#tried to pick a handful of different leaf types :D

[scrixels]

1539. Herbs

#pixel art #herbs #plants #food #tried to pick a handful of different leaf types :D #we have: thyme / basil / rosemary / sage / coriander(cilantro) #all v tasty :D

[t-o-m-hollands]

Locksley Hall - Part II

Summery: Tom doesn’t know quite how it happens, but one moment he’s working as the gardener at Locksley hall, and the next he’s run of to marry the lords daughter, a girl he hates. Set in England, 1920.

Word count: 5500 (sorry...)

Pairing: Tom x OC

A/N: Again, this is heavily inspired by the first part in Atonement – Ian McEwan, but the plot is different.  

Music wise: For Madeleine’s parts I listened to Old Money – Lana del Rey and for Tom’s part I listened to NFWMB and Work Song - Hozier.

R E A D   P A R T    O N E   H E R E

Gideon’s cottage - 1920.

Tom is awakened by yet another expensive automobile driving up the road and past his cottage. His brain works slowly, still half asleep, one foot in a dreamland where he’s chasing someone in a labyrinth made out of peonies. Slowly he wakes his body by moving his toes, and then his fingers too, before stretching his arms over his head, letting out a tired groan. His body feels warm and his limbs lethargic and slow, as they do after a particularly long nap. For a long while he lays there, eyes half-closed, staring at the dust aimlessly drifting in the sunlight.  

Another car passes by outside.  

Downstairs he can hear Mr. Higgins doing the washing up. If he concentrates, he can hear the guests from the ball chatting and laughing up at the manor. If he concentrates further still, he can hear the blood pumping through his system, steady and slow.  

The whole world feels slow. Like the air in the room stands still, despite the wide-open window. It is mid-July, and the heat feels oppressively persistent, there is no escaping it. Only now, as the clock is nearing eight in the evening, does the world seem to cool. All morning he’d worked in the garden, preparing the grounds for the ball under the watchful eyes of old Dowager Locksley. When she was finally satisfied that there wasn’t a dead leaf, not a single weed, nor an unwatered rose in sight she’d sent him off, ready to attack the kitchen staff instead. He’d walked down to Locksley bay. There he’d rid himself of his sweaty, earth-stained rags and he’d swam until his body felt cool again before returning to the cottage for a long and well-deserved nap.  

He stretches again and groans. He desperately wants a smoke, but his pack of cigarettes along with his lighter is all across the room, thrown on the cluttered desk along with countless of books and an old typewriter that the library had given away. The letter M was irreversibly lost and therefor it had been deemed useless. He’d taken it with great gratitude, glad to have something he’d normally wouldn’t be able to afford. It had amused him, typing long passages without using any word containing the 13th letter of the alphabet. In a strange way it thrilled him, that some words in the dictionary simply became forbidden for him. Suddenly out of reach.Words like magic, monarch, melancholy, magnetic, maddening, maiden,  

Madeleine.  

Finally he gets up, walks across the room and sits down by his desk. He lights a cigarette. Staring out the window he watches as yet another car makes it up the driveway to join the ball.  

The sky outside is lilac, and the first evening breeze makes its way through the grass like a wave in the ocean and he prays it’ll make its way through the window to cool his head. He inhales deeply, but the sinking feeling he’s had in his stomach all day stays where it is.  

And half of his mind is still in his dream. 

Had he been better at drawing he’d drawn her hands, soft and small compared to his calloused ones. Maybe if he’d draw them, he’d be able to get the picture of them out of his mind. Those hands, gracefully holding a cigarette as her eyes, dark and deep and framed with long lashes, observed him with great disapproval as they’d discussed poetry. She always looked disapproving when she was observing him. She’d worn a evening gown in the finest silk, and his ratty jacket over her shoulders, her normally perfectly pinned hair falling down in cascades over her shoulders. It had felt strangely intimate, seeing her like that, so undone and wearing his jacket

Swearing, he puts out the cigarette. He’d been distracted, not noticing how it’d burnt down to the butt, burning his fingers. He doesn’t light a new one, but leans back in his chair, runs his hand through his hair and tries to calm his breathing.  

It hadn’t always been this way.  

Once upon a time, they’d been friends, hard as it was to believe now. They’d defied gravity when they’d climbed the great oak three behind the cottage. He’d taught her how to swim in Locksley bay, held her up in the water and told her to fill her lungs with air in order to float. She’d taught him how to read. His teacher in the village school had called him slow, so she’d sneaked out books from the library, and with patience of a saint she’d taught him how to recognise each symbol until he could make sense of the words.  

She’d been his first kiss.  

It had only been a small peck on his lips, lasting not more than a second, but it counted. He counted it. 

She’d find him in the greenhouse, crying over the trashing he’d gotten from Mr. Higgins for attacking Francis Locksley. Silently she’d sat down beside him, her long dark hair in a braid and dressed in her Sunday best, having just been to church. She’d taken his bruised knuckles in her hands and she’d kissed them, before kissing each tear streaked cheek, and then ever so briefly, she’d pressed her lips against his. He had felt like a knight, being awarded by the queen for his brave service. He hadn’t known what to make of it, but she’d held his hand in hers and he’d leaned his head against her shoulder and for the longest time they’d stayed that way until he’d forgotten all about stinging bruises and tears.

He lights another cigarette and another car drives up the driveway.  

The sky is now a dark blue, the last evening light turning the leaves in the trees golden. Earlier that day Mr. Higgins had put out lights all along the drive way to the manor house and they now lit up the summer evening. 

Against the evening sky he sees a bird shoot up, rising to the sky.

Once when they’d been children they’d found an injured songbird in the woods. He’d watched as Madeleine with the gentlest of fingers picked the bird up. He’d watched as she held the wounded creature in her hands, as she observed its broken wing. She’d looked at him then, her dark eyes sad, and she’d told him they’d have to help it heal.  

So they’d gone to Gideon’s cottage and he’d sneaked her in, while Mr. Higgins worked in the garden. She’d placed the songbird on his bed. While she was kneeling in front of it, as if in prayer, he’d taken out bandages. He’d watched as she’d gently wrapped it around the bird’s wing. She’d looked at him, and told him to sing. She’d said that it would make the bird feel safer, that it was what she used to do to baby Beatrix when she was crying.  So, he’d sung a song to the poor harmed thing, while Madeleine patted its head.  

For seven days the nursed it, making sure the wing healed as it should. It had been their secret. She’d snuck out of classes with her governess and he’d faked being ill until Mr. Higgins let him be home from school and they’d sat in his room, and he’d sing for them. They kept the bird in a box, on the lid of which he’d put air holes in, and she’d placed her cardigan in the bottom of it, making sure it was soft to sleep on. They’d feed t worms Tom had dug up in the garden and Tom would sing to it every night.

In the end the songbird had healed, and they’d released it in the woods again and watched as it flew away, awkwardly at first, nearly toppling towards the ground before it found its strength again, slowly rising until it was only a speck of black in the distance. He’d held her hand, biting down hard on his bottom lip to keep himself from weeping, while she had cried openly, pressing his hand in hers. They’d hid in the labyrinth until late that evening, far away from nanny and Mr. Higgins. He’d sung her songs until she’d stopped weeping.  

Tom stands up, puts out his cigarette and stretches out one last time. Then he walks out, leaving his memories in the smoke-filled room, heading towards the pub. 

*

The Wild Boar, the village pub

“You ever think about headin’ out of here?” he asks his friend.  

They’re in the village pub, The Wild Boar, throwing back beers. A Victorian pub with murky green wallpaper, beer-stained velvet booths and worn mahogany wooden floors. The atmosphere is always good and someone is always singing. Harrison, who most days works in the bar but is enjoying a rare day off, calls it his home.  

“What, go somewhere else to drink, you mean?”

“No, no, I mean like leave Milchwood, go to London or something, head somewhere else you know”.

Harrison gives him a puzzled look and Tom can tell he doesn’t feel the same. They’re both comfortably leaned back on each side of the booth. Around them the other patrons are talking loudly, discussing this and that, enjoying their Saturday night and the unusually warm summer weather.  

“No” Harrison answers in the end “no, I mean, it’s home, yeah?” He drowns the last drops of his pint, waving to the bar for another before looking back at Tom, “you feel like leaving?”

“Dunno, maybe, sometimes” he says. “’is just, some days I want nothing more than to head out to Milchwood station and take literally any train away from here.” He takes a long gulp of his own pint.

“Well, why don’t you?”

It takes some time for Tom to answer. He keeps his eyes on the dirty window in front of him. Far away he can just make out the silhouette of Locksley Hall. They are all up there now, the lords and the ladies, having a ball.

“’s just hard to leave you know.” He takes another gulp of beer as the bartender places another pint in front of Harrison. “Spent most of my time in France wishing I was back here and now” he waves his hand in front of him, as if this would explain the strange sinking feeling he’d been walking around with lately. “Now it feels like it all stands still, like I’m just walking around, waiting for something to happen.”  

Harrison gives him a worried look “but what’s keeping you here then?”  

“Dunno, it’s just, it’s hard to leave”.

He doesn’t have ties to this place the way Harrison does. He has no other family part from Mr. Higgins. Mrs. Higgins had taken him in when he’d been nothing more than a baby, but she’d passed away before his fifth birthday. He hardly remembered her. Mr. Higgins had kept him on, and despite his stern ways he’d been kind to the boy, and taught him all he knew of gardening and thus ensuring that Tom would have a future secured. But Tom knows that Mr. Higgins wouldn’t mind if he took off, that maybe he’d even expect it.  

“Yes, we saw ‘em, didn’t we Billy!” Owain Murphy’s loud voice booms from the booth beside theirs.  

“Yeah” Billy concurs, nodding his head and staring down into his glass.  

“Yeah, we saw ‘em, all ‘em gently folks up at Locksley Hall”.

“Yeah” Billy nods again.

“They say the ‘eir is being married off!” Owain bellows.

Billy is too busy drinking now to agree.

“She looked a vision, didn’t she Billy?”

Something twists uncomfortably in Tom’s stomach. He drowns his beer and nods to his friend. It’s time to leave. The night air is cool and he takes deep breaths of it as he steps outside. They walk and chat for a while, before hitting a fork in the road, saying their goodbyes and promising to meet up for another pint the next day they then part ways, Harrison walking to the house he shares with his parents and little sister, and Tom steers his feet to Gideon’s Cottage and Locksley Hall.  

He can see the lights from the building, hear the piano music even from outside. Across the lawn people are taking some fresh air, surely they’ve been dancing for hours. They’re all dressed in their finest clothes, heavily bejeweled. Tom closes in on Gideon’s cottage, and he can’t wait to throw himself on the bed and sleep for a few hours. Tomorrow is Sunday, the day for resting, and he’s free as a bird.  

A flash of white moves in the corner of his eye and he looks over.  

By the enormous rhododendron bush stands Lady Madeleine Locksley, wearing a silky white gown that somehow plays tricks with his brain; for when he first lays his eyes on her, it looks to him as if she’s wearing nothing more than moonlight, the diamonds from her tiara glistening in the night.

For a moment it feels as if he’s actually gotten the breath knocked out of him. Owain Murphy had been right, she did look a vision.  

A man joins her, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s tall and blond and even from this distance he can tell she’s bored with the conversation, but she politely goes along with it.  

Tom walks into the cottage, closing the door behind him.

*

The cliffs of Locksley bay

The Atlantic Ocean spread out in front of her, wide and far and impossibly blue. She’s standing on the cliffs beside Locksley bay. If she were to turn her head to her left, she would see the docks with the boats lined up one after the other, each more impressive than the last. It is summer, and high season for travellers. Would she instead turn her head to her right she would see the bay, and the people playing in the water, lying in the beach and soaking up sun. Enjoying themselves and cooling themselves off in the unusually warm weather.  

But she keeps her eyes far ahead.  

Out on the water she can see sailing boats slowly drifting over the landscape. It’s not a good day for sailing, not even up here on the cliffs can you feel anything more than a gentle breeze. The heavens are almost violently blue, not a cloud as far as the eye can see. In the sky seagulls fly, screeching as they go and she inhales deep breaths of the ocean air. She feels so far removed from them all, the people on the boats and the ones on the beach. 

Her lungs feels tighter, there’s a scream in them that needs to get out.

She takes a step closer to the edge.  

A pair of arms grabs hold of her and pulls her in against something hard. “What are you doing?!” A familiar voice inquires angrily in her ear.

He pulls them both a few steps back, away from the edge, before turning her around to face him. Anger clear on his face. His chest, still close to hers, is heaving.  

“What are you doing?” She asks, not quite managing to match his level of animosity. His hands are still holding a firm grip around her arms. She pulls herself free and takes a step back, trying to create some distance between them, though she swears she still feels the heat radiating of his body, his scent, which she’d briefly inhaled, surrounding her.

“Were you going to jump?” he asks in a serious tone, his warm brown eyes intensely searching her face for something.  

“No” she says, voice firm, and he relaxes somewhat, though he still looks angry. That frown, seemingly permanent on his face whenever she’s around. “But it wouldn’t have killed me if I had, people jump from here all the time”

“Sure, but not young heiresses”.  He sounds almost sarcastic and she can feel her blood nearly boiling. Her diamond heart beats faster in her chest.

“Have you?”

He observers her for a heartbeat, like he’s searching for something in her face. The long days spent working in the garden has given him a nice tan. His brown hair looks windswept and he’s not wearing his usual uniform of muddy trousers, suspenders and a dirty white shirt. Instead his clothes look washed and clean; he’s wearing his Sunday best, linen suit trousers, clean white shirt and suspenders that don’t look quite as worn. His arms, well developed from all the hard work, fills out his shirt in a way that makes something inside her flutter, and she hastily looks away.  

“Yes” he answers in the end. “Yeah, me and Harrison jumped it last year”.  

“Yet you’re so against me doing it?”

He’s silent for a few seconds, and she can tell he’s weighing each word carefully. “I just, I didn’t take you for a thrill-chaser, is all. It surprised me”.

Now he’s avoiding looking at her.  

“So, how was the ball?” he asks eventually, having to fill the stale, strange silence.

“Long” she answers and sighs. “Awfully long, and dreary”.  

“Poor girl” he teases, but she wonders if there isn’t real malice underneath. “And how is your betrothed?”  

She narrows her eyes at him. “James is not my betrothed” she says, trying to keep her voice calm. He’s got his hands in his pockets, an arrogant look on his face and she wants to scream at him.

“Huh” he says, “I heard you were being married off”.  

“Well, I’m not. Not yet”

“So, what’s he’s like, this not betrothed man of yours”

He sounds so nonchalant, and it’s making her skin itch with irritation. “He’s nice, actually”.

He scoffs, “nice?”

“Yes! He’s very nice, unlike certain people! And he gave me a book of Wordsworth poetry”

Tom snorts “you hate Wordsworth, you always have”  

“How do you know?” She asks, annoyance clear in her tone.  

“You told me” he answers, and he sound so certain of himself.  

“Yes, when we were children, I might have changed my mind since!”  

“You haven’t though”.

“Funny isn’t? All the things you remember?” She tries to sound superior, but she’s not sure she accomplishes anything. He’s still standing there, hands in pockets and a devil-may-care smug smile on his face.  

“You find him dull”.

“How do you know if I find James dull or not! You’ve never even met him! Maybe I find it fascinating to talk about dog breeding and horses!” you scream at him. 

But he just smiles wider. “I was talking about Wordsworth. You find Wordsworth dull. But clearly I hit a nerve”.  

She’s so angry she’s speechless. From the village they hear the church bells ring.  

“We should go” he says and nods to the path back.  

“No”

“Lady Madeleine, -”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Well, it is your title”.

“Oh, like you give a toss about people’s titles! I’m Madeleine and we used to be friends, or don’t you remember that part?”

“Alright Madeleine” he says slowly, like he’s talking to a particularly petulant child, “we better head home now, they’ll want you back for dinner”.

“I don’t want to” she says stubbornly. “You head back. I’m staying here to watch the sunset”.

“They’ll just sent me out to look for you if you´re not there for dinner, let’s go”.

She takes a deep breath and a step backwards, towards the edge. “You know, I’m so tired of everyone telling me what to do all the time, were to be and what to think, and how to feel”. She takes another step backwards and the smugness on his face is soon replaced with worry.  

“I’m so tired of people telling me that I can’t do things when they have no issue doing it themselves”. She takes yet another step back and as he reaches out for her, realising what she’s about to do. She turns around and runs toward the edge.  

“No Maddie, don’t!”  

But she’s already taken the leap.

*

Locksley Hall

The next morning she wakes early, though it feels as though she’s hardly slept at all. Memories plays behind her closed eyelids from the day before. The cliffs, Tom’s arms grabbing hold of her, the argument, the jump, the fall, the splash, the sinking, the searching for the surface. And then, a hand grabbing hold of her, pulling her towards the light.  

He’d jumped in after her, had thrown himself of the cliff in his Sunday best without any hesitation.  

He’d always been the better swimmer, he was the one who had taught her after all, and luckily it hadn’t taken him long to find her beneath the surface.  

They’d swam ashore, dragged themselves up in their heavy, wet clothes watched by the bathers who looked at them, some agog and some in chock. (“Is that not lady Madeleine?”)

He’d been furious, practically steaming with anger. It hadn’t mattered how many times she’d tried to talk to him, tried to apologise, he’d only ignored her and kept steering his feet forward to Locksley Hall. Only when she tried to thank him for having saved her did he respond.

“Don’t” he had uttered, his resentment almost palpable.

They had been walking through a path in the woods, sun shining through the canopy, painting the whole world a bright green colour, and she stumbled after him, keeping her eyes on his wet white shirt, his suspenders holding of his soaked beige trousers.  

She too had grown angry then. Had tried to argue with him. Tried telling him that he was overreacting, that no one had forced him to jump in as well, that it would have been better if he hadn’t, that they both knew he wished he hadn’t and suddenly -

She’d been pressed up against a tree, his face just centimetres from hers, both their chest heaving with conflicting emotions, his arms on either side of her face, in the most beautiful trap.

Madeleine untangles herself from her many sheets and blankets and walks to the window to pull apart the curtains and let in the morning light. The grounds outside are empty, no one is yet awake. It must be very early indeed, for even Gideon’s cottage seem peacefully quiet.

She opens the leaded window and drags in deep breaths of fresh air, but her lungs still feel too tight. She fishes up a package of cigarettes from one of the pockets of her silk robe and with trembling hands she lights one. Everything is set now. She is to marry Sir James Hatfield, and settle down at Hatfield house in all its ugly Tudor glory. It didn’t matter if she smoked in the house anymore, she wouldn’t stay here much longer.  

With picture perfect certainty she imagines married life with Sr Hatfield. Endless conversation of the breeding of horses, hunting and dogs. Her life spent doing things the way they have always been done at Hatfield house, keeping up with the traditions of a family she has no interest in. And then, several blonde little children would come along. All boys, all taking after their father in looks and manners.  

Her life would surround around them. She would be Lady Madeline Locksley no more, but instead, Lady Hatfield. She would have to leave Locksley hall, leave Benie,  

leave Tom.

The thought startles her, and she gets up from the window ledge, starts walking aimlessly round the cluttered room.  

Using her empty tea cup from which she’d drank her evening tea the night before as an ashtray she puts out her cigarette, and with hands trembling more than ever she lights another, before throwing herself back on the bed.  

Tom.  

Who surely hated her now. The achingly long moments when he’d trapped her against the tree plays again in her head. She’d seen so many emotions on his face, his chest heaving from all of it. First there had been anger, then confusion and then, unless she wasn’t entirely mistaken; because god knows her experience was non-existing in the area,  

- lust.  

But he’d torn himself free, and marched off, without looking back. And she’d stood leaned against the three, feeling like a planet spinning out of its axis, struggling to remember how to breath again.

When she walked into the great hall she’d been met with her mother, Benie and granny. Upon seeing her, they’d all gone completely silent, the only sound to be heard the water dripping off of her, landing on the newly swapped floors.  

“Oh Madeleine!” her mother had eventually burst out “what’s happened?”

She had told them she’d been at the cliffs, and that Tom had come along, but then her granny had interrupted her. “Are you telling me” she’d asked in her superior voice “that you were ‘hanging about’ the cliffs with the junior gardener?” The disapproval in her voice was evident.  

“No” Madeleine had answered, trying to keep her voice steady and calm. “I’m saying that I was there, and he was there, he annoyed me, and then I jumped off the cliff”.

Dead silence again.  

“You, you did what?”

“I jumped off a cliff. And then he saved me. And now, I really must change, so would you please excuse me”. The wave of emotion that washed over her had surprised her, but suddenly she’d been holding back tears.

““Madeleine, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but you need to go and get changed, right now. Sir Hatfield is invited for dinner, and you will behave yourself and you will conduct yourself accordingly” her mother had told her in her sternest voice. So, Madeleine had nodded and walked up the stairs, choking back on tears, her wet clothes leaving a trace of water in her wake.  

And she’d changed and Alice had done up her hair and she’d joined the others for dinner. And she’d sat beside James at dinner and listened to him lecturing her on various dog breeds and she’d smiled appropriately. Then, after dinner, he’d taken her aside. Professed in a dry tone his admiration for her and asked for her hand in marriage. He’d told her that he’d already settled things with her father. She had smiled and complied and tried to press down the feeling of nausea in her stomach, tried to ignore to scream growing ever larger in her lungs.  

