Crochet patterns for hats with cat ears

My name is Rory Fars, and my little sister, Lily Fars, is the last family I had left.
A heavy sense of dread settled over me like a suffocating blanket as I sat in the worn leather seat of Lily's old jeep. The car, a relic of our happier days, seemed to groan under our shared sorrow. Beside me, Lily, my best friend, and confidante, absentmindedly twirled a strand of her long, dark hair, which swayed gently in rhythm with the haunting melodies from the oldies station on the radio. This car had seen us through countless joyful journeys when our family was whole. Almost three years had passed since that fateful Christmas trip in Texas when our parents were tragically killed in a horrific multi-car pileup. The memory of their loss was a constant ache, a wound that never fully healed.
My dad was from Amarillo, Texas, so my parents often took trips down there, visiting the places that held so many memories for him. During one of these trips, just before Christmas, a sudden blizzard struck while they were on the freeway. The snow fell in blinding sheets, making the world outside a disorienting white blur. As they tried to slowly pull to the side, their vision obscured by the relentless storm, they never saw the car barreling toward them at least forty miles an hour. The impact was devastating, an abrupt and brutal end to their journey and, in many ways, to our lives as we had known them.
My parents were always sticklers for safety, insisting on seatbelts every time we got in the car. So, of course, they had theirs on during that fateful trip. The initial impact wasn't what killed them, the coroner explained to me. Not even the first hit from behind, which was going at least fifty miles an hour, was fatal. I had to practically shake the information out of him—they were so resistant to tell me anything at first. By the time the third car hit, with an unknown speed, their survival was already in jeopardy. The coroner said that by the fifth car, they were likely dead. But it didn't end there. Another twenty-three vehicles slammed into the back of the pile, each collision further crushing their bodies, reducing them to a horrific, unrecognizable state. Each jarring impact pushed my parents deeper into a gruesome amalgamation of twisted metal and shattered lives.
I don't know why I felt compelled to demand those details at the time, but I deeply regret it now. I wish I had never asked. Almost every night, unless I drink myself into oblivion, I am haunted by nightmares of what they endured. I dream of driving up to save them, only to be caught in the same deadly barrage of cars, ending in a twisted metal tomb for all of us.
Lily is never in those dreams. Even in my most horrific imaginings, I can't envision her being hurt. Lily is my little sister, younger by eight years and three months. Whenever I mention our age difference, I see the judgment in people's eyes, but what can I say? Our parents never stopped loving each other. They had Lily late in life; she became our shared joy, our living reminder of the love that had bound our family together.
Lily wasn't my twin in the literal sense, but ever since she was born, it felt like we shared the inexplicable connection that twins often describe. As she grew up, our bond only deepened—we acted, sounded, and even looked remarkably alike. She became my rock, especially after our parents' tragic deaths. We leaned on each other, cried into each other's shoulders, and somehow found the strength to move forward. We eventually moved in together, finding solace in a two-bedroom apartment that became our sanctuary.
Lily seemed to handle our parents' deaths better than I did, or maybe she was just better at distracting herself with technology. Even before their passing, Lily was addicted to any kind of digital screen she could manipulate. Her ability to navigate the digital world was unmatched; she was the most intelligent person I had ever met. Her intelligence was a beacon of light in the darkness that had enveloped us, a testament to her resilience and brilliance.
After my parents' death, I embarked on a quest to find my spirituality by delving into paranormal investigations. I hoped these pursuits would bring me closer to my parents in the afterlife, spiritual realm, or whatever you want to call it. Instead, it created a chasm between me and any sense of spiritual existence. Each investigation seemed to push me further from the answers I sought, leaving me feeling more isolated and disconnected than ever.
I had hoped that by exploring these paranormal claims, I would discover a way to reach out to my parents and feel their presence again. Yet, as the years have passed, this endeavor has only deepened my loneliness and sense of loss. Despite knowing how detrimental it is to my mental health, I can't bring myself to stop. The hope that the subsequent investigation will be the one that proves the existence of an afterlife and that I'll find a way to contact my parents keeps me going. It's a desperate, unrelenting pursuit for a connection that remains heartbreakingly out of reach.
I should have accepted their death and moved on like any sane person would. Instead, I let my grief fester and dragged my sister and a stranger, Mark, through my obsessive quest for answers. My relentless pursuit of the paranormal didn't just alienate me; it consumed us all, leading to their untimely deaths. My name is Rory Fars, and I am here to confess my side of the story about the missing case of Lily Fars and Mark Lawrence.
This is the truth about how my desperate search for a connection with the afterlife led to a nightmare from which none of us could escape.
To start off, no, Lily was not a student of Mark's who fell in love with him and then got jealous of me hitting on him, leading her to kill him and herself. I know that sounds ridiculous, but given some wild theories circulating online, I need to address this one specifically since it seems to be the most popular.
First and foremost, Mark Lawrence was not, nor has he ever been, a professor at a university. Lily and I met Mark at the Local Museum in Redlin, a town nestled deep in the Appalachian Mountains. He was the curator of an exhibit showcasing the history of Raven's Nest, a forgotten mining town that neither Lily nor I had ever heard of. This is where our story begins, in a place steeped in history and mystery, far removed from the convoluted theories that now cloud the truth.
We were constantly searching for new ideas for our podcast about paranormal claims. Each of our twenty-five episodes so far had concluded with a rational explanation, so when Mark told us about the curse of Harper, I was immediately intrigued.
Mark was an older man, likely in his mid-sixties, with a full head of silver hair and a beard that stubbornly clung to its youthful color, only lightly dusted with grey. He had a presence that commanded attention, and his stories about the curse were delivered with an intensity that drew me in.
On the other hand, Lily was always more interested in the technical aspects of the paranormal. She had her own theories and was determined to debunk every claim we investigated. She wasn't easily swayed by Mark's tales about the curse of Harper, but she was willing to listen and give him a chance to prove himself. Her skeptical mind constantly checked my enthusiasm, and together, we hoped to uncover the truth behind yet another paranormal mystery.
"Hello ladies, care to hear about the mysterious town of Raven's Nest?" Mark asked with theatrical enthusiasm.
Lily and I exchanged a knowing glance, trying to stifle our amusement. Despite our attempts to remain composed, a smirk played at the corners of our lips.
"We're all ears," I replied, my tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.
He sighed, almost as if he was disappointed that we said yes. Taking a deep breath, he seemed to steel himself for the task ahead. "Well, you see," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "in the early twentieth century, a man named Harper Franstein exploited many men and children in the coal mines. By the mid-1920s, he had established his own settlement in a secluded valley, which he dubbed 'The Raven's Nest.' It was never officially recognized as a town, but that's the only name we have to go off of."
I could see the beads of sweat forming on Mark's brow as he struggled to recall every detail. Despite his initial enthusiasm, he now appeared flustered, his confidence waning. Eventually, he resorted to consulting his damp and crumpled notes, a sign of his growing unease.
"Um, anyway, yeah, um," he stuttered, audibly gulping as his nerves got the better of him. Lily couldn't contain her laughter, emitting a snicker that earned us a glare from Mark.
"Hey, just relax," I interjected, trying to diffuse the tension. "We're not here to judge or intimidate you." With a gentle touch on his forearm and a chuckle, I attempted to reassure him, hoping to ease his obvious discomfort.
He paused, sharing a chuckle with me, while Lily struggled to suppress her laughter and eventually excused herself, leaving just Mark and me. Evidently, he felt more at ease with fewer listeners, so he pressed on with his narrative.
"Anyway," he resumed, "Harper held complete control over the town and the mine, and he made sure everyone was acutely aware of that fact. When the disappearances began, he tried to sweep them under the rug, attributing them to anything but his own negligence in mining practices."
"What do you mean by 'negligence in mining practices'?" I interjected, eager to delve deeper into his intriguing tale.
He looked up, clearly pleased by my question. "Yes, exactly," he affirmed. "Harper adhered to a mining technique outlined by Dwight Brunst in the mid to late nineteenth century. This method mandated only one entry and exit point into the mine."
"Wait, so they were forbidden from creating additional exits?" I pressed for clarification.
"Not explicitly," he explained. "The practice advocated for just one entry and exit as it was believed to minimize the risk of cave-ins, at least in theory. However, there were instances where miners, feeling uneasy about this restriction, took matters into their own hands and carved out what they called 'Emergency Exits' for themselves. After about half of the town started going missing, Harper couldn't take criticism about how he responded, but most people say he was losing money quickly and didn't want to live in a world where he was poor. He walked into the mine, never to be seen again, much like the cave's past victims. Visitors report seeing and hearing Harper, trying to get them to leave."
As I stood there, listening to Mark's enthralling narrative, I found myself captivated by the mysterious allure of Raven's Nest. Unable to contain my curiosity, I decided to pose a question.
"So, what does the town look like now?" I inquired, eager to learn more about the present state of this enigmatic place.
Mark's demeanor shifted slightly as he rifled through his notes, a subtle indication that he didn't have a straightforward answer to my query.
"You've never been there?" I asked, my tone softening with genuine curiosity.
He flinched as though my question had struck a nerve. "Shhhhhh... shut up," he demanded, his voice tinged with unease.
Suppressing a chuckle, I leaned in closer and whispered, "Okay, hear me out. My sister Lily and I are investigating paranormal phenomena. Your story about Raven's Nest sounds like the perfect addition to our podcast. What do you say we compensate you for your guidance? Let's say, three hundred bucks?"
He straightened up, contemplating my proposition for a few moments. Without uttering a word, he extended his hand, and I met it halfway with my own, sealing our agreement with a firm handshake.
Our journey to Raven's Nest was no easy feat. Situated a good twenty miles from town and nestled deep within a dense valley. After all of the tight turns, narrow dirt roads, and steep inclines, it took us a grueling two and a half hours to go twenty-something miles, but we finally reached the outskirts of the infamous settlement. As we stood at the edge of the "Nest," anticipation mingled with trepidation, setting the stage for the eerie exploration that lay ahead.
I glanced at my phone; the time read 11:56 pm, signaling the late hour. Sensing the exhaustion weighing heavily, I suggested we catch a few hours of rest in Lily's jeep. Mark, though visibly unsettled, remained silent from the back seat, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he slumped against the window like a sulking child.
Drifting asleep in the passenger seat, I soon found myself ensnared in a nightmare. In my dream, Mark was being dragged away into the darkness, his desperate attempts to claw his way back to safety only resulting in broken fingertips. Despite his struggles, he was powerless against the unseen force pulling him inexorably into the abyss. Suddenly, I was alone, engulfed in utter darkness, my heart pounding with fear as I ran blindly from an unseen terror that seemed to pursue me relentlessly, its malevolent presence palpable but unseen.
I jolted awake, gasping for breath, my heart racing as the remnants of dread lingered in the pit of my stomach. It was morning, and I was struggling to adjust my vision. Lily's frantic but comforting voice broke through the haze of my terror, grounding me in reality. With her comforting embrace, I gradually calmed my racing thoughts, drawing deep, steadying breaths.
As we sat there, enveloped in each other's embrace, Mark approached the driver's side window with an unexpected question, "Alright, what's for breakfast?" His nonchalant tone and casual demeanor were a stark contrast to the harrowing nightmare that had just consumed my thoughts, momentarily dispelling the lingering specter of fear that had haunted my dreams.
Lily and I both look up at him and back at each other as we burst out into laughter.
Amidst our shared laughter, Lily and I exchanged amused glances before turning our attention back to Mark.
"Ha...ha, yeah. No, but seriously, what's for breakfast? Eggs, bacon, toast, at least?" Mark pressed, hoping for a more substantial response.
His earnest inquiry fueled our laughter further, our giggles echoing through the quiet night air. Eventually, we regained our composure and stepped out of the jeep, stretching our limbs after the cramped confines of the vehicle.
Mark awkwardly moves to the side, still waiting for an honest answer. Lily tossed him a granola bar, eliciting a bemused chuckle from him. With a shared understanding, we set off on foot, embarking on the hike into the town.
The path ahead was clear: a single dirt road that wound its way from the abandoned coal mine into the heart of the small settlement. The road, now overgrown and muddy from years of disuse, bore the marks of neglect and isolation. Wary of the treacherous conditions, Lily opted to forgo the risk of getting stuck, steering clear of the decrepit road that likely hadn't seen a traveler in at least half a century.
We parked Lily's jeep at the entrance to both the mine and the town of Raven's Nest, opting to proceed on foot from there. Standing at the mountain's peak, gazing down at the desolate town below, I couldn't help but ponder the history beneath the dilapidated structures. I imagined how this valley must have once been a pristine landscape cherished by the indigenous people who roamed its lush terrain.
"Jesus, this place is more like a shit nest," Mark muttered in disgust, his disdain evident in his tone.
Lily shot me a knowing glance, silently communicating her skepticism toward Mark's assessment of the town.
Deciding to put Mark's knowledge to the test, I casually inquired, "So, what year was this area founded?"
