Christmas Finger Food Ideas Easy Party Bites

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Christmas Finger Food Ideas Easy Party Bites

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Dressing up as Edwin on Halloween was probably the best thing ever. Not like he brought the costume from Scotland, no, not at all. And he certainly wasn't too enthusiastic over anything concerning Holy Knight. Nope.
He swooshes his coat dramatically before the mirror and, deciding he looks downright awesome, heads out to the Halloween party he was invited to by a fellow fencing club member.
Not all stirs are created through bizarre behavior alone, and some might even consider such a scene rather juvenile... but certainly not in the manner most would think. No, perhaps that person believes a ruckus to be something of an art form, something to be planned out to the smallest of details, or something one ought to treat with the utmost severity.
As though disturbing the general peace should be taken very seriously.
The calming atmosphere of the small bakery was pleasant. Too pleasant, Elliot thought as he yawned and tried to focus his attention back to the book in his hands. An essay was due next week, and the main source of it was supposed to be this particular novel. He actually had to buy it since other students had been quicker at snatching all the copies the university's library had. He vaguely considered giving it away as soon as he was done with this- Elliot hadn't read anything so boring since last year.Â
Surely he could rest a bit? There were only a few chapters left. He didn't catch himself reading the same sentence all over again for a few minutes now. Another enormous yawn, and Elliot decided to rest the book across his face for a bit. It was a bit heavy, but blocked out the gentle light perfectly. Not a few seconds later, he was already asleep.
What do students majoring in filming even do on their free time? Try and actually use a camera first, of course. Not that they didn't learn how to use it as one of the basics in a class, of course. But it seemed as if you were supposed to learn everything else by yourself. That is why, on a Saturday morning, Elliot found himself sitting on a bench in his university's campus, a book in one hand, a camera standing right before him, and a relatively hot cup of tea between his thighs.Â
"I never had this much trouble figuring out my Nikon..." he cusses under his breath a few times, then adjusts the camera again and tries to record something for the first time in his university career. It's just some students passing by, but it's fine for now. He takes a sip out of his cup and mildly watches the movement in the screen.

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He had read about it once, those theories of the soul, of what it could be, of where, of when, and of why.
Just only that once. Words could never feign understanding sufficient enough to pin his errant thoughts into place, and such was the final time he considered the subject. Jack had worked to forever convince himself to live in the present here and now. "Live in the moment." "Carpe diem." Contemplation of a future, one ever just beyond the reach of his hands, brushing against his fingertips before vanishing into the ether once more, failed to appeal to him.
(Some dusty, distant shoreline of his mind's ocean draws itself back, laying bare those fragments of something worn smooth with time, with age, with merciless battering against the rocks, against the locks, against that which permits no admission... but to what or whom does it bar entrance? With every single piece of tangible void indistinguishable from those before it, he can make no sense of it before the sea of glass vanishes beneath the water once again.)
A silhouette slips from his periphery. Their playful gait carries them away and out of view, as though this person held no substance but all things light, of air, of stardust, and of snow.
What would he do if not pursue them between the booths lest they be lost to him?
(How quickly the sea recedes from his feet, revealing those pieces glistening beneath salt and bitter froth. Never before has a path opened to him, for him, him! Whatever whisper in his ear tells him that his vast expanse is a road in the first place he can no longer remember, swept out to the Deep and Dark just as quickly as he perceived it.)
Jack has not moved in all his life, and that same croaking gasp murmurs that it is the same but the same as what what was he thinking at all there it goes again-- People do not part so obligingly as the sea, and they exchange low comments concerning his sobriety as he staggers past, desperate for something his mind has dismissed, has drowned in a fathomless pool.
"Wait!" he cries, ducking in between two booths with a reckless, wild fervor.
Nothing is better than almost finishing moving in- all big boxes were in his dorm room- a single none the less, as Elliot was vigilant about reserving one right at the start.
He was making the final round from the hotel to his dorm, carrying things like his laptop, other minimal things and, of course, his fencing equipment. At Latowidge, a fencing club existed, and Elliot had already signed up for it.
Unfortunately, just a few feet away from his dorm room, something uncomfortably moved in the sports bag. The quiet sound of something ripping made Elliot stop.Â
"Don't tell me it's my pants..."Â Instead of heading off right into his room, took the bag off his shoulder and knelt on the ground. He took out most of the things and put them next to him, then examined the white clothing.
"I could swear I heard something ripping."
Now armed with a proper map, Levi was more than ready to finally stop putting off checking Reveille out, and just explore.
And completely forget the light show the house did this morning.
Out of the corner of his eye, Levi catches a shadow gliding through passersbysâ shadows and looks like it is-
"Bok!"
As his head cracks against the ground, Levi will swear that light show threw him off his game, and not the fact he has been having easy time since moving here.
Rubbing the back of his head, he feels as though someone more earthly is watching.
Giving a slight wave while trying ignore the feeling of someone who was not there patting his back, âYo.â