WHERE'S MY ARC?

#ASSOCIATES. TBA.

¹ CODE OF HONOR. ² CRIMINAL RECORD. ³ SCREENPLAYS. ⁴ MIXTAPE.

"I SHOULD BE IN THERE," Christopher says, stationed by the door to Satriale's shivering and dragging hard from a cigarette. "Instead, I'm lurkin' outside in the cold like an abandoned dog. I bust my ass, man, and I've been bustin' my ass for nearly a decade, and I'm still nothing but a fuckin' driver to Ton'. A little fuckin' errand boy or some shit." From where he's standing against the wall, he eyes Mark, who's sitting at the table in a plastic chair and ashing a cigarette into an ashtray. Christopher pushes off of the wall and plops down into the chair adjacent to Mark's, the mismatched wrought iron chair creaking with the sudden weight.

"I'M OUT OF MY FUCKIN' HEAD." Christopher's gawking, mouth agape, at the woman — August — and the woman's words: I can commune with spirits. Spirits? Fuckin' ghosts and shit? No way. No fuckin' way. She's the ones out of her head, out of her fuckin' mind for thinking she can commune with spirits, whatever the hell that means. "No, you're the one who's out of their fuckin' head, or you're fucking with me. You can't fuckin' ... commune with spirits and ghosts and shit. That shit only happens in the movies. It's not real."

CHRISTOPHER RECLINES IN THE BOOTH, sipping Coca-Cola from a cup and biting the plastic straw, hands greasy from two slices of pizza. "What'd I say: Best pizza in North Jersey, yeah? The coke's all sharp too, you know, real fresh. Most soda fountains are all fuckin' flat. The McDonalds down the street? Fuckin' awful, man, soda's flat as fuck." Christopher stops gnawing on the mangled plastic. "Anyway, you free to play at Crazy Horse on Friday?" He wipes pizza grease from his mouth with the back of his wrist and glances at Gabe, the titular frontman of one of Adriana's favorite bands: Gabe Abbot & The Belle Isle Boys. A bit conceited to name the band after yourself, Chris "I'd only want to be an actor if I could play myself" Moltisanti thinks, but Gabe Abbot & The Belle Isle Boys is better than Visiting Day, and Gabe Abbot's better than Richie Santini — at least Gabe's got some fuckin' talent.

bold what always applies, italicize what applies sometimes. please repost,    don’t reblog !

SUMMER.     cold drinks after a long day,     hiking in the woods just outside the city,     swimming in a lake,     spontaneous picnics,     the warmth of the sun making you drowsy,     the buzz of insects flying by,     blooming wildflowers,     the scent of bark and leaves,     snapping twigs in half,     a blade of grass between your teeth,     light sunburn on the tip of your nose,     barking dogs,     rosy cheeks,     children laughing in the distance,     sunflowers reaching for the sun,     fresh ice tea,     resting your head on someone’s lap,     warm yellow,     the sound of waves crashing.

AUTUMN.   cool breezes that feel just right,     piles of leaves,     rust red,     oversized sweaters,     knitted blankets,     pumpkin spice,     the scent of freshly baked goods,     open windows letting the fresh air in,     cold cheeks and hands,     rain boots ,     carving pumpkins,     soft scarves,     a comforting embrace from an old friend,     the scent right before a storm,     wild mushrooms,      ripening berries,     a cup of hot tea,     purring cats,     blueberry muffins,     braided hair,     wearing your partner’s shirts,      an alarm pulling you from slumber,     burning candles.

WINTER.  the crackling of a fireplace,     hot chocolate with marshmallows,     the smell of fresh cookies,     fuzzy socks,     beanies pulled over your ears,     a strong pot of coffee,     dark clouds gathering on the horizon,     the sound of wind shaking the house,     melting ice,     snowflakes in your hair,     melancholy afternoons,     curling up with a book while the world stands still,     cough drops on the nightstand,     excitedly giving gifts,     long coats with deep pockets,     pale blues,     flour on the tip of your nose,     warm soup,     stubble turning into a beard,     the scent of leather.

SPRING.     the smell after it rains,     waking to the sound of birds singing,     the crack of thunder,     soft pinks,     energy drinks or protein shakes,     the scent of fabric softener,     tidying up,     the sweet taste of fresh fruit,     competitive spark in eyes,     sand beneath your feet,     sweat on your brow,     catching your breath after running,     light green,     frosted cupcakes,     electricity in the air,     forbidden kisses,     the sharp hunger after a work out,     daring romances,     high ponytails,     unexpected storms,     picking flowers,     running barefoot in the grass,     iced coffee.