#all of lees hair and teeth and nails and all of her things from childhood still in that house... in her room... all of her memories are in

[bloodcoveredgf]

longlegs is a movie about mother/daughterhood for real. throws up thinking about it actually

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 5

part 1 | part 4 | part 6

A/N: Y/N finally meets the gaang; on a side note, I am really proud of this chapter ❤️

She caught it just a moment before it smacked her in the chest. Her reflexes were delayed from her sleepiness but also from the realization that her Fire Princess just had dropped to her knees and tied her boots for her. “Easy. I’m not a bender. I don’t need the sun.”

“Lo and Li have advised me that it isn’t smart to go after Zuko and Uncle with a Royal Procession.” Azula leaned in the doorway to Y/N’s room. Her hair was a black curtain around her pale face. Y/N ran her fingers through her own loose hair before replying.

“It would be less conspicuous without guards flanking us on all sides. Do you think that the two of us could do it ourselves?” She asked hesitantly, thinking back to just a day earlier when Azula said she was a liability. Y/N wasn’t even planning to fight when she agreed to come! She thought it was going to be easier, she didn’t expect Iroh to be so suspicious of them from the get go. Apparently, neither did Azula. She was so mad when they pulled her from the sea, the water was steaming off of her clothes and skin. 

Azula smiled and sat in the chair to the small, empty writing desk in the room. “I need a small, elite team.” She tapped one pointed nail on her chin. “I think it’s time to call on some old friends, don’t you think so?”

“Mai and Ty Lee?” Y/N questioned. The last time one of them was mentioned Azula set fire to the napkin she was holding at dinner and pointed a butter knife in Y/N’s direction telling her never to mention their names again. 

“Of course them.” Azula rolled her eyes and cracked her fingers. “They’re our friends, Y/N. They’ll do anything I want.” Her voice was low and even though it wasn’t meant as a threat, it sounded like one. 

Azula shut the door to Y/N’s room with a sharp click. She leaned back against her pillow and crossed her arms. This was not going to go well. 

Anytime she and the girls exchanged letters, the answer was always the same. Neither Mai or Ty Lee were planning on coming back to the palace any time soon. They never explicitly said that Azula was the reason–one could never know who was reading your letters–but Y/N could see the subtext. A taste of life outside of Capital City and outside of Azula’s influence had spoiled them. Y/N had never felt like that before, but every day, she got a little bit more understanding as to why one might want to leave. 

It was still dark out when Azula came into Y/N’s room the next morning. She tapped Y/N’s cheek with her nail. “Get up, we’re leaving soon.”

She glared at Azula from under the very warm covers. “Why so early?” 

Azula’s gold eyes flashed with humor. “It’s a long ride into town. I’ve got us a carriage.” She grabbed the blanket that Y/N was clutching and threw them off the bed, leaving her shivering. 

“Every time,” Y/N muttered as she pulled her night clothes off and her red tunic and pants on. 

“Every time what?” Azula asked. Y/N thought she could hear a smile in the other girls words but she was currently too busy looking cross-eyed at the laces of her boots to check. 

“Why are you such a morning person?” Y/N knew the answer that Azula was going to give, but it didn’t make the question any less relevant in her mind. She hated mornings. 

“More like a question as to why aren’t you?” Hands slapped Y/N’s own fumbling ones away and tied each boot deftly. Before Y/N could even utter a ‘thank you’, Azula was grabbing her sword from where it was propped in the corner and tossing it in Y/N’s direction. 

She caught it just a moment before it smacked her in the chest. Her reflexes were delayed from her sleepiness but also from the realization that her Fire Princess just had dropped to her knees and tied her boots for her. “Easy. I’m not a bender. I don’t need the sun.”

Azula had only tied the boots because she wanted to get going, Y/N decided. Probably.

“You sound like one of those Water Tribe savages. Next thing you know, you’ll be howling at the moon.” Y/N laughed with Azula no matter how awful she thought the joke was and basked in the warm that her friend gave off. She was always so much nicer in the mornings. 

The sun was just rising as they set off, probably purposeful if she knew Azula. Y/N stared out the window the whole trip. She’d never been to the Earth Kingdom before and she was so intrigued by everything she saw. There was greenery everywhere. It made her heartache for her childhood home on Ember Island. The climate was different, here it was much cooler and the wind ruffled the leaves on the trees every now and then. And Ember Island was hot and muggy year round. But she couldn’t miss the similarities of the two places. Every now and then she’d catch an animal she’d never seen before run past and she’d all but hold her head out the window to get a second look. Azula was much more regal, which was unsurprising though she wasn’t sure if Azula had ever been to the Earth Kingdom either. She sat in the seat across Y/N with her arms crossed and her feet on the bench next to Y/N. Azula had her eyes closed the whole time, reclining in a beam of sunlight coming in through the windows, but Y/N knew she wasn’t sleeping. 

She thought Azula looked much better like this; with her face softened in relaxation. No furrowing of the eyebrows or pursing of her lips. Occasionally, the wind would blow in the windows and ruffle her usually pristine hair. Y/N thought Azula glared and frowned way too much for a fourteen year old girl, Fire Princess or not. Just then Azula cracked open one of her eyes like she knew Y/N was thinking about her. But Y/N didn’t look away like she usually would have done. She just stared and smiled at her friend until Azula closed that eye again and settled further down into the seat. Y/N chose to ignore the light tap of Azula’s toe on her elbow, but not the small smile that was now on her face. 

After reaching the town it wasn’t hard to find the circus. Azula and Y/N just followed the noise and the smell. They were set up in a large field where they could have enough room to set up their tall tents and keep their platypus-bears and scorpion-lions. 

Ty Lee was in the middle of it all. 

She didn’t see them when they first approached. Y/N thought it looked like Ty Lee was flying as she flipped head over heels in the grass. She held herself in a perfectly still handstand. Y/N’s abs ached just watching. 

“Azula! Y/N!” Ty Lee rushed forward, hastily bowed, before crushing Azula in a hug. Y/N received the same tight–albeit longer–hug. “It’s so good to see you!” Ty Lee chirped. 

“I’ve missed you!” Y/N did realize how excited she was to see her old friend until she was in her arms. She smelled the same, like rose perfume and the rosin she used in her tricks. Letters were nice, but they took weeks to travel to each other. Something always happened between them, and when it was time to reply, that ‘something’ was never important anymore. 

“Don’t let us interrupt… whatever you’re doing.” Azula raised an arched eyebrow.

Ty Lee took that as permission and backflipped back into a forearm stand and began scissoring her legs in the air. She held herself on her elbows and rested her head in her hands like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

“You look like you’re having the time of your life here, Ty Lee,” Y/N said. The glow on the girls cheeks and the permanent smile on her lips was obvious. She was always bubbly, but she’d never been like this.

“What is the daughter of a nobleman doing here?” Azula asked, gesturing around to the tents and people who walked by. A hurt look erased Ty Lee’s smile, one that Azula didn’t pay attention to. She jumped right in, never caring for small talk. “I have a proposition. I’m hunting a traitor. You remember my old fuddy-duddy uncle?”

“Oh, yeah!” Ty Lee exclaimed. “He was so funny.”

“I would be honored if you would help me and join my mission.” 

Ty Lee’s feet, which moment’s ago rested on her head, slipped as she lost balance and nearly fell forward on her face. She looked to Y/N for assistance but like a coward, Y/N looked at the grass under her boots. The glance lasted half a second, maybe even less but it still made Y/N tense next to Azula as if she was caught with her hand in the bowl of unfried dough by her mother. This was between Ty Lee and Azula. Any indication that Ty Lee and Y/N had spoken since she’d left would. Be. Bad. 

“Oh, you know Azula, I would love to.” She flipped back to her feet. “But the truth is I’m really happy here. My aura has never been pinker!” Y/N smiled. Leave it to Ty Lee to lighten the mood by talking about her auras. It was incredibly smart, to make it seem like you were dumb to avoid consequences. Y/N wished she could pull that card with Azula sometimes, but she knew her too well. And Y/N knew nothing about auras. 