She stands up again, puts out her cigarette, takes one of the many dresses scattering the floor and slides it on. Then she’s out the door. With silent steps, as to not wake anyone, she makes her way down the corridor, and then down the grand staircase and the foyer and out the door. The pressure in her lungs grow tenser and tenser and her feet move faster and faster, until her naked feet are sprinting over the grounds, the dewy grass cold under her soles. When she finally reaches the greenhouse, she’s sobbing.

This had always been her secret place. Not even Tom had known about how she’d used to come here when things became too much, when things would build and build inside of her until she had to let it out. Like it was a living, moving thing in her chest, begging her to set it free. Knowing that the old greenhouse was the only soundproof place in all of Locksley Hall it became her safe place to let it out, she’d always steer her feet here. When she’d been to boarding school, and then in Canada, she’d been forced to try letting the scream free under water, no other place felt safe enough, but it hadn’t felt the same.  

She slams the door shut behind her and then she lets it out. Nearly bending over from the force of it she shrieks, for as long and as loud as she can. Her eyes pressed shut and trembling hands in fists. When she finally stops it still seems to echo in her ears, and she feels exhausted. She’s breathing as if she’s just run for miles and miles. Slowly she stands up straight again, unclasping her fists. Opening her shut eyes.

Tom.  

Standing in front of her, looking shocked and horrified, hands and shirt muddy. He must have been in here for some early work before the heat gets too intense. 

They stand there, for a long time, just staring at one another, her screams still echoing in her mind. And then, like she’s a wild animal, he slowly walks towards her. Taking her hand in his, an arm around her waist, he gently guides them towards the pond, on the side of which he helps her sit down. Bending down in front of her, so that he’s on his knees, he looks up at her, a strand of brown hair falling down, framing his face.

It’s so tender, the way he looks at her. So unbearably tender. His earth-stained hands clasped around hers, placed in her lap, calloused and warm.  

“What happened?” He asks, voice soft and low.

She doesn’t know when it started, too distracted by his gentleness perhaps, but she realises then that she’s crying, two tears falling from her cheek and landing on their hands.   

“I’m just being silly” she responds, but her voice sounds hoarse and dead even to her own ears.

“I doubt it, what’s wrong?”  

“I, I” she begins, her lungs feeling tight again “I have to marry.”

His kind eyes blink up at her, and for a moment she swears he holds on tighter to her hands.  

“But you don’t want to.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. “Why do you have to?” His thumbs stroke her trembling hands and it feel and it is the gentlest thing that’s ever happened to her.  

“There’s no male hair. So, if papa dies before I marry, we’ll lose everything”. Her voice is hoarse from screaming and she wonders if he finds her pathetic, but in his eyes she only finds sympathy, and maybe a fair share of pain.

“But you don’t have to marry Hatfield?”

She shakes her head, and more tears fall. “No, but he’s the best option. I can’t afford to wait”.  

Silence for a while as he observes you.

Then,  

“What if I’ll marry you?” his voice is steady, but his eyes are fixed their clasped hands.  

“What?”

“I’ll marry you” he states and looks up at her again. She stares at him in disbelief, for surely, he can’t mean it. He continues. “I know it’s not a good option, but the estate will be safe, and you won’t have to marry Hatfield, you won’t have to leave Locksley Hall.”

When she just keeps staring at him in silent disbelief his cheeks turn pink. “I know I haven’t got anything to offer; you know I don’t. But -”

“Alright”. Her answers comes without her thinking about it and it seems to catch him off guard. “But, are you sure?” she asks, worried that he doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.  

“Yes, Madeleine, I’m sure” he smiles, his hands continuing to gently stroke her hands.  

“But, but” she starts, feeling almost dizzy. “But why would you want to marry me?”

“What?”

“Why would you help me? It would change your life forever.” She keeps her voice serious, knows that it’s of utmost importance that he understands the importance of this.  

He seems struck silent and for a long while his brown eyes stare up at her in disbelief. “Well I, I mean I would, I” he starts, letting go of her hands and standing up, placing them his pockets instead. It is like he’s trying to look as nonchalant as he usually does.  

Turning slightly away from her, eyes fixed on the koi fish in the pond he then continues. “Well, I’d get to live in Locksley Hall, wouldn’t I? I’d be the lord of the manor. No more hard toil in the garden”.  

“So, mostly self-interest then?” She says, not knowing whether she feels more relieved or disappointed. More than anything she feels light headed.  

“Yeah” he agrees, eyes still fixed on the pond. “It’s self-interest".  

Silence spread between them. This is new territory that neither one knows how to tread.  

In the end she stands up and he turns to look at her again, something like worry in his expression. “We, well we’ll have to discuss this. If it’s to happen it needs to happen soon.”

“It is to happen” he says, firmly, but then his cheeks turn pink again. “As long as you want it to”.  

“Well then” she says, a small but genuine smile on her face. “It can’t happen here; Gretna Green is our only option. We have to come up with some excuse so we can leave for Scotland for a few days”.  

He nods, but he too looks more relaxed now. “I’ll think of something”.  

“So much to be fixed” she says, mostly to herself. “Wedding dress for example, though the wedding will be so small only something simple will do.”

“Could you” he begins, and he avoids her eyes again. “You could wear that dress you had on at the ball” he asks awkwardly, fidgeting slightly where he stands.  

“Oh, yes of course” she says, just as awkward. “If that’s what you want”. She smiles at him, and he smiles back. Its embarrassed, but it’s tender too.  

“Meet me at the fountain tonight?” he asks, and that strange fluttering sensation she’d felt when he’d pressed her against the tree makes another appearance. “To discuss how we’ll do this?”

She nods “yes, I’ll see you then. I better get back now, or Alice will notice I’ve left when she brings in breakfast.”  

She turns to leave, but changing her mind mid stride she turns back to him. When she reaches him she stands on the tips of her naked, now muddy, feet. She presses a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you” she whispers.  

***

PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK IF YOU CAN

***

Taglist: @londonmademedoit​  @isthataladybag​   @ceexreverse​  @daygiowvibe​ @averyfosterthoughts​ @applenter​ @viwihere​ @youcompletemess​ @marvelpeters​ @youngsenpaibaby​ @duskholland​ @vanillanestor​​ @panicattheeverywherekid​​ ​ @primadonnasdream​ @adorestarkey​ @johnismyreason​ @fancybrittrash​ @farfromhoran​ @sushiinmidnight​ @midtownxparker​ @theamuz​

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland headcanon #tom holland imagine #tom holland x oc #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x fem

[hpdabbles]

MORE FOR MAGICAL RAMEN PLEASE! I WOULD LIKE TO SEE NARUTO'S DEDICATION IN SEEING REMUS AGAIN

Naruto- who refuses to go by Harry no matter how much it would have meant to his new parents- allowed himself to laugh as yet another bully stumbled away. His cousin had attempted to have him jump but the civilians were sadly way over their heads if they thought they could take on Naruto, who had finally worked his body up to chunin levels. 

He flexes his hands, fingers thumping in the familiar ache of his knuckles releasing the tension they had been placed in for throwing punches. He leans back on his heels, his chakra humming and causing extensive amounts of energy his young body couldn’t control yet, which has him in consent movement.

His aunt hates that he can’t keep still but so did many of his instructors back at the academy and like then he merely sticks out his tongue, all while keeping his sunny disposition. 

The Dursleys are at their wit's ends with him. His uncle had tried to be big and intimating but Naruto has taken down foes just as large and twice as strong. His aunt tried to lock him in a cupboard with no food, but Naruto picked the lock and hunted his own meal- though it was rather hard with nearly no forest near him. 

They threaten to throw him out in the street which he cheerfully informs them, that would be nothing he couldn’t handle and he would be taking his dead parents money with him. Naruto had learn how to save his funds, and budget from a lifetime of being a scorn orphan, which meant he knew just how much power gold really held. 

He wasn’t sure how he would go about getting the child services to give him the money that belong to the Potters since this new world had ridiculous child protection laws but he was sure he find a way. His uncle and aunt knew it too, after seeing his never wavering stubbornness.

It didn’t stop them from spreading rumors about him and his parents, rumors that turn him into a trouble making burden but again, Naruto was used to the sneers and looks of distain. It hurt but it wasn’t going to stop him from finding the three men who were more like family then the two adults and chubby child he was dumped on.  

It finally came down to a a agreement. The Dursleys pretend Naruto didn’t exist if he keep up with his chores- D rank missions really- and they turn a blind eye to everything off about him.

Like the fact that while “unusually” intelligent for his age he detested any paperwork and especially classwork, he self-taught himself his personalize Taijustu in the park under the amazed eyes of the neighbors impressed despite themselves  and out of many preying eyes he regain his Justus. 

The chores were much easier to do with his shadow clones. Though the first time he summon them his Aunt threw a fit, trying to tell him “magic” would not be allowed in her house. 

Naruto and his clones had laughed at her,  simultaneously until she fled back to her room, urging Dudley to stay in his until Naruto finished with the chores. He agree not to use it in public- as even he knew civilians didn’t react well to ninjas making a prolong stay among them especially when they used Justus. It made them unlikely to hire the Leaf for missions.  A ninja that couldn’t get missions was a ninja that failed his village. 

It was a bit strange to be the only ninja with a functioning chakra system for miles and miles. Naruto tried to find others like him for years but no matter where he went none of the people had tapped into their chakra’s. Sometimes it felt like they didn’t even have a system which went against everything he was taught as Naruto Uzumaki. 

Naruto did not let any of this get in the way of his search for ‘Emus, Dog-man, and Rat-man. He created flyers from the foggy memories, and placed them everywhere. He asked random people in the street. He sent out clones to near by cities and broke into any government building he could find- their security is terrible- but nothing had come up.

His attempt to gather information from his guardians yield the same results though he got the sense they knew more then they let on. Back in the Leaf village Naruto’s team had always been more of front line combat then information gathers or trackers and his lack of support from those departments were making his search that much harder.

He finally understood what Iruka-sensei meant when he used to say every role a Leaf Ninja played was a role needed for the success village.

It was during one of his daily on foot searches that Naruto had a owl land before him carrying a letter. He paused from where he was stapling a poster of  Dog-man, a terrible drawing and a brief description of the last time seen, were the only thing on the poster with his house number as a place to contact should anyone have any information. 

The owl hoots, sticking out it’s leg at him. 

“A messenger bird...” Naruto breathes stun. It’s not much but it’s been so long since he had something familiar like what his life as a Leaf Ninja in this new world that he thought he would never see a messenger bird again. It feels like a small part of him, of his old life, had been return.  

Carefully, while licking his dry lips, he reaches out to take the letter. Years of animal care kick in as he gently unwarps the string holding the envelope, and hands over bits of the granola bar he had in his pocket for the bird to eat. 

He waits until the Owl finished picking the bits form his palm, smiling when it climbs onto his arm and runs up his forearm to rest on his shoulder. The talons are digging into his skin, the dull pain a breath of fresh air as he suddenly remember the same type of feeling when he send back reports to his village. 

Carefully he opens the letter.

Naruto reads the lines over and over again. It’s a letter congratulating him on his acceptance to a magical school, a list of supplies and a map to where he can find them. He tries to search for lies but he can’t figure out what is and isn’t though written form. It’s only because they sent a messenger bird, a form of communication he knows is not common place, that he doesn’t crumble up the strange paper and accepts the fact.

Harry Potter is a wizard and Naruto is Harry Potter.

He sends back a agreement to be present the first day of school and races home, his stack of posters flying behind him in his red wagon. He doesn’t bother with letting his aunt and uncle argue that they won’t allow him to go because this may be the closest he’s ever been to finding  ‘Emus, Dog-man, and Rat-man. 

He stares them down, unwilling to back off or crumble until they agree. He is bouncing all over the place, excited even when his aunt takes him to a strange pub hands him a wallet of money and tells him to buy what he needs before speeding away.

Naruto likes the Leaky cauldron even though it goes dead salient when he walks in. His eyes run over the stun customers down right gleeful he has finally, finally , found the chakra users.

Sure the systems feel slightly different like the samurai felt different but not exactly the same as the honor based sword swingers. The people in this establishment had tapped their chakra’s and that alone gave him new found hope. 

“I say, Harry Potter! As I live and breath! Sir it’s a honor” A gruffy old man says stepping into his line of sight and shaking Naruto’s hand. The dark hair boy- still after all these years he was not used to not seeing sunshine bright hair- blinks up at him but he smiles anyway.

He likes meeting new people, after all a stranger could be his new friend and his new precious  person . 

“Hi there!” He chirps signature grin springing to life on his lips. The man looks blinded. “It’s nice to meet you. Call me Naruto please.”

As if though that was a signal everyone around him leaps to their feet racing over to introduce themselves as well and Naruto can’t fandom why. He always wanted a warm hero’s welcome like this but he hasn’t done anything to earn it yet. Not here. There was no war or grand fight he part took in to earn the kind of awe and devotion of the population like the aftermath of Pain’s attack did.

It while he meeting everyone that his eyes land on a family of red heads half sitting and half standing in the corner, looking as if they all want to get closer too but aren’t sure if they should. There is a woman, a man, five children- four male on female- and Naruto has to crane his neck to keep them in sight as the crowd around him grows. 

He doesn’t know what about them caught his attention but his eyes zero in on the one in the glasses.

Or more specifically on the rat resting on the teenager’s shoulder. A quick scan with his chakra confirms what he already knew. He pushes the hands trying to shake his own and breaks though the crowd faster then what the people are expecting. Ninja speed is still faster then what these wizards are used to.

Before the red-head teenager knows what is happening Naruto has reached out and taken the rat, holding the squealing creature to his face smiling widely. Maybe even madly. “RAT-MAN I FOUND YOU!”

Everyone stares at him. 

“Um...that’s Scabbers” The red head around his age says slowly.  “He is Percy’s pet.”

“No this is Rat-man!” Naruto corrects breezily, he pulls the thrashing animal closer gently petting it’s head. “He used to visit me as a baby. I never forget his chakra. Rat-man have you seen ‘Emus or Dog-man? I can’t find them anywhere!”

The boy is staring at him with the kind of look one would give a screaming man in the street. Weary and unable to look away.

“Stop shaking Scabbers!” The red-head with glasses Percy he thinks, yells. He holds out his hand. “You’re scaring him! Give him back!”

“No! I just found him! I’ve been looking for years for him.” Naruto yells back pressing the animal to his chest and sticking out his tongue at the rapidly red face turning teenager.

“I think there may have been a mistake.” The man who looks like all the children, their father, says stepping in and holding a stick. “Scabbers has been in our family. He isn’t a man.”

“He is!” Naruto argues. 

The man has the kind of look Kakashi-sensei used to wear. The one that says he only agree to amuse Naruto. “How about I cast Animagus reversal spell. Then we can see if he is a man or my son’s pet.” 

Naruto fingers tighten around the suddenly much more violently thrashing rat. “It won’t hurt him? He is my parents’ friend.”

“He won’t feel a thing.” The man swears and Naruto nods keeping a weary eye on the man’s chakra in case he tries anything but feeling nothing but good intentions from him and holding out the rat. A light blue light zaps out of the man’s wand landing on the Rat-man and at once his features change. Naruto doesn’t let go, not even when the body out grows his hands and the man turns back into a human.

He keeps a tight hold until the man is sitting before the gasping audience. Naruto doesn’t care for the rapidly paling face of the red headed family or the scrambling of people who try to get away. He throws himself around Rat-man’s neck and squeezes.  “I knew you were okay! I knew you haven’t been caught even when Mom and Dad got killed. Where have you been? Why are you hiding like a rat? Do you like ramen? Hey hey, do you still have that skull and snake tattoo?”

His celebration and rapid firing questions is cut short by a couple of wizards in red robes called Aurors body slamming Rat-man into the ground.

Naruto finds them very rude.

#Anonymous #magical ramen #Part 2 #Naruto enters the wizard world #With the same crazy luck as he did the element nations #Crossover: N/HP #The weasleys were not prepared #No one was #Peter gets caught #Naruto just wanted to see the cool tattoo

[broccoliboix5peepeeman]

hiii!!!! since you mentioned you were comfortable writing non-romantic stuff and the dekusquad- how about ochako and shouto bonding over mochi (and izuku huehue, but the izu thing is just a joke hehe) [ochako loves mochi a lot so she introduces shouto to all the different mochi types!] ALSO YOUR LAST PROMPT WAS SO AMAZING, I WAS IN TEARS THANK YOU FOR SERVING AS ALWAYS!!!!

Of course! Hope you enjoy :D (Also thank you so much, ohmigosh I’m crying) <3

Shoto stood in front of Uraraka's door, hugging his rolled up futon tightly to his chest.

Earlier that day, his friend had suggested that the self-proclaimed Dekusquad should have a movie night in her room as a reward for doing well in their latest English assignment. Initially, Shoto had been hesitant about the idea, but he quickly found that Midoriya could be very persuasive.

'Are you coming tonight, Todoroki-kun?'

'...' Shoto stared into his friend's wide emerald eyes. 'Yes.'

They had agreed to meet in Uraraka's room at 7pm, so naturally Shoto had been sure to arrive at exactly that time. However, when Uraraka opened her door, flashed him a bright smile and said that he was the first one to arrive, Shoto had been surprised, to say the least.

'Not even Iida?' He asked as he stepped into the room, looking around curiously. Admittedly, the decor was rather plain, but Shoto didn't mind. He never cared much for unnecessary luxuries anyway.

'Not yet!' Uraraka chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of her neck. 'Well, he was here, 16 minutes early to be precise, but then Deku-kun messaged to say that he was going to be late because of something to do with Bakugou destroying the washing machine, and when I told Iida-kun, he quickly left to see if he could be of any "assistance".'

Uraraka imitated Iida's hand gestures as she spoke animatedly; Shoto was impressed by the accuracy. 'And Tsu-chan is currently on the phone to her family, so it's just you and me for now.'

Her smile was warm and reassuring, although, if anything, Shoto felt incredibly uncomfortable at the prospect. It's not that he didn't like Uraraka - quite the opposite actually. He admired her greatly and treasured her friendship - it's just that they rarely spent time alone together. Usually, there was a third party present as well - mainly Midoriya - meaning that Shoto didn't have to do much active socialising on his end. Now though, as he shuffled on his feet in the middle of Uraraka's room, unsure of what to do with himself, he found himself starting to count down the seconds until the rest of their group arrived.

'Want me to help unroll your futon, Todoroki-kun?' Uraraka was suddenly at his side. 'We can figure out where you want to put it!'

Shoto nodded, mouth a thin line, and together they placed and unrolled the mattress. They mostly worked in silence - Uraraka occasionally humming some unknown tune to fill it.

Once completed, Shoto sat down on top of the covers, while Uraraka took her place on her own bed, rocking slightly as she continued to hum absentmindedly.

Shoto looked around awkwardly, trying to avoid eye contact. He wanted to get out his phone and ask how long Midoriya would be, but he figured that would be rude. Uraraka was his friend; it wasn't her fault that Shoto was about as fun to talk to as his father at an All Might convention.

After several moments though, his friend jumped to her feet and stretched. 'You want a snack while we wait, Todoroki-kun?'

Shoto's eyes widened with delight at the prospect of food.

'Sure, what were you thinking?'

He watched, intrigued, as Uraraka bounced over to her desk and, after several seconds of searching, procured a glass bowl filled with different coloured balls. Shoto regarded the delicacy. He then blinked dumbly and looked up at Uraraka's excited face.

'How about some of the delightful Mochi I bought yesterday?' She grinned. 'They were on offer, so I got several flavours, which one do you want?'

'Er…' Shoto faltered and looked back at the bowl, lost. 'I don't know… I've never had Mochi before.'

'EXCUSE ME?!' Uraraka all but screeched, the volume making Shoto's eye twitch. 'Todoroki-kun, we have been friends for how long and you are ONLY JUST telling me this?!'

'You never asked before?' Shoto tilted his head to the side and furrowed his eyebrows together. 'Is that a bad thing?'

'Yes!!!' Uraraka exclaimed, waving her arms like an angry bird. 'It's a very bad thing!'

'Oh… Then I'm sorry for not telling you sooner.' Shoto hung his head, ashamed. He had no idea Uraraka felt this passionately about mochi. Were friends supposed to tell each other their dietary habits?

'Oh my poor, sweet, dense Todoroki-kun.' Uraraka crossed her arms and shook her head, all her previous outrage dissipating. 'Allow Uraraka Sensei to educate you.'

She skipped past Shoto, leaped onto her bed and patted the spot next to her. With significantly less energy, Shoto stood up from his futon and climbed onto the bed next to her.

Uraraka set the bowl down between them. 'Okay, tell me what you know about mochi.'

'Rice balls.' Shoto deadpanned.

'Rice balls-?!' His friend broke off and sighed to compose herself. 'Well, okay, fine. You are technically right. They’re rice cakes, but they're made with mochigome!'

'That makes sense.' Shoto did know about that, he had just never tried it before. When he was younger, he had been kept on a strict diet - although sometimes his mother would treat him to soba when his old man wasn’t around. As a result, he had never really had the opportunity to try mochi before.

'Good! Okay, so here are the ones I've got here.' She pointed to a pink ball wrapped in a leaf. 'This is sakura mochi! It has red beans in it and this is a sakura blossom leaf that’s wrapped around it.'

'Oh, I've seen those before during hanami.' Shoto spoke suddenly, surprising himself. Where had that come from?

