#THERE ARE MANY GRASSHOPPERS and yet no grass

[gaykamenridermemes]

Kamen Rider Agito: Episode 12 if you live in the desert

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Curly Shepard headcanons

-Once fought a seagull that tried to steal his fries and lost

-Undiagnosed autistic and ADHD (it’s the 60s, duh)

-Can and will do anything to get out of having to do English homework 

-His dad gave him so many concussions as a kid that Tim legitimately worries he has brain damage (but Curly just thinks he’s dumb)

-Is as fascinated by Ponyboy Curtis as Ponyboy Curtis is (seemingly) indifferent to him

-Physically incapable of shutting up even when he really REALLY should

-Is super close with Angela

-Is well aware Angela is scarier than he ever will be. Refuses to ever admit it

-Once got suspended from school because he cut the legs off a bunch of grasshoppers and put them on his teachers desk. He called them ‘grass walkers’ and thought he was hilarious

-Can’t stand Johnny Cade and Johnny Cade can’t stand him. Neither of them know why 

-The first and only time he went to a hospital is when he broke his arm falling off that telephone pole and that was only because the bone was coming out of the skin

-Will do literally anything to get Ponyboy Curtis’ attention. It doesn’t have to be good attention— he just needs Ponyboy to be looking at him with those huge green eyes as much as humanly possible

-Favourite foods are chorizo and red twizzlers

-Has beat up every single one of Angela’s ex boyfriends

-Hates the colour yellow

-Angela’s nickname is Angel, but when Curly’s mad at her he calls her ‘devil’ instead

-Will fight ANYONE who mentions his height (except Tim ‘cause he’s kinda scared of Tim)

-Once stabbed himself in the hand playing the knife game (yet another injury Angela helped him hide from Tim)

-Will paint Angela’s nails for her but only if she bribes him

-Is EXTREMELY good at first aid. Like, can make a tourniquet or a sling out of anything. Everyone thinks it’s because he’s had to patch himself up after he hurts himself in dumb ways, but really it’s because he took a couple free courses at the YMCA he never told anyone about. The instructor actually really liked him, because he actually tried and didn't cause problems even once

-Is the only person in living memory to win against Tim in poker, and it won him a stupid amount of respect from the rest of the Shepard gang. Tim maintains he cheated (he did not)

-Will never admit it but still loves when Tim ruffles his hair (one of the very few ways Tim ever shows his affection)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lmk what character you want me to do next!

[dragkbluire]

IT IS I! THE WIZARD!

. . . .

Its quiet. . .

too quiet. . .

Too quiet for this place. . .

Nicole looked around the forest, immediately noticing many things- the prominent being how. . .silent. . .it was. At night, the brunette with red highlights often saw fireflies lighting up the forest at night like little fireworks and all around would be the sounds of crickets. But now? Not a single lighting bug in sight, not a grasshopper making a sound. Nit even the stars were out. It was dark. . .and far too quiet.

Nicole was no stranger to these woods. She had grown up near them and often ran into the trees to play with her best friend, Roger, a messy blond hair boy with an insulin pump on his arm. These woods were a second home to her, the wildlife within a second family.

Roger didn't have a good homelife as a young boy but now he was older and in a better situation. He had seemed happy and content with life. . .

Yet he had walked in the forest two nights ago, and hadn't returned. Nicole remembered what he had told her.

"The skinless thing in the woods. . . I'm gonna kill it"

Nicole had. .. not a clue what he ment by those words, but perhaps it had been linked to the many missing children that had run into the woods or off the trails, only to return only as skulls days later. But Roger wasn't one to run off, to believe in a 'skinless thing'. He was a skeptic. Yet he hadn't come back, hadn't been heard from in two days.

She didn't want to believe it. . .

She didn't. . .

But often times when you speak to a ghost, they'll come back to haunt you. . .

Nicole's memory of that night was fuzzy, she and Roger were only 8 at the time. But she remembered the path, the trail that ended abruptly in the state park, and went forward a few miles to an abandoned town, and to an old highschool and church hospital, lost to memory and time, being reclaimed by the forest.

She remembered that path like she had gone back just yesterday.

The leaves crunched and twigs snapped under her boots that made it hard to run but went to her knees to protect her from thorns and snakes. She looked at the old worn metal gates that had fallen and broken on the forest floor, and her brown eyes looked up, seeing the old, familiar homes with broken windows and crumbling walls, more taken over than she remembered- almost swallowed whole by the vines and bushes and trees growing on and within them. Nicole remembered the day Roger and herself had found the place, when the building were safer to walk in, to explore the second floors and basements as young kids. Nicole remembered when they had worn the old outfits they'd find in the closets, back when Roger was Darlene and wasn't afraid of the bugs that lived within the fabrics. It was a miracle they'd never gotten hurt or ill from this place- but yet. . .the worst sickness of all was back to get the innocent, like a virus.

Nicole trudged through the tall grass and muddy spots, cringing as the blades of grass cut her through her clothes. She had once loved this part of nature, now she despised it- all because of what had happened when they were eight

The animals and critters. . .were still deathly silent. a hidden warning that something was here that didn't belong

Pushing back bushes and weaving through trees, Nicole stopped infront of a large, broken, decrepit school, the large iron bell had fallen from uts perch in the tower that had collapsed and crushed the front doors of the school. Something Nicole didn't remember from when they had last come when she was eight. she pointed her flashlight at the build, the first and second floors covered in flora and life. . .why had Roger and Nicole loved this place? it was creepy and screamed danger. Like a forest fire to a moth, it should have been obvious this was a place she wasn't welcome. But alas. ..

If Roger had come to face their demons, then so should she. . .

Nicole needed to save Roger. . .

They needed. . .

To face what they had ran from and released. . .9 years ago. . .

SKINLESS THING? Oh damn this is gonna be intense!!!

I have read just a paragraph more and I'm really excited and interested ygdfgdofyvdfgvudyfv

THEY WERE KIDS AT THAT MOMENT??

Ok I finished reading it. You caught my attention but this THIS is something I would buy if it was a book. icydgfvhdfvdyguh SO COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL

Have you thought on a name? :DD

[anawkwardlady]

Dadbastian week day 2 : Identity

(poem referenced is The Wolf and the Lamb by Jean de La Fontaine)

The reason of those best able to have their way is always the best: We now show how this is true A lamb was quenching its thirst In the water of a pure stream. A fasting wolf came by, looking for something; He was attracted by hunger to this place.

Humans are grasshoppers. Children are worth even less. After all, they're just beginning to gain a sense of value to humans themselves since it's so easy to make them, to lose them, to make some more. They’re nothing but an unshaped clay of potential for creatures like him. Shaped by knives, intentions and expectations, probable pain— until maybe one day, one or two walks outside, reeking of blood and rage, right into his mouth. And it's been this way since the dawn of time, time he killed for centuries to fill the gaping hole where a soul should be, which he filled with many others. 

When that unshaped clay signed his soul away, the demon signed away his freedom for a mere potential. No choice was left for any of them. He was to take on the role of hands and knives but did not think through it very much. He was himself unshaped clay of somesort, walking within the human skin of a protective adult. The demon looks down on the tiny thing that called him over. 

—What makes you so bold as to meddle with my drinking? Said this animal, very angry. You will be punished for your boldness

The now Butler looks at his wet gloved hands. They burn. Pain of the flesh is inconsequential, he could get a new one some time soon, it's a foreign feeling, while obviously unpleasant. Like maybe cutting a finger up while dreaming away. Pain of the ego however rings through his entire body. The unshaped clay now Master is behaving like a newborn pulling a cat’s tail over and over again. It soon enough will become a bit of an endearing trait of his, probably. When it’ll stop triggering his desire to maim. He looks up at this weak master who slowly gains a shape. 

—Sir, answered the lamb, let Your Majesty Not put himself into a rage; But rather, let him consider That I am taking a drink of water In the stream More than twenty steps below him; And that, consequently, in no way, Am I troubling his supply.

Blood is on the grass and more will pour. Body filled with adrenaline as it rips more intruders, more targets. Nothing is known of them, and the demon wouldn’t care to learn such things as family, names or any pleadings, any excuses. Death doesn’t come out of anger nor is it personal. He is ordered to execute and execute he does. Soon enough he only knows executing, can only smell blood and starts to drown inside his limiting cage. 

Everything morphs into each other, flesh is wounds is meat is guts is human. Like all the times he reached this state before, he gains the knowledge that better sleeps soundly inside. Wonders if it will finally be the time to toss aside those learned quirks of patience and care, of loyalty and dignity to give in to hunger. He used to quietly slip back inside, soiled with death, towards the master’s bedroom he entered without a sound just to stare at the little figure. The boy doesn’t move, probably won’t hear. He spent too many sleepless nights before, thus sometimes got a little help in his milk before laying down, to avoid complete exhaustion. Works wonders. Humans develop new tricks everyday to avoid children's screams. 

—You do trouble it, answered the cruel beast. And I know you said bad things of me last year. —How could I do that when I wasn’t born, Answered the lamb; I am still at my mother’s breast. —If it wasn’t you, then it was your brother. —I haven’t a brother.—It was then someone close to you;

The child is the weakest of its kind. His prey smells like death and yet it only brings questions. The demon should eat to appease hunger but cannot, because he chose to be Sebastian. Sebastian is a placeholder for a child’s needs but even that part doesn’t reason. After all, even a mother cat eats her sickest kitten. And it seems like deep down even the master knows the wrong kitten was dragged to hell. In the end, Sebastian showed up and ate what was on the plate. Nothing more nothing less. Everything in nature should take this life away. Nothing did. Humans tame themselves for preservation sake. Something valuable to learn about them. Tame yourself and wait. 

For you have no sympathy for me, You, your shepherds and your dogs. I have been told of this. I have to make things even.

Tame yourself and wait. 

As the demon thinks of his hunger, the butler starts to mechanically check a mental list of tomorrow’s imperatives. His stomach tores apart. He wonders if the bread could make a good Pain Perdu for tea time. Blood sticks to his skin. The young master will be wearing his blue coat, because the air starts to get cold. 

He gently puts his tainted red gloves away, rearranges Ciel’s pillow and covers before disappearing like he came. Cleans the mess outside.

Tame yourself and wait. 

Saying this, into the woods The wolf carries the lamb, and then eats him Without any other why or wherefore.

Thankfully he was always more bored than he was hungry.

[brb-on-a-quest]

University of Gallirey AU

(tagging @walkthruthewords 'cause you know what you did -sigh- that I've written 2k words instead of studying for my history test on Tuesday in one sitting and also @igotthisaccountunderduress bc dr who fanfic and you seemed interested the last time). Enjoy! Hopefully.

He swore he wasn't going to care. It was one assignment. It should not and did not require this much of him.

He pushed the ancient piece of technology that he'd carried around with him for the last century or so against the back shelf of the desk and turned to pace around the room. He'd forgotten he still had his Converse on, and they squeaked against the linoleum floor. He clenched his jaw as the noise grated his ears, chucking the ratty soles across the room.

It was then he realized that he cared very, very much about this assignment. Too much. If he didn’t ace it- The young time lord shuddered. That was a consequence he couldn’t bear to see the day of. He had to. No ifs, buts, or yets. 

The Doctor sat down on the chair, inching it close to the desk until the wood pressed against his chest- as if the tangible reminder would ground him to this assignment. Must keep typing, it doesn’t matter, you can’t edit a blank page-

He pulled the computer closer to him and stared at the almost empty page- he had written in the proper header. The Doctor. The Professor. The Class. The Date in the stupid lunarian formatting. Why does everything need some definite article when life is so- not. Somehow, the existence of the header mocked him and his frustration. He stood up and began his rounds around the small cubic space of a dorm. 

He began grumbling under his breath when someone opened the wooden door, prompting the student to swing around on his feet quickly.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” His roommate said in that calm, chirpy tone they had as their antennas twitched rapidly. “You good, mate?” His foreign alien exchange roommate had started adopting his slang, which felt very endearing coming from his chirped accent. 

“You could bloody well knock next time!” The Doctor hissed behind gritted teeth and then immediately melted into a puddle of emotions. “No, please, I’m sorry-”

“No pain taken.” The oversized grasshopper chirped as it pushed the door closed behind him with a leg. “Are you alright?”

“I just need to do one more assignment, and then I will be the happiest time lord alive.” The Doctor muttered. 

“I… do not believe you. You keep saying that and yet fail to follow through.” It removed his glasses from his comically large compound eyes, the pupils immediately contracting in size. “What assignment is it this time?” 

“A reflection. About something in the last century that I wish I could change about my life.”

“That’s it?” 

“What do you mean that’s it?” The Doctor was close to shouting. “Do you know how hard it is to just bare your soul to someone you only know on an acquaintance-basis? I’m not ready for this level of commitment.” 

His roommate put his glasses back on and started removing his shoes from all four of his feet. “Hm. Have you tried sleeping on it?” He paused, one shoe hanging off an appendage. “When is the last time you-” his roommate anxiously turned to untranslatable chittering. “-rested. Yes. Rested, that’s the word.”

The doctor stared down at the floor. Panic and guilt flooded his mind with strong sensations. He tried to count how many times he saw the suns of Gallifrey rise and fall. He tried to remember the last time he saw the orange suns. It was-too long. What did grass feel like? He couldn’t remember. He’d been alive for nearly five hundred years, but his mind had forgotten the touch of grass under his toes. Where are your bloody priorities, Doctor?

The small room felt like a prison, and he needed to run. Do anything but stare at another screen for a while. 

“Be right back.” 

“Answer the question first.” The roommate stood between him and the door. “I care about you and I have been in and out of the room for the past two months and I don’t think you’ve slept once. So, tell me, doctor, when did you rest?”

The Doctor thought back across his checklist. What had he done recently? The packet of physics that had taken a month, the navigation history exam, time stream engineering, Astrobiology and physiology-

“I know I took a nap after the ethics of temporal manipulation paper- everything’s blurry after that.” He admitted. 

His roommate, a constant fidgeter, completely shut down. There was no clicking of joints or the slight fluttering of wings, edging of mandibles. “Doctor. The paper you did last semester? Over a year ago? That’s when you slept?” 

The Doctor felt betrayed. Who was he to tell him what to do? He hadn’t eaten a vegetable and was constantly partying with other Gallifreyans. He had no right to be emotionally attacked. “What does it matter to you?” 

“Most humanoid species of your astro-classification would be dead by now.” His roommate shuddered. “Go to bed, Doc.”