“Well,” Azula frowned. “I wouldn’t want you to give up the life you love to please me.” 

Y/N ground her teeth. She looked up through her lashes at Ty Lee. This was somewhere she finally fit in. Y/N knew the story with Ty Lee’s sisters and how she felt like part of a matched set. This is where she needed to be, not traveling the world with Azula on some mission that wasn’t going to do anything for her. Y/N didn’t have a choice. Ty Lee did. Don’t fall for it! Y/N wanted to scream. 

Maybe it was Agni, or maybe Ty Lee just had more self control and a self-preservation that Y/N lacked. She placed one fist against her open palm and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Azula.” 

Azula was bristling beside Y/N as they walked away. “Of course before we leave we’re going to catch your show. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Azula gripped Y/N’s arm like a vise. 

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Y/N said. 

----

Y/N wasn’t sure what Azula told the ringmaster, but every seat in the tent was empty that night. 

High above their box, a square frame filled the stage. Lanterns hung around the frame, illuminating the whole tent. A tightrope spanned across it; a tightrope which Ty Lee was currently balancing on. 

“We are so pleased to have the Fire Lord’s daughter here tonight to see our humble circus. Please tell us if we can do anything to make it more enjoyable.” the ringmaster bowed and left the stage. 

“I will,” Azula muttered. Y/N furrowed her brow in Azula’s direction but she stared straight ahead like she didn’t even notice. What was she planning? Y/N wondered. 

Ty Lee was perched on a pole that rolled along the tightrope like pulley. She slowly switched from hand to hand, posing with a split in the air. Her costume glimmered under the candle-lit lanterns and her full dancer’s skirt bounced as she moved. 

“Incredible. Do you think she’ll fall?” Azula asked Y/N. 

Y/N scoffed at the question, never taking her eyes off of Ty Lee. “Of course not!”

“Then let’s make it more interesting. Ringmaster! Let’s remove the net at the bottom.”

The man’s grey eyes widened. “Remove the net? The thing is–the performers–”

Azula waved a hand. “You’re right. That’s been done. Set the net on fire.”

“Azula, don’t you think that’s a little much?” Y/N asked warily. She wasn’t sure what her friend was playing at but risking Ty Lee’s life wasn’t the answer. Y/N, however, didn’t get an answer. The ringmaster had already done what she had asked. 

For a second, just as the fire reached all the corners of the net below, Ty Lee seemed to teeter, before regaining her balance. Azula huffed, almost like she expected the other girl to fall. “Brilliant. And ringmaster, what kind of dangerous animals do you have here?”

“Azula, I don’t think–” Y/N started only to be cut off by a hand waving in her face. 

“Well, Princess, our circus boasts an assortment of exotic–”

“Release them all,” Azula smiled. 

Y/N sat in horror as she watched saber-tooth moose tigers, scorpion-lions and even an elephant-bear get released below the tight-rope. 

How Ty Lee managed to finish her act without falling was a mystery to Y/N. When she reached the opposite platform she even blew a kiss in their direction before climbing down and ceding the stage to the rest of the performers. 

Azula had only been interested in Ty Lee’s performance and ignored the rest of the performers, finding filing her nails into sharp points more interesting. Y/N wasn’t much better, her head was still spinning at what Azula had done. This was her friend. Someone who ignited such a rage in leaving her that Azula had threatened Y/N with fire if she ever mentioned her name. Was that why she did it? Was this some type of revenge for running away to the circus?

For a second she allowed her mind to think of what would have happened if Ty Lee hadn’t been such a good acrobat. What would either of them have done had she fallen into the flames? The net was in tatters, blackened and burned away. It couldn’t have held her weight from a fall that far, would have been like it wasn’t even a net at all. Plus she would have been on fire! Y/N had just watched Azula try to publicly kill her, and Y/N had just sat there and watched. 

As soon as the performance ended Azula dragged Y/N out of the tent. The air was full of black smoke from the net being burnt away and it blotted out the stars above. They made their way to Ty Lee’s tent. 

She was sitting at her vanity peeling sticky jewels off her face and wiping away layers of makeup. Y/N stared at the stain of ash that coated her gold-plated headband.

Azula leaned against the table forcing Ty Lee to look up at her. “What an exquisite performance. I can’t wait to see how you’ll top yourself tomorrow.”

Ty Lee caught Y/N’s eyes in the mirror and Y/N knew what she was going to do. 

“Unfortunately, there won’t be a show tomorrow.”

Azula widened her eyes in mock-surprise at Y/N. “Really?”

Ty Lee stood to hang her headband above the mirror. “The universe is giving me strong hints that it’s time for a career change. I want to join you on your mission.”

And that’s when it all clicked for Y/N. That net being set on fire and the animals being released wasn’t about killing Ty Lee. Sure, it would have killed her if she had fallen, but the real motive behind it all was worse. 

She could tell by the smirk on Azula’s face that she had gotten exactly what she wanted. Because during Ty Lee’s show, Azula was putting on her own. She was displaying the power she held over them. Telling them without so many words what would happen if they proved disloyal, or stepped out of line. She was in control. And suddenly, Y/N was very fearful of her friend; even as she allowed herself to be pulled into a hug. 

“Let’s go get Mai.” Azula tucked a stray hair behind Y/N’s ear and nodded at them to follow her out of the tent and back to the carriage. 

----

Azula made the carriage take them back to the ship that night. The mountain roads were too small for a carriage as large as theirs to carry them to Omashu, where Mai’s father governed and they needed to dock the ship at the city’s port. This time, Azula entered on a palanquin. Ty Lee and Y/N marched behind it as they entered the palace grounds. 

“Please tell me you’re here to kill me.” Mai bowed to Azula as they approached. She looked at Azula seriously, before smiling and laughing. 

“It’s good to see you too, Mai,” Azula confessed. 

Ty Lee rushed past both of them to hug Mai. When Y/N could tell that the hug had lasted long enough for Mai, she gently pulled Ty Lee off and replaced her. 

“I thought you ran off and joined the circus?” Mai asked Ty Lee. “You said it was your calling.”

Ty Lee smiled brightly. “Well, Azula called a little louder.” 

“And you–” Mai gripped Y/N’s bicep. “Swinging that stupid sword must be all you do. You’re built like a guard.” A comment like that coming from anyone else might have offended Y/N, but from Mai she knew what it really meant–you’re still in one piece. 

Mai was quick to join their team. Y/N knew from letters that Mai was bored with Omashu, and this was a perfect opportunity to get out from underneath her parents. 

“You guys came at the right time,” Mai said as they entered the palace. “My brother was kidnapped by the resistance last night.”

“Oh no!” Ty Lee gasped. 

“Why would they take Tom-Tom?” Y/N asked. There had to be a motive behind kidnapping a baby. Omashu might have been taken over by the Fire Nation but surely the people here wouldn’t resort to anything...murder-y just for their city back. He was just a baby! 

Mai looked back at her and Y/N noticed dark circles under her eyes she hadn’t seen before. She didn’t sleep at all last night knowing someone had her brother. “We don’t know.”

As she led the three of them to the throne room where Ukano and Michi were waiting, she caught them up on everything they needed to know. The room smelled like dust, clearly sitting unused since the governor took over the city. The three girls, as well as Mai’s parent’s knelt on pillows as Azula ascended to the throne. 

They all bowed before sitting up. Mai continued, “We’ve offered up an exchange; we sent a messenger hawk last night. We have Omashu’s King in the prison–Bumi.”

Azula turned to Ukano. “I’m so sorry to hear about your son. But really, what did you expect by just letting all the citizens leave?” She clasped her hands together and crossed her legs. Y/N noticed she didn’t look sorry at all; her face was cold, angry even. 

“Princess–” Ukano bowed his head respectfully. 

“My father has trusted you with this city, and you’re making a mess of things.” She stepped down from the throne and the girls all rose to meet her. “Mai will handle the hostage trade so you don’t have the chance to mess it up. And there is no more Omashu.” Azula growled. “I’m renaming it in honor of my father. The city of New Ozai!” She strode out of the room with all three of them on her heels. All three of them ignored the tears in Michi’s eyes.