Was he capable of feeding himself? Yes. Was being fed a little patronising? Maybe. Did Shoto care? Of course not. He was hungry.

'Yes! They're really popular during cherry blossom season!' Uraraka added happily, before taking one and holding it out to Shoto. 'Good job! Now, open wide!'

Shoto stared at her outstretched hand.

He shrugged his shoulders and complied, allowing Uraraka to shove the pink ball into his mouth. It was strange, but Shoto quickly found that he liked it. The saltiness of the blossom contrasted with the sweetness of the mochi, but in a good way.

'Mmm.' He voiced, chewing slowly while Uraraka watched him intensely. 'Not bad, I like it.'

At the proclamation, Uraraka let out a whoop.

'Yes! I just knew you'd like it!' She then scrambled to pick out another one. Eventually she settled on a white one. 'Okay, now this one is called daifuku mochi! It's stuffed with anko and is quite sweet!'

'I see.' Shoto said as he swallowed the last of the sakura mochi. He was then immediately bombarded by his friend's eager hand as she shoved the daifuku in his mouth without any prior warning.

Shoto choked slightly with surprise, eliciting a laugh from Uraraka. However, once he remembered how to breathe, he found that he liked this one a lot more.

'Mmm good.' He closed his eyes and nodded approvingly. 'Not soba-good, but good.'

'Hey, from Todoroki Shoto, I'll take that!' Uraraka beamed before popping one in her own mouth. She moaned happily at the taste and the two ate in comfortable silence, the awkwardness from before completely vanishing.

They continued testing out Shoto's reactions to the different flavours of mochi for several more minutes, until they were eventually interrupted by an enthusiastic knock at the door, followed by a stern discussion on the other side.

'Midoriya-san, please refrain from knocking so loudly.' Shoto could practically hear Iida's hands chop through the air. 'Other members of our class are-'

'It's open!' Uraraka interrupted, effectively saving their friend from a scolding when the door burst open and Midoriya jumped in, hands on his hips and a bright smile on his face.

'I am here- Oh! Hi Todoroki-kun!' Midoriya broke character to wave excitedly at Shoto, pink dusting his cheeks. 'Hi Uraraka-chan! I hope you guys weren't waiting too long!'

'Hi Deku-kun!' Uraraka smiled, before giggling at Shoto, who was frantically chewing on the last of the bota mochi she had given him before their friends had arrived.

'Good evening, everyone.’ Iida greeted with a bow. ‘Please pardon our tardiness. Midoriya-san and I ran into Tsu-san on our way to yours.'

'I wouldn't say run, kero.' Tsu placed a contemplative finger to her chin. 'Running in the dorms isn't allowed, Iida-kun. You should know this by now.'

Shoto snorted, while Uraraka's lip twitched with amusement.

'It's okay, Iida-kun! I was just introducing Todoroki-kun to the brilliant world of mochi!' She clapped her hands together and gestured to Shoto, who swallowed heavily, the lasting taste of mochi still on his tongue.

'Hi Midoriya, everyone.' He eventually mumbled.

'You two having fun without us?' Midoriya laughed with a playful wink.

'Indeed!' Iida agreed, straightening his glasses. 'I confess I thought you two didn't have much in common.'

'Well, now we have mochi in common!' Uraraka leant to the side and poked Shoto's cheek affectionately.

'And Midoriya-chan.' Tsu commented idly. 'You both like him, so you have that in common.'

'What?!' Midoriya squawked, while Uraraka gasped, affronted.

'Tsu-chan! You know that was ages ago!' Out of the corner of Shoto's eye, he saw Uraraka stick her tongue out, however, his gaze was still locked on Midoriya's bright red face. 

Uraraka continued. 'Sure I like Deku-kun but as a frien- Ah! Todoroki-kun!'

Shoto hummed in question as several pairs of eyes suddenly landed on him. 

'You're…' Midoriya started, slowly pointing to Shoto's hair. 'You're on fire!'

Without missing a beat, Shoto raised a hand to his head and extinguished the flame in one swift motion. A soft hiss filled the room and he shrugged his shoulders when his friends continued to stare at him quizzically.

'No, I'm not.’ Shoto finally mumbled. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.'

He was met with silence, before his friends suddenly burst out laughing. Shoto watched them, hoping his blush wasn’t too obvious. However, when his eyes landed on Midoriya and found his friend smiling warmly at him, Shoto’s own lips twitched upwards in response.

It felt nice, having friends who truly loved him.

#i hope you enjoyed this :) #i wrote this on my lunch break ngl #edited afterwards though #todoroki shoto #uraraka ochako #midoriya izuku #iida tenya #tsuyu asai #dekusquad #tw: food #tw: eating #mochi #AgarJelly writes #minor tddk but i'll tag anyway #tododeku #platonic todochaco #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #I've never had mochi before so please forgive me :')

[that-one-fandom-vore-blog]

If you’re doing the 6 word thing still, how about: fearplay? Whatever characters you want I’m love anything you write

AHHH YOU’RE SO SWEET! This fic, however, is not. Sam needs a hug. And some therapy. Nightmares... ain’t the best, are they?

Faster. She needed to go faster.

Sam’s legs were pumping a mile a minute, breaths coming harshly enough that she felt almost like she was choking on the air her body desperately took in. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her on her feet as she tried to find somewhere to hide— anywhere— in the space she ounce found familiar. Anywhere he wouldn’t look. Anywhere she could cram herself that he couldn’t reach.

A despaired sob threatened to rise up from her throat, though she choked it back. What had she done wrong?! She was a careful girl. She watched what she said. She kept her emotions close to her chest— she played by the rules, she thought she was understanding, she thought that she was cared for, thought that she was—

The sound of his footsteps getting close enough to vibrate the floor beneath her feet caused her train of thought to jump between tracks. He wasn’t running. He didn’t have to. She hated how leisurely his pace was compared to her own, like he had all the time in the world. He practically did. She hated that he did. He didn’t even have to try.

Her gaze shot across the enormous hose from the ground. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t plan— she didn’t have time to plan— as she searched in desperation for a place to hide. Maybe if she hid herself well enough, she could call for help. Her phone was in her pocket, the weight alone enough to give her a frenzied sort of hope. She just had to get somewhere that he couldn’t—

Her eyes settled on a halfway open cupboard, the door hanging just crookedly enough that she’d be able to slip in without making it creak. She didn’t break stride. Gasping, trying to stay quiet despite the terror welling up through her, trying not to make a sound, Sam hurtled toward the opening. Faster. Faster.

“Do you have to run?”

The second that sickly sweet voice reached her ears— a voice that she’d thought she could trust— was the second that Sam was concealed by the musty darkness of the cupboard. Her heart was beating heavily in her throat, clammy, shaky hands clenching and unclenching rapidly at her sides. Through the crack of the cupboard door, the thin sliver of light she had began to disappear, his shadow swallowing her alive. Just like he had threatened to—

“If you’re hiding, don’t bother. I’ll find you easily enough.”

One of her hands clamped tight over her mouth in an attempt to muffle her harsh, heavy breathing. She could practically taste blood. Her eyes were wide, fixated on the slow, shuffling shadow of a form on the other side of the door.

He’s bluffing.

She prayed she was right. He’d swore up and down he’d never hurt her, hadn’t he?

He has to be bluffing.

But... people lied. They lied all the time. Why would he lie? Just to string her along? Just to make her think that she was actually something more than a pathetic little morsel, some stupid snack that needed to be dealt with— and to think that she’d actually believed him when he’d said that he loved her.

It had all been a lie. It had to have been a lie. A lie that was finally breaking apart at the seams in a tangled, jumbled mess of true intentions. Sam fought against the urge to whimper when his footsteps drew closer. He was practically on top of her, close enough that her sensitive ears could pick up the soft noise of his breathing.

“Make it easy for me, babe... just come on out.” He prompted in a voice that was painfully nonchalant— did he even care?

Tears pricked at her eyes. The soft shuffling of other objects in the kitchen made Sam painfully aware of the reality she’d been trying so desperately to push away. He was on the hunt. Trembling harder by the second, she took a shaky step away from the cupboard door, moving closer and closer toward the pots and pans stacked haphazardly behind her. Her heartbeat was growing louder by the second, thudding in her ears with a volume that drowned out all else—

“Sam... don’t be difficult.”

It stopped when the door creaked.

No. No, he had— he had just bumped it, right? It had to have been a coincidence. Her whole body was shaking like a leaf, breathing growing harsher, throat closing into a knot.

Calm down. He didn’t see. He doesn’t know where I am, he can’t—

It began to swing open.

Sam’s fingernails dug into her palms.

No.

Please no.

Inwardly pleading didn’t change anything. Her stomach turned, breathing getting faster and faster until it stopped entirely, turning to an awful, choked wheeze when a pair of eyes settled on her. His eyes. Brilliantly blue as they’d always been, but wrong in a way that made her feel sick to her stomach.

When she got her breath back, the word she used it to speak fell on deaf ears. “A-Adam,” she managed to croak.

It didn’t look like Adam, but who else could it be? She was in his house— huddled in a trembling mess near the back of one of his cupboards— and there was no mistaking his face.

He grinned. It was toothy— showing off teeth that seemed inhumanly sharp. “Hey, Sam,” he greeted in a low, rumbling purr of a voice. It swam in and out of her ears, drowning out everything else. One of his hands shifted, coming to rest inches from her little shape.

Sam’s back connected with the cold metal of one of the pans. “Adam, stop.”

His grin didn’t even falter. “Oh... don’t be so boring...”

His hand was getting closer. Sam’s heart felt like it was going to pop into a bloody mess as she watched his fingers steadily advance in her direction. When he made contact with her skin, she forced herself to meet his eyes. They saw right through her. Try as she might to pull away, all she managed to do was give another choked noise.

The look on his face was cold. Calculating. Nothing like the giant she’d met at a party years ago, no, not a shred of kindness shone back at her from those blue eyes she’d loved so fondly— they were the eyes of a predator.

A hungry predator. A predator that was currently looming over her with narrowed eyes and a smug, cocky looking smirk decorating his face. Like he’d already won. 

She could barely muster the courage to say his name. It was usually something she said with fondness, but here? There was nothing but terror in her voice. “Adam, I said stop,” she let out in a hoarse whimper, “you-- you--”

“I what?” He interrupted, closing the distance between them in a way that made Sam more than aware of how utterly tiny she was. Try as she might to scoot away, she found herself hopelessly trapped, forced to do nothing but watch as his fingers curled tightly around her legs. “Am I scaring you?”

 Those features she had come to know so fondly pulled back in a mocking leer.

When she tried to speak, it came out in nothing more than a choked-off whine. The pressure on her legs grew tighter, his fingernails digging into her skin. 

She wanted to fight. Wanted to kick and claw-- do anything other than watch in silent, useless terror-- but she was completely frozen. Her mind was racing a mile a minute, tears building in her eyes as Adam’s expression turned mocking. 

“Nothing? Really? For someone who’s so smart...” 

Sam gave a sharp cry as, with a soft snicker, he dragged her forward. All the words she wanted to say-- pleas, apologies, questions-- they were catching in her throat, sticking there and stopping her from breathing properly. “Adam, please, st-stop, I don’t-- I don’t underst-stand, I didn’t--” Her voice broke into a wheeze when the pressure of his fingers changed to grip her ankles, and without so much as a smidge of effort on his part-- she was upside down, dangling above the floor that was falling away from her faster than she could adjust to. 

No. No, she couldn’t-- he wouldn’t--

Struggling in vain, the fight coming back into her as her blood rushed to her head, Sam kicked at his fingers as well as she could manage, swinging her little body desperately. “Adam, that’s ENOUGH! I-- what-- what d-did I do wrong--”

For a fleeting moment, confusion flickered across Adam’s face. She could see it from where she hung in the air above him. Hope rose in her chest. 

“Oh, Sam... you didn’t do a thing wrong.” Came his voice, normal and familiar enough to make Sam’s heart lift. It was a joke. A fucked-up prank-- so what if Adam wasn’t the type to do that? She’d be able to forgive him, so long as he didn’t--

“You really think that if you did... what, if you did something different, this would’ve changed? That this wouldn’t have happened?” 

When he laughed, it buzzed through her chest. The blood was draining from her features. “I d-don’t understand...” she whimpered, her voice completely and utterly despaired. She didn’t bother hiding her terror, the tears streaking down her cheeks impossible to ignore, her trembling so harsh that it felt like she was vibrating 

Adam only grinned. It was sickening, showing off far too many teeth. “Huh. I thought you understood predators... guess not. Don’t you get it?”

As Sam struggled, feeling her little body being lowered closer and closer to his closed mouth, she swung her arms around in hopes of at least injuring him. Her hands were met with the soft surface of his lips, and when she tried to dig her fingers in, tried to cause pain-- his jaws opened. Hot breath washed over her. 

“Kelly did.”

The words shot through her, but before she could process--

The grip on her disappeared, and with a sharp cry of terror, she plummeted into his maw. Her legs were met with the pressure of teeth digging into her skin, upper body surrounded by the hot, wet heat, along with a stifling, intruding darkness. He was drooling, the slick substance puddling around her, causing her to lose her balance every time she shoved at the muscle that was curling eagerly around her upper half. Tasting her. 

I need to fight. 

Kelly did. 

I’m going to get eaten.

Kelly did. 

I might die.

Kelly did. 

The words rang in her head like a funeral knell, echoing over and over to a point where they drowned out the noises around her as her squirming, wriggling legs were slurped up along with the rest of her. Her tears were obscuring her vision entirely. Her limbs were burning from the effort that fighting had taken, but she still tried, still clawed with everything she had left--

Just like Kelly did.

Had he-- 

Was he the reason--

A wail caught in Sam’s throat as, with a shift of gravity and a low, heavy gulp, she was forced downward, into the tight tunnel of Adam’s throat. She couldn’t fight-- not with her limbs pinned like they were. 

She started to sob. She hated herself for it, hated herself for the contented noise that rang up from his throat around her, vibrating her to the core of her being, hated herself for giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’d won. That was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? That was why he’d strung her along for so long, letting her think he cared, that he was different-- just to rip away everything she thought she knew. 

Just to rip away the only person she cared about. 

And now, Sam was going to join her.

When the confines of his throat finally opened up, letting her spill into the empty chamber of his stomach, Sam... didn’t move a muscle. She dared not. She couldn’t. After all-- she couldn’t change anything, couldn’t change the fact that she was nothing but a light snack for the person she’d thought she could trust. 

She curled her knees up against her chest. Her eyes were wide, no longer bordering on, but fully hyperventilating, she clapped her hands tight over her ears, not wanting to hear the pleased groans echoing around her. It would be over soon. Panic growing, world spinning and head fuzzy, Sam felt another choked, terrified sob tear from her throat at the feeling of the stomach around her starting to churn. She had minutes. Less. And in a matter of seconds, she knew she’d... 

Like that, she passed out, complete blackness falling over her vision, fizzling across the back of her mind until there was nothing left. Nothing but two words. 

Kelly did. 

---

Sam was twitching. At first, he hadn’t paid it much mind. After all, he wasn’t exactly a sound sleeper most of the time, so... it made sense that Sam would stir a little in the night. No big deal. She had before-- hell, sometimes, she’d even talk in her sleep, her muffled words completely unintelligible from the outside. 

He could hear her doing it now. As per usual, it was too muffled to make out properly. Sighing softly, adjusting his position in an attempt to settle back down for the night, Adam was interrupted by a sudden, pained sounding cry from his middle. A wail.

That caught his attention.

Paralyzed with fear for a moment, Adam’s somewhat groggy gaze flicked down to his middle as though he’d be able to see what was wrong. What was wrong? Swallowing, hand shifting where it lay to better feel Sam’s little form— is she shaking?— he kept his mouth shut. Maybe she’d just... drift back off to sleep. If it kept up, he’d wake her, but he didn’t really want to—

The next noise that sounded was one that made his heart plummet.

A shrill, terrified scream.

Sam.

The color drained from his face. He was barely aware of the fact that he was moving to cough her up, not processing it as a voluntary action-- he had no choice. Instinct spoke for him, forcing the tiny back up the tunnel of his throat without a speck of hesitation. Was she hurt? That scream was still ringing in his ears despite having faded, still ricocheting through his head like gunfire as he gave another sharp heave. 

She was trembling, shaking like a leaf against his tongue in a way that made him feel physically sick, and more than that-- she was fighting. Fighting against him. 

That realization only served to make his whole body feel numb. Wasting no time, he dipped his head and opened up his maw, allowing her body to spill into his hand, though once it did--

“S-Sam?”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Her body, damp with spit, scrambled on the surface of his palm, trying to get away from his face-- away from him entirely, her wide eyes locked on his own like those of a deer in the headlights. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, though what struck Adam upside the head was what she was afraid of. 

Of him.

“Hey, e-easy--” He tried to reassure, though when he opened his mouth to speak, Sam’s eyes darted down to his teeth, focusing there with a glossy sort of look in them. “--you-- you’re alright,” he continued, “it... what, bad dream?”

She didn’t look hurt, which was good. No signs of burned skin, no melting, no redness... and at his question, her facial features softened a tad. “A bad...”

It took exactly three seconds for her to burst into tears. 

Adam, moving slowly, adjusted his position on the couch, concern mixed with guilt washing over him. “Hey-- hey, shh-- c’mere, it... it’s over, it’s not... I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” 

He didn’t know why those words were the ones that made Sam all but fling herself at his cheek, but judging by her sorry shape and how she was trembling... judging by the fact that she couldn’t meet his eyes... something told Adam that he didn’t want to know. Instead, he cupped his hands gently around her back and tried his best to be a comforting presence. 

“You’re okay... that’s it, h-hey, you... it’s alright. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, it... it wasn’t real, okay? None of it.”

He had no way of knowing how comforting it was, but he tried his best to find his words. “I’m not going anywhere. You... you’re safe here, okay?” 

Judging by the fact that Sam held him tighter, he had a feeling that it had worked. A sigh of relief pulled from his throat. 

“You’re okay.” He breathed, and although it was meant to be a comfort to Sam... it helped soothe his nerves as well. She was okay. He was okay. 

The two of them were together, and that’s how they’d face it. When Sam was ready.

Not a minute before.

#soft vore #g/t vore #safe vore #fearplay #extreme cuddling #the unauthorized autobiography of samantha brown #samantha brown #the mad ones #the mad ones adam #poor babies need a fuckton of therapy #but like... this is a common enough occurence... #angst with a happy ending #sorta #ish?

[thewritewolf]

Eating Habits Chapter 17:  Continuing On

Things aren’t quite as bad as our heroes thought they would be, but something else has picked up the slack when it comes to gnawing at Adrien’s peace of mind.

We’re close to the end of Eating Habits - three more chapters to go over the next ten days! :D

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

The other shoe didn’t drop in exactly the way that Adrien was expecting.

Despite his worst fears, his life didn’t return to that tumultuous few months following the unmasking of Hawkmoth. The news outlet that had reported on Marinette and Adrien had been little more than a tabloid that got picked up for a hot minute. Besides a few inquisitive phone calls from rather polite journalists, nothing much came of it.

Marinette hung up and sighed as she sat down at the kitchen table. “Where were all these well mannered reporters the first time? It would’ve saved us a heck of a lot of heartache if they had been there before.”

“Some of them were,” Tikki said from her spot on the table. “But polite whispers usually get drowned out in horrid shouting.”

“True.” Adrien put an omelette on a plate and set it in front of Marinette. She took a deep breath and sighed happily. “I’m super glad that I don’t have to sit in the apartment all day just to avoid getting ambushed.”

Marinette frowned. “I feel like there is a ‘but’ in there somewhere…”

“I’m sure you can find it if you keep feeling around,” Adrien joked. After a flicker of a smile passed over her face, her frown deepened.

“That settles it, then. You start with the lewd jokes when you’re trying to distract yourself. What’s got you so worked up, if it isn’t the news?”

Before he could stop himself, his eyes glanced treacherously towards the basket on the top of the fridge. Her eyes followed before understanding dawned.

“Ah.” She said into the cavernous silence that followed, a hundred conversations hanging in the emptiness. “Those. Do you think he saw the news? And that’s why he’s gotten so… prolific?”

Adrien laughed, but it was an empty noise. Prolific, as if it were him making designs just like the old days. Designing, rather than sending Adrien multiple letters a day, hammering away at his hard-earned and tenuous peace of mind. Every time he saw that particular type of envelope, that flowing cursive handwriting, his heart pounded in his chest and his breathing became haggard. It had gotten to the point where Marinette had banned him from getting the mail, but even with her filtering out most of them, his curiosity was building.

What did his former father want? Did he have something to say about his and Marinette’s relationship? Was he finally turning over a new leaf? Did seeing how they had moved on without him make him pull his head out of his ass for the first time since mom died? Well, her first death, that is. Adrien knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but… hope was something Adrien had always found hard to give up.

Which is why it was getting ever more tempting to give in and open one of those letters. Just one.

He was startled from his thoughts when a pair of slender arms wrapped around his chest from behind. Somehow, Marinette had snuck up behind him. He gladly took her hands in his as she spoke.

“You won’t find the answers you want to see in those letters, kitty. I promise. It’s just going to lead to more pain.” She sighed sadly. “But you know that already, don’t you?”

------------------

The sweltering summer days gave way to the cool summer nights - a perfect time to patrol. Maybe not in the full body suits, but Marinette was just glad that they were much more breathable than they looked. Swinging across Paris felt great and she hated going without doing it for too long.

