you're soft, like the summer rays.

@kiyote / SC

“A whole trolley Jack would be a waste of fuel to transport.”

Pneuma and his host stood staring over plain, clean, unimaginative Car-Trouble equipment. Spare wheel, jump cables, flashlight, jerrycan, wheel-brace.

Neither the MX5 MK-1 nor its minimal contents (owner included) felt right in such a homely garage strewn with American muscle part.

“I need a bottle jack.”

He pointed behind the spare-wheel’s centre cavity. “Small enough to fit here.”

     “got some around here.” mateo rocks back on his boot heels. 

     car-trouble equipment means a jack. jacks come with most cars. no one usually needs to steal one, they’re hard to lose, and better to have than not have. 

·  roses  /  cherry blossoms  /  orchids  /  tulips ·  winter  /  summer  /  autumn  /  spring ·  thunderstorms  /  rain  /  sunshine /  snow ·  indoors /  outdoors ·  meat  /  fruit  /  sweets ·  extravagance  /  traditionalism  /  minimalism ·  cats  /  dogs  /  horses  /  birds · sunrise  /  sunset ·  day time  /  night time · fire /  earth  /  water  /  wind ·  reading  / writing ·  rising early / sleeping late ·  wine  /  ale  /  neither  /  both · fur  /  silk /  satin  /  lace   ·  rubies  /  pearls /  sapphires ·  horseback  /  walking /  carriages ·  love  /  power ·  having company /  being alone ·  lakes  /  rivers  / oceans ·  knife  /  sword  /  bow  /  poison ·  gold  /  silver

@kiyote!!

      coin somehow was talked into babysitting margo while her parents are out, so her first instinct was to take the telepath out to a ice skating rink. now, though— coin’s sitting on the edge of a fountain and margo’s teasing the minnows in it. she doesn’t know what else to do with a thirteen year old, really, that won’t bore her.

          ❝ what else am i going to do with you? ❞

     watching margo behind the lenses of his sunglasses mateo traces idle patterns across his thigh and looks to coin in turn, the blunt edge of his nail catching on the soft denim. somewhat older kids are a wide open world of endless possibility he doesn’t know the half of how to navigate; small children, babies, are an infinitely easier subject. margo sits on the cusp. and, thus, margo tilts towards the i’m-not-really-sure end of things.

send ☄ for one random headcanon.

mateo goes to the nail salon regularly (at least twice a month), and he’s on a comfortable basis with all the staff at the small salon he goes to. his polish choice is usually some shade of red, something like a candy apple or cherry, close to those. he can change it up from time-to-time and get something different tho, and he always lets the artist choose the color then. if he doesn’t get color, he’ll always get a nice clear coat anyway, and he always gets the full thing, hand massage and all. it’s relaxing for him tbh (even if he usually ends up chipping or ruining his polish one way or another, and has to keep it up himself or take it off).

san junipero.

     mateo doesn’t know why he’s leaning here, listening to this, looking at her. there’s an uncomfortable bump in him, his slightly narrowed behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses--because he doesn’t like she mentioned it. he could explain to her why he seemed like a ‘frightened horse,’ or give some half-assed equivalent to an explanation, similar but not quite.

It’s refreshing to visit an establishment that caters to a variety of dietary restrictions. Under normal circumstances, the gesture would be primarily one-sided for the rest of the meeting, but here he doesn’t need to pretend. And speaking of gestures…

“ That’s nice. ”  The lack of familiarity makes it difficult for him to continue the exchange of pleasantries, much less segue to the point of this arrangement.  “ Right, remind me again how much I owe you. ”

     “oh, uh--” right to it, then. he’s not sure what else he expected. mateo looks down to the bartop and takes another sip of his drink. he didn’t pay for those metals, earlier; he was only the contact and courier between seller and purchaser, closer to an errand than actual work. still--

Figures. She’s feeling unfairly treated, for some reason, and it isn’t even him, maybe it’s just life, maybe it’s just her liking to feel sorry for herself. It’s going to be a long night if this is how all of it starts. That’s not his fault but she doesn’t want to think that it’s her own, either, that can’t be right. 

“Okay.” She’ll take what she can get to begin with. Find out some other way to weasel the rest of it out later. She’ll hang onto him like glue, if not for his company then for some of his sense of peace, of calm, of contentment, she’s certain he’s got something she doesn’t. “Let’s wait a few more minutes.”

     “how long is a few?” he stands and reaches into an inner pocket of his jacket, closing his keys tight in a fisted hand as he pulls them out. tight so he won’t lose them, tight for the sake of it, tight so they bite into his palm. another quick glimpse is taken through the window--a group of dark clouds drift across the sun and take up most of what little of it could still be seen. it’ll rain tonight, maybe.

In the back of her mind spins the words like a broken record: then it’s not a love she’s ever known and that makes her sad, if that’s what the feeling is, having her furrow her eyebrows as if trying to solve a puzzle. She feels done with this, with this conversation. It’s starting to feel like a small room decorated all pretty-like with reasons she doesn’t want to face, things that she hates.

Still, when he announces his leave, her head perks up, “Can I come?” She’ll take what she gets, even hanging out with horrible reminders. Throws a look around, the long shadows, the sun will be gone in just a couple of minutes. “Not for dinner, just to pick it up, like, then you eat or whatever and we go out again, yeah?” She’s got nothing going on and it makes her feel hollow.

     “i mean--i got someone to bring it to.” he says, apologetic still, as he reaches up and rubs at the back of his neck. subs tonight, they’d decided; the wait in the shop won’t take all that long once he’s there. despite that, mateo sighs, turns to look out of the window, and stares at the edge of the fast setting sun, just a nail on the horizon.

She tries to spin her head around it but ultimately ends up short; she always imagined what it would be like, seeing her childhood friends and their older siblings and she could never imagine. In her life she saw obligatory presences. Tired eyes barely making dance practice. She shrugs, heavy again, picks at some dry skin on her fingers.

“Whatever. I dunno. I still don’t think it’s anyone’s fuckin’ job. Y’know? Like… you take care of yourself and they fix themselves, somehow, I dunno. If you guys keep being so selfless you’re gonna kill yourselves, I swear.” It might be bitterness talking, it might be a lot of things.  She knows it’s going to get dark soon and she hopes he won’t leave because of it.

     “’s love, eireen. family. it can be selfless. let’s just say that.” he answers, voice carrying a flatter note, quieter, even, than before. it’s defensive; mateo looks back to his hands, his eyebrows furrowed. suddenly he wants to be back at the apartment, with his dog, with his boyfriend, away from what he thinks is judgment he wasn’t asking for at the end of a day that could have gone better. in any case, now, he’s certain eireen doesn’t get it, or she does and it doesn’t matter to her.