They met on the landing of a construction project. Looking up, Y/N could see what it was. It was a giant statue of Ozai. It was mostly covered in scaffolding but Y/N still shuddered just looking at it. Though this Ozai was made of stone, the eyes were the same, cold and dead. Mai took the lead flanked to left with her and Azula, the right with Ty Lee. 

Even from a distance Y/N could tell that these weren’t members of any resistance. They were kids, probably her age, but maybe younger. Two were wearing Water Tribe blue–the boy in the middle though–was wearing yellow and orange. Y/N had never seen anyone wear those colors before. She could hear Azula hum thoughtfully next to her. 

A crane from above lowered the metal box that held former King Bumi. Y/N noticed he seemed rather chipper for being locked in a metal coffin with only his head sticking out. 

“You brought my brother?” Mai asked. Her low, raspy voice carried over the distance between them. 

“He’s here. We’re ready to trade,” The one in orange answered.

Azula turned to Mai. “I’m sorry, but a thought just occurred to me. Do you mind?”

Mai tensed. “Of course not, Princess Azula.”

“We’re trading a two-year-old for a king. A powerful, earthbending king. It just doesn’t seem like a fair trade, does it?”

Mai’s eyes narrowed, searching over every inch of Azula’s face. Her jaw tightened and slowly she turned to look back at the ‘resistance’ members. “You’re right. The deal’s off.”

Ty Lee and Y/N shared a look. What was Mai thinking? This was her brother. 

As King Bumi was once again lifted into the air, the boy in orange ran towards them, a swirling mass of dirt trailing him. Azula stepped out and threw a ball of fire at him. Or at least where he should have been. He jumped and then flew? high above them, floating on air currents with his staff that was now a glider. He was an airbender. 

“The Avatar!” Azula exclaimed. “My lucky day.” As Azula took off after the Avatar, Y/N ran to the Water Tribesmen, Ty Lee and Mai hot on her tail. She drew her sword and cut an ice dagger in half that the girl threw at her head. She ducked a rope of water and slipped past the waterbender, leaving Mai and Ty Lee to take care of her. Y/N was going to get Tom-Tom. 

The Watertribe boy was furiously blowing on a silent whistle and trying to wrangle the squirming baby in his arms. He turned and ran but tripped over a loose board and slid backwards to the edge. Y/N was nearly there, her fingers inches from grabbing the baby when something wet wrapped around her ankle like seaweed and pulled her hard in the opposite direction. She hit her chin on the wooden boards and lost her grip on her sword which skittered away helplessly over the edge and down to the ground. 

She kicked out but there was nothing for her foot to hit. The waterbender had grabbed her foot with a water rope to stop her and went back to fighting Mai and Ty Lee. She had her hands full with them, dodging chi blocks and blocking knives so she was protective of the boy–loyal to him. Her brother. Use it. A voice in Y/N’s head that sounded too much like Azula’s told her.

Y/N pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the sting of her chin and slid down the ladder just as the Water Tribe boy had done seconds earlier. 

He stood at the bottom looking to the air like he was waiting for something. He watched her come near but didn’t move. That’s when she saw her sword laying a few feet away. He saw her see it at the same time. 

They both rushed to it. Y/N grabbed the hilt but couldn’t pull away. He’d crossed his club over it holding the blade down.

 “Don’t.”

“Then I won’t.” She kicked his club away and pulled her blade back. They both backstepped giving each other space. She held her hand out to him. “ I just want the baby.” 

“Not a chance.” His bright blue eyes watched her every move. He shifted Tom-Tom on his hip.

“Please, it’s my friend’s brother. What would you do if this was your sister?”

“Don’t talk about her!” He shouted. But Y/N didn’t miss his eyes flicker to the platform. 

“I can talk to Princess Azula. I can tell her to make the deal. Bumi for Tom-Tom. Just trust me.”

“Trust you?” he echoed. Then he laughed. Y/N didn’t get to ask him what he was laughing about because she was suddenly hit with something large in the ribs and thrown under the scaffolding. She grunted as she sat up and crawled through the broken beams she was thrown through. In the sky was a flying bison.

“Damn it.” 

After climbing back up the ladder, Y/N and her friends met in the middle of the platform, Azula nowhere in sight. 

Y/N shook her head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get Tom-Tom.”

Mai massaged a bruised wrist and shrugged. 

“But why would Azula cancel the deal?” Ty Lee asked. “We want Tom-Tom back just as much as they wanted King Bumi!”

“Azula didn’t,” Mai spat. 

Y/N sighed. “Why’d you let her do it, Mai?”

“You know why.”

“It’s not fair.” Ty Lee slung an arm around Mai’s waist. Y/N mirrored her on the other side. They walked back to the palace in silence. Nothing needed to be said, they knew what one another were thinking. 

----

“We have a third target now,” Azula announced from inside the palanquin as they marched out of the city. “We’re going after the Avatar.” 

“Ooh, I’d like to see that cute Water Tribe boy again, wouldn’t you?” Ty Lee nudged Y/N in the ribs with her pointy elbow. Y/N smiled, he was pretty cute, she thought to herself. 

Her smile grew to a grin. “Yeah, but I bet Mai’s more excited to see Zuko.” Y/N poked Mai in the arm and watched the girl who tried her hardest not to show her emotions flushed a deep red. 

Ty Lee and Y/N fell into a fit of giggles. Y/N missed her friends.

Taglist: @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ , @myexgirlfriendisthemoon​ , @astroninaaa​

A/N: if you’re getting vibes that Azula likes Y/N more than a friend, you are right ;) AND HEY we finally meet the gaang!! Y/N thinks Sokka’s cute!! Sokka hates her Fire Nation guts!! 

Like & reblog!! ❤️If you would like to be added to the taglist please shoot me a message or ask! 

[yeojaa]

NOT YOUR FAIRYTALE - ft. myg

What do you do when you've called your wedding off but forgot to cancel your cake tastings? Why, you ask your brother's grouchy best friend, of course.

pairing.  min yoongi.  sort of.

genre + rating.  fluff-adjacent.  general.

warning / tags.  mentions of infidelity, cake tasting, cake tasting isn’t a euphemism, fluff and hurt/comfort, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, friendship, friendship/love, childhood friends.

reading.   n/a.  a stand-alone three part one-shot.

chapter i.

"You want me to what?"

The way he's looking at you makes you want to sink six feet under ground and bury yourself among the roots and bugs.  There's so much judgment in the feline turn of his stare, the depths of his irises and the pupils that disappear among the hue.  Still, his voice remains decidedly bored.  Apathetic, even.

If you were anyone else - hell, if he were anyone else - you think you might've slunk off, proverbial tail tucked between your legs.  But you aren't and he isn't, so you repeat yourself, louder this time.

"I want you to come to the cake tasting with me."  You're proud of yourself for how the words don't waver, clipping off your tongue and teeth in short bursts.  You're even more proud of how you meet his intimidating gaze, chin jutted out in something like defiance but admittedly softer, a little more vulnerable.

His expression is inscrutable, a palette of greys that only further the uncertainty that sinks like a stone in your chest.  Every second that passes feels like an eon and you think you might crumble into dust by the time his lips move, though sound is slow to come.

It seems even he's having second thoughts.

"So, you want me to pretend to be your fiancé."  A pause, incredulity written into every syllable.  "For cake."

When he puts it like that, it feels like nails on a chalkboard or cardboard against cardboard.  It raises the little hairs on the back of your neck and has you gritting your teeth, lids sliding over eyes in what can only be called distress.  It fits onto your face - curving lips and tensing your jaw all at once.  You remind yourself to breathe around the discomfort that lodges into your airway and within your skull.  

Why had you thought this was a good idea?  Why couldn't you have asked someone else?

Anyone but Min Yoongi.

"Everyone else is busy,"  you retort, though it's not quite as hard as you mean it to be.  It falls like a stone in the ocean - inconsequential.  "If you don't want to, just say so.  I'll go on my own."  

