadn’t realised it would be so soon.

By the time Hercules’ key turned in the lock, you still had no clue how you were to tell him. Instead, you sat watching some show about spies on the history channel.

You turned on the couch to kiss Hercules when he made his way into the living room. “Long day?” You asked.

He nodded. “Some people are never satisfied.”

You poked his stomach. “Would you be satisfied if I ordered pizza tonight?”

Grinning, he leaned in to kiss you. “You bet-”

“Ah-ah,” you pushed him away, “no kisses until I’ve ordered pizza!”

He grumbled, but let you get on with it. When you set the phone down, he was trading patterns on your stomach.

“I went to the doctor’s today,” you told him. Easier if you just said it outright, you figured.

Hercules sat up, instantly concerned. “Are you alright?”

“They said I have something to tell you?”

He frowned, but after a moment you saw a hopeful idea dawn on him. Snuggling closer, you guided his hand to rest on your stomach. “Guess who’s going to be a father?”

"Me?” He smiled at you, his hand gentle on your abdomen.

You nodded and he got up, pulling you to your feet too. “Y/N, that’s brilliant!” He laughed, picking you up and spinning you.

When he set you down again, it was in his lap. “I can’t wait for our child.”

The doorbell went and you sighed. “I can’t wait either. But we could have some pizza to pass the time?”

What they don't tell you about the dead.

I don’t want to sound mean, but the dead are pretty clueless. I’ve always seen them. When I was younger everyone thought I was just talking to imaginary friends. After a couple years, when I overheard my parents talk about calling a psychologist, I realised what I was talking to. See, ghosts don’t tend to realise they’re dead, and they don’t look like in the movies, they look just like us.

I’m pretty smart for a 13 year old, so I started noticing certain patterns to tell them apart from the living. They could be a bit distant from living people, or you’d see them try to talk to people who wouldn’t even notice them. Some of them could tell I was different, that I noticed them. Like this guy I saw after school yesterday. I’m a big boy now, see, I don’t need my parents to pick me up, home is just a short walk away. He was standing away from the other parents, didn’t talk to them, just stared at me, that’s how I knew he was one of the ghosts. I went over, told him I knew what he was and asked how I could help him. I don’t remember much after that, I think because of what happened this morning.

Downstairs, my parents were crying. I tried talking to them but they ignored me. They must have died last night somehow, sometimes the new ghosts wouldn’t talk to me. Some police officers and reporters just arrived, they won’t talk to me either, just my parents. It’s weird, I’ve never seen so many ghosts together before. Why won’t anyone talk to me?

Cheaters never win. - Pan x reader

Request/Description: Could you do an imagine where you caught pan cheat on you so you run away from him and when he finds you he please you to forgive him but you don’t but when you see that he is wreck you forgive him;)

Warnings: crying mostly, and a bit of awkward Pan

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Journal 9

So I did a thing??
I dont know what to call it but I was trying to fall asleep and I kinda just zoned out(I didnt fall asleep I was awake) and felt myself transfer into a place into my mind Ive never been to. I saw (felt???) a door in front of me. It was a pattern that looked like birch wood, I opened the door and went into this room that felt like it had black walls. I subconciously felt myself put protective barriers around it because immediantly I was like “this has got to be my room its in my mind I have to at least keep this area away from negativity”. Suddenly I felt my body itch and I started freaking out and I felt myself running around the room and I turned to see a door but it was a dark brown with a gold knob. I hoped that it would get me out of here and it took me back to where I was before and I opened my eyes, and sat up and didnt feel like I was moving until a few seconds after I sat up.

Edit: I tried to do it again (probably a dumb idea but hey i do dumb things) and right as i got back in that state i was in and walking around in my mind or whatever im doing im itching everywhere. Also im yawning a lot but im not tired and am now very confused but i dont have a reason to be.
Pulling Weeds

Warning: Content could be frightening for some.

