quick thank you for 1.6k, that’s pretty darn cool ❤️
Richie couldn’t understand why he had the sudden undying urge to go back to Derry. In fact, he’d never thought of it once before now. He couldn’t even remember what had sparked the idea in the first place. He recalls that the concept had first dawned on him one gloomy night, Eddie’s head laying gently in his lap as the two lay sprawled across their deep brown sofa. His fingers had been playing with his husband’s soft brown curls when it had hit him.
“Do you ever think about going back home?” Richie had blurted out, his head lost in thought as he stared out the foggy glass window. He had felt the weight of Eddie’s head rise slightly off the skin on his thighs.
“What do you mean home? We are home?” Eddie had asked curiously. Richie shook his head in wonder.
“No, I mean Derry,” he whispered. Eddie lifted himself into a sitting position to stare at the man beside him.
I lost my cause
when I was busy watching
for the hand of my father
and the tongue of my mother.
I looked for it
under the bed,
but there were
only ember eyes there,
and in the closet,
but found only
and knocking bones;
in libraries and sanctuaries,
but found only
and oblique references;
and I looked in
bars and beds,
where I only
Now, at the end
of a road
where ancients lay,
still and gray,
next to the pool
of black waters,
I see it glinting
in the deep;
but to dive through my face
and flailing, reach that place
thicken my blood
and crack my bones,
shrivel my skin,
and dim my eyes.
When i was younger me and my gang made money off of trading cards. Over in north hollywood we had the meanest ass dudes playing yugioh. You would get off the bus and immediately see a dude trading cards and selling weed. My boy Raiden only had one eye and then Jacinto had a plate in the back of his head and all the dudes who played Magic were like 6'5 and mean as hell. We would fight dudes in the parking lot in front of the naruto mural just for stealing cards and shit. The funny shit was none of us would swear cuz we would get kicked out of the card shop.
What kind of kingdoms Do you see there? What kind of rococo abundance, Abandoned towers, A market in Morocco, Full of fruits, birds, and fabrics, A restaurant in San Paolo
You are looking in the mirror– One can imagine– Seeing there a beast with the short golden fur, A kind of stone sculpture, A sphinx full of onyx eyes, And a silk lace of a monocle Falling down on your mackintosh
On a rainy day, There is a fish swimming in the depths of your mirror, It comes closer to the surface in its yellow swimming suit, And waving its tail Hides in the blue weeds, only her red eye shining.
On a sunny day, You probably look at a griffin, An avid reader of The New Yorker on twitter; He is glancing askance, Scrolling down the mirror, And, briefly meeting with you, Goes on with his morning drinking a cup of Earl Grey, Eating an egg with fried bacon and grape jam.
“Cmon Harry, just one hit won’t kill you.” Zayn says extending the rolling, piping hot joint out in Harry’s direction. All night you’ve been trying to convince him to try it. But if you know anything about Harry you know that he hates smoking. It’s not that he cares what you’re smoking, to him smoking anything is bad.
“I’ll pass,” he says crossing his arms over his chest and checking over his shoulder for what seemed to be the 50th time that night.
“You’re more paranoid than I am babe.” You say tucking into his side a bit more. It’s cold in the bus garage where the boys decided to come and smoke. Behind a trailer full of who knows what, next to an open door, so the smoke can escape.
“Awe Harry, don’t look so pissed. You knew we were coming out here to smoke.” Liam says from across the small space. The ruffle of a potato chip bag, draws everyones attention to Niall, for just a second. They are supposed to be quite. And the air coming out of that bag was exactly the opposite.
“What? Im hungry!” He defends pulling the bag closer and shoving a handful into his mouth.
“I’m not pissed Liam.” Harry snaps back and pulls his phone out to check the time. “I just don’t agree the the inhalation of toxins is all….I’m not pissed.” He repeats. By the time you have passed around the second joint Harry had loosened up a bit. “Why do you guys even smoke that stuff?” He asks pointedly.