Of course, the exertion brought with it a heat all its own. Which is why Ladybug and Rena Rouge could be found high up near the top of the Eiffel Tower tonight, where the winds whipped and they could escape the warmth of the city for a little while. As a nice bonus, it also kept them far away from listening ears and prying eyes. A perfect place to chat.

“The internship is going great,” Marinette said as a way to break the quiet.

Rena tilted her head to the side curiously, a look of confusion flickering across her face for a heartbeat. After a few moments, she smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, girl. It’s gotta be keeping you busy if you haven’t had time to talk about it. I was getting scared you were having an awful time over there.”

“Oh no no no, it’s been great!” Marinette began to warm up to the conversation .”I mean, yeah, they’ve really been keeping me active, but I actually enjoy that. After all these years, being idle just sorta feels… wrong, you know?”

“I get ya, girl.” Rena smiled as she leaned her head back, staring up at the inky black skies. “After that juggling act you pulled back in high school, it’s no wonder you keep putting more and more stuff on your plate. It must all be super easy compared to that.”

“It’s easier than fighting a super villain a day for years, yeah. But it’s challenging in a different way. I can’t just summon a lucky charm in the workplace to get just what I need to fix things.”

“Now that’s just quitter talk,” Rena replied. They both giggled. “But seriously, if anyone can figure out the solution to something, it’s you. Your mind always worked on a whole different plane than the rest of us.”

“Thanks,” Marinette said with a small smile. “Although the biggest problems they have me solve is the fastest way to get my designer what they need - whether that’s a second look at their latest piece, a roll of fabric, or just a coffee depends on the day.”

Rena scrunched her nose. “Doesn’t seem that glamorous.”

“Maybe,” Marinette conceded. “But being a gopher is exactly how I ended up being such good friends with Uncle Jagged, remember? A little hard work pays off in the end.”

Humming in agreement, Rena let the conversation end there. At least for a few minutes before she disturbed the quiet with a question.

“You know, you avoided the elephant in the room pretty well. But it’s not like I don’t know about it already. Even if I wasn’t a journalist, it was all over the news for a hot second.”

“I just…” Marinette sighed and started again. “You didn’t see how he just folded in on himself when the news first broke. He was just so scared and broken.”

“Damn,” Rena said simply. “Is he feeling any better? I tried to scare off the worst of the lot to keep them off your backs.”

“That was you? Thank you so much!” Marinette hugged her friend and pulled away to groan. “He would be back to his usual self, I think… if it weren’t for his father sending letters daily now.”

Rena sucked in a sharp breath. “That bastard doesn’t know when to give in, does he?” She growled. “What does he want, anyway?”

Marinette shrugged. “I don’t know. We haven’t opened any of the letters.”

“You can’t hide from it forever. We both know how that man works. All the determination of his son without any of the compassion or self-examination.”

“Adrien did his confrontation already. I don’t think another is going to do anything but hurt him, especially since Gabe has had a lot more time to think about how he’s going to tear into Adrien.”

“I know. But I also know that you are the one who took him down in the first place, so I know you’ll find a way to stop him again.” Rena squeezed her hand and Marinette smiled at her.

“Thanks.” Marinette’s smile faded as she turned to look at the city. “I just hope I can figure something out soon. I’m worried for Adrien. And with his twentieth birthday coming up…”

“You think Gabe might have something up his sleeve?”

“I don’t know how he could, but he always was full of horrible surprises.” Marinette sighed and stood, stretching her legs. “Come on, let’s finish patrol.”

----------------------

A couple weeks after the news had first broken and Adrien found himself back in the spotlight - however briefly - he now found himself with his head in Marinette’s lap. Her fingers worked their way through his hair as he poured his heart out to her. It wasn’t an unusual scene, but it had certainly been happening more frequently.

During a lull in his venting, she said, “You’ve got a lot going on in here, kitty.” Her fingers traced a circle around one of his temples.

“I guess you could say that,” Adrien said as he rolled onto his back to look up at her.

“And you know I’m more than happy to help you however I can.”

“But…?”

“This might be more than I can help you with. You might need to consider some professional help.”

Adrien grumbled. “Everybody seems to think so too. You. Nino. Alya.”

“Then it must be a good idea, huh? If the people who love you most are all saying the same thing?”

Adrien thought about the pain in his chest and for the first time since Nino had first brought it up, he really gave it some thought. It might take him a while to build up the courage, but… he wanted to start healing. And maybe he had gotten as far as he could get on his own. Maybe it was time to find professional help.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Rena Rouge #Ladybug #ml fanfiction #my writing #Eating Habits #The Lucky One series

[beerecordings]

I love the cat owner au so much, it's cute while also funny because Chase got all the different type of bastard cats

lolol thank you i like never realized i would be interested in like animal aus until the marvin le chat posts askjskfjr those were so funny and then i was obsessed with cat Marvin for forever. and now they are all cats but Chase lolll

okay i want to talk about this more now hahaha!

they ARE all different types of bastard!!! Jameson acts sweet but he can be a little disaster, likes to tear things down and keeps trying to sneak out of a hole in the fence. he is small enough that he keeps getting stuck in tiny places and then Chase has to come like cut him out of the plastic Halloween decorations (based on an experience with my hamster, his tiny ass was stuck sticking out of the light-up pumpkin in the storage room with his little legs kicking askjdnsgkg). Meanwhile Marvin STEALS things, he has this little horde in the garden with like Chase’s socks and bracelets and shit. also v persuasive when he wants to trick someone into gives him pets and treats. once snuck into the treat drawer. Chase still does not know how. it was fucking pad-locked.

Schneep on the other hand takes his independence to the extreme. he’s a BIZARRELY intelligent cat, Chase thinks he might just be a human stuck in a cat body. doesn’t do tricks, period. glares when Chase tries to teach him. Loves kneading his claws in things, especially Chase. he’s got a litter and a girlfriend in the house next door from that time he got out for a couple days and now Chase has to pay child support in kitty kibble and treats lol. HATES THE VET. And Anti is the naughtiest cat imaginable. such a disaster. he used to be Jack’s cat before he went into his coma and he had a terrible time adjusting to the new house. hated Chase for a long time. now though he is just bastard for the fun of it >:) and also because his brothers a n n o y him and he hates them >>:((

also did you know cats can get arrested?? because Jackie does. he looked very smug when Chase had to pick him up from the police car. he was in the news for it. big trouble-maker, gets in fights, once chased a dog away from a little kid and now he thinks he’s a big hero :D very happy, self-assured, sprints around the house at four in the morning, friendly af. loves nothing better than bringing Chase a cool leaf or a nice juicy worm he caught :) you are welcome Chase!!!!

#bastard cats au #exasperated cat owner chase #anon #ask #soft!anti

[blueberryrock]

Hey guys, I'm not dead or anything, it's just that I haven't drawn/painted anything. I how no ideas, but I do have a bunch of story ideas that imma try to do.

But anyways enjoy the emotional crap!

(Yellow's pov)

"So.....what's wrong?"

---

"What's wrong? Oh, nothing is wrong" Blue diamond says nervously. I gently place a gloved hand on her baby bump, I rub slow circles on her. "C'mon Blue, I know you better than that".

Blue lets out a sigh, she places her cold hand on mine and looks me directly in the eyes. "I'm going to try to be as honest with you as I can" she looks down at my hand and squeezes it "but there is something I want to do before you decide to hate me".

"Hate you? I would nev-mphff" Blue cuts me off by placing a firm kiss on my lips, I move my free hand to cup her cheek.

Blue finally breaks the kiss and takes a shaky breath in, she rests against the headboard of my bed and summons a screen.

"I...have something for you to listen to" Blue types something out "I've been umm, recording more logs"

This isn't good, the last time she recorded logs was when we thought Pink got shattered. I shudder from the memory of stumbling upon one, she started off speaking about how much Pink is frustrating her with the much and the colony, then it cuts off to her trying to speak but she starts sobbing. The worst part was it lasted about half a cycle.

Blue finally finds what she looking for. "This was for when I give birth, i-if I didn't make it". Blue hits the play button and I brace myself for what im about to hear.

"Log date 126 3 58. If you are listening to this, that probably means I'm gone and you've randomly stumbled upon this. You've already probably heard my other two recent logs, and I'm sorry."

"If this is my daughter listening I know it sounds like I hated you, but I-I don't? It's hard for me to explain, a-and please tell your mom that this is not her fault, it's mine".

"Blue?" I shoot her a confused look "I-I don't under-". Blue shushes me " there's more" her voice cracks.

"Log continuation. Yellow, if you are the one that is listening to this, I want you to know that this is not in any way your fault (it's mine). You didn't make me feel this way (I did). And I don't want you to think that you did this to me or that I hate you for this. I want you to know that I will always love you, no matter what you do with the time that we have left I'll still love you."

Even if Blue's aura isn't out I can feel her sorrow and her pain lingering in the room. Blue is trying very hard to not show it, but I can see a few tears start to build in those cerulean blue eyes of hers.

After a few minutes of listening to Blue's recording go on and on about how this isn't my fault and I shouldn't blame myself, Blue quietly switches to a different recording.

"L-log date *sniff* 126 3-3 60. Y-Yellow I'm so-orry" Is, is she sobbing in this one? "I didn't m-mean to. This-s is all my f-fault. I sh-hould have r-reacted better." 

"I-it's just...I d-don't...I don't like th-h-his" the crying gets louder and louder, I look away from the screen and turn to Blue. She closes the screen then looks at me with tearful eyes.

Tears are now freely rolling down her cheeks "Blue, I-I don't understand" I wipe a few tears off of her face "what don't you like?"

"T-this" Blue chokes on her tears, she places her hand back on her baby belly "I-I've been t-trying to hide h-how" Blue cuts herself off with a coughing fit.

I make her sit up completely and I rub her back. "H-how I feel" Blue desperately tries to wipe away her tears, but more and more form.

After a few minutes of crying, her tears have now slowed down to the point where she can actually speak "and what exactly do you feel?" I ask very gently and calmly.

Blue thinks for a moment"I-I don't know" she sobs as more tears form. She aggressively rubs her red eyes with her sleeves, I grab her arms and I hold them in her lap.

"I don't feel v-very happy a-about being pre-egnant" I pull Blue into my lap and place one hand on her stomach and hold her hand with my other.

I bury my face into her soft hair and lovingly squeeze her hand. "I-It's not that I d-don't want them, we-ell I do, but I-I" Blue cries.

"We-e both know w-what happe-ened to Pink a-and Steven" I pull away from her soft hair "that he has to deal with problems?" I interrupt.

"T-that *sniff*, a-and I'll be g-gone" Blue sobs even harder "a-a-and you'll have t-to raise the *sniff* g-geml-lings by you-urself" Blue weeps into her hands, I gently rub her back.

Blue hiccups and wraps her arms around her stomach. "I won't be alone, Steven could try and help, I don't know how much he'll actually be able to help" I mutter the last part to myself, but Blue hears it and cries harder.

"Hey, and I'll have White! She's has had to deal with three young diamonds and I've had to deal with two and a half, we'll be okay" I place a kiss on the back of her head.

"B-but what i-if I don't w-want t-t-to go? I don't w-want to leave y-you."  Blue turns around to face me, her eyes are a dull red. Her entire face is drenched in tears, snot, and probably sweat.

Blue lets out a painful groan as she clutches her belly. "I think you should rest, all the stress isn't good for you."

"I-I'm fine" Blue clearly lies, she starts coughing again, but this time harder. I move closer towards her to help, but she pushes me back "mmm...I'm fi-ine".

"Are you sure? You should get some rest, you've been" Blue cuts me off "under a l-lot of stress, I know" Blue wipes away the last of her tears.

Blue falls onto the bed and face-first into her pillow, I lay on my side and prop myself up with my elbow. Blue turns and looks at me.

"I want you to know, I love you" Blue's almost glowing cerulean blue eyes gazes at mine. "A-and do you forgive me?"

Shit. After dealing with her confession? I totally forgot why I was upset at her. I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. If I say I forgive her, I won't forgive myself for almost lying to her. But if I say I don't forgive her, it'll only make things worse.

My lack of response makes Blue sigh, her eyes water up again and she mutters something to quiet for me to hear.

"I-if it helps, I'm not mad at you anymore" I give her a slight smile.

"C'mon, I let out some of my feelings, it's your turn to share" she sluggishly pokes my arm.

"No really, I'm not very mad at you" I shoot her a go-to-sleep look. She just half-heartedly smiles at me, she huffs and pulls the blankets onto herself when I don't say anything.

I lay down beside her and wrap my arm around her, I smile as she snuggles into it. I listen to her slow and deep breathing as she falls further and further into slumber.

(Dreamworld and Blue's pov)

I lift myself up out of some orange and yellow foliage, I delicately grab a leaf (as Steven calls it) between my thumb and index finger. I decide to look around, there's nothing much out here besides a red human settlement with something going through it and a tree (which is what I'm sitting under).

I carefully stand up and shake off any leaves or twigs that would be in my dress, I pick some of the foliage from my dark blue hair.

Hmm, guess I'm in the past? I carefully walk over to the structure, making sure I don't step on any rocks or anything. I run my hand over the weathered painted wood. If I'm in the past, why does this structure seem so new and familiar?

I move in front of the two very large red doors, maybe if I open it I can see where I'm at? I firmly grasp one of the rusty handles and pull the sliding doors open.

I walk inside the dark and warm structure, I quietly close the door behind me, I look around for a light switch of sorts but all I can find is a glowing green panel.

I quickly press it and a very light green crystal chandelier instantly turns on, I blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the light. I look around the room, it has gorgeous darkish green walls, with white floors and a lime green carpet in the middle of the room.

To the left of the door is a beautiful wood aqua crib, with a cyan blanket hanging off of the side. With a little spinning thing on top (I'll have to ask Steven what it's called), and a plush looking aqua pillow.

I walk over to it and run my hand over carved smooth carved wood, and at the corner of the crib the design turns into a small swirl with little groves around it going all the way down to the bottom.

Right beside the crib is a lovely dark brown rocking chair, with a dark green almost blue pillow tied to it. And in the middle of the room is a long window out looking one of the very old kindergartens and it has lime green curtains with dark green polka dots. I run my hand over the curtains, it's surprisingly very soft. I look down at the window sill, which is about foot and a half off the ground, I squat down to look at the small blue and pink plant that's growing in a blue pot. I tap one of the leaves for some reason.

I look to my right to find a tall brown bookshelf with many earthen books and little stuffed animals in it. I recognize one of the many animals on it, I pick up the soft pink animal, I smile when I realize that its a toy version of Steven's pink lion.

I set it back down on its shelf and continue my way through the room. Next to the bookshelf is another wooden crib, this time it's an olive green with neon green splotches on it.

I once again run my hand over the well-crafted wood, I grab the very soft olive green and neon green blanket. It feels like I'm running my fingers through short purple grass from one of my colonies or through lion's mane.

I place the blanket back on the crib, unlike the other one, this crib has a little string of lights behind it.

And lastly, to the other side of the crib is a small dresser that has little blue and yellow flying organics that only has two drawers. Curiously, I bend down and open the top drawer, and it's filled to the brim with little aqua dresses, shirts, shorts/pants, and itty bitty socks.

"Momma?" A little voice calls out, I quickly close the drawer and stand up, I turn around to face a little gem. A blue gem for that matter.

She has sky blue hair that stops at her chin, she's wearing an aqua blue tank top with a darker shade of blue shorts, and her gem is the same cut as Yellow and in the same place.

"M-me?" I place my hand where my gem is, the little gem takes a step closer "I-I'm not your...am I?"

"Momma, do you love?" The little diamond asks as she throws her hands up to me.

"I don't think I know" I take a step back, and the little diamond's lip starts to quiver as her pair of familiar beautiful cerulean eyes start to water. She runs out of the room crying and yelling for her mommy.

What was that and what did I just do?

After about a minute passes, the now big green gem doors slide open, and Yellow diamond comes stomping into the room with the same little diamond in her arms.

"Yellow?" I give her a confused look.

"How could you?" She angrily says "How could you say that to our daughter?" Yellow takes an angry step towards me.

"Yellow I...I didn't know" I back up right into the green crib. "Of course you didn't, you never listen and you're a horrible, selfish gem. I can't believe I fell in love with someone like you" Yellow yells.

I start to tear up "I-I'm sorry" I mutter.

"I-I'm sorry"

"Blue?"

"I-I'm so sorry"

"Blue, please wake up"

I jolt awake, I groan as I wipe my wet eyes, I slowly sit up as tiredness starts to wear off.

I flinch forward when a warm hand touches my back, I turn to look at who the arm belongs to, I smile as my eyes adjust to the light once again and Yellow appears in my field of vision.

"Blue are you okay?" Yellow worriedly asks.

"Yes, yes, just a" bad dream? Memories of my weird dream wash over me as I try to come up with an answer "an interesting dream"

Yellow raises an eyebrow "are you sure? You were talking in your sleep again, which was kinda cute but then you started to apologize over and over again, which wasn't very cute" Yellow lovingly rubs my back, I lean into her warm touch as I let out a yawn.

"I wa-no am fine, it was just an interesting dream" I rub my tired eyes again.

"Would you like to tell me it?" Yellow places her hand on mine.

I grab it and gently squeeze it. I tell her each and every little detail from my dream, but I unfortunately tell her the end too.

"I hope you know that I don't think your a selfish gem and I will never regret loving you" she gently kisses my cheek.

"I know, hey have you designed the room where the gemlings will be sleeping?" I sluggishly ask.

Yellow shakes her head no " do you mean a nursery? If so then no, I haven't" she smirks at me "Did you have a design in mind?"

"I do, in fact it came to me in a dream" I giggle.

"Alright I'll get you something so you can design the room in the morning" Yellow squeezes my hand in return "But it's still fairly late, you should go back to bed".

"Ugh, but I hate sleeping" I fall back down on my pillow "it wastes time", Yellow chuckles and lays down right next to me, she pulls me into her, and I shiver when her lukewarm armor touches my bare skin.

Yellow phases away her armor leaving her in what I assume is a thin shirt and a pair of shorts, she turns to quietly place her helmet on her nightstand. I push myself back into her warm strong arms as she tries to pull the thick blankets back onto us.

Yellow starts humming a melody, but I'm too tired to really tell what it is, I let out a long yawn as Yellow shoves her face into the crook of my neck.

"Good night" I yawn out.

"Good night" Yellow continues to gently hum as I slowly fall back asleep "I love you" she faintly whispers into my ear. I grumble something to her before I pass out.

I'm a bit behind on the chapters, but I'll catch up soon. Hopefully, inspiration will hit me and I'll draw, if not y'all can always send me ideas!

#steven universe #blue diamond su #su yellow diamond #bellow diamond #fanfic #emotional #im not good at writitng

[sunbirddtellsstories]

= T I M B E R W I L D E =

(Full color refs courtesy of @fbschin and @the-trinket-witch, please support the artists)

FULL NAME: Tapeesa ‘Timber’ Wilde

APPEARANCE: 6’2, and by virtue of her height is the second tallest Xiaolin Dragon (second only to Clay, and even then it’s pretty close).

Floofy blonde hair. It is usually worn long but it is currently cut short with parts of it dyed forget-me-not blue. Tan skin. Brown almond-shaped eyes. Often wears a black toque/beanie, and has a taste for punk, grungy, and “woodsy” type fashions like leather jackets, plaid, distressed denim, etc.

Current outfit is as follows: Long sleeve black shirt with Canadian maple leaf design. Plaid overshirt. Ripped jeans, black socks and black boots. Fingerless black gloves. Single piercing on her nose, multiple piercings in her ears, and a forest green jacket with brown fur lining on the hood. Jacket is designed to make the wearer look like a wolf. This is Timber’s trademark jacket and her most recognizable article of clothing.

GENDER/SEXUALITY: Female. Pansexual. Polyamorous and proud.

PRONOUNS: She/Her/Hers

ETHNICITY: Mixed race - her mother is an Inuk woman from Labrador, and her father was an Irish-Canadian man from Newfoundland.

BIRTHPLACE/BIRTHDATE: Born and raised in the province of Newfoundland, Canada on November 2nd, 2003. Scorpio. 16 going on 17.

GUILTY PLEASURES: Cigarettes. Food. Weed. Food. Sneaking into places she shouldn’t. Food. Saucy reading materials. Food. Pretty girls. Food. Feisty boys. Food. Abusing her powers to be lazy, get what she wants and take shortcuts. Food. Loud music. Food. Singing. Food. Sneaking out at night. Food. Petty vandalism. Food. Street hockey. Food. Regular hockey. Food. Skateboarding. Food. Tagging property with her own unique brand of art. Food. Cute dogs. Food. Taking lots and lots of selfies and candid photos, as photography is her biggest passion and addiction ALSO FOOD DID I MENTION FOOD YET BECAUSE THAT’S A BIG ONE SHE IS ALWAYS HUNGRY

QUIRKS: Constantly takes photos. Constantly gets distracted. Constantly wanders off. Bites her lip when she is anxious or about to lie. Takes great pride in her hair and prior to her forced haircut took good care of it and grew it out long, thick and messy. Her wild hair is a trademark of hers and she doesn’t like people touching it or doing anything to it.