“No. I have too much to do. I’m just going to take a walk, and I’ll be right as rain.” The doctor grinned.

“I don’t want trauma grades, Doctor.” His roommate backed up against the door. “Please sleep. You look like you're going to rob an interstellar money house with the dark circles around your eyes.”

“You mean bank.” The doctor filled in helpful as he stepped up on his toes to do a full body stretch. “I look like I’m going to rob a bank.” His shoulders felt so much achier as he turned around to look at his reflection in a mirror propped up against his closet door. He looked like an unrecognizable meat suit of skin and bones. “Huh. Interesting. Really.” The instinct was to yawn as his jaw hung down for a minute. Must fight it. Stupid reflection. 500 more words. 

“I mean for you to go to sleep.” The roommate chittered. 

“No. Let me just drink some of the Red Bull-”

“NO!” the grasshopper dove in front of their university cooling unit. “Doctor, Go. To. Bed.”

“Why should I?” The doctor frowned. “Last I checked, you weren’t either one of my parental figures.” 

“Doctor, what’s my name?” The grasshopper said. “What are you seeing right now?”

“There’s you. You’re. My roommate - You’re a-” He sighed, pressing his lips together thoughtfully. “A grasshopper. I’m sorry, I don’t remember the proper term, it’s on the tip of my tongue and your name is.” His mind raced through file cabinets of all the names that he heard the most often. They lived together. He had seen him everyday, how could The Doctor forget?

Something stung his cheek. A hand. Not an antenna.

“I’m not a stupid bug.” When he opened his eyes, his roommate had turned into a time lord size. Ah, yes. The Doctor and The Butler. His roommate had chosen The Butler. Just like he had chosen The Doctor. “You’re hallucinating. Go to bed right now, or I will call the wellness center for you.” 

“You’re angry with me.” The Doctor sniffed. 

“Listen, you are going to be emotional because you have not slept in Gallifrey knows how long. You can take a nap, and then you will be fine.”

The doctor leaned his head on the Butler’s shoulder. “I’m sorry- I- I didn’t know I was so tired.”

“It’s ok.” The Butler patted his head comfortingly. “C’mon. Do you need me to tuck you in?” 

“You’re so mean to me.” The Doctor half-grumbled, half-whined in a joking manner as he stumbled towards the bed. He didn’t know his muscles could be so stiff as he fell under the covers. 

“Shall I kiss you goodnight?” Was The Butler’s mocking response as he turned out the light and closed the door. “Goodnight, Doctor. If you are not asleep by the time you come back, I shall find it necessary to take alternative measures.” 

The Doctor just wished he had a little bit more time as he nestled underneath a blanket. Time. Timelord. Lord of time. 

He sat up in bed. “We have a Time Machine.” He quickly threw his legs over the sides of the bed and grabbed his shoes, his computer, and his lucky sonic screwdriver. He could escape out the window and then his roommate wouldn’t be concerned about him anymore. Besides, Time machines. He could spend as long as he wanted working on the stupid reflection and getting some zzz's and doing whatever before The Butler even decided to notice. 

Yes. Brilliant. Best plan of this century. He pushed up the window and didn’t even gawk at the drop. It’d be short enough. His bones were strong. He’d taken enough calcium-enriched food fairly recently. It still hurt when he hit the ground, though. 

Grass felt good. Air felt good. Sun felt-not as good. The Doctor blinked. No. Stop it. You’re getting distracted.

He ran towards the library, dodging through the crowd of people. “Sorry, pardon, sorry again, would you watch where you're going please?” The Doctor was panting as he reached the front desk. “I’d like to check out a TARDIS please.”

“What now?” The librarian, an older man, looked down at him with much concern written in his scrunched up nose. “Are you-”

“Please. I have an assignment. I just need more time.”

“So you want a spaceship.” 

“A TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension In Space Ships, yes.” The Doctor explained. “Please-”

“Do you have your ID?”

The Doctor held out his wallet that contained his psychic papers, while willing every single thought to show his Gallifreyan issued ID. That had gone missing for some time, but he wasn’t willing to pay the couple of credits to get it replaced. 

“Ah, yes. You’ll need to leave your dorm key as collateral, you understand.” The librarian sighed while maybe muttering something about “kids these days” but that might have been something of an auditory hallucination. 

The Doctor reached into his pocket and handed the key over. “Thanks so much.” 

The Librarian handed him a different key. “That one goes to the blue one over there. She’s a bit stuck in her camouflage circuit right now, so keep that in mind when traveling in the time stream.” 

The Doctor nodded, snatching the keys with more force than intended. “Thanks a million, sir. You’re fantastic. Brilliant, even. Allons-y!” And the Doctor was running towards a large blue police box faster than he had been running to the library. 

It’s bigger on the inside. He thought with approval. That’s good. And it has a bean bag chair! Perfect place for a nap. 

He placed the keys into the TARDIS, and it roared to life and The Doctor cackled. “GENIUS!” He grinned from ear to ear. “All of Time and Space to find a place to do homework and take a nap.” 

Maybe nap first. He’d go to Earth, probably. The Police Box would look really inconspicuous there. Could nap for ages. Then he could go to the planet that was just one giant library and knock out that reflection paper. 

He made the mistake of sitting down in the beanbag chair, and the tired heaviness of exhaustion returned. The Butler was right. I need to curl up and not wake for a century or two. TARDIS? Wake me up when we reach something interesting. 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Cottonwood Fluff

Summary: Azula and Sokka go for a walk in the Earth Kingdom countryside.

Note: Really short story for Sokkla Saturday (Combined this prompt and the last).

Spring in the Earth Kingdom is a far cry from spring in the Fire Nation. It isn’t so sizzling hot but it is still teeming with nature. She likes the daisies and dandelions the best. How they spot the rolling countryside with vast pops of white and yellow. Little bursts of sunlight. She also enjoys the cottonwoods and the fluff that they put in the air, even though it makes her nose tingle and her eyes water. Sokka says that she might be allergic to pollen. 

Most of the time she doesn’t mind. Watery eyes and tingling is a small price to pay to feel the earth; the grass between her toes, petals between her fingers, and–when she is in the right mood–dirt and mud on the soles of her feet.

It is good for her, she thinks, to smell dew on the grass and honeysuckle in the early morning. She certainly hasn’t felt as stressed and distraught since Sokka started taking her here. To be frank, she isn’t entirely certain of where here is, or if the little town even has a name. 

It is, afterall, just a cluster of houses. Maybe ten or eleven of them and then that path that leads to Gaoling.

Sunrises and mornings are quiet here.

She likes to take her tea with honey and chamomile and listen to the grasshoppers chirp and the bees buzz. She likes to listen to the wind shake the tall grasses, barely, and branches. The Earth Kingdom is full of grains and oats. Sometimes, when she is lucky, Sokka gets some peanut butter and some honey and bakes those grains and oats into a little snack for the both of them to eat on the porch or by that pond with the rickety little bridge. 

She swears that one day it is going to collapse on the both of them and they’ll have to walk all the way home drenched. 

The creek likes to gurgle, it isn’t all that deep but it is long and it meanders alongside the path to Gaoling. The one that she and Sokka walk often. Hand in hand without much urgency to get anywhere in particular. 

Sometimes Azula misses the hustle and haste. But these lazy afternoons have treated her so well. So she will take them until she truly starts to itch for Caldera City’s rush and clamor. That busy life that keeps her mind sharp and her soul entertained. 

Today Sokka carries her on his back while he babbles about nothing in particular. The cottonwoods are shedding so much fluff that it could be a snowy winter. Except the grass is vibrant green and the hummingbirds sing and the woodpeckers tap, tap, tap. 

She is starting to doze off. This isn’t particularly uncommon. If she gets relaxed enough she can nod off in seconds.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” Sokka comments. 

“Hmm?” She mumbles. “Yeah.” It is a warm day. Blue skies. Rolling clouds. Rays of sunlight that cut through them and kiss her exposed shoulders. Most days are nice days, she thinks. Which is refreshing considering how many perfectly lovely days had been gray in her mind some not too distant time ago.

“How’s this spot?” 

Azula looks around. He has found them a clearing ringed by dandelions that have yet to lose their wispy white crowns. There are a few fallen logs and several clusters of mushrooms. It smells like moss and pine. 

She hops down from his back. “It’s nice, Sokka.” She wouldn’t mind just sitting here in silence for a little while. Perhaps hours even. That’s what they usually do. She wouldn’t have it any other way. 

They have gotten to a point where they don’t need to talk. They only need to be in each other’s company in the earth’s embrace, counting clouds and robin’s nests until the sun begins to set. 

And all feels right in Azula’s world.

[pearlsoflongago]

Of Hope and Hillsides

"I will be the gladdest thing..."

Sångtrasten/Song Thrush by Bruno Liljefors

“Hope” is the Thing With Feathers

“Hope” is the thing with feathers— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard— And sore must be the storm— That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm—

I’ve heard it in the chillest land— And on the strangest Sea— Yet—never—in Extremity, It asked a crumb—of me.

—Emily Dickinson

Young Girl with a Bird by Berthe Morisot

Farmhouse in Provence by Vincent van Gogh

On the Grasshopper and the Cricket

The Poetry of earth is never dead:       When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,       And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run     From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;     That is the Grasshopper’s—he takes the lead         In summer luxury,—he has never done       With his delights; for when tired out with fun     He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.     The poetry of earth is ceasing never:       On a lone winter evening, when the frost        Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills     The Cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever,       And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,       The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hills.

—John Keats

Dauphine Landscape by Pierre Bonnard

Afternoon on a Hill

I will be the gladdest thing    Under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers    And not pick one.

I will look at cliffs and clouds    With quiet eyes, Watch the wind bow down the grass,    And the grass rise.

And when lights begin to show    Up from the town, I will mark which must be mine,    And then start down!

—Edna St. Vincent Millay

Vue d’Auvers by Paul Cezanne

[dansnaturepictures]

17th July 2023: Stockbridge Down

Photos taken in this set are of: 1 and 9. Chalkhill Blues. Another stunning butterfly that I love to see of late, they're summer's crown. I was so looking forward to looking for them this year especially with seeing of sightings the last week or two, it was amazing to see these silky gems of chalk grassland. I am always impressed by how many of these and butterflies I see at Stockbridge Down, it really is a wonderful and richly vegetated spot which is so good for insects. 2. Another special insect to see today, my first ever Forester's moth. An emerald star which I knew of and had wanted to see for ages so this was a good moment. 3. Mint moth, a charming and well coloured moth I was also hopeful of seeing today. 4-8. Beautiful colourful and panoramic views at this pretty spot. 10. Some delightful common toadflax, I enjoy seeing them and have seen a fair few lately.

Silver-washed and Dark Green Fritillary, Brown Argus, Small Skipper and Meadow Brown, Gatekeeper, Small White, Large White, Marbled White, a fair few Brimstones, Red Admiral, Peacock, Small Copper and Silver Y and Six-spot Burnet moths stars of another great Big Butterfly Count done today were other key insects to see. My first ever Synaphe punctalisand moth and Meadow Grasshopper were great to see too, and there was another amazing wildlife moment this long weekend for me when we saw a Stoat dash across the grass into vegetation. I had wanted to see one of these for years so I loved seeing it, yet another fantastic mammal moment this weekend and year with a third new mammal species for me seen in 2023. Yellowhammer, Rooks and Blackbird were bird highlights of the walk, with my first wild marjoram, wild basil, harebell and squinancywort of the year and restharrow, mignonette, rosebay willowherb, lady's bedstraw, eyebright, dock, scabious, yarrow, herb-Robert and wayfaring tree berries other nice plants to observe as well as mushrooms which I saw well in Rutland too. Many of these plants were some of the first I learnt at this site three years which makes me feel nostalgic for where my passion for plants really ramped up in my pandemic days discovery of plants.

[mt-shahparan]

Dawn; The sky's sprawl, although soft, is coloured of grasshopper's blue Around and around— guava and sweetsops' green, as when some rushed as parrot's quill. A lone star still hangs there: As on a rural mating bed, and the twilightmost of their girls, just like her; Or the Egyptian femme who dropped a pearl from her breast Onto my blue tankard, Back there, thousands upon thousands years back, on one such night Like that pearl, and that night A star still persists on the sky.

Agrarians have kept fire alit on fields, all night to keep from the cold— A fire red like cockflowers; Yet persists beyond those figleaves' gallops.

In the worn light of the sun, the reds linger submitted, They have turned, like a skinny starling's wish and blemishes. Under the cascading dews of this dawnbreak The forest and the sky, Like a peacock's blue wings, glinting in the bluest of blur.

Dawn; All night keeping from leopardess' grip, keeping himself from going beneath Under a starless night, through The mahogany of darks, the stark forests of Sundari and Arjunas Going and going This beautiful dawn longed for by this beautiful, brown deerie! Come down has he, for this dawn and its alleys. And eating from the reach of dewed grass, severing them from mouth to mouths, a pommelo as if. He comes down again, on sharp infliction of the river's cold. A sleepless, tired body from their coldness to emotions Or to cut through a womb of dark to this bright muse of lightness' weaving Showering them with euphoria of life. Under this blue sky, coming down as golden harpoon, the sun's Or to be let though this stunt of boldest stupor Or to be resonated upon does upon does of this transient wild hearth.

A strange sound; The river's light then red like red clotted flowers. The fire resonates again— comes down prepared deer's red, warm meat. Under the starfilled sky, on their railings of grasses many a old story, many some old stories relain; Smoke of cigarettes, Crudely aligned picture of some men and their heads. Unsorted- Some zig-zagged rifles— coldness— Tremorless, innocent sleep…

[Personal translation of Jibanananda Das' শিকার (The Hunt)]

Untitled #113 (29 Aug 2023)

[dimalink]

Quake 2 at the country

And it is a may month. First time I got to the country house this year. So, I open the season. It is very nice at the village! Warm. Sun. Dandelions. Green grass. And it was mainly already warm weather. But, during the may it was also a little cold. But weekend at the village was with a nice weather.

And I take at the country house with myself a notebook Asus F3S. Not bad retro machine with Windows Xp. Machine is loading fast. And I even have there Visual Basic 6. And it has a dvd rom. And lots of games. From different past ages.

It is good to have a walk at the village place. To breath air. So, birds are already come and sing is from the forest area. It is a big forest around. And I don’t see yet some grasshoppers in the grass. Calm. And I waiting for them. And I drink may tea. As a tradition.