Mark's reaction was almost defensive as if my question had caught him off guard. He hesitated momentarily before fumbling for his note cards in his pocket, a telltale sign that he wasn't as knowledgeable as he let on.
Before he could respond, I interjected with another question, "Mark, how long have you worked at the museum?"
As Mark froze, his gaze locking onto mine like a deer caught in headlights, I watched him closely, waiting for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. My narrowed eyes bore into his, silently urging him to be honest.
Finally, breaking the tense silence, Mark confessed, "Look, this is only my first week. I... I haven't had the greatest time lately, and I really need the extra money. I'm sorry I lied, but I'll help however I can."
I met his gaze unwaveringly, sensing the sincerity in his words. Clearly, he was a man in need of redemption, grappling with his own personal struggles.
"Alright, alright, don't cry too much," I teased lightly, trying to ease the tension. Gesturing towards Lily, who was busy preparing her wireless motion cameras in her backpack, I continued, "Lily and I already figured that was the case. Honestly, we're surprised you agreed to come along."
Mark remained frozen, but the tension seemed to melt away from his expression, replaced by a tentative smile. It was a moment of shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment that he was still welcomed into our expedition despite his initial deception.
"Alright, I have the cams and portable batteries to make sure the cameras and anything we have with power can last," Lily said, her voice brimming with determination.
We began our descent into the town, our hiking boots struggling against the thick, clinging mud produced by the constant light rain and years of disuse. Each step was a battle, the mud threatening to swallow our boots with every move.
After an eternity of trudging through the muck, we finally reached the town's only paved road—the main road. It had taken us only about fifteen minutes to hike down, but navigating the muddy slope had sapped our energy. We paused for a break, taking a few minutes to clean off our boots and catch our breath.
As we rested, I noticed Lily rummaging through her bag with a focused intensity. Curious, I asked, "What are you looking for?"
"I brought five motion-detecting cameras that I want to set up strategically throughout the town," she replied, pulling out one of the cameras. She walked over to the nearest building, a structure that served as a post office, police station, and fire station. She positioned the camera outside the building so it was pointed at the only road leading in and out of the town.
"We need to cover all potential points of interest," she explained, securing the camera in place. "This one will monitor any activity on the main road. We should place the other cameras around key locations like the mine entrance, the town square, and some more intact buildings."
I nodded, appreciating her thoroughness. "Good idea. We need to make sure we capture anything unusual."
Mark, having finally caught his breath, joined us. "Alright, let's get these cameras set up and see what we can find," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Look," Lily said, turning her tablet screen toward us. She waved her hand in front of the camera she had just placed. The tablet displayed five squares on the interface, each meant to show a feed from one of the cameras. Since Lily had only set up one camera so far, only the bottom right square showed any footage pointed at the road leading out of town. She stopped waving her hand, and the feed went to a blue screen.
"What happened? Did we lose connection?" Mark asked frantically, his eyes wide with concern.
Lily cackled, struggling to contain her amusement. Composing herself, she waved her hand in front of the camera again, and the bottom right square showed her hand waving once more. "It's motion-activated. It's the best way to save on battery life," she explained.
Mark seemed to relax, though he was still catching his breath after the brief panic.
I glanced at my watch, noting the time. "It's 8:30. We're behind schedule. If you want to place the rest of your cameras, we better move now," I said, walking down the street.
Lily immediately got up and followed me, with Mark struggling to keep pace behind us. We reached the market building, and Lily positioned her second camera on the side of the road, pointing up at the market.
It's not much longer before we make it to the Town Hall. I suggest Lily place a camera nearby. She nods and heads into a building across from the Town Hall labeled, "Slaughterhouse: LOCAL ANIMALS ONLY."
As Lily explores the building to find an adequate spot for the camera, I wait for Mark to catch up. While I wait, I can't help but imagine this town in its prime, picturing the streets filled with families who loved each other.
My thoughts are abruptly cut off by a sound echoing in the distance—a roar unlike any I've ever heard. It was a mix of a human screaming in pain, the roar of a lion, and, near the end, the howl of a wolf. The chilling sound sent shivers down my spine.
I jump to my feet and immediately call out, "Lily, you okay?"
There's no response from Lily, but I'm interrupted by Mark finally catching up, panting heavily.
"Holy... shit... did you... hear that?" Mark said frantically between breaths.
"Yeah, we have to find Lily," I say, bolting into the slaughterhouse. I glance back to see Mark bracing himself on the steps of the Town Hall, struggling to keep up.
As I enter the building, the stench of rotting flesh hits me like a wave, causing me to gag. The smell is too fresh to be decades old.
"Lily? Lily, where are you?" I yell, using my shirt to shield my nose from the overwhelming odor.
"Rory, I'm in here!" I hear Lily yell from a room two doors down. I pass the first door, peeking in to ensure I hadn't misheard, but I wish I hadn't looked.
Inside the first room, I catch a glimpse of what appears to be a pile of animal carcasses, their decayed bodies arranged in a grotesque display. The sight is horrifying, the flesh still disturbingly fresh. The bile rises in my throat, but I force myself to focus on finding Lily.
I rush to the room where her voice came from, pushing the door open. Lily is there, setting up the camera, seemingly oblivious to the horror in the adjacent room. Relief floods through me as I see she's safe.
"Lily, did you hear that roar?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Yeah, I heard it," she replies, her eyes wide with concern. "I was just finishing up here. Let's get back to Mark and figure out what that was." She had placed the camera in a window, pointing directly at the Town Hall.
We hurry back outside, where Mark still catches his breath as we meet between the buildings. "We need to stay together from now on," I say firmly, looking at both of them. "Whatever that noise was, it's not something we want to face alone."
"Let's check out the Town Hall!" Mark says excitedly as he slowly clambers through a broken window.
"Did he not just hear what I said?" I mutter under my breath, shaking my head in disbelief.
Lily gives me a shrug, her eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Guess we're heading into the Town Hall then," she says, adjusting her backpack and walking towards the broken window.
I sigh and follow suit, hoisting myself up and carefully maneuvering through the jagged glass. Inside, the air is musty, filled with the scent of old paper and decaying wood. Dust motes float lazily in the beams of sunlight streaming through the cracked windows.
The main hall is vast and eerily silent, with rows of empty chairs facing a stage draped in tattered curtains. The walls are lined with faded portraits and yellowed maps of the town, remnants of a time when this place was alive and bustling.
Mark is already at the front, examining a large, decrepit desk. "Look at this," he says, his voice echoing in the empty space. "It's like stepping back in time."
I walk over, glancing at the old papers scattered across the desk. Most are mundane—meeting minutes, maintenance logs—but one catches my eye. It's a letter dated June 1925, addressed to Harper Franstein.
"Harper, the disappearances are becoming more frequent. The townsfolk are getting restless, and I fear they may take matters into their own hands if we don't act soon. We need to find out what's causing this before it's too late."
I read the letter aloud, and the room fell silent. "Sounds like things were getting pretty tense," Lily remarks, her voice subdued.
As I'm distracted by the time capsule in front of us, Mark sneaks off.
I'm not sure how long it was before she noticed, but I saw Lily looking around before saying, "Where the hell did Mark go?" breaking me out of my trance.
I look around, turning my head in all directions, and shrug at Lily. I hear shuffling in the second room down the hall, so I slowly walk toward it.
"Mark?" I call out.
Just then, a loud crash reverberates through the building, making it sound like the whole place was about to come down.
We run in and see Mark struggling to keep himself from falling into a giant hole that must've broken under his weight. Trying not to laugh, I glance at Lily. We help him up as he dramatically falls onto his back, wheezing as he catches his breath.
Lily and I can't contain our laughter anymore as we bust out laughing hard. Startled by our sudden outburst, Mark jumps in fear. He looks around, confused for a few seconds, before realizing that we are laughing at him.
"Jesus, thanks, I guess," he says, clearly thankful but annoyed by our reaction.
After we contained ourselves, we headed back outside, exiting through the window Mark entered through. He struggles to climb out, but after Lily gives him a hand, he is safely out of the Town Hall.
"Alright, Ror, where should we put the next camera?" Lily asks me.
I stop to think momentarily, trying to picture the town's layout. "I think the only place left is the neighborhood," I respond confidently. I always talk like that with Lily. Over the years, I've realized she is the only person I can have that much confidence around. With anyone else, I'm worried about saying something stupid or wrong or how they'll view me, but with my sister, everything is easy.
As I look at the replica map of the town in its heyday from the museum, I determine that the neighborhood is to the East. "Okay, looks like we head East past the Library. Let's go." I say, walking away.
It only takes about eight minutes to get to the long strip of road that housed the town's workers. According to the map, there were fifteen houses along this strip of road.
The houses stand eerily silent, their wooden frames weathered and decayed by time. We walk down the road, our footsteps crunching on the gravel and echoing in the stillness. The air feels heavier here like the past is watching us, waiting to reveal its secrets.
"Let's put the last cameras on that house at the end of the road," I suggest, pointing to a house that looks slightly less dilapidated than the others, "another one at the last house on the other side, and the last we can save for a spot you choose."
Lily nods and heads toward the first house, pulling another camera from her backpack. She sets it up on the porch, positioning it to capture the entire street, and does the same in the opposite house. As I stand with Mark breathing hard, still unable to catch his breath since we first got here, I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched. I glance around nervously but see nothing out of the ordinary.
"All set," Lily says, breaking my reverie, "Still no ideas for the last cam?" Lily asks me.
"Like I said, wherever you think it would be best. I feel like we have enough good spots and angles, so go wild with that one," I told her.
She smirked and kept walking next to me. Mark was still struggling behind, but after the town hall mishap, he was trying his best to keep up. I looked at my watch, and it read '12:30 pm'.
"Holy shit, it's already 12:30," I said in amazement, but no one else seemed fazed. It felt like we'd only been here thirty minutes, not almost four hours.
We walked back down the street. Lily and I had been discussing on the walk that she should put the last camera at the town's only stoplight in front of the Library.
As we made our way to it, I could have sworn I was seeing something moving fast past my vision in the corner of my eye. Every time I turned to look, it was gone. I chalked it up to being my imagination until Lily and Mark both experienced the same thing.
"What the fuck was that?" Mark asked as he ducked, bracing for something terrible to happen. Lily and I looked back at him and then at each other as we shrugged. It was after that that I started seeing things, too.
I confided in Lily about the unsettling visions and sounds, and she admitted she had experienced the same phenomena but had kept quiet, fearing Mark would dismiss her as paranoid.
"Well, it's probably just a cat or something," I said, attempting to downplay the situation, but neither seemed convinced.
We continued our trek, and I noticed that the more we walked, the more frequently I caught fleeting glimpses of movement in my peripheral vision. It was beginning to grate on my nerves.
Finally, we reached the light in front of the Library. As Lily mounted the camera, I felt a sense of satisfaction. We were making good progress, and it seemed like a suitable moment to start exploring the town more freely. We decided to split up and cover different sections of the town.
"Wait, we have to go alone? Why can't we stay together like you said?" Mark asked frantically, but Lily and I ignored him as we headed in separate directions. He continued to protest, but we paid him no mind. Eventually, I was either far enough away to not hear him anymore, or he had given up. Either way, I was happy to enjoy the eerie silence of the town.
As I wandered, the stillness of Raven's Nest enveloped me. With its decrepit buildings and overgrown streets, the town exuded an unsettling charm. It was as if I had stepped into a forgotten world, a place frozen in time with secrets waiting to be unearthed. The ambiance reminded me of an amusement park's haunted town section—artificially eerie yet irresistibly intriguing. Despite the creepiness, the mysterious vibe of the town kept me engaged and eager to explore its hidden corners.
I glanced at my watch again, only to find the time glaring back at me: 3:19 pm. It couldn't be right. There was no way it had been that long since I last checked. Panic seized me, and I called out for Lily, my voice tinged with urgency. She appeared beside me in a matter of minutes, her expression mirroring my concern.
"What's up, Ror? You okay?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.
"How long would you say it's been since you put the last camera down?" I inquired, my heart pounding in my chest.
Lily's brow furrowed as she struggled to come up with an answer. "Uh, I don't know, thirty minutes?" she hazarded a guess.
I held up my watch, displaying the time: 3:20 pm. Lily fell silent, her eyes widening in disbelief. She was never great with time, but missing almost three hours of our memory was unprecedented.
"There's no way. Your watch must be—" Lily began, her voice trailing off as she checked her own watch, only to freeze in shock when she found it displayed the same time as mine.
"Lil, something is going on," I stated, my voice tight and apprehensive. I glanced up at the sky, my stomach churning as I noticed the clouds darkening and rolling in from all sides of the valley.
The sky closed rapidly, ominous clouds obscuring the sun as thunder rumbled ominously against the mountains.
"Mark? Mark, where are—" I began to call out, but before I could finish, Mark emerged from behind a wall, appearing as if he'd been too frightened to venture far on his own.
"We have to get inside!" Mark exclaimed urgently, his voice tinged with fear.