Is well known for having a nervous tic in the form of shaking hands. She claims it’s due to bad medication - and may even in fact believe her own lie - but in reality, it’s completely psychological in nature, due to her undiagnosed PTSD and trauma from a formative life event when she was 8 years old. It is always present, worsens under stress, and at times affects her motor skills so intensely that she cannot tie her shoes or pick up a spoon. It is a great insecurity of hers and she does her best to hide it.

TRIGGERS: Mentions of her family, being called “crazy” and being near the ocean or on water.

FUN FACTS:

When visiting a new place, Timber will build or draw an inukshuk and take a photo of it to commemorate the occasion. She has been doing this since she was small, and she continues this ritual in honor of the loved one who taught her how to do this.

Her real name Tapeesa means “arctic flower” in the Inuktituk language, but most people know her as Timber. Earned the nickname ‘Timber’ from her father when she made a tree fall as a young girl due to her Wood elemental powers revealing themselves. Answers only to the name ‘Timber’ in his memory.

Really loves blueberries. She likes all food and eats like a starving animal but she gravitates to blueberries and blueberry flavored things. Her trademark favorite food though is blueberry pancakes with blueberry jam, as per her father’s recipe.

COLORS: Blue and Green

ANIMAL SYMBOLISM: Moths 🦋

PHOBIAS: Several, actually.

Going home.

Losing the one “friend” she has.

Being alone for the rest of her life.

Being an outcast for the rest of her life.

Not being able to fulfill her deal to Sun and complete the one mission that has kept her going for YEARS.

Being open and honest and vulnerable with other people.

Trusting other people.

Other people.

But the one thing she fears more than anything else is the ocean. Deep water in general makes her very uncomfortable and she slowly loses it when in close proximity to beaches, docks, and boats. She. HATES. Being on water.

And she has every reason to hate it.

WHAT SHE WOULD BE FAMOUS FOR: Timber Wilde is the first Dragon of Wood in centuries, a “Wilde” card that even Wuya herself was not aware of before she made herself known. And due to the complicated history of the Xiaolin Dragons and the Dragons of Wood, that alone is more than enough to have everyone from the Xiaolin to the Heylin hunting her down. Inexperienced in actual combat, but with enough raw power and natural talent that exceeds even Raimundo and Omi’s Shoku-level abilities, Timber Wilde is cunning, powerful, creative, and above all, unpredictable.

Timber Wilde is also currently the owner of the Crown of the Monkey King, the most dangerous Shen Gong Wu in existence. What’s more, she is also the faithful and long-suffering servant, student and sometimes host of the evil that resides in it.

Along with her traveling companions, Jack Spicer, the reluctant Dragon of Metal, and Jermaine Thompson, the kung-fu prodigy that was trained by Chase Young himself, Timber Wilde currently travels the world in an ongoing journey, keeping her secrets close, her “enemies” closer, and searching for a way to free her master in exchange for her one and only chance to rectify the greatest failure of her life.

She will do whatever it takes to reach this goal. Even if she has to burn down the whole world to do it. After all...a deal’s a deal, right?

WHAT THEY WOULD GET ARRESTED FOR:

Theft. Arson. Disturbing the peace. Possession and underage usage of tobacco products and marijuana. General teenage mayhem. Destruction of property. Aggravated assault. Vandalism and trespassing.

...Treason.

WHO DO YOU SHIP THEM WITH: Timber is polyamorous and has a lot of romantic potential with a few different characters. I feel like she’d be happiest in a polyamorous triad with Jack Spicer as one of her lifelong partners due to how well they connect and compliment each other, but jury’s still out on who would best complete their OT3.

She’s 100 percent into nerds tho. Nerds and angry types and red hair and blue eyes. All she wants is to be topped by someone smarter than her. She just needs a feisty bookworm who can put her in her place and teach her things.

CHARACTER MOST LIKELY TO KILL THEM: Everyone is out to get Timber but sadly her worst enemy is in her own head. Literally. He’s in her HEAD.

FAVORITE BOOK/MOVIE GENRE: Historical/documtary type stuff because she’s hungry for knowledge of the world outside her small seaside town, but she also has a secret soft spot for shojo mangas and saucy romance books.

LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE/BOOK CLICHE: Sad endings, or stories where the dog dies.

TALENTS/POWERS: As the Dragon Of Wood, Timber Wilde has power over every form of plant life, and once again she’s nearly above Shoku level with her abilities. In addition to manipulating and accelerating plant growth, she can also....

Gift plants with sentience and speech,

Use pollen and scents to confuse, manipulate, charm or take out foes,

Create bioluminescent plants and fungi

Create armor for herself from plants

Use plants for camouflage, disguise, defense or offense

Create her own food source

And much more.

But the most important skill as Dragon of Wood she has is, above all, her healing abilities.

With the power to use the medicinal properties in her plants to heal almost any wound or illness, Timber Wilde’s healing powers make her invaluable in battle.

She also has learned one more technique from Sun, one that allows her to “borrow” another person’s power for her own.

But we can discuss that later.

WHY SOMEONE MIGHT LOVE THEM: Despite her many flaws, Timber Wilde isn’t that bad of a person. Deep down underneath her tough, nihilistic, cold exterior, she’s just a sweet, silly, mischief making teenager who just needs and wants a friend. She is a dreamer. She is an artist. Though she has long since lost faith in people she still has an eye for beauty and finds it everywhere in the world around her. She thirsts for adventure and wants to live life to the fullest and experience everything the unknown has to offer.

At her best, Timber Wilde is a lively, incredible, inspiring soul who is passionately devoted to everything and everyone she loves. She will go to the ends of the earth for anything and anyone she cares about, even if it costs her her own life.

WHY SOMEONE MIGHT HATE THEM: Timber Wilde is a deeply complicated person who has a lot of inner pain and fears. And like a certain other redhead, these feelings cause her to lash out at the world around her in less than ideal ways.

Timber lies. Timber keeps secrets. Timber can get very defensive when you poke past the casual front she tries to keep up and start asking her real questions. She has a loose sense of morals, and a survivalist mindset. She doesn’t reach out to other people. She doesn’t trust other people. In fact, the only person she puts her faith in is an evil entity trapped within the Shen Gong Wu she wears on her head. And because of his influence, her view of reality is severely warped.

She genuinely believes she has no real place in this world amongst other people. She genuinely believes everyone is out to get her and that everyone disappoints each other eventually and to make yourself vulnerable or to have faith in others is to invite hurt and heartbreak. And despite the fact that she holds her own needs and desires above everyone else’s, she thinks very, very lowly of herself.

She cannot forgive herself for past mistakes. She cannot let go of what’s already gone. She blames herself for the fate of her family and the untimely demise of the most important person in her life and this has taken a severe emotional and mental toll on her. And due to this loss, she has ONE goal in life that she chases after with all her heart and soul, and the way she tunnel visions in on her mission often means she leaves others to the wayside, though not always without guilt or regret.

Timber is....complicated. Like a wildfire, she burns and burns and burns, and each and every day she burns a little more out of control than before.

But fires don’t burn because they want to hurt people. Fires burn because they don’t know how else to keep from going out.

Timber Wilde knows her actions have consequences. But seeing no better options, she forces herself not to care. She lies to everyone, including herself.

HOW THEY CHANGE: Spoilers.

But I think a certain someone, or two certain someones, can help her change.

Power of friendship, baby.

Why You Love Them: Because she fulfills several of my wishes for what I wanted to see in Xiaolin Showdown.

A) She’s a female character

B) She’s a female XIAOLIN character

C) She is or will be a true blue ally and supportive friend to Jack Spicer, a boy who desperately needs friends

D) She’s a Dragon Of Wood and

E) She is a girl with grit who gets swept up into a magical life changing adventure

#xiaolin showdown #xiaolin showdown fanfiction #xiaolin showdown monkey wrench #monkey wrench! #xs monkey wrench #xiaolin showdown oc #xiaolin showdown timber #timber wilde #nneefa #sunbird answers #thank you for your question #and as always thank you for reading! #part 2 of x #jack spicer #xiaolin showdown monkey wrench! #jermaine xiaolin showdown #xiaolin showdown jermaine #clay bailey #kimiko tohomiko #raimundo pedrosa #jessie bailey #jesse bailey #shadow young #katnappe

[theboyz-engup]

To All The Boyz I’ve Loved Before; Letter Four

Summary-

It was wonderful what a few little letters could do; they could make or break a friendship, cause someone to laugh or smile, make someone remember the time of their life or that moment they wanted to forget. Just some words on paper and poof, everyone knew the way your heart beat and workings of your brain. High school really did wonders on you, as did those twelve boys. Maybe they didn’t know it, but they changed your whole life with each smile, each wave, and each word you typed into paper. You made them permanent, and now they had to know why.

Word Count- 8.3k

Previous Letter - Next Letter 

Chanhee gave a swift wave to Sangyeon, who lived across the street from him and was sitting on his stairs. The two of them had never been the best of friends but they were always friendly and Chanhee remembered giving him half off plant products he bought for a girl he was into. Chuckling at it, Chanhee unlocked his door and called a little hello. As always, the house was empty and the mail that was fit through the door slot was scattered across his hallway floor.

“God, this is a mess,” Chanhee sighed, groaning a bit as he bent down to pick up the envelopes. Most were addressed to his parents and a few to his siblings but one was addressed to him. He hummed, not knowing mail still got shipped here for him. He moved out of here a year ago, despite still having a key and sleeping here ever so often.

Maybe it’s junk, he thought, placing it down on the table with the rest of the letters as he untied his shoes. Yeah, I’ll just toss it. Probably some weird advertisement for something.

The thought was enough for him to make up his mind, grasping the letter and taking it with him to his father’s office on the first floor. He stood above the shredder, looking at it as it whirred the second he placed his foot on the pedal. The sound bothered him, like he was making a mistake he didn’t know he was making. Whining a bit, he took his foot off the pedal and looked at the letter again.

The writing was foreign to him, absentmindedly walking up the stairs after plopping his worn, leather bag atop the letters that weren’t for him. Flipping it over, he found a little sticker- one he remembered having way back when- and smiled. Unsticking the envelope, he began his light read, taking it all the way with him through the house as he paced.

Dear Choi Chanhee,

I’m sorry if you ever read this letter. It’s going to be so long and complicated and I doubt you even want to hear it but I hope it can help explain. I never meant to upset you, not once, but I’m sorry because I know I did.

Early September, 2015

The door to your local plant shop squeaked open, hot wind rushing in with you to escape the summer sun. A bell ringing atop your head brought your attention to it for a moment before you continued on your way. The shop looked entirely out of place in your town made of wood and dusted colours. It was a shop made of rounded slabs of rock with clean squares and circles cut out to let sun stream in and stare at the assortment of colours in awe. Everything was grey and cool and smelled of black earth. You loved it, closing your eyes to take it in before continuing on your way.

There was some chatter in the shop so you hoped you weren’t being too loud as you spoke to Eric through the microphone on your headphones.

“So why are you going to the plant store again?” He sounded distracted and you figured he was probably doing some of his work ahead of time so he wouldn’t be too stressed during the school year.

As you spoke, you imagined him with his glasses on and hat backwards- he never studied without one. It was his ‘thinking cap’ as he would say jokingly, but you knew he tugged at his hair when he got stressed and he was convinced that was what’s been making him lose hair. You tried to tell him it was how often he dyed his hair but there was no reasoning with him sometimes.

“I told my mom I might want to start dating because I was talking about how Amalia went out on a date with this jock from the year above in the summer and she was all questioning- like asking me if I wanted to go on dates,” you started, rambling as you always did when you spoke to Eric. Your eyes scanned the plants mindlessly, reaching out to touch a few leaves before shaking your head and moving on.

“And?” Eric’s voice pressed for more, noticing the slight pause in your story as you got just a bit distracted.

Taking a breath and murmuring sorry, you continued, “so I was like ‘yes’ and and she gave me this whole speech about how I don’t have responsibility and to date, I need to have responsibility. When I brought up growing Barly, she told me that giving him the name Bartholomew wasn’t very grown up of me and I need to start from scratch, which would be a plant, apparently.”

Eric just started to laugh, pitch getting higher and higher as he started to fully take in what you said. “Y/n, that’s so lame, I-”

“Ha, ha,” you pouted, landing in front of an aisle labelled ‘easy to take care of’. With a smug smile, you marched down it to find a little plant you wouldn’t have to worry too much about.

“I’m sorry, I just think that’s so stupid,” he giggled some more, filling your ears with familiar bubbles, “if you want to date, you should. At least you told her about it, most kids wouldn’t.”

“That’s what I said but she said that she’s not growing up other kids, she’s growing up me and somehow that makes me different and incomparable to other kids my age.” You rolled your eyes at the thought, stopped in the aisle now and staring vacantly at a flower sprouting slightly from the middle of a round-leafed plant. Your hand reached out to touch the fuzz that grew on the stem of the little flower and you smiled.

“Think I found my plant though.”

“Nice,” Eric hummed, “take a picture of it when you get home, I want to see it.” If he was here with you, he would’ve put his arms around your shoulder and pulled you in, making a joke about how that was going to be your child. He wasn’t though, and it was a phantom arm you felt around your shoulders pulling you in for a hug you would’ve claimed to hate.  

All you did was make a sound to say yes, picking it up off the shelf gingerly in its cement pot. It had a little string bow tied around it, like it was wrapped and ready for you. Thinking of something else to make conversation about, you started to chatter on while keeping your eyes on your little plant.

“I want to name it something stupid again,” you admitted, a bit of an embarrassed chuckle coming through your teeth.

“Of course you do.”

“It’s against the rules but I’ll think of some anyways,” you decided, trying to amuse yourself. There was a click of a pen in the background of his audio as he suddenly got all excited.

Coming closer to his phone, he crooned, “ooh, I’ll start. How about we do something simple like Xerxes?”

It was hard not to laugh at his suggestion, the running joke between you two being that whoever had kids first had to name their first child Xerxes on a dare. The little burst of laughter was enough to make you lift your head as far as the cashier stand where a boy with black hair and a darker cap was standing. Well, he was more so leaning on the counter with his forearms pressed on the metal and hands stitched together- and his eyes were on you. He had a flicker of a smile on his lips the second your eyes met but you didn’t stare for long enough to see what he’d do after. Instead, you hurried to an aisle where you couldn’t see him and vice versa and exhaled deeply.

“What happened now?”

“D-do you remember the waiter guy from Jan’s who was only there that once because he lived far away and was just subbing for his friend?” you whispered quickly and under your breath. Suddenly your heart was in your throat.

“Uh, sure?” Eric was entirely confused, the conversation shift not natural and your voice weird. “Why?”

You just whined, holding your plant with shaky hands now. You probably looked so stupid just hiding behind an aisle to make sure you wouldn’t see each other. He was the only cashier at the store, of course you’d have to see him eventually. Unless he went on break but in that case, he’d most likely pass by you camping out and think you weird either way.

“Okay, wish me luck,” you whispered, steadying yourself. As it turned out, your desire to eventually date someone was greater than you fear of boys- well, cute boys, that is.

“What am I wishing you luck for, what?”

He was genuinely confused but you didn’t quite have the time to explain as you walked towards the front. You felt like plastic, entirely wobbly on your knees which seemed nonexistent  in the moment. The black-haired boy was finishing up another person, handing over a bag and smiling sweetly. The second his eyes landed on you, smile still taut on his lips, you felt your heart sink.

It wasn’t love at first sight but you definitely had some feelings, instantly in adoration.

“Just this today?” His voice sounded like crystals, slightly higher pitched than you expected but clear and kind nonetheless. It forced you to pay attention to him, though you apparently didn’t have a tongue to respond. All that came through was a nod as you placed the plant on the counter.

“I heard you on the phone earlier,” he started, cheery as he typed in the amount on his little computer and then relayed the price to you. You flushed a little, knowing what it was he was talking about and getting embarrassed. “Your mom sounds like a fun time.”

“Is he talking to you?” Eric asked in your ear, to which you made a little hummed noise to. It seemed to be good for both conversations, though Eric didn’t need more of a response and Chanhee, the name which you read off his tag, perhaps did.

“Y-yeah, she’s definitely a character, at least with me.”

“My parents did the same thing,” he admitted, giving you a sympathetic look as he wrapped your plant in some sort of tissue and placed it in a bag, “I wasn’t allowed to do anything and still aren’t but getting jobs and having closer friends helps.”

You were busy paying with your dad’s debit card for the moment, which he graciously lent you in exchange for getting him a chocolate bar on your way home. Desperately though, you wished he wasn’t lecturing you or giving you advice. You supposed that want forced your hand, giving you a reason to be bolder.

“I’m hoping junior year helps them realize I’m not that much of a kid anymore.” The words slipped past your mouth, the lie sounding weirdly natural. Eric hissed in your ear, asking why you lied immediately. Not bothering to respond, you only finished up paying and extended your hand for the bag.

Chanhee, instead, decided to lean against the high counter like before, chin propped up on his hands as he came forwards. “Really? You’re in the year below me? How come I’ve never seen you before?”

Shrugging, you shyly grasped at the bag ends, having to reach a bit but wanting to now get out of there as soon as possible. The reality of your lie was now hitting you as you realized- he also went to your high school. Oh gosh, he was going to find out eventually and that fear gnawed at you starting from that day.

“I- uh, I moved here just last year.” That came out smoothly as well but it wasn’t a lie and you felt better for it. Lying was something you could do well but you didn’t particularly like how heavy they felt- especially this one. This one started to lie in your stomach like cement the second the pride you had for pulling it off so smoothly dissipated into the musky smell of the shop.

“That’s so weird,” he deadpanned, expressive enough with his eyes and the outwards movements of his lips. You’d spent too much time in that instant just looking at those lips that you knew you needed to leave as soon as possible.

“But hey, if you go to Carr, it’d be cool to see you around sometime. I like having new friends, especially ones I get to know from scratch.” Your eyebrow notched up at the sentence and he furthered, “I’ve known everyone here from birth, basically. It’s really refreshing seeing someone new. It makes this place exciting for once.”

Did he just call me exciting? The thought rushed through your brain and caused heat to rise in your chest. As you mulled over his words, its suggestion brought giddiness into your spine.

It took some time for your tongue to work properly, some stutters and shyness existing deep in your voice but eventually, you managed, “t-then I’d lo- love to see you around and not just when I need a date plant.”

He chuckled at your joke, watching you raise your plant slightly as you spoke. His laugh was chimes in the wind, creating echoes in your mind and resonating deeply within you. Something about him felt so present as he asked your name and for your number- he was so real and was acting like someone out of a movie. It seemed almost too good for you until you realized, well, it wasn’t all good.

How was he going to feel when he found out you lied? Would it be a big deal? The questions that ran through your head as you left the store swarmed into a large mass that felt blinding.

“I hate that you made me listen to that,” Eric groaned, though he seemed to still be in high spirits.

“I’m so stupid,” you said immediately, free palm tapping against your head multiple times. You must’ve looked very offset, ranting to just about the only person who wasn’t going to judge you. Though, it was kind of funny as he giggled, little claps coming through your earbuds.

“Yeah, you’re screwed.”

Gosh, I can’t count the amount of times I went to see you at that store. It was like our own little hiding place where we could talk about anything and everything. We had so many little jokes too, especially starting then. You kept making fun of me and my date plant and I kept making fun of you for that video I had of you. Whenever you did fan service, just acting cute or doing something on a dare to get someone to buy a plant, I never caught it on camera except once. You would chase me around the store for that and outside and between the bleachers. I wanted to ask you to do something cute for me too, maybe a heart or a little dance, but I was always too shy to ask.

You were so whiny about it sometimes, but you made me so happy. You were my part time worker but full time cutie, as that one customer said it. Days like that, I remember very happily- days that my age didn’t matter. I hope you do too.

Mid-October, 2015

“Sunwoo!”

His name slipped through your lips, voice louder than you expected it to be but your laugh was even greater. He was running around with you on his back, howling and making noise just to cause a riot. Something about your second year of high school was having him extra excited but you didn’t know he’d be acting like this much of a fool with you on his back.

“Please put me down,” you laughed, though you were clinging onto him for dear life.

“Let go of me then,” he snipped back, turning his head a bit as he tried to look at you. He had to pull away as you leaned forwards, needing eye contact to threaten him properly.

“All right, all right,” Amalia announced, clicking her tongue, “go pull the hyenas apart so we can get our ice cream, Hyunjoon.”

The full-cheeked boy nodded, taking a step towards you and Sunwoo. The one carrying you simply let go of you and you shrieked, clinging onto him as Joon began to laugh a bit. He ran to try and help you down, nearly falling but somehow making it safely.

“You-”

Your sentence never finished itself, hands tapping on Sunwoo’s shoulder over and over again. Placing his hands up in the air to defend himself, cracking jokes with a ridiculous smile on his face. Amalia sweetly came up behind you and wrapped her arms around your body, giving you a little hug to spare Sunwoo.

Immediately, you seeped into it, pouting and muttering, “but he dropped me.”

She clicked her tongue, placating you but not exactly feeling bad for you. Her hand rubbed at your head, giving you slight pats to make you feel better. “I know, baby, I know. Now let’s get some ice cream, yeah?”

You nodded, pouting still but letting her coax you inside. Hyunjoon and Sunwoo followed closely behind, talking like crazy. Everyone had been in a good mood lately, you especially since you’d discovered Chanhee. You would visit his store sometimes, walking around and pretending you had grown a love for plants just to see him. Sometimes, he’d slip around his counter and lead you around, showing you his best sellers or his favourite plants. Most of the time, you wouldn’t remember it. You were just entirely in awe of him, of the way he smiled and pushed his lips out as he spoke. Everything about him gave you jitters, same as Jacob and Sangyeon, but so much more present because you felt like you were actually coming to know him better every day.