But let’s go back to the games. I take for a test time a several games. Bobble Hero. Some very colorful game. With very beautiful graphics. And cool gameplay. I launched Crimsonland. Fresh meat and simple shooter with top-down view. You run at small map and shoot at spiders and zombies. It is style of 1 screen game. But map is a little more size. And several retro shooters I launched. At level of Windows 95-98. I think.

But I have played good in Quake 2. Q2 is a beautiful videogame, it has interesting visual. With its own style. Such a beauty. Interesting color palette. 3d graphics. And not many enemies at game screen. But it is enough. Because enemies are clever. And several enemies can make a problem. They are different. So, it is very good, and no problem that few enemies on screen. No problem. It is even interesting. Every borg and cyborg is dangerous. Crossfire is guarantee. And it is a fun!

And, by the way, it has lots of option about game screen resolution. It works with even pretty high resolutions. At my surprise. Graphics in Q2 is beautiful even today. And I have a dream to test Q2 at my pretty new machine I7 with Rtx3050, to run Q with this well-known thing like ray tracing. Very interesting! And at old Win Xp it is also a very colorful game.

Q2 has a very interesting weapons. So unlimited with ammo first gun. Looks good. It is good for start. There is a shotgun. And it is very big. And I was shocked with machine gun. Shocked in a straight way. It is shaking all the time while you are shooting. And you are like flying! So, it raises to the up.  And you are shooting somewhere another place, instead you aim at first. It raises up! And you need to make pauses in shooting.

By the way, I have also a CD with Civilization 3. In old times, I played a lot in Civilization 3. I call this title as Civa 3. And I like this game a lot. Not less then part 2. In even more older times.

So, it is good at the country house in summer! Especially when you have old computer with Quake 2! So, it was like this, weekend. And I open village season 2023. It is unforgettable! And so sunny!

WEBSITE: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html BLOGGER: https://dimalinkeng.blogspot.com/ DISCORD: https://discord.com/invite/F24Kw7TaH4

[wildpix]

A Red-billed Buffalo Weaver perches amongst the verdant greenery of the banks of the Luvuvhu River and, once again, provides an example of just how complex and fascinating nature is.

It is a bird that lives in dry savannahs and sparse woodland, yet here it is, in the lushest, greenest corner of southern Africa.

Red-billed Buffalo Weavers are fascinating in many other ways, they have an extremely varied diet which consists of insects, seeds and fruit. They forage mostly on the ground, sometimes in association with large herbivores such as Buffalo, hence their name. This is opportunistic behaviour, taking advantage of insects such as scorpions, crickets, locusts, grasshoppers, caterpillars, beetles, weevils, wasps, bees, ants, flies, and spiders that have been disturbed by the larger, grazing animals.

Their social arrangements are also interesting, preferring apartment-style living! Breeding in colonies, Red-billed buffalo weavers build nests that are composed of an enormous mass of woven thorny twigs, nest-weaving being common to all species of weaver. The colonial nest is divided into separate apartments, each managed by a polygamous male. Each apartment has multiple, smaller egg chambers built by the females. These smaller chambers are made of grass, leaves and roots. Colonial nests are usually found in a large, thorny tree and a penthouse platform nest is often constructed on top of the nesting colony by other, larger species, such as vultures, eagles and geese.

Red-billed Buffalo Weaver communal nests are sometimes raided by snakes, baboons and Gymnogene (African Harrier-hawk), causing loud panic and pandemonium.

Photo by @reandutoit

#reandutoit #reandutoitphotography #naturephotography #nature #endangered #kruger #wilderness #africa #wildlife #safari #motherearth #natgeoyourshot #natgeo #canon #knp #krugerpark #krugernationalpark #wildlifephotograpy #birdphotography #mothernature #bird #weaver #redbilledbuffaloweaver #luvuvhu #savanna

[heliads]

Best Kept Secrets (Part Two)

Based on this request: “Wanda and the reader are married and the reader mom is Agatha but the reader does not know that…Then Agatha watches the reader having a good time with her family and Agatha is happy but sad because we get another flashback of the reader snapping their finger in order to destroy thanos and his army.”

part one / masterlist

Cameras continue rolling, boom mics lower. Episode begins.

Y/N looks around, at their family gathered nearby. There’s a white and red checked picnic blanket tucked around them, a water bottle sloshing noisily in their lowering grasp. Y/N’s wife, Wanda, is speaking to their two twin sons, Billy and Tommy, who are delighted over a grasshopper they’ve spotted among the emerald stalks beneath their feet. To any unsuspecting passersby, the scene would look perfectly normal, and it should be so, yet there’s still a cloud of unease lingering over Y/N’s face. For a second, Y/N didn’t think they were back at the Westview park but instead in some unfamiliar place.

It had happened just as Y/N was reaching for the water bottle. They had been kneeling, right hand outstretched, and then the scene had shifted around them. The sky had turned an ashy gray, the dew-drenched grass broken up into rubble and debris. Y/N had been kneeling in that same position, hand outstretched, but there was something wrong there, something that had filled them with this strange determined terror…

Y/N is jolted back to reality when their young son, Billy, turns to her with a concerned expression. “Is everything alright? You look too unhappy for a fun picnic.” A gentle smile slips onto Y/N’s face like a well-worn glove. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. I was just finishing up my lunch. Speaking of which, it looks like you boys are done eating as well. Is there anything else you’d like to do while we’re here?” Tommy nods excitedly, bounding up from his position on the picnic blanket. “I saw the coolest dragonflies and bugs around us.” 

Wanda laughs. “Doesn’t that sound interesting! Here, take these. You can catch us some insects to study.” With a flourish of her hand, Wanda turns two wooden serving spoons into identical butterfly nets, and hands one to each twin. They look at each other in excitement then dart off into the grass, swinging the nets with enthusiasm, if lacking somewhat in coordination. Y/N gives Wanda an amused stare. “What about the spoons?” Wanda waves a hand dismissively. “I can turn them back later. Sure makes packing easier to just change all the cutlery into toys.”

The audience laughs at that, and Y/N grins. “Speaking of which, let’s speed up the packing of the picnic basket.” With a gesture of their hands, all of the plates and utensils fly into the wicker basket in a flurry of purple sparks. Wanda nods appreciatively. “I’m going to have to learn that trick.” Y/N stands up, glancing around her at the paths leading out of the park. “Just curious, did you see Agnes walking around? I could have sworn I saw her just a few minutes ago.” Wanda frowns. “I don’t think so. Are you looking for her?” Y/N glances around one last time, then shrugs. “Not anymore, I guess.”

Billy, having just successfully snared a dragonfly, calls over to Y/N. Y/N walks over, admiring the insect with their son. Billy considers it one last time, then turns over the net and releases it. Y/N watches it go. “That’s a good choice. As much fun as it is to study interesting things, you always have to let them go in the end.” Billy nods sagely. “You know, I finally get why you and Mom work so well together.” Y/N smiles questioningly. “Why is that?” Billy stares out over the park, looking for more winged insects. “She always has so many thoughts in your head, and yours sometimes don’t show up at all. She’s noisy and you’re quiet, and it works out.”

Y/N tilts their head to the side, looking over at Billy. “What do you mean, I’m quiet?” Billy shrugs. “I can’t hear as many of your thoughts. It kind of reminds me of Agnes, actually. She does the same thing.” Y/N’s brow furrows, but they still allow a fond expression to cross their face. “Look at you go, using your powers. I think it’s amazing that you can tell all that already.” Billy beams, glad for the compliment, then races off after a recently sighted butterfly.

Y/N watches him as he chases after it, raising his net high in the air to successfully entangle the butterfly in the woven fabric. Y/N’s smile disappears from their face, however, as they watch the butterfly struggling in the net. As it flutters around, looking for a possible escape, the bright violet of its wings seems to darken, almost vanishing into empty gray. With every flutter of its wings, the purple leaches from the butterfly.

There’s another sight in Y/N’s eyes now. Y/N can still see that electric purple hue circling around something, can still see it trembling and disappearing into nothingness. But the violet isn’t clinging to a butterfly’s wings this time. No, it’s around a hand, Y/N’s hand, and it’s vanishing as Y/N’s heart rate seems to slow, because as the purple fades away so to does she, which means that Y/N is-

Y/N’s eyes widen, dragging them back to reality as Wanda walks up next to them. Wanda frowns at the look on Y/N’s face. “Are you alright? You look worried. I thought Billy specifically requested that you have a good time.” Y/N laughs at the joke. “As much fun as that sounds, it’s a lot easier to change someone else’s emotions than to fix your own.” Wanda makes a face at the camera. “You have no idea.” Laughter ripples down from the audience, and Y/N looks around for a second as if trying to find out its source. 

Wanda puts a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, gently steering them back to face her once again. “You are feeling alright, yes? I just want to make sure everything is under control.” Y/N looks back at Wanda, but their expression is still tinged with unease. “It always is with you around, isn’t it?”

Cameras cut to B-Roll footage. Screen fades to black, but shortly opens on a new scene- Wanda and Y/N’s bedroom.

Y/N lies awake, staring at the ceiling. Beside them, Wanda sleeps peacefully, but Y/N seems unable to share in her quiet rest. Y/N closes her eyes, as if considering something, then slips silently from the blankets and out of bed. Wanda starts to stir, but then Y/N flicks her hands towards the cameras, and they turn away, shut down. Wanda returns back to her deep sleep, no longer concerned.

Cameras are unresponsive. Scene cuts to black.

Y/N quickly dons a pair of comfortable clothes before heading out of the house and down the block. They can still hear Billy’s voice echoing in the recesses of their head- I can’t hear that many of your thoughts. It kind of reminds me of Agnes, actually. She does the same thing. Y/N knows why Billy can’t hear their mind, it’s because of Y/N’s magic, but why would Agnes have the same ability?

After a couple of quiet knocks, Agnes’ front door opens. Agnes looks startled to see Y/N standing there, and hurriedly gestures for them to come inside, quickly shutting the door behind them. “Not that I don’t love spending time with my closest of friends, but can I get a reason for this late-night visit?” Agnes glances around her, but Y/N holds up a hand. “Don’t worry about the cameras- I shut them off. Nobody can see us right now.” Agnes’ head jerks up. “You know about the cameras?” Y/N inclines their head. “Only every now and then. I think I lose my memory of them sometimes because certain people want me to forget.”

Agnes nods in agreement, then a sudden movement outside in the street catches her eye. Agnes turns her head slowly to face the window and curses softly when she sees a figure moving down the street. Y/N follows her gaze. “Why is the mailman out doing his route? It’s the middle of the night.” Agnes grimaces. “Wanda must have sent him out to see where you were. Even unconsciously, she can still tell that you’re looking into things that you’re not supposed to know about.”

The mailman is almost at their window when Agnes’ hand moves almost imperceptibly, and the man looks the other way, avoiding Agnes’ house completely. Y/N’s eyes dart to Agnes’ hand, at the brief flash of indigo electricity that had danced around her fingers. “You have the same magic as I do. How is that possible?” Agnes faces Y/N with a look like a caged animal. “Why did you call me Agatha on our last visit?” She counters, and Y/N sighs. “I don’t know. It just came into my head. Now tell me- do you really have the same powers as I do?”

Agatha- for it is truly Agatha now- holds up a hand, allowing the purple sparks to flicker between her fingers. “It’s less of a power and more of a learned ability.” Y/N’s brow furrows as they consider this, and then their eyes widen. “I’ve never seen anyone with that same ability, and I shouldn’t ever, unless-” They break off, staring at Agatha. “I thought my mother abandoned me long ago. I thought she was dead. But she’s not, is she? She’s you.” Agatha nods once, and Y/N looks overwhelmed.

“You’ve known all along. You knew that I was your child and you never once looked for me? You could have told me when I first arrived. You could have never left me at all. Why do it then, for fun? Because you were sick of me, even though I was too small to know what you were doing?” Agatha winces like she’s been slapped. “I didn’t want to leave you! I had a coven, a coven with strict rules, and they made me give you up. I didn’t know who you were until a week or so ago when you arrived here, I swear it. I would have found you long ago had I known.”

Y/N’s breathing is harsh in their chest. “Do you mean it? You would have stayed with me?” Agatha nods. “Leaving you was one of my worst regrets. It haunted me every day.” Y/N stands there, as if in a trance, then rushes over, flinging their arms around their mother. Agatha seems frozen in place, then slowly wraps her arms around her child to return the embrace. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never meant for this to happen.” Y/N nods. “I know. It’s alright now.”

Cameras return with a shower of ruby sparks. Scene opens in the Maximoff-L/N family kitchen.

Tommy is standing alone at the kitchen table, fixing himself a peanut butter sandwich. His brother is off in his room, trying to teach himself a new card trick he’d seen their Uncle Pietro do once. Y/N walks into the kitchen, and glances over at their son. “How’s the sandwich?” Tommy nods, his face a mask of complete concentration. “I have to get it just right. The perfect sandwich is key to the perfect day.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “I can understand that. How do you know it’s perfect?” 

Tommy carefully smears a last dollop of peanut butter onto his sandwich, reverently placing the two pieces of bread together. “I just know. With the right toastiness of the bread, and the crunchy peanut butter, perfectness was practically inevitable.” He snaps his fingers in satisfaction. Y/N flinches, staring at Tommy’s hand. Inevitable. The snap. Wait-

Another hand is snapping its fingers, another hand clad in a large golden glove. No, it was not a glove but a gauntlet. It’s not Y/N’s hand this time, it’s someone else’s, and someone else’s voice declaring that they were inevitable. And then there’s a voice coming from behind the figure, who whirls around in outrage, and it must be Y/N’s voice speaking now. Y/N replies, but most importantly they snap their fingers as well, the cloud of purple magic over their hand lit up by six gems spangled into the gauntlet on their own hand, and-

Wanda walks into the room again, forcing Y/N to return to the present moment. Wanda takes in the sight of Y/N, about to head through the door. “Where are you heading in such a rush?” She asks. “I was heading to Agnes’, actually.” Y/N says, and Wanda frowns. “Why do you keep bringing up Agnes? First at the picnic, then again here. I mean, she’s just our neighbour, right?” Y/N glances over at her. “Does it really matter? I just want to see her.” Y/N starts to turn away towards the door, but Wanda reaches out an arm to block their path. “Actually, I was thinking we should have a talk. Let’s go into the other room.”