Your own, because you'd called off your engagement months ago and had forgotten to cancel this.  Or rather, you'd put it off.  You'd put a lot of stuff off.  It kind of came with discovering your boyfriend - your knight in shining armour soon-to-be husband - was a philanderer.  Still, you'd felt a little silly when you'd gotten the two-week reminder text (and email, because oh, you'd been excited!).  

When you'd approached your best friend about it, she'd reacted in her patented Lee Sora way.  A derisive snort - for that piece of shit ex of yours - and then a sweeter cloying laugh, insisting you go.  After all, you'd booked things on his dime.  'Better to eat your cake, even if you can't have it!'  were her words.  

Honestly, you'd forgotten about it again - purposely pushed it to the furthest recesses of your mind - until you'd gotten the call the day before.  Imagine your surprise when the assistant was chirping all over the phone line, completely oblivious to your stunned silence.

Why did you have to have the memory of something with really bad memory?  Your brother wasn't like this.

So here you were, asking his best friend to take some sort of pity on you.  It felt worse than tripping during your university graduation.  (Because yes, you had done that, nearly face planting in front of hundreds of your peers.  Clumsiness ran in the Kim family.)  You hated it with every fibre of your being.  Not because you had too much pride - god no - but because you'd had to ask him.  Yoongi.  

On a good day, he was gracious, if not distantly quiet.  On a bad day, he could cut you down with just one look.

Frankly, you couldn't tell what kind of day this was.  

"You know I'm not making you go alone."  The man in question sounds exasperated, though it's barely hidden, an undercurrent of frustration that peeks around the edges of consonants.  His expression betrays nothing as he turns back to face the array of monitors, nimble fingers already resuming their previous actions.  You feel a pang of guilt - you know how much he hates being bothered when he's working.  Namjoon's drilled it into your head since you were old enough to barge in without asking and though they'd taken a lunch break, it still feels a little clandestine.

You ignore the hope that sparks to life in your chest and the way your fingers curl around the door frame.  Or, at least, you try to ignore it.  You're grateful that his back is to you when you speak.  "Is that a yes?"

"Yes."  For a moment, you think he might turn by the way his shoulders shift, hands stilling.  But then he thinks better of it and slides his headphones over his mop of carefully styled smoke - a clear indication the conversation is over.

Before his right ear is fully covered, you're rushing to speak.  "It's at 3:30!  I'll come grab you before we have to leave!"  And then you're gone.

You'd thought it would be easier with someone else.  Appearances and all that.  

But as you're walking up to the pretty storefront - all unassuming whites to showcase the brilliant confections in the window - you somehow feel even more nervous.  What if they knew?  What if they could tell you two were polar opposites and you'd come to swindle them out of their painstakingly crafted cakes?  Would they tell you to get out?  Would they not say anything, even if they knew?

Scenarios play in your mind like the climax of a Bond film and you don't even realize you're hovering five feet away until his voice cuts through your thoughts - a hot knife through butter.

"What're you waiting for?"  There's that irritation again.  You try not to take it personally.  This was just who Yoongi was - had always been.  He was someone who didn’t suffer fools gladly, no matter how they presented themselves.  You know it isn’t directed at you necessarily, but just at the strange situation he now found himself in.  You tell yourself that over and over as you find your words, plastering what you hope to be a genuine smile on your face.

By the way he looks at you, lips curled around disbelief, you know it's a poor effort.  You were bad at hiding your emotions.  It was like Namjoon had stolen all the emotional maturity, leaving you with wide-open eyes and a face like a billboard.

"What if they know?"  You say it in a voice barely above a whisper, as if they might hear you through the intimidating glass door.

"Know what?"  A brow quirks, disappearing into his fringe.

"That we aren't together!"  The words explode out of you, a firecracker set off too close to curious hands.  Your mouth draws into a thin line of apology and you're twisting a section of hair around your index finger.  It's a nervous habit and he catches it immediately.  

His expression softens, just barely, and he sighs, breath blown through his nose.  "It'll be fine."  The confidence he reassures you with is surprising but somehow, it calms you.  Maybe it's the two decades of friendship rearing its pretty, often neglected head.  Whatever it is, you cling to it like a security blanket, eyes the size of dinner plates as you follow the hand that suddenly rises and inches toward you. 

"What're you doing?"  You speak before you can help it, admiring the softness of his skin and the long fingers built from years of piano.

Rather than speak, he grips your own.  It's loose but your knuckles knock together, palms flat and moulded into one.  "You want it to be believable, don't you?"  Despite the bemused inflection, you appreciate his gesture.  It means a lot to you.  

You squeeze his hand, nodding once.  "Thanks, Yoongi."  It's soft and shy, filled with all the things you don't say.  He reads between the lines easily, years of platonic intimacy guiding him into what could almost be described as a smile but falls just short of revealing his gums.  Still, it's as good as having him shout his understanding from the rooftops so you take it with grace, dutifully following after him when he pries open the door.

The smell is intoxicating.  If your life were a cartoon movie, you're sure you'd be following the smell and floating into the kitchen with hearts in your eyes.

"You must be the soon-to-be Rims!"  

She's a pretty young thing with big doll eyes and a sweetly upturned nose.  You recognize her voice immediately as the girl that had confirmed your appointment.  She oozes honey and kindness and you can't help but smile;  she's sweet as apple pie.  How fitting.

So swept up in her sunny greeting, you belatedly notice the way your not-fiancé stiffens at your side, his interlocked fingers tightening imperceptibly. ��There's a tick in his jaw, tension running the length of his bones and steeling around the column of his neck.  For a second, you're tempted to reach out with your free hand, smooth whatever consternation has him grimacing, but in the next moment, he's a blank slate.  His chin dips, nods in affirmation because you've been too caught up in him to answer the poor girl.

"That's us."  He hides it well, but you can still see the flicker of annoyance just beyond the flat of his barely realized smile.  It's the same ebb and flow that you've become familiar with over the years.  (Especially since, during a particularly annoying time during your teens, you'd been the reason for it.)

"So nice to meet you finally.  I'm Siyeon."  It seems the assistant is completely oblivious to whatever displeasure lies beneath the surface of Yoongi’s carefully crafted facade, her beaming smile never faltering.  You can even hear it in her voice when she turns and begins leading you past the front pastry case and toward the open space further back.  "Come this way!  We have everything set up." 

You squeeze his hand again when the whites of his eyes grow prominent by the way they roll in their sockets.  "Be nice,"  you chastise quietly, closing the distance just enough to keep the conversation between the two of you.

"I am nice."  When your gaze meets, you're mirroring each other's expression.  It makes you laugh;  he simply shakes his head.

"You two are so sweet,"  comes Siyeon's meant-to-be kind observation.  She's watching you two closely from the head of the long table where she waits.  There are slices of cake laid across the top, three pieces in total.  Place cards sit neatly behind each plate, another three placed off to the side.  There are two forks, two pens, and a bare white notepad.  "Please, take a seat.  Would you like some champagne?"

"Please!"  You've answered before your companion has had a chance to and he levels you with a quirked brow and nothing else.  You note the way Siyeon disappears with your answer, leaving you to stick your tongue out at him.  "What?"

"Take it easy, party animal,"  he drawls, nonchalant as ever as he turns his attention to the offerings laid before him.  

You know he's just teasing, so you say nothing, instead opting to do the same.  Every slice is perfectly cut - a generous portion for two people - and so lovingly crafted that you almost feel bad thinking you'll never get to try it again.  

"Here you go." 

Two champagne flutes are presented, ice bucket with the orange label bottle set aside.  You take a tentative sip, enjoying the way the liquid bursts across your tongue.  You'd always been more of a beer girl, but this is nice.  It feels a little like a treat to yourself - for getting through everything that's brought you here.