Walking in with a clamour, you found yourselves in a nearly empty diner. There was a man with a very long beard and a steaming cup of coffee who looked like he was just passing through for some late dinner to your left and a couple to your right. Nobody turned to look at you, not even the waiters who were talking amongst themselves. They clearly didn’t expect anyone to be coming in, much less rowdy kids who were besides themselves with happiness. An elderly lady made eye contact with you as your group found a booth and she grasped some menus to bring over.

“Anything to get you kids to start?” Her voice was high and sweet, stereotypical but comforting as she grazed her eyes over your little group.

Amalia took it upon herself to memorize your group’s ice cream orders, taking her rightful spot as group leader, as she liked to put it, and ordering ahead. Sunwoo leaned into you, whispering with a laugh on his tongue, “she’s so grown up.”

“Better her than me,” you hummed back, not caring much for the close proximity of your friend, who seemed surprised when you jabbed your finger in his chest, saying, “you could do with some growing up.”

“Don’t push him too hard,” Hyunjoon crooned, reached across the table, “his little brain can’t take too much responsibility at once.”

“Who?” Amalia asked as the waitress made her way to the back and Hyunjoon filled her in. Sunwoo seemed to want to protest but knew it would only dig him a bigger hole.

“Wait, is this progress?” you asked, gasping a bit. “Character development, maybe?”

“Our little baby,” Amalia hummed, wiping her hand under her eyes to catch nonexistent tears, “growing up so fast.”

Sunwoo’s lips came forwards, itching to say something but halfway through his defence (which no one was buying anyways), he stopped and huffed. Your head fell on his shoulder, arm snaking around his body to rub at his arm.

“Good thing is we still like you even though you’re a little dumb sometimes.”

Hyunjoon’s little smile grew for a second as he looked at you and Woo. Amalia snorted, telling you to speak for yourself. Sunwoo only cleared his throat and rubbed at his neck, suddenly meek and shy.

“Thanks.”

“Two chocolate ice creams, one mango, and one green tea,” the waitress announced lightly. She came behind Amalia, holding the styrofoam cups expertly and placing them down nicely on the table. Everyone reached for their own, telling her a sweet thank you before she took her leave.

“So, y/n,” Amalia started, looking at you over the rim of her cup, “how are things on the dating front?”

“Yeah, is your mom coming around since you got a plant and stuff?” Hyunjoon was quiet, though he looked genuinely interested as he dove into his cup. Sunwoo, who usually had much to say, stayed silent as he listened to you.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, feeling a bit down about it, “mum said the plant I bought was too easy to keep and whatever. I don’t know.”

It wasn’t that you necessarily had anyone you wanted to date, you just wanted the freedom and trust that went with it. All the people you had liked were too out of your league anyways, whether it be because of popularity or simply just age. You felt like a kid though, always having to tell your parents when and where you were going and with who. You just wished they’d sometimes maybe trust your judgement but there was no such luck on that front yet.

The ring of the front door nearly distracted you from Sunwoo’s question but you managed to pay enough attention despite the hushed laughter and snickers behind you.

“What about your dad?’

You shrugged. “You know him. It’s a team effort so if mom says no, dad says no too. They’ll have to agree on something together before I get any leeway.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not allowed either, so, you know.” Amalia’s lips turned down a bit as she kept her gaze down, spoon tapping at the ice cream.

“Really?” Hyunjoon asked, seriously concerned about that. The noises behind you grew into real voices, parts of sentences filtering through your ear.

“It’s not that, it’s just that…”

A little chuckle, “… like them and just don’t want to say it.”

“Shut up.” This one sounded much more familiar and it caused a hiccup to come through your lips. Sunwoo briefly glanced at you, murmuring, “you okay?”

A nod snapped you back to your present conversation, though you couldn’t help but think that maybe-

“- and you guys have met my parents. You know how much it means to them,” Amalia finished, biting the inside of her cheek. Reaching across the table, feeling entirely guilty about not listening to the whole story, you grasped her hand.

“Hey, we’ll figure it out,” you promised, pushing a smile for her. “We’ll convince our parents we’re worthy of being trusted. Going behind their backs will only make it worse so we’ve gotta do our best to stay honest.”

“Yeah, we’ll help you, if you need.” Hyunjoon seemed genuinely sympathetic, giving her an encouraging smile.

Sunwoo took his chance to be serious for once, hand resting on your forearm as a form of support. “Us four against the world, right?”

“Shut up,” Amalia giggled, rubbing at the corner of her eye to catch real tears this time, “you’re going to make me cry. Stop being nice, go back to making fun of Sunwoo.”

“Hey!” he protested, mouth open wide.

“Gladly,” Hyunjoon chuckled, at the same time. Only your hand was reluctant to let go of hers. The slightest squeeze from her helped you know she was okay.

“It’s on us this time, right?” Sunwoo fixed his jean jacket over his black t-shirt. He devoured food in seconds, always being the first one to finish. Amalia tried to protest but Hyunjoon pulled out his phone checking his notes.

Very quietly, he mumbled, “hold on, I’ve been keeping track,” and trailed off, focused now. His finger fell on his lips, which stuck out whenever he was focusing. Amalia leaned in closer, trying to see what was on the screen. Sunwoo leaned into you, eyes landing on your ice cream instead of a phone screen.

“Looks like its melting,” he stated plainly, giving you a nod. The second he opened his mouth to say more, you stuck your spoon with the rest of your ice cream onto his tongue, watching him clamp his mouth shut out of instinct.

“Not anymore.” Your smile was annoyingly smug, even for you, but you couldn’t help but chuckle at the little action.

“It’s actually a free for all this time,” Joon chimed, letting everyone know. Sunwoo, pulling the spoon from his mouth, exhaled dramatically and went on a tangent about how he’s broke anyways.

Amalia, pulling you up from the table with you, mimicked Sunwoo’s facial expressions perfectly as he spoke, eliciting all too many stolen laughs. Grasping her hand lightly, you came forward and whispered, “hey, are you sure you’re okay.”

She shrugged, giving you another squeeze and murmuring, “it’s really not that big of a deal. I’ll get over it eventually.”

As you reached the counter, everyone proceeded to pull out their money. Stupidly, you forgot most of your cash at home and were now digging around in your pocket for change. The ice cream was relatively cheap but a few cents short wasn’t something you wanted to deal with- especially in front of your friends who hardly had issues with money despite lightly joking about it.

Muttering under your breath, checking your pockets, you nearly whined. Hyunjoon asked if you needed anything but, upon looking for his own change, realized he had none. He apologized quietly, hand on your shoulder for comfort. Sunwoo, who thought he was going to cover everyone’s food, also came short, and Amalia never carried cash.

The second you tried explaining yourself to the elderly waitress, who looked entirely exhausted, a familiar voice traveled up the tiled floors to you.

“Y/n?”

You didn’t need to turn your head to know who it was, feeling bubbles in your throat the second your eyes made contact. Chanhee’s little smile was sweet but there were dark circles under his eyes and he looked weary. “Is something wrong?”

“N-no,” you instantly tried to explain, not wanting him to know you came short. It was embarrassing for you, especially when it was someone you were interested in like this. Heat formed on your skin out of shyness, mouth opening and closing but not much coming out.

“Y/n’s just adding something to her tab,” Amalia offered, attempting to make a joke. Her laugh sounded forced and awkward, as did the other two’s laughs. “You know how it is.”

“Can I help?” His hand was already reaching for his wallet, which was sticking out of his pocket and covered in ridiculously bright stickers. You wanted to tell him no but really didn’t see any other option. The waitress wasn’t exactly letting up either, saying she didn’t know you or your friends well enough to let you just walk out unpaid.

“I- I’m sorry,” you stuttered, eyes torn from his and focusing hard on the floor. He only chuckled, pulling out five cents and handing it over.

“What are you doing here?”

The sudden conversation shift seemed to shock him, his mouth halfway through a sentence poking fun at a five-cent difference. Lips pouted outwards and eyebrows that travelled up his forehead, he exhaled a small laugh and said, “I was with my friend but he went home early because of a homework call or something. You?”

“Us,” Sunwoo stated, sounding relatively calm. When you glanced back at him, he had his hands in his pockets and was rocking back and forth on his heels. His tongue darted out at you to get you to lighten up- you mimicked his actions.

“Oh sorry, right,” Chanhee hurried, looking a bit panicked that he hadn’t realized it. After finishing up his payment for his coffee, he quickly turned to introduce himself. His winning smile was now plastered on his face, the roundness in his cheeks adding to the softness of his look.

Names went around and then exchanges of plans for the next few moments. Everyone said they were going home and, while Hyunjoon seemed interested in asking publicly how the two of you met (which he already knew), it came to Chanhee’s attention that they lived in the opposite direction of you.

“Ah,” he drew out, nodding like he understood everything about the world now, “so that’s why I haven’t seen any of you at my store. It’s too much of a walk.”

You gave him a little chuckle, shy and entirely awkward in front of him and your friends. You knew it was up to you to be inviting and help him feel welcome but the situation coupled with your lack of funds simply made you turned off to everything that was happening. You became cold and unresponsive in a way that was adding tension, which made you want to withdraw more.

Amalia, noticing it easily, quickly found a way to excuse herself and the boys. “Well, they’re meant to walk me home so we’ll take our leave now, won’t we boys?”

She was very proper around people she hardly knew, adding an air of elegance to her as she led the two away. Hyunjoon waved to you, understanding what Amalia meant to do, while Sunwoo was a bit harder to convince. They looked like a parent and a child bickering with each other under their breaths before he broke and wished you a goodnight.

As the group split, you and Chanhee leaving the store and walking towards to left while the others went right, you felt some release. It was easier to be yourself around Chanhee because he seemed to care less sometimes. He was so light that he seemed to take that lightness with him and sprinkle it on the path he was walking on so anyone who walked beside him felt just as airy. As you stepped on clouds with him, you apologized.

“I’m sorry again, for the money and for making it awkward.” Your apology was coupled with nervous laughter but the boy beside you just shook his head.

“It’s fine. Though, I do expect a five cent donation at my store for saving you just then.”

“Deal,” you breathed, extending your hand towards him. He shook it, smiling deeply. The way his hand seemed to linger for just a second longer than it should have made you breathless. A side effect of floating was a lack of oxygen. He seemed to make you go higher and higher, making it harder to breathe along the way.

“By the way,” he started, going on a completely different line of conversation. HIs hands were now clasped behind his back and his gaze was forwards, somehow serious but trying to remain friendly. “I hope you’re not embarrassed about the money thing. It’s really okay to be short sometimes.

“They can be a bit crabby at times there but most places here are understanding. Trust me, you’re not weird or anything, I’ve been in that situation many times.”

You blinked, not fully understanding but wanting to. “Really?”

He hummed, making a low noise. He seemed to look at you from the corner of his eye before turning a bit to keep his gaze on you now. There was something serene about him, something that brought your heart rate down and relaxed you into your bones.

“I’ve bounced between almost all the jobs in this town and the next. My parents didn’t come from much and it’s been hard making a lot so I wanted to help. It feels embarrassing at first, sure. Makes you feel like everyone’s looking at you when you don’t quite have enough money- at least for me, that’s what to was like,” he admitted, nodding again to himself.

“It just motivated me to work harder, though. There’s no point in looking at things that put you ‘behind’, so to speak, in a negative way. It’ll just make you feel worse about it.” He used his fingers as quotation marks, somewhat exaggerated in his speech but saying rather thoughtful things.

“Turn what people think is bad and make it good,” you finished for him, wanting to let him know that you were paying attention. He nodded, coming a big closer to you so your shoulders touched briefly. The lights on the pavement kept him in constant illumination, not that he really needed it. He shone just fine on his own.

“There you go.”

You didn’t know what to say. Thanking him felt ridiculous and painfully obvious to do but saying nothing felt rude. Just as you were thinking up a response, he thought aloud, “you know, I don’t think I’ve told lots of people that before. About my parents, I mean.”

Eyes widening, you instantly began, “o-oh, I’m sorry if you felt pressured to-”

His little chuckle interrupted you, a shake of his head very exaggerated. “No, I wanted to say it. I- I want to get to know you better so I should share too.”

Well, that was forward.

Once again, you dropped your eyes to the floor out of shyness, though you did find yourself beaming this time. “O-oh.”

“I know your parents are still being weird about the dating thing so I’m sorry if that was too much,” he added immediately, also seemingly embarrassed. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. It was unbelievable to you that someone so amazing was actually interested in you- a little grade ten that stayed cooped up in your room and had to get permission to do things even now.

“No, no,” you immediately protested, not realizing your hands as they reached out. One managed to grasp at his arm as you assured him, “it’s okay, I- I feel the same, I want that t-too.”

The words felt ridiculous to say but also freeing in a way, like keeping all of your emotions bottled in were what made you feel so heavy all the time. From then, Chanhee’s expression seemed to pick up. He grinned, getting excited as he decided to concoct a plan with you on your walk home. The way he smiled made your heart race, listening along to all he had to say and agreeing without thinking much about it.

I remember meeting you so much after that. We basically had little dates of our own and we talked all the time. I always felt so grateful whenever you took me out to food on your breaks even though I knew you needed the money or perhaps more time to work. You would never hear it though, clicking your tongue at me and telling me all these places we had to go together. You would even grasp my arm and skip, telling me to live a little when I wouldn’t play along right away. You made me so shy, you know? And telling you all of this seemed impossible until then- when you told me you were interested just the same.

After that, there wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t think of you. I used to do my homework and wonder what you were doing. Did you ever think about me that much? I never built up the courage to ask, though I doubt I’d ever get a response. I just hope you know that you made me very happy, no matter what. Even though I know I disappointed you, I hope I made you happy- even if it was just once. That would mean I did something right with us, which was all I ever wanted to do. I just wanted to be right. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out that way for us.

Early November, 2015

You had planned to go on a date with Chanhee. You plotted and exchanged numbers and talked everyday. It was amazingly easy to speak to him, especially when he always had something on his tongue to say. Sometimes he would call when you asked for help on a problem you were stuck on, though he’d get suspicious of the work you were doing. Jokingly, he’d ask why you were doing easy questions. He loved to tease but he could take it just the same, mentioning how he’s usually the butt of everyone’s jokes.

“Not that it bothers me,” he murmured nonchalantly, the clock clicking past midnight as you both lay in bed, chatting away quietly, “it’s not like I think they’re meaning to be mean to me so it’s okay. It’s fun when I can turn it back on them too.”

His laugh would ring through your ears and lull you to sleep. The best nights were when he’d sing to you or send you videos of his recorded covers. The more you spoke and the few times you passed each other in the halls- the one time you ate lunch together on the bleachers even- the more you just wanted to be around him. It got to the point where Haymond knew and if Haymond knew, your parents weren’t too far behind.

“I won’t tell them,” Haymond promised, clicking away at his computer as he listened to your stories. He’d gotten more patient with you, always having an open ear and mind about these things but this was different. He seemed to genuinely be trying to be a good brother for you.

“But you will.”

You began to protest it but didn’t want to risk getting too loud and simply whined that you wouldn’t. He was right though. Eventually, you cracked when your mother asked who it was you were smiling at as you texted Chanhee the day of your date. You hadn’t realized how much you wanted to tell your mother about him that just her asking sent you into a fit of conversation; and gosh, what a long conversation that was.

She sat you down trying to be calm, trying to ask you who he was and how you met him. It was all okay and she even liked what she was hearing until you mentioned his age, and then mentioned that you lied about your age. From that moment on, the air shifted and she was disapproving, not to mention the date you were also going to lie to her about. Your father came and sat down beside her, perpendicular to you in the living room. Both had their hands folded and were leaned in towards you, concerned and asking you questions.

“Why did you lie?”

“Did he pressure you into anything?”

The list went on and on until you felt tears pricking at your eyes. You knew you were wrong and couldn’t believe yourself either but seeing it- hearing it from them- it changed everything. Now, you just felt like an attention-seeking liar and it was the thing you never wanted to be. After quite a lot of speaking, you picked up your phone, took a deep breath, and began typing.  

Y/n, 5:20 p.m: hey, I have something kind of important to tell you today.

Chanhee, 5:22 p.m: please don’t tell me you’re in love with me yet lolol

Chanhee, 5:22 p.m: it’ll be the death of me, we’ll have to get ~ married ~

The smile that reached your cheeks at that immediately made you upset. Would he still be as light and joke around with you after he knew. You stuck your fingernail between your teeth as your mum looked over your shoulder, urging you on.

Y/n, 5:23 p.m: nothing like that ~

Y/n, 5:24 p.m: swear not to hate me?

Chanhee, 5:26 p.m: no promises

Your mother looked at you, being very firm now but also trying to be comforting all of the sudden. With her hand on your lower back, she rubbed circles into it and murmured, “I’m sorry, honey, but you can’t start off lying to someone and expect me to be okay with that. I thought you were more responsible than that.”

“I am,” you tried to press, wanting to convince her but knowing that whining wasn’t helping your case. She gave you a quick look, complete disbelief on her face.

“It’s really not looking like it right now.”

Sitting down on your bed, you let out a little huff. Your hands dared to go on your face, palms pressing against your skin as you felt the severity of your little fib. Everything would’ve been fine if you didn’t lie, and age wasn’t really a big deal but keeping the lie for so long was. How many times had you mentioned how hard grade eleven was, or boasted about a mark you got and how happy you were that it’d go on your transcript for universities to see? What was worse was that you felt like he wouldn’t forgive you for it. He mentioned once he appreciated honesty over anything and there you were, standing in front of him, holding your tongue about something so stupid.

Chanhee was sitting in front of you, hands covered in mittens that had the fingers cut off, wearing a calm look. He had no idea what you were about to say, probably thinking it was another one of your jokes. As his fingers curled around his little mug of coffee, his lips curved lightly into a smile.

“You look really nice today,” he chimed, wanting to get it out before anything else. He pointed at your head, chuckling a bit before saying, “although your hair’s a mess.”

“Hey,” you whined, reaching up to try and fix it but knowing you couldn’t without a mirror. He only chuckled, bringing a little rush of wind with you. For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why he chose an outdoor table in the middle of winter; but it was an empty patio and no one could hear you. That, at least, you were grateful for.

“Look, I feel really bad about what I’m going to say so I just want you to listen if that’s okay.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, embarrassed now but for a completely different reason. Finding yourself picking at your nails, somehow you managed to start. Your tongue exposed yourself quickly, thinking it would be easier to just rip it off like a band-aid. Knowing it didn’t seem like a big deal, there were worse things to lie about than age, you hoped he wouldn’t be too upset. The reaction you got wasn’t necessarily what you would’ve wanted.

“What about that time you talked about how scared you were for university applications? Why did you make that all up?”

He seemed to be picking apart every conversation you had, confused and conflicted. You watched him go through all the stages of understanding and anger but he finally decided to detach himself, saying he didn’t think he could listen to it anymore. Slowly and politely, he pushed his chair out and walked around to grasp his coat off the back of it.

“Chanhee, please, I’m sorry,” you attempted, getting up yourself. Kicking back so quickly caused the chair to fall, echoing off the walls of the store.

His mouth became slanted, like he genuinely believed you. The coat he had on was black and long, making him look like a figure painted into a grey sky. As he fixed his collar, he said, “I know you are. I just don’t know what to say. This just seems really childish to me.”

“That’s what my mum said,” you muttered, retreating further into your shell. Your back was suddenly concave, eyebrows pressed in and lips pressed out.

Chanhee laughed somehow, though it felt rather cold. “You would say that.”

“Are you leaving?”

“I just need some air, y/n,” he started, waving his hand around. The other was fixed in his pocket. “I know we’re outside, I just need to be alone.”

“Do you think-”

“No, I don’t think we should see each other like this,” he interrupted, being rather blunt but you appreciated it. Words like these didn’t hurt as much when they took longer to hear. You just nodded, not being able to look him in the eye. Slowly, you felt his arms wrap around your shoulders, bringing you closer to his chest.

Jokingly, he hummed, “I get it though. Why you lied, I mean. It’s real hard to resist, huh?”

You found yourself laughing at his joke, hugging him as tight as you could. The tears that fell down your face felt ridiculous and you wished he hadn’t seen them. His smile was so soft, as were the napkins he picked from the table and used to dab at your cheeks.

“I’ll see you around?” Your voice cracked as you asked, taking the tissues into your own hands. This time, when your hands brushed, no spark rose in your chest. You knew the airiness he’d given you- those little butterflies in your stomach- that was all long gone.

He nodded, telling you to come by his store again. “You know when I work.”

With that, he was off. His leather bag was secured firmly on his shoulder, working perfectly with his outfit. He looked slender and sleek walking away from you, not even daring to give you a look back. You couldn’t say you blamed him, though it did make you feel helpless. How were you just constantly making mistakes left, right and forwards?

Not knowing what else to do, you picked up your phone and dialled the only number you knew by heart. A few rings in had you worried but when he finally answered, you let out the breath you were holding.

“Y/n?” Eric asked, sounding slightly panicked. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” you whispered, picking up your chair to sit back down at the table. Your tears stuck to your cheeks as you spoke to the person you knew listened to you best. He stayed with you on the phone until you went home.