Wanda’s hand is enclosed around Y/N’s wrist, practically dragging them away into a spare bedroom. Once the door is shut behind them, Y/N snatches their hand back from Wanda’s grip. “What’s gotten into you?” Wanda scowls. “What’s gotten into me? Y/N, you’ve been acting very strangely the last couple of days. I think you need to relax.” The word seems charged with some sort of energy, and Y/N takes a step back, as if to avoid it. “Are you trying to mind control me?”

Wanda’s lips tighten. “Why would I do that?” She says, forcing a laugh. Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Well, of all the ways to deny mind control, I have to say that was the least convincing.” Wanda folds her arms across her chest. “You sound paranoid. Why would I want to control your mind?” Y/N starts to pace back and forth across the room. “That’s the problem- I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of things, actually.” Y/N stops walking, and faces Wanda again. “I can’t remember anything about my life before we got to Westview. I know about my powers, and I know about you, but that’s it. Why is everything else a blank?”

Wanda frowns. “Aren’t I enough for you?”  Y/N sighs. “You’re more than enough, Wanda, which is why it hadn’t occurred to me before now. I just keep feeling like something is wrong, and I need to wake up and figure out what it is, but every time I try I feel like you’re always there to stop me from remembering.” Wanda’s concerned expression shifts into a colder stare. “Don’t try to make me the villain. I will always care about you most of all, before anyone.” Y/N can’t return her gaze. “I wish I could believe that, but I keep starting to remember things. I think something happened to me, but I can’t remember what it was. You won’t let me remember what it was.”

Wanda’s eyes flash with ice. “I will do what I want. I’m doing everything to protect you, and I don’t know why you can’t be content with that.” Y/N’s face hardens. “I can’t trust you anymore, Wanda. You won’t let me.” Y/N strides to the door, throws it open. “I’d come up with one last snappy comeback for the show, but I suppose you’re in charge of all the scenes, aren’t you?” With that, Y/N storms away, leaving Wanda standing there in shocked anger.

Cameras focus on Wanda, who is reassuring the twins that everything is fine. Cameras do not pick up Y/N L/N, who is moving quickly towards the barriers of the town.

Y/N’s blood is pumping through their veins, surges of adrenaline making their eyes glow violet with power. There’s something on the tip of their tongue, a discovery that needs to be made. So, Y/N heads for the edge of town, towards the street where they first arrived in Westview. As they approach the city limits, Y/N’s head tilts up in awe. There’s a line designating the edge of town, and beyond that, a tall barrier glistening with magic. No other human would have been able to see it, but the magic of centuries of witches run through Y/N, and their eyes can pick up details that no one else can see.

Y/N comes to a stop in front of the town boundary, and reaches out a hand. Where their fingers touch the barrier, scarlet light is replaced by indigo. With a movement of their hands, Y/N draws aside the barrier as if it were a curtain, the light changing into purple wherever she walks. Through the boundary, Y/N can see the town beyond, but it lacks the charming simplicity of Westview- instead, there are armored vehicles and encampments, all of them military. Scores of soldiers stand guard, watching her approach. Just as Y/N fully steps through the boundary, however, they collapse to the ground.

Pain swirls around Y/N like a storm. As Y/N watches, fragments of their very being begin to drift away. It’s as if Y/N is being eroded by time itself, a statue being carried away to dust and rubble in the span of seconds. There’s a shout from across the encampment, and a woman with dark hair runs up to her. The woman - Darcy, Y/N can read her mind - is restrained by guards, but in a weakened gesture Y/N uses her abilities to pull the soldiers away from her. Darcy sprints up to Y/N, but she seems unable to save them. Y/N croaks out a question. “What happened to me?” Tears fill Darcy’s eyes. “You died in the battle against Thanos. You sacrificed yourself to save all of us.” As Y/N hears Darcy’s words, a sense of clarity seems to enter them, and Y/N’s eyes clear at last, even as her body breaks down into shards of pure magical energy.

Cameras stay on the Maximoff-L/N home, where Wanda and Agnes sit with the twins. Recordings do not pick up the incident currently occurring on the Westview boundary.

Billy turns to his mother suddenly. “Mom, something’s wrong with Y/N. I can hear their thoughts in my head.” Wanda looks up at him. “What do you mean?” Billy looks terrified. “Y/N’s in pain, so much pain. I can hear them screaming. Mom, I think Y/N is about to die.” Wanda and Agnes both rise at the same time, expressions of terror mirroring each other. Agnes murmurs something about having to go, and she quickly disappears out the door while Wanda does her best to locate her spouse. Wanda flings out her arms, eyes flashing scarlet with the magnitude of the power she is about to use. Around Westview, the boundary begins to expand.

As soon as Agatha closes the front door behind her, she instantly vanishes, appearing in the space near the boundary. She stares with an open mouth as the barrier surrounding the town glows an angry crimson, and glides forward across the ground. After a second, the boundary leaves behind a single body, lying alone in the grass. Agatha runs to it, and has to choke back a scream at the sight of her child.

Y/N should have healed. They should have started healing, they should not be in this much disrepair. Y/N is lying crumpled on the ground, watching their body begin to disintegrate away. Agatha kneels over her child. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you getting better?” Y/N smiles up at her. “The power of the Infinity Stones cannot be undone forever. I was called to die long ago, and Wanda can’t reform me for much longer.” Agatha shakes her head, tears starting to course down her cheeks. “I’m not ready to let you go. Not yet. I just found you.”

Y/N’s eyes glow with warmth, and they place a trembling hand on Agatha’s cheek. “We were never supposed to meet, so any hour together was already on borrowed time. I’m grateful to have this much.” Y/N’s head tilts to the side, as if listening to an approaching sound. “Wanda is coming. You’ll have to go before she gets here, because she doesn’t know who you really are.” Agatha is shaking her head in refusal. “I can’t leave you here. I can’t let you die.” Y/N’s hand clasps onto Agatha’s, gripping it tightly. “None of us can really die, not forever. I’ll stick around, even if it’s on the other side. Now go, before it’s too late.” Agatha takes in one last look at her child, then vanishes into the empty air, just as Wanda bursts into view on Y/N’s other side.

Wanda falls to the ground beside Y/N. “I didn’t want this to happen. I should have told you everything. Y/N, you-” Y/N cuts her off gently. “It’s alright, Wanda. I know. I died at the battle against Thanos, and I would like nothing more than to be able to come back and stay here with you, but life has a way of not always following through.” For a second, the dying Avenger thinks it’s raining, until Y/N realizes that it’s just Wanda’s tears falling onto their cheeks.

Wanda forces back a sob as she watches Y/N’s body begin to dissolve away. “What do I tell the boys when you don’t return? How are we supposed to keep going?” Y/N smiles at her, pure and lacking in the bittersweet tinge that had always tainted it before. “The boys will have you, and that’s all any of us needed. You’re the one that will always matter, Wanda, even after I’m gone. I knew that when I met you, and I’ll know it even after I close my eyes.”

Wanda leans over, presses her forehead to Y/N’s. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.” Y/N laughs, the sound slightly tinny as their chest turns to ash. “I love you too. I’ll see you soon.” Wanda closes her eyes and kisses Y/N softly. When she opens her eyes again, she is kneeling alone in the middle of a grassy field. Y/N has finally been laid to rest.

Cameras begin to refocus on the Maximoff-L/N home, but there’s a flash of scarlet and they turn off, disappearing into the night. They are no longer necessary. Wanda leaves the studio, tears still drying on her cheeks. It is time to rebuild.

wanda maximoff tag list: @mionemymind​

[nsheetee]

20cm

Pairing: Jisung x Reader Genre: Childhood Friends to Lovers AU, Summer Love AU || Angst, Fluff Length: 7.3k Summary: You and Jisung were childhood friends for several years before he moved away. When Jisung comes back to visit for a summer years later, you realize he’s grown taller, his voice has dropped, and it’s almost impossible not to fall in love with him. Warnings/Details: female reader, inspired by “20cm” by TXT A/N: a big thank you to @kmdys​ for making the banner and the gif! I hope everyone enjoys this fic ♡

Making sure to read the epilogue, Love Again, when you’re done!

Warm summer air never felt better than when riding a bike in the late afternoon. The air caresses your hair and carries the smell of wheat from the fields that are on your left and right. It takes all of your might not to close your eyes at the relaxing and restful feeling of summer break, especially now that you’ll never be going back to school again; that chapter of your life now ended and the next is slowly beginning.

You languidly pedal your rusty green bike, mindful to not ride into the gravel next to the road so that you don’t come home with a bloody knee and bruised apples. The bright green granny smiths sit in your basket, two fabric bags encompassing them. Your neighbors grow some of the best apples in the county, and it’s a dream to be able to ride over to their house and pick up a dozen for the apple pie your mom will make for dessert tonight.

At the thought of tonight’s events, your heart springs into light thuds, like a little bell that signals to your heart the beginning of your future.

Jisung, your old childhood friend, will be coming back to town for a few weeks this summer.

You never thought you would see him again, his moving away almost five years ago brought you so much sadness and the displacement of your closest friend. Jisung was the person you’d sit next to at lunch. You always gave him your carrots and in return he gave you his strawberry milk, puncturing the straw into the bottle for you. He was the one who walked you home after school; the wheat fields were so much younger back then, just like the two of you.

He was the one who made you laugh, who took all of your teasing about how much shorter he was than you, who consoled you when your pet frog died in 7th grade. He was your best friend, someone who’ll always hold a special place in your heart.

When your rusty tires roll up your long driveway, you see an unknown parked car, and your heart jumps to your throat, nerves and excitement filling you from fingertips to toes.

He’s here. Your childhood best friend is here.

Slowly stopping your bike and setting it down on the grass, you pick up the two fabric bags of apples and slowly walk up the porch stairs, your heart pounding in your throat when the screen door opens. You stop on the top stair, looking up at the boy— no, young man, who has just walked onto the porch.

“Hey, ___.” Jisung chuckles lowly. You’re sure you look stupefied. Jisung stands less than a yard away, biting his bottom lip with hands shoved into his short pockets. Has it always been this quiet on the porch? You can’t even hear the birds chirping or the cows in the farm across the street mooing.

“Jisung?” You finally speak up and he laughs, a deep and boyish laugh that fits him, but it’s not what you’re used to hearing come out of his mouth.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Out of habit, you take a step back, for some reason needing to make more space between you two. Unfortunately, you forget about the stairs behind you and yelp as you begin to fall backwards. Jisung takes two big strides and catches your wrist in one hand, stopping you from falling down the stairs. Despite the possibility of you almost spraining your ankle or hitting your head in the last few seconds, you can only think about Jisung’s large hand gripping yours.

“You saved the apples.” You chuckle nervously, rolling your lips between your teeth when Jisung doesn’t laugh back.

“I saved you, bumble bee.” He pulls you up to the porch. Now that you’re closer, you can’t stop looking over the features of his face; his tanned skin, and pink lips, and the laugh lines that are starting to crease the sides of his eyes. It’s like the more you stare, the more features you can find that you’re not familiar with.

“You still remember that nickname?” You ask, holding your precious apples in both hands in front of you.

“Of course. How could I ever forget you?”

It’s a few hours later, and you still haven’t gotten over how much Jisung has changed. You examine him under the ceiling light of your dining room, the way his now dirty blonde hair reflects the artificial light and how much baby fat he lost from his face. Not to mention the size of his hands as he pops open a soda can for you and helps pour it into your glass, his skillful hands mesmerizing you in an almost embarrassing way.

“I’m so glad you’re back in town. I’ve missed you guys like crazy, and I’m sure ___ missed Jisung, too.” Your mom speaks up, the mention of your name making you rip your attention off of your childhood friend to focus on the other side of the dining table.

“O-Oh, yes. I was… very surprised earlier.” The adults laugh, acknowledging your comment on Jisung’s changes from over the past few years.

“By the way, have you guys made plans for the next few days yet?” Your mom asks you and Jisung while forcefully adding more salad to your plate, your fork of defense no match for her skillful aiming.

“No, not yet.” Jisung answers.

“Great! You guys should help Uncle Henry pick strawberries tomorrow. You guys used to love picking strawberries every summer with him.” Your fork stops moving, sending a glance to Jisung’s way at your mother’s proposition.

“Sure, why not.” Jisung smiles. Despite being five years older and a whole foot taller, Jisung’s shy and bashful actions make him seem like he hasn’t aged a day. You go back to forking your carrots, eventually they find their way to the edge of Jisung’s plate.

“What’s this?” He asks with a muffled laugh, “My welcome present?”

“Oh,” You realize just how many wavy carrot slices you’ve piled on his plate and laugh awkwardly, “Sorry, I guess it’s still one of my habits. I know you love carrots.”

“Actually, I hate carrots now.” Jisung scrunches his nose and forks the vegetables, putting them back on your plate, “They’re too hard.”

You stare at your plate, wondering why his comment pulled a string in you and made your heart fall to the bottom of your stomach. Then you remember it has been five years. Of course his preferences would have changed in that time. But why are you getting upset over some carrots?

“Did you guys plan anything during your stay?” Your attention is once again drawn to the other side of the table as your mother speaks.

“We were thinking of hanging around for a couple weeks, then going to the beach like we always did during the summer.” Jisung’s mother answers, and then gasps as she turns to you, “___, you should come with us!”

“Me?” Your eyebrows rise in surprise, “Oh, I don’t want to intrude…”

“Oh, hush, you always used to visit the beach house with us. It wouldn’t be the same without you and you know it.” You move two carrot slices around your plate, feeling Jisung’s gaze hit the side of your head and his knee rest against yours under the table.

“Okay, yeah. I’d love to come.”

After sharing a slice of apple pie, you and Jisung walk to the back porch to witness the blazing sunset that sets over Uncle Henry’s strawberry field, which is coincidentally neighboring your backyard. Jisung looks up; the fresh summer air ruffles his shirt and hair as he takes in the sound of grasshoppers a few feet away. The moon lovingly gazes at the setting sun from the other side of the sky.

You walk past him down the stairs, still trying to figure out your new feelings towards Jisung. The hammering of your heart and the sweating of your palms was never an issue around your best friend, but neither has the awkwardness that strings between you two. You wonder what else has changed about Jisung within the past five years. You want to ask, but you feel like there’s an invisible wall that time and distance has built between you two.

You never expected you and Jisung to go back to the way you were before he moved away, but you didn’t know your relationship would be so different. That he would be so different. That you would feel so different.

“Is that-” Jisung gasps, “Is that your old swing?” He looks past you, walking down the stairs and to the rope swing that hangs off of a sturdy branch on the old oak tree in your backyard. “Come here! I’ll push you.” He laughs as he reaches the swing, testing the security of it before you sit down. You shake your earlier thoughts and feelings away, wanting to just spend some time with your old and dear friend.