Hallo halloooooo. Been trudging though my days lately and would love to have someone to chat with and get to know. Little tidbits of me here and there that we can get through. First off I got a little spicy brain. Not in the "lets get it on way", more of the, getting some help for it type of way lol but it hey, builds character and makes me funny so I want to say a win is a win.
Hobby wise, I'm definitely a little copy cat here and there. I've dabbled in crocheting, plants are still alive somehow, and I tried guitar but my little baby hands didn't agree with me. Right now its photography, just don't expect much lol I use it to get myself out the house which is a good excuse. Other than that, we love being active in this house. Or at least when I'm feeling it. You name it, I'm trying it. Big one is just going out to drive. Nights are always best, especially with people in the car. I'll gladly be the driver for a party bus with the right vibes. Don't get me started at night trips to the beaches, heavenly.
I'm not much of an athlete but I've been raised around a lot of sports, so just keeping my body moving is a blast. Right now its just been either pickleball or the gym, but looking to add biking or hiking to that list soon for the summer.
Lastly for home when I'm not feeling like going out, video and board games rule me. Not to be a fucking basic boy but I got no preference on the genre, I don't discriminate to a good time. Lately co-op, horror, and strategy games have been my little flavors of the month in May but I'm always open to more. I think thats about it but I'm sure we can deep dive later in chats, happy to hear from yall :)