There were two things in the world that my mother always did: she got her nails done and she pulled weeds. These actions seem contradictory, and they are, but my mother was always a little odd.

She liked getting her nails done in pretty shapes and designs, flowers or hearts or weird geometry. She was passionate about them.

But I wouldn’t use that word to describe her weed-pulling. I would say it was more frantic than passionate, and later more routine than frantic. And even stranger, she would only pull the ones on my grandfather’s grave. 

They would sprout spontaneously fast, but I never saw it happen. They had little flimsy stems, and on top were five blades of what looked like grass. At the ends they were colored beige, the coloration only about have an inch long.

I had always thought they were pretty, but my mother yanked them out of the ground before I could get a closer look. 

She had obviously just pulled some from Grandpa’s grave when she arrived at my house almost two weeks ago. There was a bit of dirt on her fingertips before she washed them. 

We had a nice chat. I showed her some pictures I took of the local park and she showed me her fascinating new nail design, a jig-saw puzzle pattern. 

We had lunch and she decided it was time to head back home. I hugged her and waved goodbye as she got in her car and drove away.

I got the call the next morning. My mother was believed to have been involved in an accident, and I was needed to identify her body. 

I went to the hospital and confirmed that yes, it was my mother. It seemed so impossible. I had seen her just hours before. 

Yesterday was her funeral, an open casket. She would have loved it. The gathering was beautiful, even if I was too sad to care 

I had let out a bitter sob when I saw that her jig-saw nail design had been touched up, looking immaculate. 

I cried the whole way home. This morning I woke up and came back. She was buried beside my grandfather. 

I looked away for just a moment, to gather my sanity and calm myself down. As soon as I looked back, I saw it. Another one of those damned weeds was swaying in the light breeze, as if to mock both my mother and me.

I crouched down to examine the biggest piece of my mother that I had at my disposal.

But the ends were different. Instead of the usual beige, they were patterned. I caught my breath as I recognized the carefully drawn jig-saws.

I looked around at the rest of the graveyard in horror.

I started pulling weeds.


Since you guys liked the outfit so much I thought I would put it on my SDCC Cerise Wolf so you could see what it’s supposed to look like on a finished doll. I really need to get that custom Cerise Wolf doll done, I’ve been picking at her for over a year, I just really hate doing re-roots.

I left the SDCC accessories on rather than putting on the hand painted boots simply because they match her arm bracers better. You get the general idea though.

I think I’m going to order new hair for my custom doll I saw some cookies & cream gradient hair on Etsy that might spice up her re-rooting, I think I went too white on the hair I bought. Maybe during winter break I’ll have time to finally finish her.

I still need a cloak for this outfit though, I’m either going to make a pattern or buy on from Etsy.

Drugs: The Outsiders imagine

It was like everything was a blur. I was in some kind of ablise. I knew it was wrong but it got the better of me.

“Here.” The guy offered as he gave me small colored pills. I looked over at them, one was just white the other was a bright blue and another was red.

“I dunno man?” I asked as I started to stand up but the earth seemed to spin the other way. It felt like I was outside my body was everything was a haze around me.

“The high gets better.” He said as I smirked down at him. Foolishly I took the pills drowning them with some liquor.

He was right. The high was better. The music was as if it floating around me. I took a puff of a cigarette letting out the smoke. It swirled around me in almost a patterned like way.

But just how fast the high came it started to fade out. I felt life my heart went on overdrive and was now hammering in my chest. My vision seemed to blur as I tried to focus.

“(Y/n)?!” A deep voice yelled for me but I couldn’t focus on it long enough to know who it came from. The world around quickly went black. 

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ASOIAF AUS: Sansa & Margaery, D.E.B.S. AU.

International diamond thief Margaery Tyrell, a.k.a “Blood Rose,” is one of the world’s most notorious criminal masterminds. Sansa Stark is the crown jewel of the D.E.B.S. elite task force, known as the “North Star” for her unflinching morals and honor in the face of duty. When their paths cross on a chance stakeout encounter, things take an unexpected turn. Is this what it feels like to fall for the enemy?

