The morning after her father died, the first thing Laura saw upon waking was Bobby, curled up around his Wolverine doll–the one that he’d carried out of the lab, through a sewer, bundled into the fake bottom of a crate in the back of a truck, up the 5, across the deserts of Utah, the Rockies, and the long flat north that came after. He had carried it through these woods, through this fight and this flight, and there he was sleeping, pudgy hands curled close around it.
Laura had read the comics Gabriela and the other nurses had brought in for them. They had been assigned to learn how to read briefs, maps, instruments, but Gabriela had brought Laura comics about heroes.
In the lab, they had taught Delilah how to drag poison from green veins, how to find the sharpest edge at her beck and call, to strangle. The day before, Delilah had shredded the life out of men with a screaming rain of pine needles. She had wrapped long grasses around Rhodes’s ugly bolo tie and dragged him down and down. But that next day, that dawning day, Laura woke up to see Delilah calling small yellow apples down from a tree blooming out of season.
It had been a story in a comic book, Eden. It had been fiction, a fantasy, a dream, a random set of coordinates. Logan had suspected they would find nothing when they got there. He had been sure.
Sometimes promises are fiction. Sometimes they’re written on the backs of twice-folded photographs. Sometimes the nurse with the steadiest hands whispers to you in the middle of the night come with me child, wake up child, curl up in this duffel bag, stay quiet child, believe me child, we’re going, we’re going, I’ll get you somewhere safe.
Laura had curled up in that fabric-walled darkness, clutching her backpack to her chest. She had her ball, the paperwork that was her life writ out, two battered comic books. A photograph with a list of whispered names. They were not supposed to have names any more than they were supposed to have birthdays or comic books or childhoods.
Kind hands were waiting for them at the end of this journey. There was refuge. There were new names, visas and school where no one should bleed for anything except loose teeth and ignored blisters.
Logan had scoffed, and Laura hadn’t listened. She had said her friends’ names over and over. He had pointed to coordinates in a comic book, and she had said her family’s names over and over. She knew, the way Logan never did, the way Logan never would, that some days stories save you. Sometimes a nurse calls you child instead of by number, and gives you flimsy precious pages to read in the dark.
They knew the comic books were comic books. Laura knew, before she ever met Logan and his smelly, hopeless self, that the X-Men were no gods among men. Flimsy pages—she understood flimsy. She understood the way things tore–pages, clothing, skin and ligaments.
But sometimes you can make the story real. “Eden,” they said. They pressed the coordinates hand to hand, whisper to whisper, and they ran. They promised each other, and they found each other there, at coordinates that had been nothing until they made them a waystation, a place to rest. A watchtower.
Laura had carried so little out of that lab. She had the metal that lined her bones. She had her family’s names. She had a set of coordinates in a battered old comic, and she would carry that forever. It wasn’t real, but she was. It wasn’t real, that Eden, that haven, but she had been there.
She had run shrieking into Rictor’s arms. She had cried on Bobby and danced around the hard cracked dirt with him, each swinging the other in wide circles. Logan had slept safe there for the last time. She would carry it forever. Fading, flimsy pages. A tired man with a funny beard.
They would go next over shallow valleys and dry rocky peaks. Delilah would hunt down a deer in the woods, walking silent on fallen leaves and little sprouts, calling death down green and blooming. Rebecca would cook it up over the fire Bobby raised from sparks, and Laura would lie on her back with her hands on her full rounded belly and pretend she was a lion. When they came down from the mountains, the wide low fields would roll out below them for miles. There would be so much sky.
But for now, in this morning, this dawning day–there was a little boy in a wood, who was the safest he’d ever been. There was a little boy in a wood, with a yellow Wolverine doll held to his chest and Laura sat there in the waking light, watching him breathe.
1. she is the light of my life, the hearthfire of this empty space i call a body. her harsh kiss ignites the flames in me; her tender goodbye reminiscent of smoke. she is but a child trapped in the body of a tired woman.
2. she is soft, like snow; and so damn beautiful. her red tendrils bleed down her neck and her eyes pierce us with every lingering glance. her chest rises and falls as i lie next to her; stare deep into the world of sadness behind her eyes. maybe someday there’ll be something called sincerity in this makeshift homeland we call love – but today is not that day.
