And you can’t help the smile that raises on your lips, his high pitched laughter absolutely infectious. “Hold still, Jimin!”
“I can’t! It tickles too much!” He whines out, still giggling and thrashing beneath your hands.
“Almost…” You huff out tiredly, fingers weaving through the strands of his hair. “…done.”
With one more sweep of your fingers through his hair and the liquid all soaked up, you swivel his chair around while taking a step back so his azure wings don’t hit you. His honey eyes grow in size as he peers into the luminescent mirror, hand reaching upwards but retracting carefully as to not ruin your hard work.
“You did it!”
“Of course I did.” You snicker playfully. “I’ll miss your orange hair but I think lilac suits you nicely too.”
Jesper struck a match and one, two, three, four, five of the
rockets Wylan had prepared were screaming toward the sky, exploding
in crackling bursts of color. The last was a shimmer of pink.
Strontium chloride, Wylan had told him, working away on his
collection of fireworks and explosives, flash bombs, weevils, and
whatever else was needed. In the dark, it burns red.
Things are always more interesting in the dark, Jesper had
replied. He hadn’t been able to help it. Really, if the merchling was going to offer those kinds of
opportunities, he had a duty to take them.
About a year ago I
got a new neighbor. The day she moved in I have to confess to being a bit
curious. She turned up with two large shopping bags and disappeared into the
house. There was no van turned up full of furniture, no cars full of boxes,
nothing, which struck me as very odd. For a start what was she going to sleep
For the first couple of days she just said hello when she
saw me, which I had no problem with. I like to be on good terms with my
Now I need to point out, I spent a lot of time sitting in my
yard. I smoke, but not in the house and I had a very old dog that needed to go
out to pee about a million times a day. In the summer I loved to garden and
I’ve always been out there more than I’m in. My door is right next to the low
fence that separates the two properties.
The next time I saw her she came scuttling over to the fence
and introduced herself as Margaret, and I told her my name was Debra. She was a
small blob of a woman who looked in serious need of a very long shower. Her
clothes were baggy and nondescript, but she seemed friendly enough. She told me
she hadn’t been happy in her last home as she didn’t know anyone and hadn’t
managed to make any friends.
I told her a few little things about myself, just things
like my name and how long I’d lived there, but I didn’t find her very easy to
talk to. As the conversation dried up she just stood and stared at me. Before
things got awkward I made my excuses and went back into the house.
After that things changed. Gradually over the course of a
week or so I saw her more and more. Her kitchen, which was built on to the back
of the house, overlooked my garden, and every time I went out I could see her
standing staring out the window at me. I’d be out no longer than five minutes
and she’d be there.
Our conversations consisted of her either questioning me
about everything I did, “Where was I going?”, “what was I doing?” and even “what was
I cooking?” or those long weird silences where she just stood and stared at me
while my brain fumbled about trying to make conversation and not be rude. These
conversations always ended up with me making some excuse and coming back
I tried looking busy and gardening. I’d stop for a little
while and have a short chat and then say something like “Well, I’d really
better get on” but she never took the hint. As I weeded and watered she’d still
be there, hanging over the fence staring at me.
Sometimes one of the other neighbors would start chatting as
they walked past. I’ve lived here a long time and I know most of my neighbors
really well. No sooner than we started talking I’d hear this voice from behind
‘Hello Debra, nice day isn’t it?’
Part of me thought that the poor woman didn’t know anyone so
obviously she wanted to meet the neighbors, but part of me wanted her to butt
I even tried lurking just inside my door to have my smoke,
but that didn’t work either. I heard this voice drift across the yard, “Warm
again isn’t it, Debra?”
Now I know I’m probably coming across as unfriendly, but I’m
honestly not. It’s just my yard is my little bit of peace and quiet and I felt
like I had nothing in common with this woman. I didn’t need a new best friend
which is what I felt like she was aiming at.
Next thing I knew she’d gotten herself a little dog exactly
the same breed as mine.
I put some clothes out in bags for the thrift store van, but
before it came to collect she came knocking on my door asking if she could have
them. I mean, what could I say without seeming mean and petty? I told her she
was welcome to them. So now she was walking about dressing like me too.
I noticed a change in her mannerisms. It was like all that
time she spent watching me she’d been taking mental notes. The habit I have of
biting my lip when I’m slightly annoyed. The way I push my hair back out of my
eyes. She seemed to me almost mirroring my behavior. I told myself I needed to
get a grip and I was just being paranoid.
She got her hair cut and dyed the same color as mine. I
tried to see it as a compliment.