“Do you remember when I pushed you off of this once?” You ask as Jisung gains some momentum, pushing you higher and higher into the sky. “And you broke your finger?” You call back to him, hoping he hears you.

“Of course, I remember.” You hear his melodic laughter in return, “I remember you crying because you thought you killed me since I had to go to the hospital.” You laugh in return, reminiscing your silly worries at the time. You let Jisung push you some more, your hair getting caught in your mouth and your skin cooling off from flying around your backyard. Eventually Jisung slows you down, and you’re only idly swaying back and forth as he watches the sunset bleed into the sky.

“There’s never these types of sunsets where I live now.” He muses, “I never thought this would be something I missed.”

“Did you miss me?” You tease, fingers wrapping around the rope to support yourself as you bend your head back to look at him. He steps forward, so close that you have to sit up straight and turn to face him properly. His hands find the rope, gently sliding down as he leans to your height.

Nothing prepared you for the butterflies that erupted in your stomach when his pinkies touch your hands, or how clear and glassy his eyes are when they look over your face. Could that look on his face be adoration? Affection? Or are you just getting your hopes up? He’s barely twenty centimeters away, yet he feels closer to you than ever before.

“In all honesty, when I stepped foot into this town, I felt like a little kid again.” He whispers over the grasshopper’s chirps, “I mean, I’m still a kid, but you know what I mean.” He laughs, and you’re paralyzed by how soft his cheeks look while raised up in happiness like that. “I feel like I walked into my past in an older body, and I have never been more thankful to see you here waiting for me.” He nods, solidifying his words, “I missed you a lot, bumble bee.”

The humidity rises the next morning, the sun is moving slowly through the sky and showers its rays down on everyone below. You think maybe it’s not a good idea to pick strawberries today, but Jisung’s excitement makes you put on some rubber boots and a sun hat, and guide him to Uncle Henry’s farm.

Uncle Henry, despite his name, is not your uncle, but rather an old man who has grown strawberries in this large field behind your house for over twenty years. Even though he’s old and his back is crooked, he does not plan to stop farming any time soon. Picking strawberries was your way of helping Uncle Henry when you were a child and he enjoyed the company of youth, saying it made him feel younger whenever you and Jisung would joke around with him.

“My God, I never thought I’d see the two of you together again.” He exclaims when you two walk to his porch, “How has city life been treating you, Jisung?” The old man asks as he hands out some baskets and you start making your way to the strawberry fields.

“It was different at first, but I got used to it pretty quickly.”

“You still remember how to find a good strawberry, right?” Uncle Henry jokes and Jisung nods, assuring him he still remembers how to do the job. “So, how did you finish school? Were you at the top of your class?” Uncle Henry muses as he finds a good place to start picking.

“Uh,” Jisung laughs curtly as you all bend down to the ground, “Not really, I was too busy dancing to worry about school.” You and Uncle Henry stand up straight at Jisung’s words, looking down at him still crouching.

“Dancing?” You both ask at the same time. When Jisung lived here, he never spoke a word about dancing. You would’ve never guessed that’s what he spent most of his time on during high school.

“Yeah, I was on my school’s dance team and did some underground dancing on the side. But don’t tell my parents that.” He holds up a finger to his lips in a “shush” motion and Uncle Henry erupts in gulfs of laughter, patting Jisung on his back as they both get back to work. You, on the other hand, are still dazed by Jisung’s story. It makes your thoughts from the night before come back to the forefront of your mind.

Jisung has changed so much in the past few years. It’s almost like getting to know a whole new person, but still having so many memories with them. That singular thought kept you up last night, tossing and turning in confusion. Something in you wants to learn more about the Jisung who stands next to you.

The smell of strawberries is almost suffocating in the best possible way. Sweat glides down your back and makes your shirt stick to you, your work gloves make your hands sweaty too, but hearing Uncle Henry and Jisung talk about anything and everything under the sun reminds you of a slice of youth, back when things were much simpler and you weren’t even aware of it.

It’s strange how different you and Jisung are; from growing up so much in the past few years and changing your views and tastes, but in the small strawberry field, you feel like time hasn’t passed at all. It tricks you, making your heart feel secure everytime you look over at Jisung and see him smiling like a fool.

You forgot how fun picking strawberries with Uncle Henry and Jisung is. They love to pull at the strings of your sunhat to puff out your cheeks, and Jisung lets you piggyback him while moving from one area of the field to another to relax your feet. Slowly, you and Jisung remember what it’s like to be around each other. You remember how well your humor matches each other and how you can almost guess what the other is thinking with one look. Out of all the things that have changed about Jisung, you’re glad this part of him has not.

At noon, when the sun is the highest in the sky and the humidity feels like it’s burning you from its intensity, Uncle Henry tells you to go home and eat so that you’ll be energized to pick some more fruits later that afternoon. You walk back to your house through the strawberries field, careful to not step on any plants as you do so. Jisung takes off your sun hat, turning it upside down and filling it with fresh strawberries from the ground. You don’t complain about the loss of shade, and you’re sure Uncle Henry won’t mind you stealing some strawberries either.

Instead of going inside, you and Jisung wash the fruits outside and sit under your beloved oak tree, the shade providing a pleasant difference from the beating sun you spent all morning under. You knock your boot against Jisung’s as you both sit with your legs in front of you, sunhat filled with bright red strawberries sharing a place on both of your laps.

“Ahhh.” Jisung says, holding a strawberry next to your lips. You laugh, but open your mouth anyway and he pops the fruit in. You do the same to him, laughing when the strawberry you picked is too big for him to eat in one mouthful.

“Do I seem older to you?” You ask, swatting a bug off of Jisung’s shoulder, not making eye contact with him. Your thoughts from yesterday and earlier this morning still haunt you. The difference now being that you’re less worried about Jisung feeling weird since you spent the whole morning chatting and interacting together.

“What do you mean?” He looks for a good strawberry to feed you.

“Do I seem different from the last time you saw me?” If Jisung has grown up and changed so much in the past five years, that means you should have, too.

“Oh, definitely. You’re prettier than before.” A momentary silence falls over the two of you. Your cheeks heat up, this time not from the direct sunlight, and Jisung thinks he said something wrong. “I mean, you were pretty before. But now, you seem to know yourself better and that makes you look prettier to me.”

He holds up a strawberry to your lips again. “Does that make any sense?”

You eat the fruit, nodding afterwards. “I get what you’re saying.”

“Why?” You pause at his question, unsure if you want to tell him the truth, the partial truth, or lie. At one point, you could’ve talked to Jisung about anything. But at that same point, you were only fourteen years old and didn’t really have anything serious to talk about. So, you decide on option two.

“You grew up a lot in the past five years and everyone was talking about it. I wondered if I had changed, too.” You let some of your fears show in your words, and Jisung smiles adoringly at you. You don’t catch his loving gaze as you pick at your sun hat. Jisung tickles the bottom of your chin, making you look up as he leans into you on one arm.

“We both changed a lot, definitely with the things we like and how we look, but I don’t think we changed that much as people. You didn’t transform completely into someone I don’t know.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because even five years later, you’re still clumsy enough to step backwards on the stairs and you still have that mellow look on your face whenever we pick strawberries.” Jisung explains with a shrug. You don’t say anything back, biting the inside of your lip as Jisung moves you to rest your head on his lap. “You look sleepy, bumble bee. Rest. You deserve it.”

He waves your empty sunhat to create some wind, fanning warm air at both of you while you close your eyes and try not to fall asleep on his lap. His words don’t comfort you, instead they make you think even harder about the thoughts that kept you up last night. If neither of you have changed in the past five years, why is your heart fluttering at the sight of Jisung? Why does your gaze fall back to him any chance you get? Why do you feel so alert at his presence?

And the most important question of them all: are you feeling these things towards your childhood friend, or for the boy that has you resting in his lap? Because you’re starting to think he is not one and the same.

Uncle Henry always told you and Jisung that the best thing about farming is to share what you’ve grown with other people, otherwise your effort could be meaningless. And what’s a better way to share than with a farmer’s market?

After finishing picking strawberries with Uncle Henry, he invited you and Jisung to the framer’s market that would open Saturday morning. Since you and Jisung had nothing else to do, you woke up early and got yourselves ready to head over to Uncle Henry’s place to help him load his truck.

You’ve gone to several farmer’s markets before, but you’ve never had the opportunity to sit on the other side of the table. The side that sees little kids smile when their parents buy them bunches of grapes, that sees the eldery who look forward to the market all week just to try on hand-crafted jewelry, adorning smiles brighter than the summer sun. It’s all so energetic and loud and it fills your heart to the brim with content.

You don’t even notice that half of the day has passed by when you get to sit down in a lawn chair by Uncle Henry’s truck. Jisung plops down next to you, rubbing his calf muscle to get rid of any tension from standing up for so long, but a permanent smile rests on his lips.

“Ah, you kids helped me out so much. Go enjoy the rest of the market for today.” Uncle Henry hands you and Jisung a carton of strawberries.

“Will you be okay by yourself?” Jisung asks with worry.

“I’ll manage. I can’t let you kids not spend some time together.” With the tone of Uncle Henry’s voice, you tilt your head in confusion. You don’t get to think about the look he sends you and Jisung for too long because you’re being pulled away from the stand and into the crowd on the other side of your table.

“Where should we go first, bumble bee?” Jisung asks, popping a rich strawberry into his mouth. You don’t answer because you can already see where you want to go. Like a habit, you interlock your arm with Jisung and pull him to a honey stand. As you look on to see several mason jars filled to the brim with sweet honey, Jisung pops a strawberry in your mouth.

“You two kids want some honey or are you just gonna keep staring like a pair of honey bears?” You and Jisung simultaneously turn to who you presume is the owner of the stand. She laughs at your synchronous movement and nods towards the strawberries. “Let me give you guys some sweetener.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I was just looking because I didn’t know there was a bee farm in town.” You explain, but the lady opens a fresh jar of honey anyway, the smell pulling you and Jisung closer to the table.

“I’m from a few towns over. There’s not a lot of competition here for honey, so I think the car ride is worth it.” She drips the thick liquid sugar over your strawberries with a honey dipper, making yours and Jisung’s mouths almost water at the sight and smell. “Plus, you guys are such a cute couple, you deserve something sweet.”

You almost choke on air at the comment, now hyper aware of Jisung’s arm folded into yours. Jisung doesn’t seem to mind the comment as much as you, smiling his gummy smile and lending a strawberry for the owner of the stall to taste.

While Jisung is having the time of his life, you’re only a short ways away, sweating about how your stomach is doing acrobatics and how your heart won’t shut up. It’s been a few days since your shared moment with Jisung under the oak tree in your backyard, and you’ve felt more like yourself when you haven’t been this close to him.

But when you feel yourself react like this, some twisted part of you never wants it to stop. You want the acrobats in your stomach to keep moving, you like the way your heart screams in delight at the sight of Jisung’s smile. It confuses you and enlightens you at the same time. You’ve never been so perplexed yet so peaceful in your life.

Jisung has to pull you away from the honey stall, saying a goodbye to the nice seller and walking further into the market.

“Where to now?” He asks, taking a moment to lift a strawberry to your lips. You eat it, not noticing how the thick honey melts onto your lips. But Jisung notices, and it takes everything in his right mind to not lift his thumb up and drag it over your soft lips.

You hum, looking around the area while getting your head out of the clouds. You see a blaze of reds, oranges, and blues and your heart tells you that’s where you want to go. As you pull Jisung closer to the stall, the blend of colors turn into individual flowers. The smell hits you harder than any other stall; you feel like you’re transported to the field where these flowers were picked.

“Which one do you like?” Jisung asks and you point to a striking batch of blue cornflowers. Your eyes have been pinned to them from the second you saw this specific shade of blue out of the corner of your eye.

“How much for a bouquet of cornflowers?” Jisung steps forward to ask the seller.

“$10.” Jisung sucks a breath in between his teeth, remembering that he barely has any money to begin with.

“What about… just one?” The seller laughs at Jisung, not in a condescending way, but out of joy.

“Is it for your girlfriend?” The seller tilts his head at you. Once again, you’re left breathless by the second person who has assumed you and Jisung are dating.

‘Your girlfriend.’ What an interesting feeling the words bring to your soul.

“Yeah.”

Oh.

“Then I’ll take those strawberries for one cornflower.”

“Deal.”

Jisung knows the deal is not fair on his part, but walking over to you with the flower in his hand and seeing your eyes light up is so worth losing a few strawberries. Little does he know, your reaction is not for the flower, but for him. Jisung rips the long stem, his warm fingers stabilizing your head by placing them on your jaw. He whispers a “don’t move” while tucking the flower behind your ear, his gaze slipping from the charming and bright blue flower to your sparkling eyes, his gentle fingers lingering in their spot.

In the busy farmer’s market, with hundreds of people moving around you like busy bees, sights and smells hitting you from different directions, and the never ending summer sun gazing into your irises, you can still only look at Jisung. He can only look at you. You captivate each other and it’s not something you, him, or the people around you can deny. It’s a fact of nature, and the sweet truth that you bite into like a strawberry.

Unfortunately, things were not tied up perfectly that day.

You didn’t get to talk to Jisung once you got back to Uncle Henry’s stall, your hands that were practically tied together unwoven the moment you saw the old man. The week and a half that followed was a whirlwind of Jisung and his family trying to shove as many things as they could do in a day. From going to the lake, to visiting the limited amount of sights the area has, to saying hello to the people who missed them while they were gone.

You barely saw Jisung for that time, and when you did it was while surrounded by your families, only secret looks of sweetness passed between you two. It was fun at first, playing coy and drifting between making your feelings obvious and not, but after a few days, you just wanted to spend some time with Jisung and work out the feelings between you two.

And then, the day to go to the beach came.

You were glad that you accepted the Parks’ invitation to join them at the beach house. Not only has the weather become even more humid and hotter as the days krept along, but the lack of rainfall or even a mist from the sky made it unbearable to go outside for long.

You sat in the backseat with Jisung while his parents sat in the front of their van, a box of beach towels sitting between you two. You would glance at Jisung from behind the stack of colorful towels, meeting his shy gaze before looking away.

You love the beach. The smell of sea salt and sand makes you close your eyes and stand still, taking in the ambiance of the seemingly never ending water in front of you. You take off your socks and shoes before stepping onto the sand, the therapeutic landscape making you feel one hundred times better when you didn’t even know the extent of your own disarray. You arrived at the beach house later than expected, the sun has already set behind the horizon and only its light shines over the waves. You don’t hear Jisung walking up behind you until you feel someone tapping on your shoulder.