This happened about a year ago and the mystery has plagued me since so I thought I would share here. I'm not sure if it is inherently paranormal so bear with me.
My roommate brought a couple vases of flowers home one day, I can't remember where from. They had lilies in them and we have 4 cats in the house so he ended up tossing them. Him and my fiancé each kept one rose from the bouquets, and stuck them in the freezer to preserve them a little longer. The roses shriveled up after a bit, and they eventually threw those away, too. There were no more flowers in the house.
The garbage bag containing the roses was, of course, taken out and collected on trash day. We had one more trash day before this incident occurred.
My roommate got in the shower one evening. Our second roommate was in his bed, I was in mine, and my fiancé was at his desk on his computer. 2 of our cats were on our bed sleeping with us, my roommate's cat was sleeping in his bed, and our 3rd cat was somewhere else in the house. Our TV was on a low volume, and there was no other sound in the house. The roommate that was in the shower gets out, goes to his room, and sees something incredibly perplexing and honestly creepy.
Scattered on his chair and in the floor were dried up, yellow petals, the same ones from the roses they threw out. We have absolutely no explanation for how they got there. Considering they were thrown away, long gone, the house was silent save for our TV, and he was only in the shower for about 15 minutes. The only thing unaccounted for at the time was my 3rd cat.
If it matters, there have been other creepy things that have happened in our house over the 3 years we've lived here. My roommate has heard loud noises out of one ear when on his computer with his headset on. I've felt my hair being pulled when lying in bed. Our deadbolt has locked itself from the inside when nobody was home and we didn't lock it before we left. Most of these experiences could be explained by our cats (logically), but often things don't feel quite "right" when they happen, you know? I'm sure there are more that I can't think of right now. If it matters, we live in the easternmost part of Kentucky deep in Appalachia.
Does anyone have ideas for how the petals could've gotten there, or where they may have come from? I've been curious about it ever since it happened. I know this may not count as being paranormal, so if you read this far I hope it was worth your time! Thank you friends :)