"So, we're pretty hands-off here."  Siyeon is speaking again, the words rolling off her tongue like she's given this spiel a hundred times.  You're sure she has.  She's so confident, rattling off the process with practiced ease.  You focus intently, grateful for the way Yoongi even leans forward - the picture of an attentive partner.  "We've prepared six cakes for you.  You'll taste them in groups of three, so your palate isn't overwhelmed.  We leave you alone during this portion so you can discuss without any pressure or input and you can make notes on what you do and don't like.  Once you're done all of the samples, you'll meet with one of our pâtissiers and discuss."  There's a pause, then realization.  “You also mentioned on the phone you wanted us to include a red velvet option, so that’s on the far right.”  A hand gesticulates, though it’s impossible to miss.  The cake is vivid maroon and off-white – a picture perfect slice presented on the minimalistic ceramic. 

You don’t miss the way Yoongi’s brow knits together beneath his neatly styled crown of silk or the stare he levels you with.  He doesn’t betray emotion easily, but you can feel it from your periphery, and it licks hot shame across your cheeks.  You hated red velvet – called it bullshitter’s chocolate – but your stupid awful ex-fiancé had loved it, claiming it to be one of his favourite things in the world.

More than even you, you find yourself thinking bitterly before you can help it.

“Thanks.”  The word is short and dismissive.  Very clearly the complete opposite of how it should be but if Siyeon notices, she doesn’t comment on it.  You have to applaud her self-restraint.  Instead, she offers another winning smile, and retreats back a step.

“I’ll just be at the front, if you need anything.”

A part of you wants to ask to her to stay – save you from the scathing words you know are about to fire off of your pretend-partner’s tongue.  You settle for returning her smile and watching as she departs, gaze trained diligently on her back as if that might protect you from the verbal barrage you know is coming.

“You hate red velvet.”  It’s a statement that has you cringing because you can hear all of the implications behind it.  The words he doesn’t speak but clearly thinks linger in the air between you, falling like rain drops that sink into your bones.

You don’t immediately answer, taking your time in turning your fork over in your fingers.  You know this silent treatment won’t work.  Yoongi’s the master of silence – and of death glares – but you push onwards, gliding tines into the nearest cake slice.  It doesn’t crumble or break, held together by pure craftsmanship and quality ingredients.  The pretty not-quite-purple, not-quite-red winks up at you. 

Honey wine Moscato with triple berry mousse and seasonal berry compote. 

A definite yes in your books.  Or would be, if you were actually getting married.  You take another bite, then another.

“Why the hell would you have asked for a red velvet wedding cake if you hate it?”  He’s not about to let it go, though he follows suit once the question has left his lips.  He’s also not about to let you leave him with crumbs when he was the one who’d been forced into coming here.

The way his jaw relaxes has you smiling just a little, an expectant gleam in the brown of your irises.

“Tasty, right?” 

“Yeah, good.”  But now that you’ve spoken – confirmed that you’re not mute, despite how quiet you’ve been since he’d poised his initial question – he repeats himself.  “Seriously, why ask for a cake you hate?”

You know you have no reason to hold the words so tightly to your chest but you do nonetheless, not quite sure how to speak them without your voice cracking.  “Red velvet was his favourite.”  There.  You’d thought the admission would be a weight lifted but it feels somehow worse.  Like there’s shame draped across the concession, a heavy brocade that lingers in your throat once the words have left.

“You were going to have a wedding cake you’d hate?  Because of him?” 

It’s exactly what you’d been afraid of.  The judgment that rolls off him in waves and crashes against you like a shore at hightide.  Your eyes remain steadfastly trained on the next slice – almond cake soaked in Grand Marnier with honey-cream and Mariska cherries.  Crimson fruit is speared on an individual tine and popped into your mouth as you continue your vow of silence.

You think the quiet is enough of an answer but when he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, you finally look up.  Whatever words of defence had been forming on your tongue die off, dragged into an abyss that opens up beneath your feet – a surprise, because you’ve never seen that look on his face before.

It’s equal parts frustration and something else but because it’s so new, you can’t quite place it in your catalog of memories.

He must realize, immediately rearranging his features into their usual stoic mask.  Just the tilt of his mouth betrays him, corners turned down ever so slightly.  It’s enough to know that he’s holding back, which is something he never does.  Ever.

“Spit it out, Yoongi.”  You don’t look at him, too afraid that both his words and stare will completely eviscerate you now that he has the go ahead.  You fork a proper mouthful of cake past your lips, humming contentedly as the flavours spill over your tongue.  You hadn’t expected it to taste like a creamsicle – okay, a very adult creamsicle – but it’s welcome, nonetheless. 

Fork of his own spears a sizeable bite and you watch as the slice disappears before your eyes, under both of your measured ministrations.   The red velvet plate sits untouched.  You know Yoongi doesn’t mind it – enjoys it, in fact – but you think he must be refraining for your sake.

Solidarity in crisis, probably.

“You know you’re better off without him.” 

Of course you know that.  He’d cheated on you – in your home and more than once!  You knew, just as you knew how to ride a bike or how to swim, that ending things was the best thing you’d ever done.  Sure, it’d hurt like hell and sure, you’d had to move in with your brother until you found something else – you hadn’t yet – but it was all for the best.

So why can’t you say those three simple words?  Why, instead of your usual barking hyena laugh meeting his words, was there nothing?

“How are the cakes?”  Siyeon has materialized at your side as if summoned.  The still intact slice draws her attention immediately, concern settling alongside the winning customer service that oozes out of her pores and fixes itself into her permanent smile.  “Did you not like the red velvet?”

Before you have a chance to speak, Yoongi’s doing so for the both of you.

“She hates red velvet.  She only asked for it for me.”  There’s a shrug disrupting the ridge of his shoulders, shifting the soft cotton plaid that hugs his lithe frame.  “Could you bring out the rest?”  His tone is friendly, gentle even.  It's at complete odds with the line of his mouth, terse and teetering dangerously on irate.  Still, he's not unkind when his gaze meets Siyeon's and she simply nods, gathering up the plates and taking the disregarded slice in stride.

Silence stretches between the two of you but it isn't uncomfortable.  It's the same quiet that's followed you throughout your lives, carried gracefully by years of close quarters.

"Which do you like best?"  He breaks it first, with a gentle hand like a delicate sculptor. 

"Is both an acceptable answer?"  

There's a rueful tilt to your smile.  It feels very you to him, so he knows it's okay to rib you, teasing colouring every syllable.  "Two cakes, huh?  Pretty greedy."  

Whatever you're about to say falls off your tongue yet again, forgotten on the tip with the return of Siyeon. 

With the same sunny smile she's adopted the entire visit, she sets the next three selections carefully before you.  Just as before, they're beautifully crafted and effortlessly chic.  You spy what looks like carrot cake - from the telltale chunks of golden raisins and fluffy whipped frosting - but you're not sure which the rest are.  

"Their cards are right there,"  Siyeon supplies helpfully, noting your curiosity.  You smile, grateful as she departs with another grin and a reminder.  "Don't forget to take notes!"

Vanilla cake soaked in mandarin syrup and kumquat liqueur with mandarin vinegar from Jeju Island and mandarin curd. 

Dark chocolate mud cake soaked in espresso with white chocolate and black truffle ganache.

You opt to start with what appears to the airiest of the three, gliding your fork through the pretty mosaic of orange and cream.

“You deserve someone who’d let you have any cake you want.”  It’s soft - barely above a whisper - but kicks up gravel in its wake, drawing your attention with the grit that tracks over syllables.

You study him for a moment, masking curiosity as consideration of flavours as citrus bursts across your tongue.

“You mean someone like you?”  What you’d thought to be deadpan comes across coaxing, like honey swathed in broad strokes.  You’d only meant to tease - you don’t mean anything by it (or so you tell yourself).  Because you’re definitely not there yet, and certainly not with him.

But when he looks at you with that inscrutable expression, you swear you’d give up any three magic wishes to read his mind.

“No, not like me.”

notes.  based off of this prompt.

this will be two parts because i can’t write a short one-shot to my satisfaction.  :l  thank you for reading, though!

[mxrcayong]

avatar 01.14

masterlist.

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chapter fourteen: trust

“Trust me this once.”

Johnny’s words seemed to bounce around her mind like a broken pinball machine, the ball to enter the scoring zone. Her heart felt like it was pounding – falling deeper and deeper into the pit of her stomach. The sound of the door shutting behind him resounded in the room, echoing off each wall as they momentarily sat in silence. Despite being momentary, each second seemed to feel like an hour.