There’s no doubt that you captured everyone’s hearts when they came to your store. So many people came to see you and I just happened to be one of those few customers that caught your eye. I felt lucky enough to even be friends with you and everything else after was just a dream. I’m sorry for lying to you though. You deserved honesty from the start and I realize now that two years difference, especially for us, would have been too much. I still appreciate every time you talked to me after though there was a change. You pulled away and we eventually stopped talking and I didn’t fight it. You had every right to be upset with me or to distrust me.

The only thing I want to ask you is to not dislike me too much. I realize how awkward I was, how absolutely childish and ridiculous I acted. I’ll try harder from now on, I promise, so I don’t make this mistake again. If anything, just know that I’ll still pick up the phone if you call. I miss our little chats. I miss you.

From y/n y/l/n. On November 28th, 2015.

Immediately after finishing, Chanhee’s fingers found his phone. The sun streaming in through the store window caused a glare and he hissed, having to turn around to look for your number. He knew he had it. He never deleted it, not even after he graduated and went off to his college and job and new life. Other contacts around you he could let go of but somehow, he never could for you. Biting down on his lip, he realized he missed you too. Whether it was friendly or not, you always gave him a lightness in his chest that he felt he needed. As much as you said he swept you off your feet, you did the same.

“Come on, pick up,” he murmured, foot tapping impatiently against the floor. Hating the sound of that, he began to pace again, going in and out of his room. Just as he was about to hang up, the line connected and he held his breath.

“Chanhee?”

Your voice was crisp and sweet. He didn’t know how to place it but you sounded older and it made his breath hitch a bit. Then, suddenly, he could say everything he had been holding back.

“I don’t hate you, y/n,” he started suddenly, eyebrows crossing each other, “why would you say that?”

You chuckled nervously. The sound of cars was faint in the background of your call. “Chanhee, what are you talking about?”

“Your letter. The one you wrote me like three years back.” He was serious now, rather upset you didn’t seem to be understanding. You sent the letters after all, why didn’t you understand what he was saying now?

“W-what?”

“Your letter,” he repeated slowly, hating how condescending he sounded.

“Yeah, what? How did you get that?”

He blinked, stopping in his spot in the middle of his hallway. His free hand was still clutching the paper. “You didn’t send it?”

“No, I-” you began to stutter, like you would whenever you got super nervous. Not knowing what else to say, you quickly excused yourself and hung up, leaving Chanhee in shock. What he wanted to tell you was not even close to being said and honestly, he was more confused than before, especially after hearing the panic in your voice.

“Listen, Chanhee, I don’t know who sent you that letter b- but please don’t read it. If you see anyone else with those, please rip them in half, I- oh fuck, I’m screwed, I’ll- I- I’ll talk to you later.”

The dead line ringing filled his ears.

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[pencilscratchins]

would you ever consider documenting a few of your drawing steps? im so very interested on how you make your drawings like the way they do, stuff like brush types and the order in which you create your pieces! thank you for reading, and amazing work, you're very inspiring and my self confidence in my own skills lessen every time i get a glimpse of your work! talent...

Hi hi hi! Firstly, thank you so much!! this is such a sweet sweet message and I am so glad that i have had any sort of inspiration to you haha! I’ve gotten asked this before so Im gonna try to walk you through something the best I can- stick with me lmao!

Before we start- I just wanna say… for real, don’t ever get discouraged when you look at someone you like’s art- I know it can get hard not to- hell I still spend nights cryin over Kevin wada’s work just… how does he do it??- but its so important to learn from the people you admire not compare! Art is a music festival, not a battle of the bands.

anyway here we go!! 

so I sketch in three parts- the first part is very very very rough. I just need to get the bare bones idea out of my head and onto the paper. I treat this like a gesture- I don’t spend more than 2 minutes on it. Just really get it out!

I use just a general pencil brush while doing this- which is the second smoothest brush my program offers. It allows some flexibility but not as messy. I don’t use a fancy program, so brush texture and such isn’t my forte!! XD

The second sketch, I look up a few references to help me get the basic shapes- I’ve been trying to get more comfortable this year with using references so I’ve been trying to use them in everything I do!

some tips when using references: draw directly next to your reference- if you can avoid it, I wouldn’t recommend clicking between two windows to use them- don’t interrupt your flow anymore than you have to!

I also put in the central movement lines- I like to keep these loose. avoiding straight lines in your work will make it look less stiff (my biggest issue is trying to get the flow better) Draw one for the spin, and then one for the shoulders and nipples- These three points are where I originally focus on. Also here, I find some of the main shapes of the human body (the rectangle of the torso, pentagon of the waist, circle of the palms and elbows etc) 

Next, I clean the sketch up A LOT- I really focus on getting my main ideas down, not the cleanest still. I sketch the clothes and hair with more detail but not too much. I also draw arrows to let me know what texture and direction I want the hair to go. Monet’s hand was giving me trouble so I did some central lines for the bones. And cherish this version of Jube’s jacket because its gonna get worse.

There’s not much I can really describe here, unfortunately. A combination of just how I draw and practice, I follow my sketch and the references again to get to the final product.

FINALLY we get to the final line layer! After the last sketch, there’s not much I have to fill out, just clean some stuff up and leave things like Jube’s glasses off (I do those in a seperate layer)

For the camp au, I use the “marker” brush at a 50 degree angle because I like the texture- It’s like a crayon brush, so it’s a little more natural looking, in my opinion!! I usually stick with a pencil or a pen(smoothest option) brush since it allows a cleaner look. 

so this is sorta an unpopular opinion but… I hate… coloring??? I hate it so much- its so tedious. That’s why I use ridiculous patterns or colors when I can, to make it exciting, so my coloring process is RIDICULOUSLY simple

Step One: flat colors: so, I fill in the organic parts of the art first (skin and hair) each has its own layer. I fill in the skin with its most middle tone, then gradient the edges of every limb with the same middle tone on ~50% multiply opacity, and a ~30% hard light opacity. I then put blush (any red or pink tone) on a soft light an adjust that until I like it on the cheeks, elbows, chest, and fingers! Hair, I do about the same, but I also shade around every line, and do highlights at the middlest points. 

Step Two: clothes: I speed the fuck through clothes. Usually, I will color shirts one one layer, pants on another, and accessories on a third and gradient each with its own color on a 45% multiply, with particular shading around any big shadow. I am……… a sham. 

The background is something I’ve also tried to be better with- I used a scene from a previous comic I did, but its the same process essentially. I do only one sketch for backgrounds, then a final and I put in any foliage with a separate texture pent (its literally called leaf)

after that, it’s a matter of messing with overlaying colors and textures- I usaully will pick two or three main colors and use them as varies overtones (here I choose green and yellow on a soft light and a difference I think?)

yeah! so more or less that;s what I do– I’m sorry if this isnt super helpful, I just have gotten a few questions like this recently so  Ifigured I get this out sooner rather than late. Seriously though, the process is so particular to everyone, so figure out what works for you and… go with god. :D :D

#ask #anon #PHEW #I HOPE THAT MAKES SENSE #IM DELERIOUS #im so fucking tired #long reply #long post #tutorial #i guess #process pictures #yeah so i hope that anwsers your question!!! #if not #geesh im sorry

[aminth-elnonore]

A Rocky Start

The Inky Lady wasn't the most famous of tattoo shops, but that was for a reason. It wasn't meant to be. It catered to a certain type of clientele. Exclusive in their...line of work, which was less than legitimate. Ash'alar was usually the only one in the store, finding that employees usually did more damage than granted benefit when working in establishments like his. On the furthest wall back was a door, locked, with an Employee only sign hung upon it.

It was a rather quiet evening, not many walking through the doors. His patrons came after hours,  as they mostly functioned beneath a curtain of darkness, so he had a bit of time to kill. His paperwork had been surprisingly finished, and he owed that to a spur of boredom. It left him sitting upon one of his tattoo chairs, legs crossed at the ankles, a cigarette between his lips, and a restless mind unable to occupy itself. He needed some sort of stimulation, but he couldn't lock up his place and leave. Forced to deal with the mundane situation, there was nothing to do but hope for something exciting to happen. He didn't enjoy relying on fate and circumstance to liven up his day, but there wasn't much else to do.

The author stood outside, the Farstrider's Square fairly empty as mid day approached.The tiny, pink haired elf stood in a lunged position, her right arm cocked back and a hefty rock squeezed into her palm. Her eyes narrowed behind her spectacles before she unleashed the rock with a loud - and unnecessary - growl. The rock flew from her hand, flying almost comically slow through the air toward the dummy... And an unsuspecting Forsaken that happened to wander by at the most unfortunate of times. The rock smashed into the skull of the Forsaken. His body jolted, reeling backwards from the force, before righting itself like the corpse it was. Dark black ichor oozed from the wound on his exposed forehead and glowing amber eyes locked onto the she-elf. Her mouth agape, she began to launch into a series of apologies and explanations although it seemed the undead was hearing none of it. As he prowled closer, she began to grab her bag from beside her, hoisting it onto her shoulder before taking off before he could get too close. She sprinted off, her bag and pouch of rocks bouncing with every harsh step that echoed across the cobblestone. Blinded by her need to escape and will to live, the innocent woman turned into the Row. Quite a horrible idea for one seeking help for her life but it was the best she could think of.

"H-He-Help!" She cried, her eyes watering with the same fear that grappled at her heart, making it beat such an erratic rhythm it was sure to kill her before the Forsaken ever could. "S-Som-Someone!" Shadows of figures hardly even jostled at her requests of assistance, unmoved by the clearly frightened girl. Her eyes spotted a few shops and she turned toward them, speeding toward them as quickly as her little legs would carry her. "Please, sir! I-It-It was an acc-acc-cc-accident!" Heaving breaths followed in the slight pause before... "I don't want to d-d-ddd-dieeeeeee~!"

Finally, solace from the marsh of boredom that threatened to suck him in and trap him with the muds forever. It wasn’t uncommon to hear cries of help within the Row, but this one had a slight difference than the common yells. It wasn’t recognizable nor did it seem to belong to anyone who would frequent the area. High pitched and stuttery. Feminine. Yet loud enough to pierce through his walls and reach his ears. Intrigue grasped at him, and he quickly shifted from his seat and climbed up his stairs to peek outside. Day had given up to its darker counterpart, and Fel Green eyes would quickly land upon the woman attempting to use night as veil and run for her life— while screaming. She was down the street by the time he was up there, and he watched her. Closer and closer, she approached, genuine fear upon her expression. It was a split second decision, one that he made not out of concern for her well being, but for selfish desires to see his night’s problems eliminated. A hand would instantly reach out the moment her figure would cross his store, grabbing onto her wrist. She’d be promptly and quickly yanked within, through the red curtains that acted as faux doors. She’d be quickly twisted, and her back pressed against the nearest wall. His free hand rose to quickly seal her lips, pressing with enough firmness to silence any further cries or yells. His lips hushed her with the noise, yet his eyes didn’t meet her yet. They were focused on outside— waiting, for her threat to pass.

Tears wet her cheeks as she tried to regain control of her breathing as the man was pressed against her and a 'shh' came from his mouth. Her body shook like a leaf as she waited for the bloodthirsty Forsaken that was chasing after her. Wide eyes peered with unabashed fear at the figure that had either saved her life or put her in an even more dangerous situation. Shadows covered his figure and concealed his face from view. Her heart still beat fast paced and she was acutely certain (odd given the circumstances) that this stranger could hear it given their proximity. If the woman’s cries didn’t betray the silence he forced upon her, he feared her heartbeat would. Thankfully, rage driven forsaken seldom paused to hear faint noises, and the man of bones continued his skeletal march down the Row. Finally, once the enemy was out of sight, Ash would slowly begin to lower his hand from the girl’ls lips, and his eyes met her own. “Quiet now, he’s still not too far.” He’d warn, before releasing his press on her hand all together to allow her proper breath and voice. He seemed a mix of a pirate and a playboy, dressed in a slightly opened swashbuckler shirt and comfortable leather pants. “What the hell did you do?” He finally questioned, an amused smirk finding its place upon his lips.

"I-I--I-I was practicing my ro-roc-rock throwing and th-the-th-t-the Forsaken, he...." Her soft, mint green eyes flickered up to her savior now. "T-the-the rock hit h-h-h-him-mm instead... In the h-he-head..." Her countenance shifted, several ambiguous emotions flying across it so quickly it was undoubtedly hard to keep up: sadness, disbelief, that flash of fear from before, and.... Was that a little bit of pride? "I do-d-d-dd-don't have good aim..." Her hand flew up to fix the glasses that sat precariously on her small nose. "T-th-h-thank you for s-sav-saving me, though." Her small form dipped into a very low curtsy at the man. "I o-owe you."

A bark of a laugh suddenly escaped him, and he crossed his arms in disbelief. “All this because you nailed him with a rock?? Darling, all you had to do was nail him again. You know how easily their bones fall apart?” He mused, leaning down to pick up her fallen backpack and rocks. “You’re an emotional mess...come inside, have some water. Wait till you’re sure he’s gone.” It was a suggestion, but he was already walking down the stairs with her bag anyway.

Once inside, he’d place her bag on a counter top and walk a little further in. A bar was placed in the back to entertain people as others got their art done, so he walked behind it to reach for a glass. She seemed too much of a mess for a joke, so he passed the vodka and actually began to pour some water, assuming she’d follow at this point. As she stood, attempting to regain control, she caught a glimpse of the man making his way back up the Row, heading toward the shop that she'd taken refuge in. With a startle, she ran down the stairs after the man. When she finally burst into the room, she saw the glass of water and hopped onto a barstool farthest from the stairway entrance. "H-He-He's doubling back..." She explained quickly.

"Worry not-- men without skin, or skin that falls apart, don't frequent tattoo shops often. The needle doesn't hold-- and rotting flesh? Doesn't tattoo well." He smirked at that, almost as if he was speaking from experience. "But I am curious as to why a...small and soft creature like yourself decided to take shelter in the one alleyway in Silvermoon where the Forsaken could kill you and no one would give a shit." He pondered, raising a curious brow at her as he slid her the glass, hoping it would calm her down, or at least give her something to fidget on.

"I just r-ra-ran..." Her mint green gaze finally flicked back to him. Eyebrows raised happily at the offering of the glass of water and her hands gratefully clasped it. The beads of water that had already moistened the side of the glass spread about on her palms. It was as if the cool dampness reached all the way into her heart, calming it.

{{ @drug-fix }}

#a rocky start #ash x aminth #about me

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Fishbone and The Firelily (Part 7)

Okay, I didn’t like this chapter at first but I’m actually really proud of this one.I actually think it’s also one of the longest chapters I’ve ever typed. :’D

The fifth day was worse still, not that Azula would have known it from how well things began. The pair hadn’t meant for it, Sokka had fallen asleep in her arms. She was the first to wake and it took her a moment’s time to notice the weight pressed against her chest. He must have been a soothing companion, for she had fallen asleep not just in a sitting position, but with her back brushing up against the rough bark of a tree. Her head was still bowed with her bangs tumbling forward as she blinked the last traces of sleep away. Without a word or sound, she set Sokka on the ground and set off to fetch her pack.

 “Have you seen Sokka anywhere?” Katara asked.

 Careful not to respond too quickly Azula answered, “no, but I can’t imagine that he could have wandered too far.”

 “If you see him, tell him that I packed his stuff and that we’re ready to go when he is.”

 The man took it upon himself to come stumbling out of the woods a few minutes late. “Good morning!” The greeting was spoken to everyone, but he was looking at her. While everyone else returned the words, Azula turned her head and hustled to reassume her positon at the front of the group. That was her first mistake. She held her silence for the better part of the day, not that anyone took that to mean anything extraordinary. They’d come to view her as a quiet person. Save for an occasional instruction or a snide remark, she supposed they were right. Lately she didn’t have much to say. When she did speak up it was to offer some information. “We should be there in another three nights.”

 This brought a huge smile to Katara’s face and Azula very nearly felt bad in taking it away. “We should be at the mountain in three nights. Climbing it is a different matter.” She specified.

 “Are there any shortcuts?” Katara asked, hopefully.

 Azula pondered it. “From the base of the mountain, no. But once you’ve climbed a little way, there are a few.” Just thinking about beginning the climb had her legs aching. Not that she would actually be climbing.

 “Thank you for doing this for us.”

 Azula shrugged, “I suppose I have nothing better to do.”

 .oOo.

 Suki ran her fingers through her hair. At this point in the day she and Sokka would usually be talking about something either mundane or silly or they’d be musing about good memories that they shared. About a year or two ago this venture would have been exciting, thrilling, maybe even a good time—minus the fear of losing Aang. When had things become so cynical?

 “Are you okay?” Sokka asked.

 “I’ve been better.” Suki replied.

 “You and I both.” He forced a laugh.

 “This whole thing has been so stressful.” Suki sighed.

 “You’re not alone there.” Sokka agreed. For the first time she noticed the bags under his eyes, the gleam that they lacked. He wasn’t doing well, but God he was trying. He was still grinning at her, but the grin didn’t reach his eyes.

 “I’m sorry.” She apologized for probably the eighth time since they arrived on Fire Nation soil. “I don’t know why things have been so complicated.”

 “I guess it wouldn’t be a real relationship if…” he back tracked. “I guess it wouldn’t have been a real relationship if it didn’t have any complications.”

 “‘Wouldn’t be’ is fine with me if you want to just forget what happened yesterday. We were all exhausted and hungry and very itchy.” Suki pointed out. “I think that we just needed to get it all out, ya know?”

 Suki didn’t miss the brief glace he spared the woman leading them. Something in his expression changed. He seemed almost conflicted before saying, “you know what, I think forgetting about it sounds good.”

 .oOo.

 He was a leaf-thin distance away from saying, “no, we can’t just forget it.” Even as he agreed, he wondered how many times they would just be ‘forgetting the whole thing’. And even as he agreed he thought of the way his new friend held him. If he could guess, he would say that she didn’t even mean to be so warm and comforting. But all the same, she was such.  Regardless, it would seem that she had taken to ignoring him, like Suki had the night before. If he was being honest, it aggravated him how one minute she would be kind and in the next heartbeat she was being cold and standoffish.

 His temper had no time to truly flare, before Suki pulled him into a hug and kissed him on the cheek. “I knew you would understand.”

 He was trying anyhow. He really was.

 “We were all cranky.” He replied. It probably was for the better to let bygones be bygones anyhow.

 “Are you guys gonna stay together this time ooor…” Toph asked.

 “We’re staying together.” Suki answered for the pair, with an optimistic smile.

 .oOo.

 Azula tried not to look back too much, but she could hear the pair giggling merrily behind her. For whatever reason, their laughter annoyed her. She wanted nothing more than to put an end to it. “Could you two possibly stop fooling around and focus.” She snapped. “I don’t know about you but I’d like to make it at least halfway there by sundown and we can’t accomplish that if we keep having to stop while you two hug it out.”

 She felt a hand on her shoulder, Katara’s she noted. “It’s alright, you actually helped us cover a lot of ground.”

 “Let’s not lose that ground.” Azula muttered.

 Over the course of the day, she found many little things to chastise Suki and Sokka for—particularly Suki. What she didn’t find, was a reason for doing so, other than that she was in a dreadful mood. First it was Sokka’s cooking not being up to par and she had insisted that he had given her less than everyone else. Next it was Suki stopping to admire a peculiar jungle plant. And then it was Sokka who stopped to pick a flower and Suki for taking her sweet time in fixing it in her hair. Sometime later Azula came to a stop of her own to seek out a landmark. Somewhere around there—before she’d come across the group—she had tied her hair ribbon to a tree. After getting lost at that spot and going in circles for some time, she decided that the ribbon was a small sacrifice. Suki, still doting over Sokka had the misfortune of colliding with the firebender. With a surprised hiss she shoved Suki back.

 “What was that for?” The Kyoshi girl demanded after regaining her balance.

 “You shoved me first.” Azula replied as if the answer was obvious.

 “I ran into you. It was an accident.”

 “Naturally.” Azula sniffed haughtily.

 By this time Sokka had his ears tuned to the conversation and the rest of the group came to a complete stop. She knew what was coming, but decided not to back down, she’d been doing so too much lately. Before Sokka could even start Katara asked what everyone has probably been dying to know, “what’s your problem?”

 “She didn’t do anything to you.” Toph added.

 At last the four against one ordeal had begun. Even she knew that she had it coming after a whole day of nit picking and snide remarks towards one person or another. Her edgy mood was bound to flare some tempers. She had been bracing herself for a torrent of equally snarky comments or even a swift escort out of the group—after all, they could very well find the heart pool without her now—but the group always had a special way of catching her off guard in some way or another.

 “I just don’t understand.” Sokka began.

 “Well I’d imagine so, you aren’t very bright.” The lie came so easily to her that it took her a few seconds to realize that she wanted to take them back.

 “That right there is what I don’t understand. All I’ve done is try to make you feel welcome here and…”

 “Yes, yes, all I’ve done is tried to make you miserable.” Azula rolled her eyes.

 “Actually no.” Sokka replied. “What you do is worse. You make me feel like I’ve helped, you make me feel like you care and then you completely disregard it later.” She opened her mouth to protest but he allowed her no time. “I thought I had a new friend but I get it, you only talk to me when you’re feeling lonely, because I’m the only one who ‘isn’t bright enough’ to see through it.”

 Azula’s stomach hadn’t fluttered that much since she lie on the cave floor sobbing next to the heart pool. His gaze was bearing into her as he awaited a comeback. At last, and quite softly, she answered, “That’s not true.”