3. she is no angel, and has yet to earn her wings. red locks turn black and lollipops turn to cigarettes. she dances down dirt roads, a weak woman with a thirst for drugs and love and an appreciation for anyone who will give it to her. she is no longer a child.
4. she grows older, and the bags beneath her eyes are only becoming more present. she watches idly as her life ticks by before her, every second the click of a hand. when the hour bell signs, she is distraught. I cannot save her from this life of greed and disease.
5. I forget sometimes that she is still young, with dirt under her nails and a lifetime of mistakes to look forward to. I lace my fingers with hers and we fall silent; eyes clacking together like something of magnets. in an ideal world, we’d collide. but eventually, we drift apart. we look away.
cowards, both of us.
6. she is the embodiment of perfect imperfection; a fragile character with odd socks and pessimistic demeanour. but the love I hold for her is both brittle and unbreakable at the same time. her bitter kiss is poisonous, and I savour every inch of her; wanting time to pause and for the world to cease its spinning.
but all I have is my tarnished memory. a kiss; so rare and slicing it is but a knife in disguise.
when she kisses me for the first time, I want to remember it as such. a lifetime of boys and girls alike who cherished our bodies but were unable to reach our hearts; and she reaches it in one fell swoop; in one chaste kiss.
later on, when I am old, and she is but a distant memory; I remember this toxic kiss – because it was the only time.
Prompt: There really wasn’t none oops– Group: Shinee Member: Lee Taemin/Taemin Rating: NC-17 honestly Word Count: 6,354
Warnings: NSFW and some very bad porn I’m so rry
Being stressed was
not in your vocab you thought to yourself, watching your students go
home. You packed up, phone in hand to head home and relax. Tomorrow
was your samba classes and you were going to need everything in your
power to not be upset about teaching these dancers by yourself. You
were soon in your car blasting the latest jam music while you drove
back to your flat.
You hope to all the
gods and back that you’ll be blessed with a helper soon.
Or you were going to
Which would be bad
because who has bail money for your crazy ass?
You made it home
soon to do the normal. Feed yourself then watch a bit of tv. Make
sure your friend didn’t visit and steal some outfits. Feed the
occasional stray cat then take your slow bath with relaxing candles
and the love of your life (a glass of wine). You felt that you
relaxed more tonight. Some sudden unknown peace and calm filling you
from the balls of your feet to the nerves in your scalp. Tomorrow
is going to be a good dayyou
think to yourself as you tuck yourself in. You just knew that it was
for some reason and fell asleep. Constant blurs of colors moving in
synchronization are your dreams of this night rather than the black
nothing that consists of a stressful day.
hello lavender , the spring holidays begin for me next week , and i was wondering if you had any ideas for things i could do to fill the time .. what will you be doing in the holidays ? x
spring adventures (n’ my holiday as well) ♡ festivals (pulling hair into braids, picking grass from sidewalk cracks, dancing barefoot on hot concrete, running so fast lungs begin to burn, hands stained blue with sidewalk chalk, sleeping dizzy in the backseat on the way home) ♡ picnics (baskets bursting with mangos and fig jam, swimming in glimmering ponds, hanging from lazy willow trees) ♡ theme parks (tangled hair in moonless nights, cotton candy stained cheeks, screaming, shouting, smiling, noise !) ♡ gardening (palms stained with dirt, dancing when big fat raindrops pour, using an old tea kettle as a watering can, braiding the lavender and primroses into hair)
When I was 12 years old, I was in a car crash with my father and uncle. I went into a coma, and was unresponsive for a week. I don’t remember much from that time, but there’s one thing that I remember clearly as if it had happened yesterday. It was a dream (I hope so), but I can’t remember exactly when I had it (I guess it makes sense, since my body was destroyed and I was busy fighting not to die and shit).
The dream starts with me waking up in a ditch, in the middle of nowhere (I searched Google Images for a reference, and the place seemed like the image above, minus the wind turbines). It was kind of dark, like the afternoon of a cloudy day - the light had a strange grey-quality to it, and there was no sound anywhere.
I looked up and saw some guys crouching and looking at me. They didn’t frighten me, but something in them was definitely off, I can’t explain how or why. They were in silence, looking at me and smiling - it was more of a sneer, actually, as if they were thinking “what a sad fuck”.
Then one of them leaned a little towards me and said:
“You were expecting heaven, weren’t you?”.