But they had no time to dwell on it. Sukiara ensured it, quickly returning back to the initial subject; the plan and their tasks. “We have to assume they will be heavily guarded or equipped to handle benders, or both.” She seemed unfazed as if she was listing their grocery shopping list, even though she was obviously picturing the dangerous task ahead of them.

Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “What can handle benders? Other than the cuffs, of course.” At the sound of his voice and the panic in Sukiara’s eyes, Tari’s heart dropped further than before. He’s risking his life…he’s only two years younger than me.

Sukiara pointed to Tari, designating her the task of explaining what she had told Sukiara when she had stayed in Bak Mei for a week. “Uhm…” Her eyes still lingered on the door, praying Johnny and Kilari will burst through the door and return to their seats or praying that by some twisted means of fate, someone would come in and exclaim it’s a prank. However, Sukiara snapped her fingers – semi-breaking her out of the trance. “Uhm… when Kilari and Doyoung were attacked in the…” She trailed off, her words getting lost as she continued to pray Johnny and Kilari returned.

“The initial attacks?” Yuta finished for her and Tari smiled at him gratefully. His hand went to her knee, his thumb stroking up and down comfortingly. Hearing his voice successfully broke her out of her hypnosis on the door. She noticed Sonan and Doyoung leaning in, intrigued about what Tari had to say. They didn’t hear anything about this before, even if they were there and they felt guilty to how they didn’t notice her struggle.

“I had a hard time healing them and it felt like the wounds were…” She scrambled through her mind for the right words, “fighting back or needed extra effort to actually heal.” Tari said, still somewhat despondent. Doyoung’s eyes went wide, before his eyes quickly jumped to where Tari had healed him.

Sonan stared at Tari in shock. How did she not notice? She tried to search back in her memories for that moment, but she was a bit drunk by then. The memory was faded with missing pieces. They had drank to forget the aftermath of the attacks, and never has she hated drinking more.  

“It’s safe to assume they’ll be armed with similar materials or similar techniques.” Sukiara took over the room once more. “They might’ve been inspired by Ty Lee’s fighting style.”

At the mention of the familiar name, a flashback to a memory Tari has never personally experienced overtook her senses. This is the first time in a while that a memory from her past life succumbed her involuntarily, taking over her senses as if she was reliving the moment.

Suddenly she was in an emerald room, something she recognized not only from her memories but the textbooks on the old legendary nation of Ba Sing Se. It was dark, the emerald seeming to reflect the shadows around the room. Tari could smell the scent of tea from the throne to the perfume of the Kyoshi Warriors in front of her.

An undeniable rage grumbled in her stomach, but she wasn’t in her own body. She had no control about what she would do about this rage - Avatar Aang was in control, and always the best at suppressing his negative emotions.

She could recognize, using Aang’s hindsight, the three Kyoshi warriors as Ty Lee, Mei, and Azula. Despite the rage seeming to pump through their blood, Tari also felt pity for Azula and a sense of missing Ty Lee and Mei (probably a result of Aang’s later friendship with the two).

The pity for Azula was overwhelming now as she lived through the memory, unable to act. Azula was only fourteen and was taught to be a war machine. She was born in the same life as Zuko, and Zuko was neglected and mentally abused – even physically. In the back of Tari’s mind, another mental image of Azula being dragged away by the mental institution and jail reminded Tari of her fate.

Katara approached, starting to water bend from the small capsule of water she brought with her. But Ty Lee cartwheeled towards Katara and flipped over her. Almost in slow motion, she pressed a point on Katara’s neck – causing Katara to groan in pain before falling to her side and the same water she was bending pooling out of her body.

“A combination of pressure points and acrobatics…” Tari commented. “But do you think the materials have something to do it?”

Instead of responding directly to the question, Sukiara deflected. She let out a sigh that Tari swore was the most disappointed sigh she has heard from her in her life. “I know you don’t like fighting, but I think…” She emphasized the word Tari had used in her questions, “you have to train and be ready to fight.”

Tari’s heart dropped. How about the other benders? Can they get stuck in the crossfire?

Before Tari could object, Sukiara shouted out demands and instructions. “I will finalise the plan by tomorrow night. You have 4 days and 3 nights to prepare. Tari and everyone, please go get dressed in training attire. Yuta and Jisung, fire and earth are Tari’s least mastered elements. Please train her with it. Especially fire, so please start on that today. I will send down our bending moderator to discuss with you Tari’s progress.” She turned to the only non-bender left in the room. “Sonan, feel free to help me strategize or practice with our weapons expert.”

With that, Sukiara marched out of the room with no reaction – as if she was a robot. These were the times Tari remembers that Sukiara wasn’t her parent or her legal caretaker, but a guardian and a manager. Her priority is not her wellbeing, but her ability to do the Avatar’s purpose; to keep balance in the world.  

Tari was still shell-shocked, but she had an idea she believed Sukiara must hear. Jumping to her feet, she ran to the door frame and leaned out. From hanging out the room, she watched Sukiara walking down the empty corridor..

“Can you contact Lin?” Tari shouted down the hall, her words echoing throughout the corridor.

Sukiara turned around briefly, giving her a thumbs up, and disappeared down the hallway.

As soon as she turned around to enter the room once more, Yuta, Jisung, and Doyoung were already heading out. “Let’s train.”

99% of Tari’s childhood and her adolescence was training or doing homeschooling. Homeschooling, however, was a mere 20% as she took accelerated courses of study. She practically finished K-12 by age 12. It helped that the whole entire history being taught in classes was in her memories – she has technically lived them before. She merely had to learn other basic skills, from math to grammar. Despite that, school was always second priority compared to bending training. Consequently, training was a hefty majority of her childhood.

With that in mind, Tari can flawlessly braid her hair out of the way blindfolded. She can navigate the training centers in the island and the temples she trained at (given they haven’t changed) in a complete blackout under a night sky.

It didn’t take long before she was in the training center, biting anxiously at her nails while waiting for her ‘trainers’ Jisung, Yuta, and Doyoung. She didn’t know where to start. Should she stretch? Most likely, but she can’t seem to concentrate. She can’t seem to stop wondering where Johnny and Kilari ran off to, what Sukiara plans, or if her friends will be safe tomorrow.

In all her life of training; of knowing the procedures, of knowing every single stretch that could possibly be known to man – this is the first time in year Tari is standing in the middle of the courtyard, uncertain of what to do. As much as she dreaded training, she just wanted it to happen already so she can stop imagining how it’ll go (which, by the way, in her head – hasn’t gone well).

Within minutes, she sees Yuta, Doyoung, and Jisung walk down the steps with her bending guide. Yes, she had Sukiara as her guardian – but she had Lia Kim as her bending guide. In that sense, Lia Kim has theoretically mastered all the elements – however she’s purely a Water Bender. Resultingly, Lia monitors Tari’s growth with bending – she keeps track of what she has obviously mastered and what she has to continue in mastering.

She has many good memories with Lia. Lia always managed to make training somewhat fun – turning training sessions into obstacle courses, games of hide and seek, challenges, and just general fun. She was the only one of her ‘three main mentors’ who turned things into games; Sukiara was always in charge of acting like a parental figure while Choi Youngjun always had to be strict due to the accelerated course of education she was required to take.

Despite the group of them gracing kind smiles on their faces, Tari was still anxiously predicting any way training could go wrong – from her burning someone to them giving up on her. Tari found that her leg started shaking without her control.

Doyoung took one glance at her and noticed this; noticed her widened eyes, her lips between her teeth, her feet anxiously tapping at the ground. He didn’t know all about her past, but he knew about her now – so well, that they can communicate purely through their eyes. That’s all he needed to know, he decided.

So, he did what he did when Tari seems panicked in public; distract her.

“Honestly, I’m glad you’re practically forced to be training with me.” Doyoung smiled. “Like, if you went to the gym, I’m about 10000% certain you’d choose anyone but me to be your trainer.”