Alright folks, let me spin you a little yarn about this one time I used design thinking to solve a pretty massive problem. So, I was working in this huge software company, you know the kind - the one where the free coffee tastes like dirty water and motivation levels are at an all time low, right? So, here I was, plugging away on my umpteenth coding project of the month when the big boss landed me with a real stinker.
We had a software that was causing headaches for our support team. It was as buggy as an ant farm and the complaints were rolling in faster than we could solve them. I decided to put on my design thinking hat and take a step back. Looking at the software as a whole, I realized it was the user interface that was the issue - too complicated, too dense, too...awful.
I rolled up my sleeves, grabbed a fresh cup of that terrible coffee (yeah, I'm a glutton for punishment) and dove straight into empathizing with the users. I spent a few hours with the support team, listened to the complaints, felt their frustration, and understood their needs. My sticky notes were filled with insights and observations.
In synthesis phase, I looked for patterns and insights. I mapped out the user journey and found several choke points related to poor software design. Using the insights, I ideated some potential solutions - tossing the absurd and keeping the feasible.
Then came prototyping stage. I knocked up a few quick and dirty versions of the new interface. Collected some feedback and made the necessary tweaks. Finally, the testing phase. And voila! The new software was easier to navigate, easier to understand and the number of complaints dropped significantly. It was my own personal design thinking victory!
So remember, when you're stuck in a rut, try and see things from a different perspective. Tap into that empathy, define the problem, ideate the hell out of it, make a rough draft and test it to its limits.
P.S. No coder, coffee, or software was harmed during the creation of this story. Just a playful imaginary scenario to help you visualize how mental models and design thinking can be your superheroes in problem-solving. Keep the creativity flowing and the bad coffee at bay!

I've got everything it takes to be a good friend. Kind ear and shoulder to cry on, an easy going person that gets along with most people well enough, and a sense of humor so hilarious that my cat has not once complained about my jokes!
A few things that I like:

• Music - Stuff that could fall under the punk umbrella for the most part
• Movies - mostly horror, and comedy
• Pets - feel free to spam me with pictures of your pets, tell me about what their original name was and what the evolution to their current nick name was, talk about their personality quirks, etc

As you can see by now, we'd probably get along swell. So if you'd be interested in getting to know one another, talking about the days, sharing memes and pet pictures, bullshitting or something, shoot me a message.

So after countless hours of meditation day in and day out from as soon as I wake up to before I go to bed. As well as taking walking meditations around my block 9 seconds through the nose and 9 seconds out the nose for the breathing pattern. Now I have done this almost every day consistently for awhile now and I have started to see purple orbs in my peripheral vision whenever I make the right conscious choice to benefit my future. I also feel ringing in my ears whenever I have the urge to make the right choice and also feel the ringing whenever I make a bad choice that is root chakra or doesn’t benefit me.
Now we all have vices wether it’s food or lust or weed or alcohol but I shit you not when I started incorporating meditation in my life to a mass extent, also not just breathing i also would just use my imagination for example when I took walks I visualized the prana coming off every tree and being consumed by my aura and breath. Belief and imagination/ visualization to break free from indoctrination is key to see phenomena and feel phenomena outside the 5 physical senses.
Now I’ll give an example of the ringing in my ears. This one time I was tempted to really just binge eat ice cream especially when it’s late night and I have things to do the next day. I’ll have ringing in my ears. Also if I decide to sit around and lust at women I’ll feel a ringing in my ears. Its almost like a warning from my soul family to not do that. I’ll also feel ringing when I decide to research new philosophy’s and new etymology’s and new spiritual practices as well as study the Bible. It’s like anything that anything to do with knowledge and info regarding nature your soul your mind philosophy in general.
I also had a scenario where I would see a purple orb on my Bible I was reading at the time. For example I said to my self “you know tonight I’ll read the Bible” then I seen the purple orb on top of my Bible . It’s almost like my thought I suggested was gave Clarity and reassurance that it’s a good idea to do that.
Am I tripping or wouldn’t that be a way to communicate with source via feeling and emotion. It’s almost like anything that’s unselfish and will try to persuade people away from the materialistic era we live in and be simplistic philosophers life wouldn’t be all fucked up.
But most won’t Beable to control there legion that they have within themselves. The 7 deadly spirits lust greed envy gluttony wrath sloth pride. These are very hard for humans to destroy. Especially beezelbub no wonder why he was called the prince of demons. Fasting for 40 days with no water or food to destroy beezelbub is not a hard task