“You’ve obviously never done it before…” Taking another hit from the joint Louis passed, you lock eyes with him. “It’s wonderful.” you cough out, and extend it to him in another attempt to get him to try. This time he doesn’t say no. He looks around the circle at everyone one.
“That-a boy Haz, just one hit mate.” Louis taunts. Harry looks over his shoulder one more time before, “Fine, but just to see what all of the fuss is about.” He takes a deep breath and puts the paper to his lips. Its sort of unnatural to see him doing it.
No more than 10 minutes later you’re all laughing loudly over a joke they had all heard over a hundred times before.
“He was in the pantry the whole time!” Harry booms, wiping tears that just keep flowing over his cheeks. But it all stopped when they heard a very familiar voice calling fro them.
“Boys! Are you in here? You’d better not be smoking that shit again.” Alberto called from somewhere in the garage.
“Time to go,” Zayn says taking another hit and running right out the back door. They never do manage to get caught.
”I don’t think I’ve ever been this high before,” you say after blowing out a cloud of thick smoke. Only and hour ago he’d come bounding into the hotel room, with a bag of the dankest weed you’ve ever smelled. The memory is slightly hazy now, but your sure you remember him talking excitedly about the show.
‘You should’ve seen da crowd tonight!’
‘Some girl threw a Harry bobble head and nailed him right in da jewels. It looked like him though so we kept it… Best fans in da world.’
The whole time he didn’t mention once, the ounce of weed he was flailing around in his hand as he spoke.
“Niall baby? Whatcha got there?” You ask motioning to the baggie clenched in his hand. He looked up as if he had no clue what you were talking about.
“Oh, yeah. Well Zayn and Louis have a friend here who happens to have a hook up. They say its da best they’ve ever smoked.” You squint your eyes at him. Assessing the way he’s swaying while he stands. His face is far more relaxed than when he’d left for the show. Which never happens, plus he’s talking so much. Sure niall is talkative, but now like this.
“Niall James Horan, did you smoke without me?!” You play offended and approach his slowly. Once your face to face with him you can really tell. His lids are barely open and his eyes are red. He leans down to kiss you when you pull back and snatch the bag from him. “I guess were going to have to fix that.”
And thats how you both wound up naked in the hotel bathtub tangled around each other in a cloud of smoke.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Liam said pulling the perfectly rolled cross joint from your lips.
“I almost forgot to poke holes in them, wouldn’t want to waste all that amazing Kush.” He chuckled unfolding a paperclip between his teeth.
He surgically probed at the joints before handing it back to you.
“First of all just don’t say kush. Second how did you even know how to make these?” You asked turning to look for your lighter.
“Well, Seth Rogan for sure, Zayn, and rewatching 'Pineapple Express’ about a million times.“ He said counting on his fingers.
"It’s almost a shame to smoke it..” You quoted, twirling it between your fingers.
“…it’s like killing a unicorn, with a bomb!” He laughed.
You shrugged, “Oh well. Now are you going to help me light this then?”
Giving you a cheeky smile Liam pulled two extra lighters from his front pocket, “Course.”
Nearly thirty minutes later the two of you were sprawled across your bedroom floor with snacks galore. The pizza you had somehow managed to order, had been delivered only a few minutes earlier and you and Liam couldn’t have been more thrilled.
“What did we even order babe? Haha I don’t remember.” Liam chuckled trying to open the box.
“I-uhm, pepperoni?” You said softly.
Liam, who had already eaten half a slice, snorted as he asked “Why the hell are you whispering?”
You stared blankly at him, giving your brain a moment to process what he said before shaking yourself back into focus.
“Am I whispering?”
“AHAHa” He laughed, taking another bite of his pizza.
You scooted closer to Liam, grabbing yourself a slice of pizza goodness. Liam moaned loudly as he bit into his second slice. Loud enough where you weren’t going to be able to stop yourself from laughing.
“You enjoying yourself there Payno?” You teased.
“Why? Is someone a bit jealous?” He said nudging your arm.
“OH, yeahh. I’m just steaming.” You said, your voice oozing with sarcasm.