Tari felt a weight off her shoulders at Doyoung’s teasing smirk. She stood to her feet and playfully pushed his shoulder, “Yeah, because obviously you’ll somehow end up making me do something dumb. May I remind you of the fork stabbing incident?”

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!”

The sun had set, and everyone was exhausted.

Hours and hours of training only brought them to a point of giving up, but Tari refused. Jisung has distracted himself with Doyoung once more, the two playing around with a small game they created that Tari and Yuta cannot understand at all. All they know is that when Jisung manages to balance on the airball and knock Doyoung off his feet, Jisung screams in celebration while Doyoung falls to his knees – cursing any higher being out there. Vice versa can be said when Jisung is sprawled on the floor.

They saw their work as over. Doyoung, from the very beginning, just had to remind Tari of the offensive and defensive moves of Air Bending rather than the daily tasks. Jisung had a bit more on his plate, but Yuta reminded them of Sukiara’s suggestion to tackle her biggest weakness first; fire. It wasn’t a surprise when everyone agreed.

Tari and Yuta were still in the middle of the courtyard, repeating the last move Tari couldn’t seem to master. Yuta was impressed – she was quick learner. He was surprised she didn’t master it sooner, however, he noticed she was mostly good at theory. She can describe a move perfectly, but when she actually tries to do it? Something goes wrong.

He notices how she hesitates, how her foot moves out of place, how she loses concentration on the actual move as she focuses on how she could mess up.

Her head was hurting. I swear I’m doing this right. She checked everything more than a million times; her foot placement for the millionth time, the positioning of her fingers, the angle of her arms – but all she could let out was a measly fire ball while Yuta seemed to call upon the burning core of the world itself.

Yuta could sense the frustration boiling Tari’s blood and placed his hand on her back. He’s been demonstrating from a distance initially, as requested by Tari to ‘avoid getting hurt’. But he’s been in her position before – and he often feels much more relaxed with the touch of a fellow human being.

A bell chime ran through the island, alerting every one of dinner now ready in the canteen.

“Thank God!” Doyoung praised, “I’m starving!”

Jisung following behind, “I wonder what food they’re serving today.” He commented, as if to himself.  “As long as it’s not fire nation food, I’m good.” Jisung’s face turned into a painful wince as if he just ate into the spicy dish again.

The two stopped in their positions, noticing Tari not following behind. Doyoung sighed, “Tari, you need to eat.” Tari refused to answer, Yuta still hovering over her as he tried to analyse her face. It was stern – focused on the fake target placed in front of her. “Tari-“

“I’ll eat later.” She said coldly, almost as if her words were ice.

Of course, it’s not mandatory to go to dinner at the time. Mealtimes at Bak Mei last for five hours, so often, people go when they please. But Tari even missed lunch.

“Tari,”

“I’LL EAT LATER, DO!” Doyoung jumped at the change of tone. This is the first time she properly ever yelled at him, and that means a lot considering they have been roommates for approximately two years.

Yuta, himself, even flinched. Jisung’s eyes went wide. From his position as the closest to her, Yuta signalled to Doyoung and Jisung to go ahead and eat. “Go ahead.” He insisted, “We’ll catch up.” He winked at them, letting them know he’ll try his best to get her to eat.

“Go ahead, Yuta.” Tari stated, “You don’t have to wait for me, I’ll probably never get it anyway.”

“You can’t fire bend on an empty stomach, though!” He smiled, trying to charm into the canteen. She can’t say it wasn’t working; his smile was so bright, like he was radiating happiness. “Isn’t it fire nation night tonight? The food will definitely help, think of all the spice.” He made tingly-motions with his hands, making Tari’s guard fall down and letting himself chuckle.

Tari dropped her arms from the position. “Fire nation night was last night. It’s air nation food tonight.” Her voice was suddenly small.

“Even better!” Yuta clapped his hands, “My dad used to make the best dumplings. He was born in Air Temple Island actually, he actually was living with Aang.” At the mention of his name, especially while training – her heart hurt.

Was this how Aang was feeling? About fighting the fire lord? Conflicted, loss, unwilling to do it? How did he do it? Why can’t I be more like him?

The half-fire nation and half-air nation citizen smiled sadly, noticing – even under the courtyard’s dim lights – how Tari’s gaze fell to her feet with a darkened glaze. “Okay, how about this. I help you master this move. We go to dinner. And if you really want to, we do another training session after dinner. You don’t have to meditate tonight.” Yuta sighed.

Tari looked up at him; his sparkling brown eyes full of concern, his small smile. How could I say no? When she begrudgingly nodded, his small smile was replaced with a large one that showed all his teeth – his face immediately becoming brighter. She swore she wouldn’t need the courtyard to be lit up when he’s there, smiling. It reminded her of the candle fountain in the earth nation, something Lin snuck her out after curfew to show her. It was a beautiful sight.

“Okay, then, let’s get a move on because we need to get some food in you.” He teased, his hands immediately being put on Tari’s waist. At the skin ship, Tari shivered. She normally never shivers – it’s the beauty of air bending helping adjust to the temperature around her, but his touch seemed to shoot electricity throughout her. She regrets not wearing a longer T-Shirt, but she normally wears crop tops to train, especially when bending fire.

He was strong, but the way he helped Tari fix up her stance was gentle – as if she was a fragile doll. No one treated her as gentle when training as he is now, other than before she found out she was the Avatar. They always pushed her, continuously challenged her. She can’t recall every bad bruise and injury she got from training – it’s probably over a thousand. But he was treating her like she was made of glass. Her heart fluttered.

“You have to remain loose,” He nudged her feet to be wider apart, “you have to be ready to move fast so keep your heels off the ground.”

“But earth bending, your heels have to be down right?” Tari clarified.

“Yeah, but this is fire bending, babes.” Tari swears this man must know how to do lightning bending, because everything that comes out of his mouth sends electricity down her spine. He inched closer, his chest pressed against her back as he fixes her posture. His hot breath brushed behind her ear. “Keep your arms shoulder level.” His hands trailed upwards, tickling her sides, as it went to help her position her arms. “From,” His hand trailed towards her hand which is outstretched in front of her. “Bring this in with your fingers tight together as if they were glued on the sides,” Holding the back of her hand, he guided it close to her chest – as if pointing to her heart. “Turn your palm over as it faces you,” As he instructs her verbally, he’s helping guide her movements with his right hand while his left hand is still holding her hip loosely. “…and then slice the air and shoot it out.”

It all felt intimate; his lips behind her ear, his hot breath hitting it with very word, his hand against her hip. “Now, that’s the hand movements. Do you know what to do with your feet?”

Tari launched her right foot up, keeping the bottom of her foot flat towards the hypothetical opponent. “No, no, you need to point it towards the target. Pointing it makes your kick sharper and helps you move more efficiently.”

She nodded as she amended to his feedback. “Okay, perfect. Now do it without me. Remember, focus on fire. Focus on what you want. Focus on the energy you feel, the electricity within you.” He stepped back to watch her perform the move basically perfect, except for one thing. “You have to stay off your heels.”

“Ugh!” Tari could do this easily with air bending, which also emphasizes getting off your heels. “It’s just like air bending, but why is this harder?”

“Exactly,” Yuta grinned, his eyes looking down at her lips. “It’s harder because air bending is about peace, patience, liberty, and balance. That seems to be like you, from what I’ve seen. Fire?” He started leaning in, “it’s all about passion,” His voice became huskier and more hushed as he leaned even closer. His eyes glanced down to her lips, before back at her eyes.

Tari was surprised; as she found herself leaning in too. Soon, they were millimeters apart. “It’s about performance, but mostly - inner fire.” And his lips pressed onto hers.

It was as if the kiss could help them learn everything about each other, as if their lips were books about their whole lives and they just wanted to know everything. His lips were soft and moist, breathing into her lips gently as they kissed.

Tari pulled away, the heat in her cheeks not going to disappear any time soon. She felt awkward, but immediately wanted to cool the tension. “Passion, huh?” She chuckled, biting her lip and trying to hide her blushing cheeks from the cocky Yuta. “I thought fire bending was also about providing a source of life.”