WARNING: This is classified as a fan-fiction in the Hazbin Hotel world. I know FF is frowned upon by many. This story is set 99% in an original world with only one HH character as a major character. The story is original, the world is mine, as well as the OCs.
Title: Angel's Demon
Word Count: 136,466
Genres: Supernatural ThrilleRomance
Audience: 16+
Trigger Warnings: Violence, Death, Gore, Sexual assault/molestation (implied only), Sexual situations (On page), profanity, drinking, smoking. (TBH, it just clicked how dark this sounds)
Feedback requested: Obvious plot holes. Missing details (I know for a fact I need to add descriptive text for character introductions during revisions), the fact that I have sections that change from present to past tense (I know of a few but getting them all pointed out as I begin working on editing will be SO welcomed) Confusion about action/events. and I welcome suggestions to add details to certain situations to flesh out what may seem lacking (A battle between two demons is far shorter than I'd intended, and will likely improve that as well) As for grammar, spelling and so on; I have a couple of programs that point those out. If anyone were to say 'Hey, let me edit for you'.. after four months of writing.. I'd scream yes.
Summary: Kevin Collins, AKA "Angel" Is an ex-special forces ranger turned tracker. His self imposed mission; to find and rescue lost, kidnapped and exploited children. On one of his missions, he stumbles upon an injured woman. Believing she's a victim who escaped, he takes her to his van and dresses her wounds, asking who she is. She says her name is Charlotte, but she can't remember anything else. She asks how he found her, and he explains what he's there for. When she learns that children are in danger, she changes into a demon; something that scares the both of them. She begs Angel to not abandon her, and offers to use her powers to help him on his mission. He agrees, and so begins their journey to save souls, discover her past and in the process; fall in love. However, their journey will attract the attention of an evil so great, it threatens to rip them apart and make Charlotte into the most dangerous demon on Earth.
Scene Summary: Charlotte's first semi- solo mission to find and rescue a lost child in the mountains. (chapter 6)
Seconds had ticked by and Charlotte was already ahead of the groups that had begun to fan out. She cleared 50 yards ahead and stopped. Closing her eyes, she inhaled as deeply as she could and was greeted with a barrage of smells. Trees, bushes, animals, flowers, insects.. she could detect them all. But the scent of the boy was absent. Determined, she began to run, her cloven feet deftly carrying her over fallen branches, jagged trails and she moved in a wide zig-zag pattern, covering a lot of distance in minutes. Stopping at a sound she hadn’t quite picked up before, she closed her eyes and recognized a river, flowing fast in the distance south of her. She took another strong whiff and was greeted by the scent of water, algae, fish, mud and..
Her eyes snapped open. The boy’s scent was mixed into the rolling smells of the river! Turning towards the strongest of the smells, she picked up her pace and raced towards the river, opening up all of her senses to their max. In moments, she stood on the bank and looked down at the rushing waters. The sun had faded and now with the overcast clouds, twilight was taking hold. Darting her eyes and inhaling as deep as she could, she picked up two things; the scent of fear and distant crying.
“Angel?” She whispered into the headset. In took a couple of beats, and she heard his smooth voice.
“I’m here. Had to move away a bit from the others first. You have something?”
“I got his scent! I can’t tell how far off he is, but I think he’s in the river!”
Angel hissed urgently, “Go! Find him!”
She didn’t give a response as her legs started moving. Heart aching, Charlotte followed the scent and sound for nearly 300 yards down river, having now gone out of the search grid area. Thanks to her demon form, she alighted over the rough terrain, her eyes wide to let all the possible light in and give her a clear view of her surroundings. A quick pause to listen, the sounds of crying now lapped over the sounds of the river and she honed in.
Stepping over a ridge of an embankment, she looked down into the rushing water and there was the boy, stuck in a fallen tree that was a third of the way into the fast moving river. She quickly accessed that he had to have fallen in some place upstream and got carried to this spot, catching the tree to stop himself, but the water was too fast for him to pull himself out. She could tell he was fading, fast. If she didn’t get him out, he’d drown.
“Angel!” She radioed, “I found him! I found him! Track the tag! I have to get him out, now!”
“I’m coming!” Angel’s voice affirmed, with a hint of pride for her, and she clicked off the radio and looked around, seeing what she could do.
“Fuck, if only I had wings!” She cursed her limitations, but pushed it aside as she needed to rely on what she did have. Moving down to the edge of the river, Charlotte saw that he was out of her reach by some twenty feet. Testing the strength of the fallen tree, she tentatively started to crawl out but could only get half way when she heard snapping. The tree was not going to hold her weight if she went any further. Quickly thinking, Charlotte wrapped her demon tail around a thicker branch and slipped into the rushing water, the force more than she anticipated and it knocked her against the tree.
“OOMPH!” She let out a pained shout and the boy looked her way, eyes bloodshot from crying and let out a fearful whimper. Cursing herself again, she bit her lip and reached out for him. She knew he'd be scared at the feeling but if she could carry him around the tree and swim him to shore, maybe he’d think he got a current to lead him ashore.
Charlotte reached out but he was still out of her reach and she couldn’t get closer. She saw a six foot thick branch, broken off from the tree, lodged in among the other branches and thought if only she’d grabbed it first, she could reach him with it. She stared at the branch for an infinite but split second moment, wishing she had it and then she felt something solid in her clawed hand.
The branch she wanted had blinked out of it’s lodged spot to reappear in her grip, conjured as if by magic. Charlotte gasped. How? How!? She pushed the question aside and slipped the branch through the water until it nudged the boy. Would he grab it? She took a chance. “Grab the branch.” She spoke just loud enough for him to hear.
“Wha..?” He couldn’t say much else, his strength was giving out, and he was losing consciousness.
“Please, sweetie, grab hold… trust me.. please.. please.”
Subconsciously, he did as she asked and she pulled steady and firmly those frightening last few feet against the force of the river and brought him to her. She retracted her claws, letting her human hands take over and she grabbed him and pulled him to her. He was out, his body having given up and she put all of her strength into her tail and it pulled her till she could get her waist above the torrent of water. Lifting the boy into her arms and growling deep, she lunged and landed them roughly on the mud and sludge of the river’s edge. She flipped onto her back, the boy held in her tight embrace and she lay on her back, breathing hard, energy spent and she started crying.
He heard him take in a shuddering breath, followed by regular breathing and she cried harder, holding him close and comforting. I won’t let anything happen to you, she thought. I won’t let anything happen to ANYONE! She declared to herself.
She lost track of how long she lay there, body pressed into the cold wet mud, her cloven hooves splashed with lapping water at the river’s edge, but her ears picked up Angel nearing her and she sniffled in relief. She looked up over above and behind her as falling dirt signaled Angel’s arrival at the edge of the embankment.
Angel saw the boy suspended inches above the mud, as if floating and he slid down to kneel next to him and Charlotte’s invisible form.
“You okay?” He whispered.
Charlotte’s wet filled throat croaked back, exhausted “Take him.”
Angel slid his arms under the boy, sliding over Charlotte’s body and she closed her eyes, grateful for his touch and he lifted the boy up and off of her. He stood, boy cradled in his arms, and looked down at the human shaped indent in the mud.
“You can come out.”
The mud shifted but Charlotte didn’t appear.
“I.. I’ll meet you back at the van.”
The tone in her voice told Angel all he needed to know, and without another word, Angel took the boy and began the trek back to meeting spot.
When Angel had moved a distance away, Charlotte finally pulled herself to her feet and wrapped her arms around herself, and felt the sludge slide down her back, her blonde hair nearly a fully dyed shit-brown, and shivered in the growing cold. Taking slow deep breaths, Charlotte pulled at her demon powers and her body began to sizzle, steam rising up off her body, both warming her and drying her. She was still so dirty but the chill in her bones had gone. The few moments alone allowed her to regain her composure, and with a crack of her neck, she turned and took off at a full run, and headed back to the van.

Hello! I'm Hannah and I'm 27 chapstick lesbian from Midwest Wisconsin and am looking for connection within Wisconsin/Minnesota or Oregon! I really don't know what to write so bear with me.
I don't really know how to explain my type of connection style, I am an introvert I like to do things on my own, so I guess I'm looking for someone to do solitary stuff with.
Some things I like:

• Plants
• Aquariums
• Sims + other video games
• Hiking + camping
• Rain!
• Reading
• Crocheting

I have a dog named Fez, a cat named Dina, and a bird named Tito. I work as a CNA and am in school to get my associate's degree in human services.
I guess I would say I'm into femme lesbians. I have never dated a girl before! I will send a picture in direct messages. Can't wait to talk!