“Whats all this?” You ask pushing around the several different sacks of weed he had splayed across his tea table. He had everything ready for “date night”. His Marvel movies are all neatly stacked near the Blue-ray player. All the food, drinks you needed for days, and of course hundreds of dollars of weed. There was no way you could smoke it all, but he liked to have options.
“Go on then,” he nodded at the massive glass piece on the center of the table. “I already packed it, its all ready to go.” He picks up a remote hits a series of buttons and relaxes back into the couch. You lean forward and put you mouth on the perfectly round opening. with the flick of a lighter the bowl begins to bubble and fill with smoke. Before you can think to hold in the thick smoke, your already coughing. You both take turns going back and forth, packing bowl after bowl.
“Hey Lou?” You look over at him slowly. “Do you think that like, birds have feelings?” He looks back at you.
“What?” His eyes are barely open now. But you can tell he’s still watching you.
“Do you think birds have feelings?” You ask again in all seriousness. But before you can get the question out, he’s erupted into laughter. And just watching his was enough to trigger your own laughing. The kind of laughing that leaves you out of breath eveytime you try and process any new information.
Each time he tries to answer you, another wave of laughter comes over you, tightening the muscles in your stomach more and more.
“Oh my god,” you gasp. “It hurts,” you laugh. “Shut up, it hurts.”
“Zayn?” The metal roof door creaks open. The air is different out here. Fresher? You can here the busy street some 20 stories below. “Zayn!” You whisper again. A muffled cough draws your eye to the far side of the rooftop. As your eyes begin to adjust, you can now tell why he’d come all the way up here. “Zayn Malik, is that you?” You say in a flat unamused tone. A pillar of sweet smelling smoke erupts from his lips, followed by a quiet chuckle and cough.
“Hey babe, I was just thinking about you!” His voice sounds quiet and relaxed. He brings the expertly rolled blunt back to his lips and inhales. The cherry glows bright and illuminates his face. His eyes are only partially open now, the weed has obviously kicked in. “Wanna hit,” he asks extending his arm to offer the stick to you.
“I can’t smoke that.” You gasp glancing over your shoulders. “It’s illegal.” He just chuckles a bit and let’s the smoke roll slowly out of is nose. “Y/N, come here.” He motions for you to sit in his lap.
“Zayn, what if some one sees us?” The worry in your voice is clear.
“No one is going to see us,” he tries to assure you. “I’m very well hidden.” He raises his eyebrows, and you can fell yourself giving in. You close the space between you and settle yourself against the unit as well. You watch as he takes another long pull. He turns toward you and pulls your face into his. You can feel his tongue travel over your lips. You can fell the smoke burning your lunges as he breathes it into you. “No was that so bad?” He taunts as he sits back with an amused grin.
A/N- Because its still 420 where I am. Yeah yeah, peer pressure. I never claimed to be a good person. Happy 420! Celebrate and be merry ;)
february is a slow, aching month. mornings are lighter but it still feels like the air is resistant and sullen, like the bored, abandoned sister of december and the distant cousin of spring. she stands on street corners smoking cigarettes at six in the evening and smiles when it rains, blowing damp smoke rings into the darkness. i am in a very low mental place lately and i want to blame it on pressing skies and rain and cold and endless nights, but it feels more like something darker and deep rooted and restless. i feel heavy and cold and lonely and i spend most my evenings stood waiting at bus stops, unearthing dead weeds under my eyes only to find ten more sprouting in the morning. days drag but night flits past so quickly, like burnt shadows of sodden leaves still falling, like a lighter flicked on and off. this is the darkest time of year, when the final days of winter stretch teasing and unyielding; somewhere, february stands on her street corner and smokes cigarette after cigarette, laughing.
I don’t want to be remembered
by the way the sun touches my skin
or how the wind caresses my hair;
I want to be remembered
just the way you would
like you would remember
the summer taste in your lips
and the wild weeds dancing
for your eyes only.
She had flowers growing inside her, a beautiful garden. But one day grew a weed and she let him stay because he was beautiful in her eyes. But weeds only come to kill and suddenly her garden lost its beauty. And that is how her soul died.