  Sansa sprinted through the rows of shipping crates with her pistol steady at her hip, rounding the corner only to run headfirst into the infamous mastermind her squad had been chasing down for hours: Margaery Tyrell.
  Sansa ducked swiftly and backed away, adrenaline buzzing in her veins. For a moment they stared at each other, chests heaving – then Sansa grabbed her gun, swinging it out as the other woman did the same.
  “You’re Margaery Tyrell,” she said, heart racing, taking a few sideways steps to gain her balance. Her voice echoed against the concrete walls of the warehouse.
  “And you’re a D.E.B.,” the diamond thief countered, making it sound like an accusation. She didn’t even flinch at the barrel of Sansa’s pistol in her face – although that might have been because her own gun was pointed squarely at Sansa. It was a standoff.
  Sansa licked her lips, casing the situation. Up close, Margaery Tyrell wasn’t half as scary as she’d expected. Strands of long wavy brown hair clung to the thief’s sweaty forehead, the same way her tight black top clung to her body. The face that Sansa had only seen scowling and half-obscured in grainy security camera footage was drawn in concentration, and she was giving Sansa a bold, fierce look like she wasn’t scared at all.
  Sansa, on the other hand, wasn’t alarmed, just – okay, so she was a little shocked to see Margaery Tyrell in the flesh. After all, no one had ever met this woman and lived to tell the tale. Logically Sansa should be scared, but all she could feel was surprise that the most famous diamond thief in the world was so… hot.
  The criminal moved her gun up and down slightly as if sighting along the barrel, but her brown eyes over the black casing raked Sansa’s body with what looked like real interest. Sansa suddenly felt lightheaded, and not with fear. “You should put down your gun,” she said coolly.
  “Only if you do,” the diamond thief retorted, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow.
  Sansa blinked. “Well, seeing as I’m the cop and you’re the criminal, I think you should put down your gun first.”
  “Riiight.” Margaery started to shift her weight onto her right hip, and Sansa flicked off her gun’s safety with a sharp crack. “Don’t even try it. I know that’s your signature move.”
  Margaery went still, the muscles in her abdomen pulsing in and out as she controlled her breathing. Then the corner of her mouth twitched up with wry amusement. “You studied me.”
  “No.” Sansa paused, then sighed. “Yes. I’m writing my thesis on you for my class, Gender Construction and the Criminal Mastermind.”
  The criminal mastermind in question tilted her head quizzically. “That’s a class?”
  “Yes. They teach us a lot at D.E.B.S. Academy, you know.”
  “Oh, more than just how to handle classified firearms and look great in tiny skirts?” Margaery quipped, glancing down at the plaid uniform skirt that barely brushed Sansa’s mid-thigh. Sansa’s mouth fell open slightly. When she looked up at the other woman Margaery’s expression was more suited for a blind date than a stakeout impasse.
  Sansa’s brain was shorting out. “Uh. Um. But it’s difficult to write this paper because there’s only anecdotal evidence. And I’m kind of freaking out because I never expected to see you in person, and because no one has ever actually… seen you.”
  Margaery was smiling wider now. “Except you.”
  “Except me, I guess,” Sansa echoed, something stirring in her chest.
  Margaery cleared her throat, voice rich with something new. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
  Sansa stashed her gun under her arm, embarrassed that she hadn’t introduced herself sooner. “Oh! I’m Sansa Stark, D.E.B.S. Sector One.”
  “It’s… really nice to meet you,” Margaery said slowly, switching her pistol to her left hand to accept Sansa’s handshake. Her skin’s really soft, Sansa thought, momentarily forgetting everything else.
  Suddenly the sounds of loud footsteps and voices echoed through the warehouse. “Sansa!” came Daenerys’ voice. Sansa cocked her gun again. “You should really put down your gun,” she advised the woman in front of her, “if you want to get out of here alive.”
  “Oh, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Margaery said lightly.
  “Sansa!” Dany yelled again. “I’m right here!” Sansa turned to shout, not taking her eyes off the diamond thief—but then she blinked, and Margaery was gone. Damn it, how did she do that? A few seconds later, Sansa’s squad appeared at a full sprint. "Sansa, what happened out there?” Missandei demanded, striding up to her.
  Sansa’s arms shook as she lowered her gun. “I… just saw Margaery Tyrell.”
  Dany’s eyes went wide. “Sansa, do you know what this means? You’re the only person to ever see Margaery Tyrell… and live.”
  “I guess so,” Sansa said, feeling dizzy. As her squad bundled her off to record exit patterns and call into HQ, Sansa couldn’t stop thinking about it. So she didn’t kill me… Does that mean that she likes me? Or did I just get very, very lucky?