My normal posts are 2-5 paragraphs. This is long because it's a starter.
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The sloping ground around the Kiaurk family mesa had been sculpted into shelves or terraces, and it was on one of those upper terraces that Kiaurk Nshurr now lounged beneath a pergola anchored to the striated stone face behind her. The mesa rose at her back: an enormous, looming, almost sheer outcrop that her family's dwellings had been carved into the face of. Wide, shallow steps cut into the artificial (but entirely convincing) sandstone wound their way up between landings and porticos leading inward, between tiny balconies shaded by bright solid-colored canopies, between rooms with flat walls and rounded corners that came jutting out to shadow the steps below. Rriigkhans rarely used glass as window barriers; smooth-edged holes had been cut through the rock in varying shapes and sizes. It could be difficult to tell which apertures were windows and which were entryways. A physical barrier that kept out the elements was obsolete in all but the crudest dwellings, though some of these larger holes were curtained with braided string or strips of cloth that served a purely decorative purpose.
From her high vantage point Nshurr could see the shelves stretching out below her as the base of the mesa leveled out to flattish terrain that was a wonderland of vegetation in muted rainbow colors: mustard yellows, clay reds, earthy browns and the occasional dash of sage or dusty blue. This scrubland lay like a blanket around everything below that was not part of the village between the mesas. Down there, adobe compounds never taller than two or three storeys seemed so squat compared to the mesas that Nshurr could see towering in the distance, many of those family mesas only a few hours walk from her own if she traveled by foot. The village sprawled, with tile parkways winding in serpentine fashion between the various buildings, courtyards, parks, and ponds. There were no property lines, no clear division of the land into neat little plots owned by the individuals who lived and worked in these places. It all seemed to be part of a whole, with a single unifying aesthetic. The village housed those rriigkhans of the lower castes, the kharratah and chelhautah, and the humans which were a caste all their own, haukagh-ar, except for a small number who lived with their employers in the caverns of the mesas or up on the plateau.
This planet, Sgarrl, terraformed over three hundred years ago, was home to more humans than any other Ssaarian world – aside from Earth, of course, discovered eighty years ago. The fact that humans shared so much in common with rriigkhans made them the perfect species to incorporate into the rriigkhan caste structure. They breathed the same mix of gases and required similar gravities, and their nimble little fingers were very useful for all sorts of work.
Still, despite the weird pidgin humans had made of her language and their English, she liked the little creatures. She had come to live with her Grandmother on Sgarrl only a month ago, and had never encountered them before. The males only stood as tall as her collar. The females were shorter still, much like the males of her own species.
To human eyes Nshurr was a feline, with a muscular swimmer's body and the broad muzzle of a big cat, with watchful, forward-facing predator's eyes that seemed unexpectedly expressive, because rriikghans had almost as many muscles around their eyes as humans did around their mouths to convey the nuances of emotion. Despite being larger than even many Earth men, she was considered sleek by rriigkhan standards. She made up for that with her broader crest.
The rriigkhan crest was something like the crest of Utahceratops – a keratinized plate growing up out of the skull, except divided into three lobes instead of two, with scalloped edges along the outer rim. Unlike depictions of Utahceratops, the rriigkhan crest was not covered by skin. At least, not on the top. Thick ropy veins squiggled under velvet fur on the underside, closer to the neck. (A thick, arching neck muscular enough to support the weight of that crest meant that Rriigkhans walked with a stoop that made them seem hunchbacked, to humans.) The surface of the plate on top was often rough, even bumpy or corrugated like deer antlers in some areas, smooth in others. Every female crest had four tines jutting from the front – a pair several inches above the eyes, and another pair further up.
Nshurr's crest was wider than average, her upper tines spaced further apart, and combined with a compact face this made her look top-heavy. (A human might say that she was more snow leopard than lion.) Most female crests did not interfere with the movement of the ears – highly mobile, highly expressive paddle shaped things – but the edges of Nshurr's crest did jut out enough to almost shield them.
That her crest was weighty, that it was inconvenient, that she was often aware of it – this was Nshurr's pride. Her long tail curled happily when she caught males looking at it. Humans seemed to be intimidated by it sometimes, as if she might decide to stab them with her “horns.” She considered herself a confident person; not a braggart, but self-assured, and to carry her jhekaah so visibly pleased her to no end.
Her fur was an almost peachy off-white, but a mask of pale peach shaded each seafoam green eye. The mask blended into the white further up her forehead until fur gave way to bone-tan crest, and was split between her eyes by the white of her nose. Oblong spots in that same peachy color, each blending from dark to light, streaked down her sides.
These weren't the natural colors of her distant ancestors. It was unheard of to see a rriigkhan who was not gene-modified in some way, even if those modded genes had been part of rriigkhan life for so long that no one thought of them as mods any longer. She also thought nothing of the subtitles her augmented reality implant displayed whenever a human spoke, AI translated to help her decipher the pidgin. AR was simply a part of her, had been since she was a kit.
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OOC Information:
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For this particular prompt I imagine you'd play a human, probably a new arrival to Sgarrl but maybe someone who was born there. Even though I've set up a situation where my character would have a lot of power and yours very little, I want to clarify that I'm only looking for a mutually loving, slow burn romance.
My “type” that I'd like you to play would be an average man in the 40-60 age range, with realistic personality flaws.
I prefer partners who like to reply more than once a day. 2-3 replies per day would be ideal, but I understand life gets in the way. I usually write 2-5 paragraphs, or 150-450 words per post. This starter is much longer than my typical post length, but my lengths really vary a lot. If I'm introducing a new character or scene, my post might be 1,000 words, or it could be 100 words if our characters are in the middle of a conversation.
Please send a writing sample if you have none in your post history. No need to custom write anything for me, old samples are fine.

I recently inherited a lot of crochet and knitting supplies from an older family friend who passed, including a hand written pattern for what she called a “Baby Sacque”, and I really want to make it. The second row is confusing me a bit and obviously I can’t ask the source on what exactly she meant anymore, so I thought you all might could give input :) the pattern says:
Row 2: Skip 2 st, 1dc in next stitch, 5dc in next stitch - 1dc in each of next 2 stitches - skip 2 - repeat 2-5-2
The last row ended with a chain three turn, so the skip two kinda makes sense, but I’m unsure if repeat 2-5-2 means 2 dc, 5dc in next stitch, 2 dc, then skip two and repeats, OR skip 2, 5dc in next stitch, 2 dc, repeat. I feel like I’m overthinking this somehow lol. Thanks in advance :)

I’ve been working on a new blanket with a new stitch pattern. Usually it takes me some time really understand why each stitch is placed where it is and how it contributes to the overall pattern, which helps me avoid mistakes.
For some background, I’m a recovering perfectionist who is also highly concerned about being productive and doing things quickly (it doesn’t help that the recipient of this blanket is due to be born in a few weeks and I’m behind schedule).
Just now, I made the decision to frog a couple of rows to fix a mistake and realized how this is a metaphor for life. I can either practice living with the mistake and embrace imperfection or go back to fix the mistake and accept that it’s a setback time-wise and that things will take the time they require and I can’t force it. And either way, it’s all part of the learning experience. As clichéd as it sounds, I’m learning to truly internalize “it’s the journey that matters, not the destination“. At least this journey (crocheting) is easily enjoyable!

i think she is reverting back to the cat ears thing to gain the public's favour. she was seen as iconic and it was her thing: the ponytail, boots, and cat ears. so now she's trying to do what she can to be deemed iconic again by the public. she is hiring these trendy, super hot actors like evan peters and penn badgley to hype her stuff up more (aka using them for clout).
also ariana is not a good actress. her acting is not suitable for anything other than sitcoms, or disney channel. it is too over the top and does not feel natural. you can always tell that she is acting which is not what happens with good actors.
the issue is she is just trying to be liked again so she did the whole princess of the people act, and now she's onto the sexy diva cat ears act. it's jarring and it comes across as disingenuous because like WHICH ONE IS THE REAL ARI? it's giving identity crisis unfortunately. she became glinda and now she's realizing that can't last forever.
her jimmy fallon performance is hard to watch. she is barely moving around, she is constantly running out of breath, sometimes even offkey. her voice and energy are not what they used to be. ofc she is still way above average with her vocals, but they are not what they used to be. she sounds tired. she looks tired. i used to be a diehard fan and it's shitty seeing her deteriorate this way.

Hello future friend(s)!
As the title says, I’m looking for you (not in a creepy way). I've always been enchanted by the idea of having a penpal and have recently decided to start taking steps toward living the life I want. This is a big step outside of my introverted comfort zone, but I know that the life I want for myself is nowhere close to the life I have been living thus far, so why not try the things I’ve been too scared to do? That being said, let me introduce myself!