You turn to look but see no one, immediately turning over your other shoulder to catch Jisung standing behind you with a bright smile.

“Gotcha.” He laughs, making you giggle along with him, not minding the small prank.

“I thought you were supposed to be unpacking your things?”

“I snuck out. I can finish it later.” Jisung waves his hand carelessly, turning to the ocean. You both fall into silence, it’s comfortable and not completely quiet, the sound of waves hitting the shore and the stars poking out into the sky filling in the empty space between you. You dig your big toe into the sand, drawing random shapes that have no rhyme or reason. Jisung notices and joins you; his pants are rolled up a bit and his shoes are off, laying next to yours a few feet away.

“Hold on.” He stops you from moving by placing his hands on your shoulders, then moving away from you and tracing big lines in the sand around you. You follow his foot with your eyes, heating up when he finishes his picture and tip toes to stand in front of you.

“It’s a heart.” You mumble bashfully, not being able to look up at him.

“Yeah, it’s my heart. Big and spacious, and you’re right in the middle of it.” The suddenness of his indirect confession makes your heart pound. You look up at him in surprise and he takes quick steps closer to you.

You’re not that far away anymore. You’re not even twenty centimeters away. No, you’re only one breath away, only one deep gaze away, only two heartbeats beating loudly away from each other.

Jisung kisses your lips, a small peck, and then moves back to gage your reaction. When you look at him, wide eyed and a splutter of laughter leaving your body, he’s confused.

“Was that a mistake?” You ask. Jisung is about to lie and say that yes, it was, but instead he shakes his head.

“No. I meant it.”

“Then come here and prove it to me.” Under the shade of night, Jisung gently grabs your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours as he kisses you again, this time with more purpose. He pulls away, still trying to figure out your reaction, his hooded eyes curious and excited and all on you.

You pull him back to you using your interlocked hands and kiss him again and again and again. He tastes like honey and feels as plush as cotton. You never want this feeling to stop, you don’t even want to remember what it was like to live without Jisung’s lips on yours. You never want to let go.

The few days spent at the beach were no doubt some of the best days of your summer. You don’t think you left Jisung’s side the whole time, and it didn’t look like he minded too much. Mornings were spent walking along the shore of the beach just as the sun came up over the horizon. You collected seashells of different sizes and colors and gave them to each other as presents.

The days were spent exploring the town or lazing around the beach house with some lemonade, Jisung’s chest under your head as you napped the day away with the sunlight streaming in through the window as your only time keeper. Nights were spent eating delicious food with Jisung’s parents, sneaking out to the balcony to share secret kisses that had you both loving the feeling of doing something daring and exciting.

But as quickly as Jisung came to your side, he just as quickly left.

Your journey back to your home felt shorter than when you were going to the beach, and you almost didn’t want to ever come back, happy enough to stay at the beach with Jisung for the rest of the summer, or even your life. This is when you and Jisung realized what dead end you both walked into.

“Jisung, you can leave your bags in the car.” Jisung looks up at his dad from attempting to tug his suitcase out of the trunk.

“What?”

“We’re leaving to go home tomorrow morning, you don’t need to dig out your suitcase.” And with that, Jisung’s parents leave you both by the car, staring after their retreating figures. 

A part of you knew this was coming from the very beginning. From the first day you saw Jisung, from the day you spent picking strawberries, from the day you spent at the farmer’s market, and from the kiss on the beach. You knew it would all end tomorrow, but you decided to erase that fact. You fell so deeply for Jisung in the past few weeks that time didn’t seem real. Now, time is going to be the deciding factor of the relationship you and Jisung have created.

“Bumble bee…” Jisung trails off, shutting the trunk of the van and stepping closer to you.

“It’s been three weeks already? I didn’t even notice.” How do you fall in love with someone so quickly? Maybe you always loved Jisung, but you only now realized it. Why is time playing such a cruel trick on you?

“What do we do?” You turn to face Jisung. He sees the tears that are falling down your cheeks, unknowing to you, and gently wipes them away with his thumb. His touch gives you comfort, and so it’s almost impossible for you to pull away from him. You know you have to stay away now, no matter how much it hurts you.

“You have to leave, and I have to stay. I guess this… ends here.”

“Don’t say that.” You’ve never heard Jisung answer so quickly, or so sternly, before.

“What else am I supposed to say? How will this work out when I’m not even sure when I’ll see you again?” You sigh frustratedly, “We should’ve never done this.”

“Stop it.” Jisung’s face twists in agony, his deep voice unusually fragile sounding. Your heart pains to see him like this, but a part of your mind wants you to continue, knowing that this is for Jisung’s own good. As if he can tell there is a battle going on inside you, he steps closer, tiling your chin up to meet your eyes with his own teary ones.

“Please, hear me out.” He says, and when you don’t move, he continues. “I haven’t known how special you are to me until these past few weeks. Your words and your touch and your little hands, too.” His voice cracks as he takes your smaller hand in both of his and looks at how perfectly it fits into his own. “I was so shocked to see you again for the first time in years, but I was more shocked at how much we both changed. But still, you’re the same person I remember from when we were younger, and I thought that meant we were perfect for each other. That even time couldn’t keep us apart.”

You can’t help your bottom lip from quivering at his words. He stutters and cracks his voice, but his conviction is present and it has your knees shaking.

“I was so shocked that you’re still the same bumble bee that I know and love. I was so shocked that I looked at you and my heart ran wild. I was so shocked that my shoulders have grown to fit you perfectly between them.” He pulls you right in front of him, unable to move anywhere else. “You belong here in my arms, with me. We’re just a step away, a handspan from me to you, just twenty centimeters apart. Please, we can solve this.”

He waits among the chirping of the birds and the sway of the wheat from the light wind. Sweat rolls down his cheek and the sun creates an orange tint on your face, illuminating your eyes and lightening your hair. He’ll never forget how pretty you looked when you broke his heart.

“I’m sorry, Jisung. I think fate is pulling us apart. Who are we to go against that?” You counter, leaving Jisung stunned by your answer to his heart-felt confession. Your mind wins the war, and your hands leave his as you turn and walk away. Taking these few steps away from him and to your home is hard, you feel like you’re walking through mud— through heavy lovesickness just to get away from him. Your heart keeps singing to turn around and run back to him, to fall into the space between his arms and never leave.

But you keep walking, up the porch stairs and to your room. Your heart hurts, and Jisung’s heart hurts even more.

“Did you already say goodbye to Jisung and his family?” Is the first thing your mother asks when you walk down the stairs the next day. She’s washing dishes, her back facing away from you, and therefore not noticing the gloomy look on your face.

“Yeah…” You lie, feeling your chest constrict with the sounds of car doors opening and closing outside. Jisung and his family must be getting ready to leave. You know they had breakfast before completely packing up and going home, but you couldn’t make yourself walk down the stairs to join them, unsure of how to face Jisung after rejecting him so harshly.

“Oh, that’s good. It was so nice of them to visit us.” Your mother speaks casually. She doesn’t know that all of her words etch cracks into your heart.

“Is there something you needed from me?”

“Oh, right. Can you take this money to Uncle Henry?” She nods to an envelope on the counter, “For some strawberries we bought from him.” You don’t say another word, snatching the envelope and putting on your rubber boots to walk through the strawberry field. “You should take an umbrella, it looks like it’ll rain.”

“I’ll be gone for a minute, it’ll be okay.” You mumble to her before closing the back door of your house and marching to Uncle Henry’s. The weather outside feels weird. For what seems like the first time this summer, the sun is hidden by gray clouds, but the hot air sticks still to your skin like cling wrap. It feels uncomfortable and irritating to you, or maybe that’s just because of your disposition today. You knock on Uncle Henry’s door, waiting for a minute before he opens up.

“Hello, this is from my mother.” You try to act polite, but you can’t help your harsh mood speak through your words. Uncle Henry looks like he doesn’t care, but gives you a confused look.

“Thank you. Isn’t today Jisung’s last day here?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I thought you would be more happy today.” His words confuse you.

“Why would I be happy?” You blink at him. He laughs wholeheartedly at your response before looking up at the ceiling of his porch as he reminisces.  

“I remember when you and Jisung came here to help me pick strawberries, you went back to the house to get water and I chatted with Jisung for a bit. About you.” You shift on your feet as your heart starts to speed up. “I made him promise that if nothing happens between you two during the time he’s here, that he’ll definitely confess his feelings for you before he leaves today.”

Your heart is in rhythm with the pattering of the rain that begins to fall on the ground outside.

“He had feelings for me back then?” You stare at Uncle Henry with the widest eyes.

“Oh, ___.” He laughs again, “I could tell he had feelings for you since you were kids. I guessed that now you’re older it would seem more obvious, that’s why I made him promise that he’d definitely confess.” You’re not sure what to say about this new fact, but you answer with your true feelings on the whole situation.

“Fate obviously didn’t want us together. I don’t know when I’ll ever see him again.” Your words are met with a smack to the side of your head with the envelope in Uncle Henry’s hands.

“Ow!” You’re shocked by the gesture, your mouth opening at the impact and your hand coming up to your head.

“You stupid kids. When you have a love like that you don’t let fate decide what happens with it. You take it and run with it. You don’t know if you’ll find another one like it.” Through the pattering of rain, through Uncle Henry’s words, and through the thudding of your own heart, you hear a car engine start up in the distance. Your fight or flight instinct kicks in, and your legs move down the porch stairs before you can even register what’s happening.

You run through the lonely strawberry field, mud kicking up behind you and rain beating down onto you. You try your hardest not to slip but still run as fast as you can. Your throat burns, your calves ache, you’re slightly blinded by the rain, and you’re sure you’ve stepped on a few strawberry plants, but you keep running in spite of it all. This is you, taking your own fate by the reins and pulling it your way.

By the time you reach your beloved oak tree, you slow down and lean yourself against it, watching Jisung’s family car drive down your long driveway and onto the main road, out of sight.

You’re too late.

You slide down the tree, not caring about the mud on your shoes and the ground dirting your skin and clothes. Somewhere between the drops of rain on your face falls tears. They’re salty and hidden by the gloomy clouds above you. You don’t know what’s more sad: breaking apart from Jisung when you know there is still love between you or being too late to do anything about it. You truly are stupid for letting Jisung slip from your fingers like that, for giving up so easily. The pain in your chest physically hurts you, sobs leave your chest in waves of sadness and meet the thudding rain around you.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” You cry out to no one in particular, watching the driveway as if waiting for Jisung’s car to come back. It doesn’t, and guilt fills you as you remember how ruthless your words were, probably the last words you’ll ever say to Jisung.

He’s no longer just a few breaths away, a few heartbeats away. He’s now miles and miles away, the distance between you two stretching after every minute. Your hope shatters as you lean your head against your old and strong oak tree. You remember the new memories that you and Jisung made over the past few weeks. They add to the existing ones of him from your childhood, and that’s where he will live on: in your heart, in your mind, and in your memories of a bitter first love.

[pregnant-piggy]

Courtyard secrets

James Potter x reader, Remus Lupin x reader

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: i’m sorry it’s a angsty one mixed with parents issues

A/N: I think I hurt my own feelings by writing this... I hope you like it xxx

Special thanks to @approved-by-dentists for helping me out when i was stuck.

not my GIF

- - - - - - -

The sky was dark, darker than the deepest blue of the bottom of the ocean. The only light came from the half full moon and the tiny speckles of bright light above your head.

At night everything seemed calmer. The whispers silenced and laughter quieted. If you listened you could hear the soft breeze of the wind and the sounds of the animals that lived in the dark nights. The bats that fluttered through the dark blue air and their squeals that echoed on the walls of the castle and the ever so light chirps of the grasshoppers that were hidden in the grass.

You sat on the cold stone ground of the courtyard and watched the night sky. The stars flickered and you traced the figures that they formed on the blue canvas. It seemed surreal that even so far away there was life, maybe not in the way you knew it, but the stars shone and that was a sign of life.

It also felt comfortable to know that there was a place outside. A place where your worries would disappear because they had no use. A place that existed of everything opposite of what you saw right now. Would you look at the stars the same from that place?

The hot tears streamed down your cheeks and there was no need to wipe them away. It had happened so many times, how could it be that it hurt you so bad?

But just like all fears and insecurities; you think you know them but they change and take new form, surprising you when they come back.

In moments like these you told yourself that it was okay to cry. No one was around, it was just you and the stars, the escapes to another world. There was no one that could feel your emotions and no one that would try to understand them.

But it was also in moments like these that you felt the most alone. In the cold air and the silence you were reminded of the thing you missed the most; love.

Where was the love when you needed it the most?

Surprisingly for you the answer came walking towards you, though not in the way you had expected it.

When you thought of love, you thought of undying support and unconditional care. You thought of the warmth that came with touches and sparkles that came with kisses. Love for you was what you had seen around you but never felt.

You had never known that love could take another form.

As James sat down next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, you, for the first time in your life, felt affection in a stronger way than ever before. A warm feeling spread through your chest and your tears dried.

Maybe you didn't need love, maybe you just needed the support.

‘They sent another letter,’ you spoke, your voice hoarse from the pain that had been going through your body.

Your hand reached for the papers that lied next to you. You held them in front of you and watched the words that were smudged from your tears. The ink that held so much hate and the angry passion that it was written with.

James let you talk. He knew about the ongoing fight with your parents and the hatred that they had for you. You were open about it to your friends, much to the dislike of your parents. But that only made you share more with them. Not all. There were somethings that even you could not bring yourself to share with them.

‘I should act more like my brother. Oh, my perfect brother. Mother's favourite. Only fourteen years old and already top of his class! He's better than everyone else and I should take a better look at him.’ You snorted and James squeezed your shoulder. ‘I bet that's not even half of the truth. He only thinks he is better than everyone else.’

You stopped talking and stared at the ground. It had been that way your entire life. Your brother was always perfect in your parents' eyes. Everything he did was considered a blessing and every word he spoke was believed. All the blame was pushed to you, everything was always your fault. If your brother made a mean comment to you and that made you sad, your parents blamed you for ruining the mood. He acted like you were a small child, always pretending you didn't know what you were talking about. He acted like the big man in the house, though he was the youngest.

‘Have you spoken to him lately?’ James asked carefully.