Okay so this is a thing I mentioned when I went and saw the movie for the first time, but I just want to note something about the makeup difference between Nux and Furiosa and the other warboys.

The warboys are mostly painted (powdered?) in this white stuff, which presumably works as some kid of sun block, as well giving them a more skeletal appearance. Each warboy has a different preferred pattern of darker markings, again evoking skeletal imagery. What this also does is to make them appear less human and therefore cause the audience to sympathize with them less.

Now, Furiosa does not wear the white paint. Her skin color is clearly visible, and when when we first see her, she’s not even wearing the grease on her forehead. She looks far more human than the warboys, and that, in addition to making her stand out, makes her easier to sympathize with. Even the fact that we see her APPLYING the grease makes her seem more relatable, because she does not suddenly become the skeletal creature that the warboys are from the very beginning, and so her applying the grease does not evoke a connection, necessarily, with the warboys’ warpaint.

Now Nux IS wearing the warpaint when we first see him. But his is less of the solid blocks of black and white than the others and is more subtle. In fact, as the movie goes on and Nux is “redeemed” and brought over to Furiosa’s side, his paint wears off more and more, leaving him with only traces around his nose and eyes and with his scars, to remind us of where he came from but to signal his transformation from just another warboy into more of a person.

I’m not a very social person but sometimes if I see a person I know on the street, I wave or smile - if I’m feeling polite. There are two, no, three particular times that I always remember.

A few years back, I was around 16, I was on my way to the supermarket alone to grab some stuff for dinner. When I looked across the street, I saw my Mom’s friend, Joe, on his way home. He always waved and called out when he saw me or my sister, but this time he didn’t. He was looking at mt though, so I smiled and waved, and continued on my way as he waved back.

I mentioned seeing to my mom the week after. She stopped whatever she was doing, looked at me and told me he’d died from a heart attack almost two months prior.

Not long after that, at around 18, I was once again on my way to the supermarket. On the same street, but a different block, I saw a boy I had gone to elementary school with. He had recently gotten close with my sister and cousin, so I was seeing him more often than I had ever since leaving primary. He had on a gray sweatshirt, with the hood pulled up, which wasn’t weird, it was early autumn. Again, I smiled, and waved. He nodded back at me with a small smile. We kept going in opposite directions.

I told my sister, as she hadn’t mentioned him in a while. She told me I hadn’t. I argued, telling how sociable and polite I was. She told he’d been shot at the end of the summer and showed me his facebook memorial page. I wanted to ask what he was wearing, but figured she wouldn’t know.

The most recent time, around a year or so ago, I was on my way to school and saw my neighbor sitting in his window as he often did. Our families are distantly related by marriage, so I refer to his grandkids as my cousins, their parents, my aunt and uncle. He waved at me as I passed. I waved back.

At the end of the week, I went to the store and saw a few of my cousins, dressed in suits. I complimented them and asked what the occasion was. He told me his grandfather had died at the beginning of the week, they had just come from the funeral. I asked what happened, mentioning seeing him in the middle of the week. 

He said his grandfather had a stroke the week before and had been hospitalized since then.