seen from Algeria
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from China
seen from Iraq
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
@lightsblooming, cont.
it was a snail slow lumber toward chair, arms outstretched, fingers wiggling. the boy wanders to the left. copper eyes fixed upon the suspicious sock-clad feet behind chair.
but august pauses in his tickle hunt, cheek pressed into textile hill of hoodie. (a glimpse over his shoulder. away from the chair.) pretending he’d heard something in opposite direction.
“ some tickle monster i am. i’ve lost my victim. ”
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"if you are a doggy, you need a bath."
"I'm n--I had a shower, kiddo..." He's suddenly aware of what kind of an influence he's been on her and he's Not Happy about it.
@lightsblooming: send ( brush ) for your muse to brush my muse’s hair
little memes for child muses, accepting
the brush was magenta and bristled. (pilfered from a shopping mart aisle, secured within confines of hoodie.) august withholds this fact. deep in his gut, the boy frets mary would frown upon his thievery.
drawling patiently, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. his hand guides hair brush past mary’s locks. abandoned home may creak, may groan, but he wants to ease some of her anxiety. “ three more brushes. then, bedtime. ” he’s styled makeshift bedding: torn window curtain, ratty blanket, his backpack. his own bed? nowhere to be seen.
@lightsblooming
the old, abandoned house groans with every step. he’d discovered a few toys lying about. (plush cat. wooden blocks. and remains of tea party set.)
august kneels down, plastic cups bobbing within hands. “ you and your bunny rabbit feel like hostin’ a tea party? ” tics something bittersweet, sentimental. the boy was her age. once upon a time.
she's dipped the cat's tail in the cup of paint, who has run off and made a mess. /sebastian
There are many things a man isn't prepared for. Single parenting? Definitely nowhere close.
At least he had become an expert in getting paint out of strange places so... Sebastian had that going for him.
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@lightsblooming: mary taps him a million times and then holds up a drain she made. its a crayon scribble of him and her holding hands in a rainbow meadow. he's wearing a birthday crown, while the sun smiles down at them.
"happee birday!" she offers him a sticky hard candy from her pocket, too.
august’s birthday, accepting
august grabs, delicately, for the crayon drawing. the little stick figures in a beautiful meadow. his birthday crown, scribbled upon his head. (he needs to clear his throat. because it’s sweet enough to bring tears to his chestnut eyes.)
however, he doesn’t wish to spoil precious moment with crying. he paws the hard candy. opening his arms for a hug: “ this is the best gift ever, mary. ”
@lightsblooming: is it going to hurt like lots?
memes, accepting
their current location – gas station bathroom. (a garbage bin pins the squeaky door. overhead light fixture buzzes and flares.) the boy, hoodie sleeves shoved to elbows, kneels to mary’s height.
“ can you be brave while i take care of your hand? ”
is it going to hurt like lots?
patient, warm copper eyes brake toward her. august, with widespread detail, inspects the small hand within his fragile grasp. a pesky, bloody abrasion colors her pale palm. “ i need to clean the cut. ” the boy answers. “ cleanin’ a cut can sting. you’ll be fine once i bandage it. ”
@lightsblooming: don’t you dare do that.
memes, accepting
thunderclap. zigzag lightning. the storm rages on, howls on. auggie got mary and her stuffed rabbit toy inside. stroke of fickle luck. their little haven was a deserted schoolhouse. aged books and forgotten debris everywhere.
(but his backpack. wrenched from fist. fallen into sopping shambles.) august levels his face toward spider web window. he spots the backpack, free fall in the storm.
“ i see my bag. outside. ” gentle drawl. “ i have to get it back. ”
don’t you dare do that. the boy kneels down. “ we need that backpack. wait here, mary, okay? ‘m gonna go alone. ”