You shook your head and a tear escaped your eye. Quickly you wiped it with your sleeve, the place where the water hit the fabric a stain forming.

Though your brother was three years below you, you rarely saw him. You were a Gryffindor, he a Slytherin. Whenever you saw him he ignored you or shot you an angry glare that spoke he thought he was better than you.

You waved the papers in front of you and watched the wind play with the edges. The meaning of the words faded with the wind. The dislike was wiped off them and what was left were pages of meaningless words that had nothing to do with you anymore. They were now just faded letters without a message.

James stayed next to you, sometimes saying something but quiet most of the time. It was nice, the silence was comforting. Sometimes you don't need words, whether they are reassuring or not, sometimes you just need a hand to hold and a shoulder to rest your head on.

And James' hand was there to hold and his shoulder was there to rest your head on. You closed your eyes and for a moment you thought back of what you thought love was.

Maybe this was love. Maybe this was what everyone was looking for in their life. But what you felt right now didn't feel like love to you. You weren't really sure what love felt like, but you thought that this wasn't it. There might be support and care here, but there wasn't affection other than what you had now; holding his hand and leaning on his shoulder. And neither of you craved for more affection than this. This was good. Right?

- -- -

That night was a secret shared between you and James. None of your friends knew about the way you had broken down next to James.

Neither you nor James had to ask the other to keep it a secret. It was an unspoken decision that had been made with just one look the next morning at breakfast when Sirius asked where James had been the previous night.

‘Some Hufflepuffs were annoying and I had a handful taking them back to the common room,’ James shrugged as he pricked his eggs with his fork.

You squeezed your eyes at your breakfast, thankful for James' secrecy. This morning, despite the awful feeling that had filled you last night, you had woken up with a smile. The burden that had fallen off your shoulders had been holding you back from being happy more than you had known. It was a delight to wake up and don't feel alone anymore. That thought of love had been in your head, but you had pushed it out quickly.

What you felt wasn't love. Not in a romantic way. You cared for James like he was your brother, or so you had always thought.

Marlene and Lily plopped down at the table next to you and Marlene stole your toast out of your hand.

‘Someone's in a happy mood,’ she chirped with her mouth full of toast.

‘You are never this happy,’ Lily chimed in and she watched you suspiciously.

You looked at your friends and smiled at them. ‘Can't I just be happy? Without a reason?’

‘Of course,’ Marlene said and she took another bite of your toast. ‘I like you more when you're happy.’

As you continued to eat breakfast you looked at James from the corner of your eye. He was talking happily with his friends but ever so often his gaze turned to your side of the table.

Something happened inside you when you caught him looking at you. But whatever that happy feeling was disappeared as snow in the sun when you realised that he was not looking at you but at Lily.

But that was fine, you really hoped that Lily would answer to his feelings one day. James had been after her for years and he deserved to be happy. With Lily.

- -- -

Remus watched you walk with Marlene and Lily out of the Great Hall. A sigh escaped as he turned back to his breakfast. He was glad you were happy, you hadn’t really been in a long time. Or at least, not in the morning.

Remus liked to see you happy. Or he just liked to see you, for that matter. You brought butterflies to Remus’ stomach and a smile to his face. His cheeks turned red whenever you talked to him and he stumbled over his words whenever he spoke back to you. He could look at you for the whole day and not get bored. Every time he looked at you he discovered something new he could love.

But as most loves, it was unrequited. The feelings Remus had for you, you had not for him. And yet, he kept throwing himself in that ring, fighting the unanswered feelings. It was a match that never ended. One time he was on top, the victory rushing through his veins, the next moment he was lying on the floor, his face pushed against the ground.

It exhausted him. Being in love with you was tiring, but there was nothing in the world Remus would rather do. The feeling that he would get whenever you laughed at one of his jokes or when you lightly touched him, that was the feeling that dragged him through his days. It was the light at the end of the tunnel. The candle in the dark.

- -- -

The next Thursday you found yourself back in the courtyard. The darkness surrounded you as you read the letter for what felt like the hundredth time. You knew every word by heart and if someone would take the letter away from you, you could recreate it the exact same way.

Sometimes your parents didn't even try to hurt you and that was why maybe it hit even harder. What your mother had written was nothing else than a praise for your brother.

He told us that they are thinking of mixing up the classes. I would have assumed to hear something like that from you too, but you are probably too busy with your friends. Your brother has told us about them. They are quite a peculiar group, are they not? I have heard stories about that young Black and I must say I am not happy about you being friends with him...

Stupid mother. She had no right to decide who you would be friends with and though you had let her know that, she kept pushing you.

The tears stung in your eyes as you looked the letter again. What had you done to deserve this? All your life you had almost been invisible, letting your brother get all the attention. You were always seen as the quiet kid, while that wasn't entirely like you. Mostly you were quiet because you didn't want your parents to get angry with you for taking the attention.

The same footsteps as a week ago sounded through the open air. A small light revealed James in front of you. He was standing at your feet with a concerned look on his face.

‘Thursday's post day,’ you muttered with a dry laugh and waved the letter in front of you.

James sighed and sat down next to you. His arm was quickly wrapped around your waist and you rested your head on his shoulder.

‘Why do they do it, James?’ you asked.

‘Because they don't realise their daughter is amazing,’ James answered without missing a beat. ‘They don't know you. They never have and now it's too late to start,’ James looked at the letter, ‘I don't think your parents will be too happy when they hear that your brother failed his Charms.’

‘They won't hear it,’ you spoke softly, already knowing that your brother wouldn't tell them and no one else would too.

‘Promise me something?’ James asked and you looked up to him. ‘Don't open their next letter. Just throw it out, or give it to me when you want to know what's in it. But don't open it yourself.’

‘I won't open it,’ you promised.

A silence fell over you and you looked at the stars above you. There was no moon tonight; the last full moon was two weeks ago and the next would be in another two weeks. The only thing that decorated the dark blue canvas were the little sparkles.

‘How can you be so brave?’ you suddenly asked. ‘How can you just make decisions and be sure of what you are doing?’

James chuckled and he rested his cheek on the top of your head.

‘I'm not that brave,’ he confessed. ‘I am scared. Scared that all of this will be worthless. There is a war going on and we are learning about ways to turn a table into brown cow. What if we are not prepared for life out there?’

‘I don't think anyone is ever prepared,’ you whispered. ‘You never know what is to come and that makes the future so scary. But that is also what makes it exciting. We want to know what will come to us and that is why we go on. To see the future.’

‘You're really smart,’ James said. ‘I know you don't believe me, but you are.’

‘Thank you, James.’

You stayed on the ground for a moment longer, enjoying the scene. There was a tingle in your stomach. A tingle that you had never felt before. A feeling that made you want to do a dance and a feeling that made you want to throw up. It was a hint of nervousness mixed with excitement.

It was long dark when you returned to your bed, safe in the Gryffindor Tower. The soft breaths of the girls around you sounded through the silent room. You were calm. James seemed to have that effect on you.

Around James there was support and care. And there always would be.

- -- -

The common room was dark and Remus sat in the corner, hidden from whoever would walk into the room. His face was buried in a book but his mind was not there. He was thinking about you. You had been off all day, as if something was bothering you. It had taken all Remus’ courage to walk up to you and ask you if there was something wrong and you had brushed it off like it was nothing. Remus’ heart had broken a little when you had shared a look with James.

But you and James were just friends, Remus knew. James was madly in love with Lily, who lately seemed to have the same interest in James.

As Remus was deep in thought, the portrait opened and you and James walked in hand in hand. Remus shot up in his chair and stayed still, hoping that neither of his friends would notice him.

You and James walked to the middle of the common room and Remus’ heart beat faster with every step you took closer to him, afraid that you would see him. But you and James kept still. You placed your hand on James’ arm and James pulled you in for a hug. Even from his place and in the dark, Remus could see there were tears on your face.

So something was bothering you.

James kissed you on the top of your head and Remus’ inside twisted. He should have been the one standing there, holding you in his arms and kissing you on your head. Not James.

‘You’re a good friend, James,’ you whispered, but the space was empty and Remus heard every word. The jealous part of him calmed a little. James was your friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

And as James and you both went your ways, Remus stayed in his chair in the corner. In the dark he stared at the place where you just had stood.

It was nothing like Remus to feel jealous, but as he thought of how his friend had just hold you, jealousy rushed through his veins.

- -- -

The following weeks were the same. Once a week you and James sat in the courtyard, discussing your fears and insecurities. You told him about the parts of your anger that you had hidden from your friends. You confessed that, despite telling a lot of the issues to your friends, there still were bottled up emotions.

You shared your deepest thoughts with him and he shared his with you. You learned that he was scared he was going to let his family down. He was afraid he would lose his friends in the war and he was fearing that he would never be enough. To his family and his friends.

Every Thursday night you spent with James and somewhere between spilling secrets and staring to the night sky, you fell for him.

You had always feared love because you didn't know what it would do to you. You had feared love because you didn’t know what it felt like. You thought that what you and James shared was a strong bond. A bond of friendship. But as you lied your head on his shoulder and held his hand in yours, you realised that this was more than a friendship.

To you.

You came to treasure the moments you shared with James. The Thursday nights, the breakfasts in the morning when neither of you was really awake, sitting next to each other in class, staying up late at night to plan a prank. Every time you were near James, your heart fluttered and your cheeks darkened. The butterflies started to fly in your stomach and your mind started to wonder. Wonder about sitting in his lap, putting your arms around his neck, kissing him or just holding his hand. You wondered what it would be like to be with James.

But you kept your thoughts to yourself. Because James didn’t share them.

You saw it in the way he looked at Lily, with eyes full of adoration. You noticed he was the same around you as he was around Marlene. He joked with you and called you his sister. He pushed you to Remus or Sirius with the joke that you should date on of them.

Your heart broke a little more every time your feeling weren’t returned. And yet, you kept coming back to him on those Thursday nights. You sat next to him, his arm around your waist and his hand playing with your fingers. His head resting on yours. There was comfort and solace in the dark courtyard. You still talked about your fears and your dreams, but you closed more. Where James once saw the bottom of your heart, he now only saw the top. You had closed yourself for him, knowing the secrets that lied underneath. You didn’t want him to know.

And James noticed nothing. He never realised you were opening up less to him. Maybe that was what hurt the most; he never saw the change in you.

- -- -

Something was wrong with you, Remus had noticed. You laughed less and your smiled didn’t reach your eyes. You left the room quick and spent more time on your own than with your friends.

Remus saw how you closed yourself for your friends. You talked less, opened up less. Where you were once the inexhaustible pit of jokes and comfort, you were now cold and distant. Remus was scared that it was something he had done; you rarely sat next to him anymore, you never studied with him and you always declined when he asked if you wanted to do something. But Sirius and Peter told him that you did the same with them. They noticed it too. The change in you that made you less their friend.

The only one who didn’t notice was James. He paid too little attention to you to notice. But whenever his friends told him that there was something wrong with you, he reassured them that everything was fine. Remus wanted to believe his friend, but his guts told him he was wrong.

He hadn’t forgotten when you had walked into the common room late at night with James. Every Thursday James would come to the dorm late and though he had an excuse every time, Remus knew that he had been with you. Every Thursday night when James came back, Remus felt like confronting his friend with what he knew, but it felt not right.

So instead he bottled up his emotions. The love that Remus felt for you was eating him inside. He wanted to tell you so bad, but he knew that you would turn him down. And the fear of rejection was bigger than the courage to confess.

- -- -

‘I said yes!’ Lily screeched and she fell on her bed.

‘Yes to what?’ Marlene asked beside you, watching Lily with a peculiar expression.

Lily turned to you and Marlene with a big smile on her face. ‘Yes to James.’

And that was when the final pieces of your heart, that had been holding everything together, broke apart. Your heart shattered into a hundred pieces. A burning fire rose in your body and your stomach twisted. It was as if someone had stabbed you in your chest. Only this was your own fault. Your own stupid fault. You should have never fallen for James.

‘Finally!’ Marlene said and she ran to Lily’s bed. That gave you some time to get yourself together. You had to hide your emotions now. No one knew about your feelings and no one would. It was a mistake.

‘That’s wonderful!’ you said with a high pitched voice to show your false excitement. From her bed Lily grinned at you and she then hid her face in her hands. Marlene was sitting beside her, rubbing her back.

‘What have I done?’ Lily groaned from behind her hands. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking.’

‘Lily, you have been crushing on this guy for the past year now,’ Marlene said, throwing her hands up in the air. ‘It was about time!’

‘But this is James! He came up to me, no extras and no stupid jokes, and just asked if I wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him next Thursday. Before I knew what happened I had already said yes.’

Just when you thought that things could not be any worse, your inside twisted again. Thursday? James planned at date on the only day of the week you looked forward to? Did he really care that little about you?

You got up from your bed and left the dorm, mumbling an excuse as you did so. Your feet walked you through the common room in the hope to reach the portrait hole without anyone seeing you. But your luck got worse.

‘Don’t look so sad,’ Remus said as he walked over to you and grabbed your arm to stop you. ‘Lily just said yes to a date with James!’

You put on a fake smile and nodded. ‘Yeah, I heard all about it from Lily,’ you said with a voice that was more bitter than you intended.

Remus looked at you and placed his hand on your shoulder. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked in a soft voice. His eyes stood full of worry and you felt a wave of tenderness flowing over you. A warm feeling spread through your shoulder and when you looked up to Remus, the locks opened and all your emotions spilled out.

‘Weeks I spend with him! I tell him all my secrets! I shared my darkest fears with him and he acts like he cares. He acts like I am the most important person for him! But then he doesn’t even look at me and still runs after her!’ your voice had raised and some students looked at you. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes and you pulled away from Remus’ touch. You ran from the common room, not listening to Remus’ calls and ignoring the Fat Lady telling you it was past curfew. You ran until your legs didn’t let you anymore. In the courtyard you fell on your knees and as you breathed out the tears streamed down your cheeks.

The scene was all familiar. The dark sky, the stars, the courtyard. The tears were running down your face in the same way they had done weeks ago on that first Thursday. All your emotions were the same; you were sad, angry and hurt.

And you were taken back to love. Was this love? This pain and discomfort?

If this was love then you never wanted it again. You would live your life without. You would find a way to live your life without this pain. You didn’t need to love someone. You didn’t want to love someone if it was like this.

- -- -

With pain in his chest Remus followed you through the dark corridors. He could have known that you liked James. He should have known. The way you looked at James and the way you always leaned towards him, should have warned Remus. But he was blind from his love for you. Blind to the love you had for James and not for him. But he couldn’t leave you alone. He had to put his own hurt to the side and help you. Like a friend.