• About Me:
  • 21F
  • Born, raised, and living in the Pacific Northwest
  • Jack of all trades, master of none: I suck at most
  • Early intervention behavioral therapist: I love my job.
  • Recent college graduate: Came out with no friends or experiences, which pushed me to start this adventure.
  • INFJ-T
• Hobbies?
  • Crafting: Took up crocheting a few years ago, grew up sewing and drawing though I’m not good at either.
  • Whimsical imagination: Love to fuel it with books and stories.
  • Gaming: Big fan of Stardew Valley, The Sims, and House Flipper
  • Horror movies: Junky for old slashers. Love Cult of Chucky and Saw 2
    • Favorite movie: live-action Cat in the Hat with Mike Meyers (I know every word).
  • Chronically online: YouTube subscription page is evidence enough.
    • Favorites: H3 podcast, “How to Beat,” and old Game Theory videos.
  • Music lover: Listen to a lot of Stevie Wonder, Elton John, Billy Joel, Lawrence, Sammy Rae and the Friends, Mel Bryant and the Mercy Makers, and Lake Street Dive.
    • I get down to classical music
  • Theater kid: One-woman show in my car, often sobbing and blasting soundtracks during my commute.
• What I'm Looking For:
  • Long letters or emails. I'm a rambler and love to listen to other peoples rambles.
  • Talk about everyday life, hobbies, aspirations, dreams, nightmares, etc.
  • Interested in people from all walks of life. English is preferred, I haven’t learned any other languages yet.
    • It would be awesome to get to know people 20-29! I'm just a girl in her twenties trying to find other people in their twenties :/. It's bleak out here.
  • Seeking snail mail (open to email pals). No minors, please. I need adult friends.

I love to learn about new things and new people, quirks and all. Shoot me a DM if you’re interested!

In this social media age, it's all about your online image. There are people out there who know how to take a flattering shot, who know their angles almost too well. So well they look nothing like their true selves, in fact.
This isn't an article on how to catfish, or how to basically fool the world into thinking you're Jessica Biel or Jake Gyllenhaal.
These are our tips on how to pick out the best photos for your Tinder, Bumble, Grindr, or any dating app profile. Photos that portray the best version of (the real) you, for instance, confident, well-rounded and interesting sides of your personality!
You've probably seen plenty of articles on how to write the perfect Tinder bio. The everlasting debate around stating your height might come to mind. Should you divulge too much information? Should you go for a witty one-liner? Well here at the Match Artist, we value photography. We think that the secret to a killer Tinder profile is in its photos, and some people could do with a helping hand.
Stuck with your Tinder photos? Hire a professional to help you get some amazing snaps.
There's a knack to it, surprisingly enough. The images we choose to represent ourselves on social media and online say a lot about who we are. For instance if you've chosen six different versions of similar selfies for your Tinder profile, you probably aren't going to come off as particularly interesting. If all six of your photos feature you with your ex, you're probably going to come off a bit obsessed.
Here are our tips on how to portray the best version of yourself in your Tinder photos:

1. Don't just pick selfies!

Sure, we understand. Nobody can take a better photo of you than, well, you. However, no matter how tempting it may be, don't just pick selfies for your Tinder photos! It makes you look super boring and shallow. Tinder gives you a small window to be as interesting as possible. You need to utilise your opportunity, that means making the best use of each photo. One selfie is OK, but make sure you include a nice variety of shots in your Tinder photos.

1. Find the perfect balance for body shots

It's daunting, but the straight truth is that people on Tinder are judging your looks. That means not only your face, but your body too. There's a fine balance with choosing a body pic. If you hide your body completely, you don't look self-confident. If you show off your rippling abs in every photo, you can look self-obsessed. The trick here is to choose just one picture that includes your body. If that means a top-off beach pic, then do it. If that means a full-body photo where you're glammed up for a night out, fantastic. If that means a candid shot where your torso is visible, that works too. If you're not massively confident in your body, just try not to make it totally obvious!

1. Show off a hobby

Again, Tinder is about making use of a small opportunity to sell yourself. You need to cram in as much information about yourself as possible, so using your Tinder photos to tell your story is perfect. Whatever your hobby might be, rock it in one of your photos. You might be an athlete (sport photos are always great), you may be a chess champion, amazing at crochet, or completely obsessed with dogs (dogs count as hobbies too, right?) Whatever it might be, having an interest or hobby is attractive. People might share your interest and take more of a liking to you for it, or they might picture themselves sharing the activity with you.

1. Work your angles

Whatever photos you choose, know which ones you look good in. You may have a great profile view, or a jawline to show off. Tip number 4 is simple; know what angles and looks work for you, and try to choose your most flattering pictures. (Rocket science, we know!)

1. Include friends, but not too many

We've all been there, swiping through Tinder when you come across a group photo of twelve guys. Which one is he?! Don't be that person. It's great to include a group photo or pictures with friends; it shows you're a sociable and friendly person. However, you do not want to make a prospective date have to work hard to figure out which person you are.
If you do include a group photo, make sure it includes no more than four or five people. Nobody wants to be scanning fifteen tiny faces to figure out who's who. Do not, I repeat, do not include more than one group photo. It's too confusing. Next.

1. Smile

You're not Edward Cullen. You're going to need to flash those teeth to show you're open and charming. Photos of you smiling and baring your teeth are going to show
Nobody wants to go on a date, or potentially be in a relationship with someone who can't (or won't) smile! Get those gnashers out!

1. Don't flex with a 'hot girl/guy'

A weird one, but people do it. Including a photo with your hottest guy-or-girl-friend does not make people fancy you more! It's a strange kind of mind game that just ends up being a huge no-no for many people. If you were considering a gal on Tinder who's first picture was her with a male supermodel, wouldn't you (on some level) feel like she was saying 'this is my expectation, don't swipe right unless you're this beautiful'. This point also includes exes. People don't like to see pictures of potential dates with a member of the opposite sex. Don't ask us why. They just don't.

1. Get fancy

Everyone likes to get dressed up for a night out or a big event. Likewise, everyone likes a girl in a beautiful dress or a guy in a well-fitting tux. You should try to include a photo of yourself dressed up to the nines to show Tinder-ers your potential and how you might, one day, look on their arm at an event (or even wedding).

1. Go outside

This one sounds stupid, but subliminally, including one picture of yourself outside makes you look a little bit more adventurous and interesting. Pictures of you only indoors will on a very deep level tell people that you don't go out much. Think about it, your Tinder photos are telling a story. Make a little bit of that story out-of-doors!

1. Leave out the filters

Nobody is looking to go out with a guy or girl with dog or panda ears! Snapchat filters are a no-go for dating profiles. Sorry folks.

1. Try out professional photography

If you've read this article and been thinking 'I don't have any photos of myself like that', you can try getting a professional to snap you looking your very best. You can now hire a professional portrait photographer from just £99 for an hour session.
You can be sure that a portrait photographer will capture your best angles, smiles and even your friends. Portrait photographers have the best lenses and kit that will flatter your mug far more than the tiny fish-eye iPhone lens.
It's not unheard of, either! Plenty of people nowadays opt for a pro photographer to help them look sharp in their headshots, dating profiles, and even their passport photos. It's reasonably priced enough, the same as a nice dinner in a restaurant, but with longer lasting results!
There's a few simple things to bear in mind when selecting photos for your dating profile: not too many selfies, not too many group shots, work your best features, show your bod (a bit), make sure to smile, go outdoors, get dressed up, and leave out the silly filters. You can also try getting a professional photographer to take some snaps.
Now get out there and start swiping! The most important thing is to be confident in yourself and your choices, but if you follow these tips you should be an absolute love magnet within hours.
Are you thinking about booking a portrait shoot with the Match Artist? Great idea!
If you're going to have an enviable Instagram feed or Tinder photos, you can't rely on your best friend to capture your best angles at the drop of a hat. Sometimes life calls for a professional photographer to get you some selfies that will drop jaws. Luckily, the Match Artist can find you such a pro at short notice and for a great price.
We guarantee quick and simple booking, an amazing professional photographer who will travel to you, and 48 hour photo delivery every time.
We do all this so you can have great shots of you looking your best.
Don't have any shots worthy of your Tinder profile? Try out a Match Artist photographer today! We'll help you get those matches.