 “How many times do you think I’m going to fall for that. I’m not as dim as you think.” He answered. As if to drive the point home, he took Suki’s hand.

 That night she was feeling especially awful. Azula never knew anyone—save for maybe Zuko—who was able to fail so spectacularly as she, at forming any sort of bond. But this time Sokka didn’t come to her and she didn’t go to him. For the first time in a while she was left on her lonesome at the edge of camp to soak in every detail of the day. Every snappy, crass comment replaying in her head. Azula couldn’t come up with a reason for them either. The worst of it was listening to them all converse by the fire; they were telling ghost stories from the sound of it. The feeling of isolation weighed that much heavier on her. She drew her legs up to her chest and pretended to sleep. Some part of her was still expecting Sokka to check on her. Sleep befell her and she was still alone.

She didn’t speak to him that morning either nor through much of the afternoon.

 That left her with plenty of time to think. Among the things she thought of were various ways to inform them of her departure, form something resentful like, “good luck with the labyrinth”, to something as simple as, “good luck with the rest of you task.” She also thought of quietly slipping away again. But her mind was wandering too much for her to pick any one thing, even if she could she wasn’t wholly sure that she wanted to leave. For one thing, it would make her look weak. But she sensed it more than ever, that she wasn’t wanted. They didn’t say it but not one person invited her to join their conversations. She shifted her pack to her left shoulder to give her right a break.

 She found herself stuck again. As if all of the progress she might have made was for naught. To the point where she wondered if she’d made any progress at all in the first place. “We’ll make it easy.” She grumbled quietly to herself, imitating the cave spirit the best she could. “Easy.” She spat with a snarl.

 The truth was that she was hurting.

Terribly so.

She kept it to herself; Sokka had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to lend an ear this time. She wondered if he was feeling any hurt at all.

 She listened in and pointedly decided that he wasn’t bothered at all. In fact, he seemed happier than he’d been since she’d arrived. Everyone seemed to be in good spirts that day.

At this, she felt twice as secluded.

 “How much further?” Suki asked. It took Azula a moment to realize that it was she who was being addressed. Regardless she pretended not to hear. They only talked to her when they wanted to know something. The Kyoshi warrior repeated her question.

 “We’ll get there when I want us to get there.”

 She could tell from Suki’s dissatisfied expression that her answer was every bit as useless and unsavory as she intended it to be. Azula never knew anyone else aside from herself to be so deliberately petty and cruel, so it came as a decent shock to see the woman nudge Sokka, look up with innocent eyes, and inquire, “it’s kind of chilly isn’t it, Sokka.”

 “I guess a little bit, now that you mention it.”

 Already, Azula was clutching the jacket possessively.

 “Can I borrow your jacket?”

 “I’ll have to get it first.”

Azula was relived to gauge that he sounded at least a little apprehensive. But he confronted her anyways.

 “Any chance I could get my jacket back?” Sokka so nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t had a hand in making her so terribly miserable. And then she realized that again, she was only being spoken to because something was wanted of her and it hitched her temper to an even hotter intensity.

 “Any chance you could piss off?”

 Just like that, he made a grab for his jacket.

 “Sokka, no!” Azula hollered as she evaded his hand.

 “It’s my jacket. I was nice enough to give it to you.” He huffed as he gave another snatch. “Now give it back.”

 “I won’t.”

 He was getting cross now. “Come on, don’t do this.” This time he had her by the sleeve. She realized too late that she should have fastened it shut. As it were, she had left it unbuttoned and it slid off at the first tug. At least the hood did. Knowing that its use was as well as over, she let him reclaim his jacket entirely.

 It was either Katara or Suki who asked, “what happened to you?” Through the dizzy feeling of panic, Azula couldn’t tell which had spoken but she didn’t miss the sympathy embedded in the question. She didn’t want it, she didn’t want sympathy. They weren’t even supposed to see…

She didn’t know if her face was red from anger, embarrassment, or anxiety. Whatever the emotion, she found herself in a cold sweat. The little mercy that the world spared her was that they either didn’t recognize the face they were seeing, or they didn’t process it yet. She met Sokka’s eyes very briefly before taking off into a dead sprint.

By the time she found herself out of breath, all of the anger gave way to crushing despair.

Perhaps if she really put the effort in, she could outrun it.

 .oOo.

 “You guys keep going, we’ll catch up.” Sokka wasn’t even sure if it would be a ‘we’, from the looks of things it was he who would be catching up by his lonesome.

 “Are you sure, Sokka?” Asked Katara.

 “Yeah, just keep going. Aang doesn’t have time to wait for us to get it together.”

 Katara nodded. By her leave he bounded thorough the trees. He was already painfully far behind the woman and was placing all his hope on that she’d tire herself out and stop for a rest. But he couldn’t see that happening with so much raw adrenaline coursing through her. He had to find some way to gain more ground. It took more time than he would have liked but an idea came; he would take the path with less jungle clutter and vines overhead. It would require a detour but a ground free of debris and less vines to entrap himself in, he assessed that it would likely be faster. In less time than he anticipated he caught sight of her, and to his surprise she had slowed her pace. He could see it on her, that she had much more energy in her, but she wasn’t using it. She must have assumed she wouldn’t be followed. He lingered to long though and she noticed him spying upon her. Without a hesitation to make she was back into an all-out sprint, and lord was she fast. She expertly ducked under low hanging branches and vines and leapt over fallen trees with a surprising degree of elegance and ease. This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

 It was just like their first encounter but without the playful overtones. His clear path had him on a level playing field with her though. He was a good arm’s length away from her, now. If he could just close a little more space.

 She too realized the current positioning of things for she turned around and with a demand that he stay away from her, sent a crackle of lightning in his direction. It exploded at his feet and knocked him on his ass. He scrambled to his feet, he had lost so much ground. From a distance he could see her fluidly navigating around the obstacles before her. There was something so familiar about the way she moved. He didn’t have time to dwell on it. From the looks of it he would never catch up. Unless…

 He didn’t particularly want to resort to it, but he gave his boomerang a flick.

He winced as the boomerang collide with her leg and he watched her tumble forward, just barely able to thrust her hands out to keep her face from meeting the ground. He was only halfway to her by the time she regained her footing. But from the look of her next few stumbling steps, he had caused her a considerable deal of pain. He had to give her credit for her determination, she was still running, though slowed notably. She knew she had lost, but he was determined to show her that it wasn’t a defeat at all.

 It was only when his footsteps became audibly near that she came to a stop and lowered herself to the ground, with her knees drawn to her chest and her chin resting upon her arms. Sokka had to admit that he expected her to say something first; he wasn’t sure what to do when she didn’t. Truth be told he was so preoccupied in catching her he didn’t have even a vague idea as to what he could say. ‘Sorry’ felt so cheap and so lackluster.

 “You want to tell me why you’ve been so angry?” He asked.

 When she said nothing, he rephrased. “Do you want to talk about it?” He waited for her to say that she would like nothing less than that. This time however, she didn’t even offer him that. She sat rigidly with her back to him. He almost asked why she didn’t talk to him if she was feeling that distraught, before vividly recalling how he guilted her for doing just that. He truly was at a loss as to how to help her this time.

 “Do you want the jacket back?” He tried lamely.

He observed her pluck a strand of grass from the ground and flick it away.

With nothing else to do, he took a seat next to her.

 When the silence became too much he mumbled, “I’m sorry I took the jacket. I didn’t think you’d actually leave.”

 She rubbed her bare shoulders. Sokka found himself wincing again, the sores decorating them looked painful. It tugged unpleasantly at his heart. He placed his hand on her back in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but she flinched at his touch so he withdrew his hand. In the same moment he wondered if her back was covered in those same tender looking welts and bumps. Perhaps her reaction was a response to pain. He shook his head, knowing that there was no sense in lying to himself, she flinched because it was he who had touched her and for no other reason.

 Sokka didn’t know how long it was that he sat there quietly before mustering up the nerve to sit down in front of her. When she finally noticed his new whereabouts, she buried her face in her knees and under her arms.

 “Come on, don’t do that.” He practically whispered. It took some effort to pry her hands from atop her head, but he did so at last. Almost immediately after, she reassumed the position. He supposed that he wouldn’t push it, she probably already found him invasive. “Okay, if you want me to leave, I’ll go.” He stood up and stretched. He took only one step before he felt a hand wrap around his wrist and pull him down.

 “Are you going to talk to me now?” He asked.

 “No.” She answered but lifted her head, her hair falling messily forward and obscuring her face. She made no effort to move it. But he did. With careful fingers, he brushed her hair back over her shoulders and tucked her bangs behind her ears.

Finally, he got a good glimpse at her face.

She shifted uncomfortably.

 “Azula, is that you?”

 She folded her arms across her chest with a soft pout, but didn’t look away this that time. Her skin was terribly pale where it wasn’t covered by rash and her lip looked as if it had endured multiple blows. Her eye too, was swollen, nearly shut at that. He thought it odd how much she resembled her brother. But he could clearly recognize the brilliant golden hue. Even thorough weariness, her gaze was still sharp.

 “It is you.” He confirmed to himself.  He could definitely see it. “What happened?”

 “Doesn’t matter.” The princess dismissed the question. And then, more hushed Azula added, “I really am a monster now.”

 Sokka could see the hurt and worry in her eyes, he wanted to get rid of it. “That’s not true.” He noticed her swallow and take a deep breath. For a moment he thought he was going to see her cry again. Instead she rubbed at her nose, for no other reason than to occupy her hand. Sokka himself looked skyward. They were going to have a long night if they didn’t get going soon. Yet he decided that he wouldn’t rush this, he didn’t want to.

 He took her slender wrists in his hands, they somehow felt so delicate—perhaps because she let them fall limp in his grasp. For a while the only sounds were a few late-staying birds, the rustle of palm fronds, and Azula’s breaths as she fought to level them.

To level herself.

 Her head was drooping down again, and her hair had come tumbling back out of place. Still she didn’t weep, maybe she’d run out of tears to cry. More likely, he wasn’t supposed to have seen her cry the first time, so she wouldn’t do it again. If he left for a moment and came back, he wouldn’t be surprised to see her doing so though. He wouldn’t leave.

 Presently, the only residual indication of her stress, was a slight tremble every so often.

 He knew he ought not to, especially after just reconciling with Suki, but Sokka stroked the back of her hands with his thumbs. Her skin was rough to the touch and—he couldn’t deny—rather unpleasant. He continued regardless, as it seemed to soothe her. He couldn’t imagine that she was at all used to being cared for in such a way. Maybe that was why she took his cold shoulder so hard. He thought of Suki again, she would be furious. He felt bad in thinking such, but no less he hoped that Azula would feel too awkward about the moment to make mention of it after the pair reunited with the rest of the group.

 Still she seemed tense and troubled, so he gently cupped her chin in his palm and tilted her head up so that he could look into her eyes. Those sorrowful, intense, golden eyes. Part of him still expected her to jerk away and look back down, but she held his stare.  “Actually, I’d say that you’re more human now than you’ve ever been.”

#Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Suki #Katara #Aang #Toph #Avatar #Fanfiction

[thatishogwash]

What am I?

Day 4: 17th August - Nature

AO3

Sawamura struggled with the webs surrounding Iwaizumi.  He could hear the battle raging on outside, could hear his friends shouting to another, a blast of heat that shook the little cottage.  Sawamura’s wasn’t use to fighting.  He owned a flower and herb shop, he tended to his vast garden, and his powers were routed in the earth.  He had never fought monsters or even had a drunken pub fight like so many of his friends.  Yet there he was, fighting his way through thick webs to get to a man he had only known as a specter for a week while his friends raged war on a spider-demon, bloated on power that she had been slowly consuming from Iwaizumi.

“Sawamura it’s not working and they are losing out there, you need to get out of here.”  Iwaizumi’s projection pleaded once more with Sawamura but he knew there was no coming back after this.  Iwaizumi had appeared in Sawamura’s shop and he had looked almost human, except for his ability to walk through solid objects.  All he had known about himself was his name, Iwaizumi.

Sawamura had thought the other man must be a ghost, a confused one who hadn’t realized they were dead because Iwaizumi insisted he wasn’t.  Sawamura wasn’t a necromancer or a dark mage, he never could nor wanted to send Iwaizumi away so he let the other hang around his shop.  Even though Iwaizumi could remember nothing of his life he was still rather good company.  He seemed to instinctively know about the different plants that grew around Sawamura’s shop and home, was helpful even though he couldn’t actually do much of anything.

A week wasn’t enough time to love someone, but Sawamura had to admit that Iwaizumi was the type of man Sawamura could love.  If he wasn’t dead, which Sawamura was still convinced he was.

But then Iwaizumi started to become more transparent and on top of that, he looked sickly.  Ghosts didn’t get illnesses, it was about the one upside to being dead.

Kuroo, a cat demon who had a tendency to show up unannounced, eat all the food in Sawamura’s house, and disappear as quickly as he stormed in.  Kuroo had said that Iwaizumi wasn’t a ghost, he was projecting his soul, but by the looks of it Iwaizumi was on his way to becoming those counted amongst the undead.  Sawamura couldn’t stand idly by and let Iwaizumi die.

Sawamura had asked a favor of Sugawara and Kiyoko, who had insisted on coming along when realizing where Iwaizumi was being kept.  Sometime the past week Iwaizumi had been tricked by a Jorogumo, a spider-demon, who had put Iwaizumi into a deep sleep and was feeding off of him very slowly.

Now Sugawara, Kiyoko, Kuroo, Azumane, and Nishinoya were all fighting the Yokai while Sawamura was given the task of freeing Iwaizumi’s body.  Which wasn’t going well until Sawamura realized he was still wearing his apron from work, which held his gardening shears.

Sawamura began cutting away at the web, glad when the sharp steel easily sliced through it.  Sawamura could make out Iwaizumi’s prone body, lying so very still on the ground and far too pale to be healthy.  Iwaizumi’s projection had shown up a week ago, darkly tanned with vibrant green eyes.  Sawamura had been hanging up some herb to dry it out when Iwaizumi appeared, and Sawamura’s usually strong and sturdy hands had suddenly gone nerveless, dropping the herbs onto the floor.

Something shook the house, an outraged scream followed.

Sawamura picked up Iwaizumi’s prone form, tossing him over his shoulder like a bag of grain before making his way out of the cottage.  Sawamura thought it would be a nice homey place if it weren’t for all the dark energy and the spider webs covering every inch of the place.

“Sawamura!”  Iwaizumi’s warning had Sawamura rolling for the ground, cringing as he dropped the body he was holding as something blew over the top of him.  Sawamura looked up to see the yokai drop heavily to the ground.

The Jorogumo looked like a nightmare version of a centaur.  From the hips up was the body of a beautiful woman, pale with long black hair and very nude.  Her arms reached out towards Iwaizumi, a mournful sound leaving her mouth and Sawamura nearly handed the body back over, almost let himself get lost in that sound, in those pitch-black eyes.

But green eyes distracted him and Sawamura pulled Iwaizumi to himself protectively, curling his arms around the unconscious man and glaring at the yokai.  She screamed, mouth splitting open to reveal two pincers, the bottom half of her was a spiders body.  The legs shifted from one side to the other, constantly moving, skittering around as the human top weaved one way then the other.

“He belongs to me.”  Her voice was a high pitched hiss, she moved towards Sawamura who knew he stood no chance against the demon.  

“A wager!”  Sawamura shouted, heart pounding loudly in his ears.  The Jorogumo stopped her forward movement, though her body never really stopped moving.

“A bet?”  She questioned, body tilting as if to emphasis her confusion.  The Jorogumo wasn’t the first demon Sawamura had crossed paths with.  Kuroo had tried to kill him on their first meeting until Sawamura had offered up a wager.  Sawamura didn’t know much about demons, but he was glad it seemed universal that they couldn’t pass up a good bet.  Now Sawamura just had to make it worth her not just attacking him right then and there.

“Yes.  If you win you get Iwaizumi but you also get me.”  Sawamura offered.  The yokai skittered back and forth, her movements erratic as if she was excited over the prospect.  Sawamura might not be a combat mage but the earth's magic ran deep, and it was ancient.  He would make a rather good meal and the demon knew it.  “But if I win then you leave, without hurting anyone.”  The demon hissed in annoyance.

“Seven riddles.”  The yokai offered.

“Three.”  Sawamura countered though he was already dismayed.  He had no skills with riddles, that was more Sugawara and Kuroo’s expertise.

“Five.”  Sawamura nodded his head slowly in agreement.  A scroll appeared out of the air, on it the written agreement.  Sawamura read it over, careful to make sure the yokai couldn’t find any loopholes.  He pulled his magic close to him before cutting his finger with his shears and smearing it against the bottom of the scroll.  The scroll floated over to the Jorogumo, who used her ichor to make it binding.

“First riddle,” The yokai hissed, spindly legs digging into the earth.  “I can only live where there is light, but I die if the light shines on me.  What am I?”  Out of the corner of his eye Sawamura saw Nishinoya stumble around the side of the cottage.  Nishinoya was a minor God so it was no big surprise that he had healed the fastest, though he didn’t look up for another round with the yokai any time soon.

“A shadow.”  Sawamura answered, staring at the shadow from the cottage that Nishinoya stood in.

“Correct.”  The yokai stepped closer.  Sawamura pulled Iwaizumi to his chest, made sure he could still feel the others heartbeat even though it was far too slow and weak to be very reassuring.  His projection had disappeared.  “Give me food and I will live.  Give me water and I will die.  What am I?”

“Fire.”  Sawamura almost laughed in relief because he had overheard that one before.  Kuroo liked to forever tease the Knight who showed up sporadically to Sawamura’s shop, Bokuto and he was always trying to trick Bokuto into a date.  Bokuto had learned to be very good at riddles.

“We hurt without moving.  We poison without touching.  We bear the truth and the lies.  We are not to be judged by our size.  What are we?”  Sawamura’s heart dropped.  He curled his fingers into Iwaizumi’s spiky hair, tried to get his brain to work damnit.  The demon let out a hissing-cackling laugh as she scuttled forward once more.

Sugawara rounded the corner with Kiyoko, hauling a bleeding Azumane between them.  But it mattered very little if they were there now, the deal had been struck, a bargain made.  They couldn’t help Sawamura anymore.  If they said anything-

“Words!”  Sawamura suddenly shouted, causing the demon to jerk back, her many legs twitching in irritation.

“The more there is, the less you see.  What am I?”  Kuroo stumbled into view finally, fully transformed into his demon form.  A huge monstrous form that vaguely resembled a cat.  The shadow of the cottage seemed to swallow him up, almost making him disappear from view.

“Darkness,” Sawamura whispered.  “It’s darkness!”  Sawamura pressed his lips against Iwaizumi’s clammy forehead.  He wanted to know Iwaizumi, who the man was and why he was so far removed from civilisation.  A huge farm spread out to the back of the cottage and Sawamura suspected he was an Earth mage also, but he wanted to hear that from Iwaizumi.  He wanted to know about his life and what type of flower was his favorite, then Sawamura would show up with those flowers and ask Iwaizumi to dinner.

He just wanted them both to live.

“I am a mother and a father, but have never given birth.  I’m rarely still, but I never wander. What am I?”  The demon loomed over them, pincers clicking insistently as if sensing a new meal.

Sawamura looked down at Iwaizumi, who’s eyes were opened the barest amount.  Sawamura could still see the green in them, green just like the leafs of the small sapling that swayed gently in the breeze.  Iwaizumi must have just planted it for it was just a small thing, but under the care of a skilled earth mage it would grow strong.

“Tree, you’re a tree.”  Sawamura breathed out, barely above a whisper because he was so afraid of getting it wrong.

“No!”  The Yokai screamed, unnatural body twisting in anger.  “My meal!  He’s my meal!  Mine!”  The demon surged forward but it couldn’t move, it’s legs were swallowed up by the ground.  “What have you done?”

“You broke the bet.”  She tried to take Iwaizumi even though she had lost.  They had signed in blood, hers in ichor.  The rules of the wager were clear.

“No!”  The Jorogumo screeched but it was too late.  The ground grew around her, twisting up and covering her whole until there was a thick trunk where the demon had been.  Long branches grew outwards before small pink blooms popped up all over it.  A beautiful, towering cherry blossom tree stood where the demon had once occupied.

Sawamura heard his friends cheering in the background, lighting struck through the sky as Nishinoya got too excited.  Sugawara complained that Kuroo was too large to try and be a lap cat.  But Sawamura only had eyes for the man held close to his chest.

Sawamura watched as color slowly returned to Iwaizumi’s face.  His eyes opened wider, staring up at Sawamura in confusion.

“Sawamura?”  Iwaizumi asked, as if the name came to him through a great fog.  Sawamura suspected the other man would need a couple days to recover from his ordeal but the important part was that he would recover.

“Hello.”  Sawamura couldn’t help the smile that overcame his face.  Iwaizumi returned it slowly before reaching up to gently cup Sawamura’s face.

“Hello.”  Iwaizumi repeated before they were both laughing, Sawamura leaning down to rest his forehead against Iwaizumi, who let his hand slide to the back of Sawamura’s neck, carefully tangling his fingers into the hair he found there.

“Hello.”  Sawamura whispered once more.

#iwadaiweek #my writing #fanfiction #haikyuu #hq #iwadai #iwaizumi hajime #sawamura daichi #it's late! #I need to start prewriting these stories #this one was suppose to be so much more and longer and I'm disappointed with myself