The sound of your sobs brought Remus to the courtyard. There in the middle on the dark stones, were you sitting on your knees. Anyone who wasn’t looking for you would have probably not seen you. Remus kneeled down next to you and carefully placed his hand on your back.

You did not even look up as you started to talk, ‘I thought I meant something to him, you know? I spent all those nights with him, thinking that he at least cared for me. But apparently not.’

You lifted your head to Remus and he saw the tears on your cheeks. He cupped your face and wiped away the tears with his thumbs. He knew there was a blush on his cheeks. ‘He doesn’t deserve you,’ Remus whispered to you and you blinked at him.

‘Did he ever talk about me?’ you asked and Remus sighed. He wanted you to know the truth; that James was not the one for you. But he didn’t want to see you even more broken.

Remus stayed silent and that was enough an answer for you. The tears rolled down your cheeks again and you averted your eyes from Remus. He dropped his hands and watched as you stared at your hands.

‘Stop crying, love,’ Remus said, making you look at him. ‘He is not worth the tears.’

‘How can you say such a thing about your friend?’ you asked curiously as you wiped away the tears with the back of your hand.

‘Because what he did hurt you. And I hate to see you in pain,’ Remus answered.

You stared at Remus for a moment and then you kissed him.

It was all Remus had wanted for months, but it didn’t feel right. Your lips were cold and your heart was not in it. It was no kiss of passion, but a kiss of desperation. And as much Remus wanted to kiss you, he didn’t want it like this.

He broke away and placed his hand on your cheek. You were crying again and Remus shook his head.

‘It’s alright.’

‘No, it’s not,’ you whispered. ‘Why did you never tell me?’

‘Because you don’t feel the same,’ Remus said. ‘Do you?’

‘I-’ you started but you stopped and looked away. Remus’ heart shattered and the tears threatened to fall. He knew you didn’t love him and yet it hurt. He took his arm back and sighed. You took his hand and he let you take him in your arms.

Remus looked up to the sky and watched the stars that painted figures in the dark. Stars that were escapes to another world. A world where no one would get hurt. A world that was the opposite of where he was now. An escape to his feelings.

You lied your head on Remus’ shoulder and took his hand. Everything was the same, but nothing was. What you felt here with Remus was not the same you felt with James. With James it was comfort and support. With Remus you felt love. The love he felt for you might not be the one you shared, but he loved you and sometimes that is enough.

‘We will be alright, Rem. We have each other.’

‘We do.’

- - - - - - - -

taglist:

remus lupin:@racerparker @susceptible-but-siriusexual

marauders: @secretsthathauntus @ronniethelost @sognatrice-as-a-hobby @hxrgreeves @belovedadam @wecouldbreakthedistance @valentina-007

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream​ @missmulti​ @deafgirltingz​ @moonstarrnghtsky​ @bloodblossom73​ @mytreec​

[bluemoonbeam15]

What If...

After listening to that song from the playlist, As Long As I'm Singing, I couldn't help but imagine Hopper and Molt as little kids and what they would've been like.

So...

What if the characters of A Bug's Life had met as children?

<><><><><><><><><><>

Mr. Soil led the class beside the harvesting line, "Everything is done in order. From the moment the grain is picked, up to the moment the grasshoppers take their offering."

A small hand raised in the air. Mr. Soil glanced back and sighed, "Yes, Flik?"

The child gestured to the harvesting line, "Isn't there an easier way to pick grain?"

"Now, Flik, we've talked about this. Our colony has harvested the same way for generations. We can't just--"

The sound of the shell stopped him short. All the ants panicked as Cornelius waved them on to drop off what food was left. Queen Phyllis stood next to the offering stone, looking up as the swarm of grasshoppers neared the island. "Alright everyone! Stand aside! Give them space!" she called out.

Flik had been pushed in the crowd, blocking his view of the gang landing. He squirmed through, crawling around the legs surrounding him. The last time the grasshoppers had came, he had been sick with a spring fever. It wasn't fair he always missed out on the interesting stuff around the island. No way he was missing it this time.

The gang leader, Clay, walked ahead of his gang to stand before the Queen. "Your Majesty," he nodded curtly. His eyes landed to the young girl beside her, "And who is this?"

Phyllis gently encouraged her daughter forward, "This is my daughter, Atta. She'll be taking my place once she's of age."

Clay inspected the child for a moment. Looking back to the Queen, "I wish her the best, then. Now, there are some concerns I need to talk with you about."

The gang waited patiently while the leaders conversed. "Quit shoving!" a small voice huffed. Two nymphs were pushing each other, trying to not attract the attention of their father. The smallest one rounded on his brother, "Molt, I said stop! You're gonna get us trouble!"

Molt crossed his arms, "I'm not doing anything! And keep your voice down!"

"You can't tell me what to do!"

Someone cleared their throat and they jolted. Clay glared at the two boys, "Is there a problem?"

His sons quieted down, not meeting his eyes. Hopper dared a glance, "S-Sorry, dad." Clay rolled his eyes and continued his discussion.

In the corner of his eye, Hopper saw something move in the crowd of ants. A small ant squirmed out between the forest of legs. His blue eyes widened at the sight of the gang, more in awe than fear. Hopper nudged his brother, nodding toward the kid. "Hey," Molt whispered excitedly, "he looks our age. We should talk to 'im!"

Hopper raised an eyebrow, "We can't leave the gang, remember? Dad said--"

"Aw, c'mon! We've never hung out with a different bug before. We'll be back before dad even knows we're gone."

The oldest bit his lip, looking between the young ant and his dad. "Alright, fine," he tugged on his brother's arm, "let's sneak off in the grass before anyone notices." Hopper looked back at the kid, waving an arm toward the grass.

Flik's antennae straightened and watched them sneak away from their gang. Looking around, he figured no one would notice his absence anyway. Quietly, he disappeared back into the crowd and made his way past the clearing.

The princess stood by her mother obediently. The discussion wasn't anything interesting, for her anyway. She tried really hard to pay attention, but something ended up catching her eye. A small blue form ran off into the grass. Weird...he looked an awful lot like--

She tugged on her mother's hand, "Mom, may I be dismissed?"

Phyllis nodded absentmindedly, "Yes, yes, go on."

Not a second later, Atta hurried off behind the crowd toward the grass. What was Flik up to now? It was moments like this she wished she could fly.

Hopper and Molt hid behind a blade of grass, fighting for space before peering out. None of the gang seemed to notice...yet. Footsteps caught their attention and the young ant stared wide-eyed at them. "H-Hi...I'm Flik!" he reached a hand out in nervous excitement.

"Hey, Flik!" Molt shook his hand vigorously, "Name's Molt and this is my brother, Hopper."

Hopper hesitated, Molt nudged him, "H-Hey."

Flik circled them a few times, "I've never met a grasshopper before. Actually, I've never met anyone who wasn't an ant before."

"Same! Our dad never lets us visit the city. We hear there's so many bugs there!" Molt beamed.

"That's what I've heard, too!"

Hopper wrung his hands together, looking back to where their dad stood, "I-I think we should go back. Dad might be done any minute now."

Molt brushed off his concern, "He'll probably be a while. We got plenty o' time."

"Molt, this is the first time dad's let us come with him! I really don't wanna screw it up..."

Flik cocked his head at them, "Your dad is the leader of the gang? That's so cool! What's it like?"

"It's kinda fun, really," Molt smiled, "we get to travel a lot...well, we will now that we can fly."

Hopper noticed the ant looking at him expectantly and he shrugged, "I-It's fun...I guess. What's is like being in a colony?"

The ant quirked his mouth with a shrug, "We don't travel outside the island, so not as exciting. We have a tree we can climb, though! You can see the other side of the world from it!"

"Have you climbed it?" Hopper peered up at the huge oak.

Flik scratched the back of his neck, "Well...n-no, but that's what I've heard."

"Flik?"

The kids looked as Atta spotted them. Flik yelped and hid behind Hopper, "Oh no!"

"What's wrong? Should we be hiding too?" Hopper froze as the princess came closer.

"No, it's just...I kinda like her," his voice died out at the admission. "Please don't tell her I said that!"

The princess stopped in front of the group, eyeing the two nymphs, "Aren't you two the leader's kids? Does he know you're out here?"

"Uh...," Molt glanced nervously at his brother.

Atta straightened and started walking off, "You two are gonna be in so much trouble."

"W-Wait!" Hopper landed in front of her, "please don't tell! We just wanted to talk to someone new. We've never met ants before."

She narrowed her eyes, "That's no excuse to wander off. Shouldn't you be watching your dad? Learning how this works?"

Molt furrowed his brow, "Is that why you were standing by the Queen? Are you learning too?"

"I'm in training, yes," she corrected him. "I'm the princess."

Molt gasped, "Princess?" He quickly bowed down and laid his hands on the ground, "Your Majesty, forgive me!"

Atta gave him a weird look. Confused, Hopper looked at his brother and decided to at least kneel down to her. She rolled her eyes at the two, "I'm not Queen yet, airheads. Once I am, you'll be bowing down to me."

Hopper rose an eyebrow, "Our dad didn't bow to your mom."

"Well that's gonna change when I'm Queen. Respect will be mandatory. Who's older?" she pointed between the two. Hopper nervously raised his hand. "You? Then you'll be taking your dad's place, right?" He nodded. "Then when I'm Queen, my first order of business is that you will bow to me as a sign of respect."

Molt muttered to Flik, "Bossy, isn't she?"

The young ant grinned goofily at the princess, lost to their conversation, "She's perfect."

Hopper leaned back a bit, "I...Is that really necessary?"

Atta put her hands on her hips, "Do you want an offering?"

"Y-Yeah..."

"Then you'll bow down. You might as well start now. I'll be queen before long."

"Can I kneel?"

"No, you have to bow."

Hopper tentatively lowered himself to the ground, "You ants are bossy."

"And we're stronger," she tapped him on the head, "don't forget that. You may rise...what was your name again?"

"Hopper."

"You may rise, Hopper." She finally noticed Flik, "I knew that was you sneaking off!" The boy shook himself of his stupor. "What are you doing out here?"

"W-Well, I--"

Molt came to his rescue, "That's my fault. I wanted to meet him so I pressured Hop into sneaking off."

"Hopper! Molt!" Their father's voice sounded strongly across the clearing.

Atta winced, "No kidding. Sounds like your dad is mad."

"That's not even close," Hopper rubbed his arm.

"Well at least we got to make some new friends!" Molt shook Flik's hand.

Hopper gave Atta a look, "Sorta."

The princess crossed her arms, "So long as you respect me, I'll let you be my friend."

"I guess I can do that," Hopper shrugged. He waved to Flik, "Maybe we can hang out next season? S-So long as dad lets us come again."

Flik beamed, "Yeah, totally! I can show you guys my hiding place!"

Clay yelled again, "You boys better get over here, pronto!"

"See ya two next season!" Molt hurried off before their dad would have another reason to punish them.

Hopper gave a small smile to the ants, bowing slightly to Atta, "Bye."

The ants watched the nymphs run off. "They seem nice," Atta mused, "I hope they get to come back next year."

"Me too."

[lovemesomesurveys]

The Green Survey by joybucket 

Which do you prefer: spinach, lettuce, or kale? I love spinach. I only like lettuce in a salad and admittedly I’ve never had kale, but I haven’t had any interest in trying it. Which vegetable is your favorite? Spinach, potatoes, green onions, broccoli. Which vegetable is the most disgusting, in your opinion? Brussels sprouts, peas, asparagus, zucchini... I really only actually like a few. What is your favorite type of salad? One with lettuce, spinach, shredded cheese, black olives, green onions, hard boiled eggs, and croutons. Are you allergic to grass? It does make me itchy if I were to sit on it.

Name three healthy foods that you enjoy eating. Some veggies, some fruits, uh... eggs? Do you like avocado toast? Sure. Which is better: green apples or red apples? I don’t know, I haven’t had an apple in SO long. I don’t even remember the last time to be honest. Have you ever watched the TV show Gumby? Yeah. I had a couple VHS tapes as well. Name three things you are thankful for that are green. Trees, plants, and Baby Yoda/Grogu haha. Name someone you know who can do a perfect impression of Kermit the Frog. *shrug* Do you feel itchy when you sit in the grass with bare legs? My arms would be, yes (I don’t have feeling in my legs). When was the last time you rolled down a hill? Never. Name ten things you associate with the color "green" that haven't been mentioned yet. Money, Baby Yoda (I mentioned him, but the survey hasn’t), Christmas trees, mold, grasshoppers, cucumbers, algae, aloe vera, green grapes, and the Grinch. What is your favorite shade of green? I like various shades. What is your least favorite shade of green? Hmm. I don’t know, like I said I like various shades of green. Have you ever met anyone with the last name Green who's first named was Olive, Kelly, Teal, or Emerald? No. Name someone you know who is colorblind and can't see green. I don’t know. Name someone you know who gets blue and green mixed up. I don’t know. Name someone you know who likes frogs. I don’t knowww. Have you ever found a frog in your swimming pool? I don’t have a swimming pool. Have you ever eaten seaweed? No. If you had to paint your room a shade of green, which would you choose? Sea foam or mint. Would you ever dye your hair green? Nah. Do you like to drink green tea? I like it, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had any. Do you prefer green tea cold or hot? Hot. Pick your favorite green character out of these: Shrek, Gumby, Larry the Cucumber, or Kermit the Frog? Shrek. How many people have you met named Fiona? Zero. What is the last craft project you used a glue gun for? I don’t recall. Name five things you associate with Ireland. Green, corned beef and cabbage, potatoes, Irish coffee, pubs. What are three things that appeal to you about Ireland? It would just be a nice place to visit and sightsee. Seems like a fun place to experience. Have you ever accidentally eaten an olive that you thought was a grape? No. Do you like wasabi? Blechhhhhh, no. It tastes like what nail polish or shoe cleaner smells like. Pick your favorite green flavor: apple, kiwi, lime, green tea, or wasabi? Apple and lime. Name five things you love about nature. The ocean, rain, snow, mountains, waterfalls. What's something "natural" that you are allergic to? Do tangerines count? Do you recycle? We recycle plastic bottles and cans. Do you have green eyes? No, I wish. Do you think the color green looks good on you? I don’t think I look good in anything. Name a business that has a green logo. Starbucks. Have you ever made slime? Nope. What's your favorite Green Day song? I like several of their songs.