I felt in some odd way that she was watching me and learning
how to be a person.
She’d seemed so naive when I first met her, almost
childlike, but she was changing.
The time that really got under my skin was when I left the
house to go shopping, and there she was in the street talking to an old man
that lives a few houses along. His vision isn’t the greatest and he literally
stopped dead and his mouth fell open when he saw me. He’d thought he was
talking to me.
A couple of weeks after that she got a tattoo. Not just any
tattoo though, my tattoo. I have a large tribal one that runs down the left
side of my back. Hers was exactly the same. She was so excited when she showed
me it too. Like it was completely normal. I had no idea how she did it. I could
only think at some point she’d taken a photo of my back when I was lying in the
While she was showing me, I noticed another tattoo on her
other shoulder. It was of a crows head in a raggedy looking circle. Hard to
describe but really nice. It was also oddly familiar. I went back in and
stomped round my house, swearing under my breath about her. It was a couple of
hours later that it clicked in my mind. I’d seen that tattoo before. There was
a bar I went to occasionally a few miles away, and there was a girl there
regularly, with exactly the same tattoo.
That night I decided it was time for some Facebook stalking.
I started off checking out the Facebook for the venue, flicking through it’s
albums, and suddenly there she was. The girl with the crow tattoo. I kept
flicking through seeing if she was tagged in any of them. Suddenly I froze.
In this particular photo the girl with the crow tattoo was
standing smiling. She had pale pink hair shaved up one side. Standing next to
her, with identical hair, in almost exactly the same clothes was Margaret.
I took a screen shot of it and messaged everyone I knew with
a copy. Margaret was freaking me out and I really wanted to talk to someone who
knew her before.
Then a couple of weeks later I got a call. To begin with it
barely registered who I was talking to. I was having a really crappy day. My
little dog had escaped the garden. I’d popped into the house to make a cup of
coffee and when I went back out she was just gone. I’d spent the day scouring
the streets in a blind panic, so when my mobile rang my heart was in my mouth.
My phone number was on her collar and I was hoping so much it was someone
saying they’d found her.
“Hi, is that Debra?” the voice asked.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“My name’s Margaret. I’m the girl with the tattoo, and I
understand you’ve been trying to get a hold of me?”
I was instantly confused. Were they both called Margaret? I
explained about my neighbor and how I thought maybe they knew each other.
“If she’s who I think she is, she used to be my neighbor and
her name’s not Margaret. She stole that from me. I haven’t got time to explain
but I need her address. The police are looking for her.” Her voice shook with
an emotion I didn’t understand.
So I did. I gave her Margaret’s address.
Within ten minutes the street was full of police cars, but
they never found her.
They found my dog, in a bag in the freezer.
They found a wall covered in photos of me, taken through my
windows during the night. There was even one of me getting changed, tattoo on
I guess in a way I was the lucky one though, because when
the real Margaret had called the police about her, not only had they found a
wall covered in photos of her, they’d found her two missing children in the
She still hasn’t been
found, and I’m guessing she didn’t manage to get away with more than a couple
of carrier bags of stuff. So if you should happen to get a new neighbor, a
small nondescript blob of a woman who seems overly keen to be friends I’d
suggest you avoid her. Oh, and as a heads up, she’ll probably tell you her name
wow guys i’m finally posting original content!! who am i and what have i done with the real jessi? who knows honestly.
but yeah i’ve been on break from school all week and i haven’t posted anything in like a month and it’s about time!! this spread has quotes from harry potter, finding neverland (the musical), legally blonde (the musical), poetry, and the motto of my favorite place on earth. so yeah i just felt like surrounding myself with things i love this week!! also i saw newsies in movie theaters last week and it did not disappoint!! there’s another screening on march 4 if you’re in the us and haven’t gotten to see it yet!
Sam: *draws dicks on Bucky's cryo window while Bucky is enjoying his coma holiday* Person: *approaches with a sharpie, ready to do the same* Sam: ...excuse me, but what the fuck??
“I saw you here last week doing the same thing. I thought it was funny!”
“Excuse ME but the only one who’s gonna draw dicks on this asshole’s cryo chamber is me so you better back up.” Sam goes back to drawing on the chamber and mutters quietly to himself, “How disrespectful. Dude probably can’t even draw a dick right.”
i just saw the cutest post about samuel ever omg…. he couldn’t take a picture with a fan or give her an autograph cuz he didn’t have a pen so he went to one of those toy crane machines and WON HER A PLUSHIE frick im emo