I didn’t answer, so he spoke again:
I heard some of the guys laughing, but couldn’t tell which one of them. Actually, it seemed like it was coming from the sky, like the laugh track of a TV show, but with less laughter.
I looked up again and noticed that some of the guys were missing their heads - the kind of glitch you sometimes have in dreams, you know (I try to be very rational about the whole thing now, but I remember feeling so scared at the time I thought I’d pee).
Then the first guy spoke again:
“Go back to the dirt. Dance while you can”.
I didn’t slip out of my coma right after that, but I remembered this dream some time later. I never told my parents, nor anybody really, because it’s very grim, and it still haunts me.
White sands, New Mexico. Where there will be nothing for you to do but breathe, for your environment will be vacant and lonely, you will face inner demons while the sand whips around you and the heat pulls you in to a space of rare and magnificent thinking.
la villa del libro, bookstore in Spain, another landscape filled with quiet, it will be a chance for you to breathe in rare and unusual books, meet unusual and beautiful people and expand your voice and mind to a place you thought impossible.
Rainbow, a small town in Victoria Australia, you could say there is not a whole lot special about it, but what you need is the feel of a small town and the quiet of beautiful gardens that touch your soul in a way that transforms you and leaves you with a mark, an adventure you will not soon forget.
Paradise Cove, a hidden swimming hole in Florissant Colorado, you will find peace in the rushing water and the glory of friends surrounding you, it will be out of your comfort zone but if you feel ready strip your clothes and jump into the beautiful water and allow yourself to free of worries and take in air of chilly cold and enjoy it, enjoy what you have faced and let every thought pour out into the water.
Dough, a doughnut shop in New York City, noise and hustle will take over and taste and satisfaction may win your mind, but let it roll away to somewhere else, be in the busy center of it all but find how you can take all the sound and put it in a box allow yourself to absorb your surroundings, take in every little detail and allow every beauty in every ugly thing to truly come through.
Swanton berry farm in Davenport, CA. How much better can picking fresh fruit be? Maybe the wonders of all the other foods and drinks they sell, maybe just nature itself! Dance along the dirt roads, pretend no one is watching, enjoy every bite of every fresh fruit you get to have, don't fight the enjoyment around you, allow it to be thee, indulge yourself.
Olympic national park, Washington. Where beautiful waterfalls and friendships come together, don't worry about anyone else allow this to be your moment to enjoy the beautiful scenery that surrounds you, dip your feet in water when possible and dance along to the water that drips kindly beside you.
The Bavarian forest Bavaria, Germany. Where else do you belong but somewhere as beautiful and unique as you, climb to the top of the magnificent tree top walk, find every part hidden inside you as you take one step further.
Disney world, Florida. Yes typical I know, what you need is fun, what you are is fun, so go, and laugh and don't worry about those around you who bother you, rather focus on the joy and fun you are having, don't even think about those you dislike, don't judge, do your best to be free and flowing with nothing else but pure happiness.
Seattle public library, Washington. This library is endless, just as your mind is, let all inspiration come forth to you, breathe every ounce of ideas in and go crazy with the magnificent brain you have.
Shakespeare globe, Bankside London. Go to a show, watch the beauty, watch your beauty, feel the glee inside you and remember how important it is to keep that with you throughout life, even when things are hard take this as a lesson of beauty being there even when it is so hard to see, take this in keep that happiness as your secret power.
Butchart gardens, Canada. You are a flower yourself, ethereal and kind, you deserve to be free like a flower, you often hold yourself to a level, hard on yourself about a lot, here forget all of that and take yourself to a place of calm and peace, those things do not exist in this garden, be entirely with the beauty, become the flower you are already meant to be.
It looks like fall is here but temps are in the 80’s!! I’ve run slowly the last 3 days in a row. It feels good to run after Woodstock. My righy foot is still sore but I am taking it slowly and not pushing pace.
Fall is my favorite time of the year go be outside running.
This weekend is Dances with Dirt and next weekend is Ragnar Michigan.
Zoey chirped gleefully, her jet boots adding an extra bounce
to her step. She had twirled to face him but continued walking with her back to
the landscape. Tee trotted along behind them, his new crossbow aimed and at the
ready to snipe approaching enemies. It was first thing in the morning, too
bright for them to face much opposition, so Rythian felt comfortable leaving
his sword sheathed at his side knowing the sharp shooter dinosaur had their