The master bender chuckled. “Technically, yes. But I wanted an excuse to kiss you.”

She scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, dinner, shall we?”

Let’s just say, Doyoung knew something was up inside the canteen when she refused to mention training and when Yuta’s leg was leaning against Tari’s under the table.

request anything for future parts / penny for your thoughts here

[malllladeimaginaire-blog]

Aliain

Gift for Nidarosisart.  (Aliain is her character).  I really hope you like it <3

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The little village sat in the lee of a rocky hill, covered with pine trees.  Rain pattered down from an overcast, gloomy sky, turning the fields of the farms to mud and driving all of the villagers inside. Between rows of corn the scarecrows drooped, their straw arms hanging down sadly.  A loose shutter banged fretfully in the wind.  In the village square a lone, wet dog wandered aimlessly, sniffing at puddles.

One farm, slightly larger than the rest, stood closest to the forest, almost in the shade of the trees.  It had a vegetable garden, a barn, two paddocks and a large corn field, all beautifully kept.  Sheep usually grazed in the fields, though now they huddled together by the gate, and bedraggled chickens pecked around the yard.  Despite the weather a cat sat on the porch in front of the house, her yellow gaze turned disapprovingly on the rain.

This farm had been in the same family for generations and was now the loving home of an elderly couple, their widowed daughter and her little girl.  The child, Aliain, was a sweet, shy girl, the favourite of everyone in the village.  She was hard-working, quiet and kind and had a wonderful way with animals.  All agreed that she was a credit to her family and one day would grow up to be something very special.

Most days the family could be seen working happily together in the fields, but today the rain had kept them inside.  The curtains of the house were closed to keep out the draught and smoke curled lazily from the chimney.  Early that morning the grandfather had taken their cart over to the neighbouring village to sell some wool and he was expected back late, so a lantern had been left on the porch to light his way.

Inside Aliain sat on the faded hearthrug, her rag doll in her lap, turning the pages of an old and tattered book.  It belonged to her grandmother and was filled with the old lady’s tiny, cramped handwriting detailing her amazing collection of flowers and herbs. There were beautiful ink drawings too and Aliain pored over these with delight, tracing her little fingers gently over the lines.

Her mother and grandmother stood together at the kitchen table, one kneading bread, the other chopping carrots for a stew.  They worked in a comfortable silence, occasionally glancing up to check on Aliain or to listen out for her grandfather’s return.  An old sheepdog lay curled at their feet, raising his head now and then to look hopefully for scraps.  

Slowly the afternoon wore on.  The rain drummed gently against the windows, the fire crackled merrily in the grate and outside the sky, gloomy throughout the day, began to darken towards evening.

After a while Aliain’s grandmother paused in her work and wiped her floury hands on her apron.  ‘Time to feed the animals,’ she announced cheerfully.  ‘Your grandfather said you could do it today, Aliain.’  

On the hearthrug Aliain looked up from her book, her little hand still poised over the page she was studying, and beamed at her grandmother. At only six, it was a big responsibility for her to be asked to feed the animals by herself.  It gave her a warm glow of pride to think her grandfather trusted her when he was away.  She did not like to mention that she was afraid to go outside alone when it was getting dark.  She would have hated to let down her grandfather when he was counting on her.  So that was how Aliain found herself slipping out of the back door, a bucket of corn in her hand and a carrot in her apron pocket, as darkness began to fall on a cold, dreary day.

Behind the house the forest loomed, the trees dark and dripping with rain. The light was already fading from the sky and the evening was turning prematurely to night.  In the grey gloom shadows massed under the trees, making the forest look forbidding and dangerous.  A cold wind whistled down from the hills, carrying with it a fresh wave of rain. Somewhere in the distance a fox barked, a mournful sound in the gathering night.

Shivering, Aliain drew her grandmother’s shawl tighter around her narrow shoulders and hurried across to the barn.  She did not run for fear of tripping on the rutted track, but she scampered with the nervous haste of somebody who would rather be doing anything else.  All the time she felt as if the forest itself were watching her, an ominous, lurking presence, and she was relieved to reach the safety of the barn.  

Her grandfather had left an oil lantern hanging on a nail by the doorway, well away from the hay and straw.  It was too high for Aliain to reach it without help, but it cast a soft, warm glow over the stables, welcoming her inside.  She let out the breath she did not realise she had been holding and was greeted by the scent of damp horse and fresh hay.  Relaxing her tight grip on the wool of the shawl Aliain stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her.  

The barn was probably Aliain’s favourite part of their little farm. Always peaceful and warm, she liked to sit there on cold days, talking to the animals.  Sometimes, when she had time, her grandmother would come and join her and tell Aliain stories about her own childhood while she knitted, their old sheepdog lying at her feet.  

Aliain put her bucket down by the door, calling softly for the chickens to come and they did, running on their funny, feathery legs, pushing and barging to reach the food first.  The little girl laughed as they swarmed around her, pecking at her hands to see if she had their corn.  She reached into her bucket and sprinkled the grains over the floor around her.  Immediately the birds began pecking and scraping, chasing after their dinner.  

Once all the corn was gone and the chickens were eating happily Aliain turned to the stables at the back of the barn.  The family’s horse was away, taking her grandfather to the next village, so his stable stood empty, a thick bed of straw ready for his return.  That meant the only other current occupant was the elderly donkey.  Aliain had learnt to ride on him and he had once worked on the farm but now his joints were getting stiff, so he had retired to live a comfortable life.

The stable door was so high that Aliain had to stand on tiptoes to reach over, but she pulled the carrot out of her pocket and offered it to her old friend.  But as she was holding out the carrot to the donkey, stroking his velvet nose, Aliain heard a strange noise from outside. She stopped, suddenly feeling anxious again.  Listening very hard all she could hear was the sound of the donkey rustling the straw of his stable and the chickens clucking around after their corn.  There was nothing there.  

Shaking her head she was about to go back to what she was doing when she heard the noise again.  It sounded like a strange, little cry, like something in pain.  Without thinking Aliain rushed to the door, leaving the bucket behind, and dashed outside.  

Evening had fallen properly now and it was getting so dark that she could barely see where she was going.  The trees loomed ominously, black against the dark sky.  The rain had eased to a drizzle and the wind had dropped to be replaced with an almost eerie stillness.  Again, the sound came from somewhere behind the barn and Aliain stumbled towards it, her boots slipping on the muddy track.  

Her heart was pounding and her breath came in short, nervous gasps. Really she knew she should have gone back for her mother or her grandmother, but at that moment she was filled with worry and the need to help and she did not really think of that.  It sounded like some animal was in pain somewhere and needed help and Aliain would never leave an animal to suffer.

She was under the trees, stumbling over roots before she even realised where she was.  Water dripped down off the branches above, catching in her hair and soaking through her shawl.  A fine, clammy wetness clung to her skin, making her shiver.  Her hands were already so cold that she could barely feel her fingers, but Aliain was not going to give up.  The sound came again, just ahead, and she hastened after it, her teeth chattering from cold and fear.

She had never been into the woods alone before, especially not at night. There were bears and wolves in the forests and hills around the village and it was dangerous to go wandering off alone.  Aliain’s pace slowed slightly.  She had done an incredibly stupid thing, coming out here, and she should turn back immediately.  For a second her conscience warred with her common sense and fear.  She could not go away without at least trying to help, but this was a very silly thing to have done.

Dithering, unsure of what to do, Aliain was not paying attention to where she was going.  As she stepped forwards the ground suddenly gave way under her and she was falling, sliding down a muddy, rocky bank.  She screamed as she fell, tumbling over and over in the dark, terrified that at any second she was going to hit her head on a tree.  Her hands scrabbled uselessly around her, tearing her nails, but there was nothing to catch hold of.  

Her fall came to an abrupt halt as she crashed painfully onto hard, wet ground.  The air was driven from her lungs and an agonising pain shot through her right leg as it crumpled beneath her, twisted at a strange angle.  Her hands were scratched and bleeding and one side of her face ached, though she could not remember why.  

For several minutes Aliain just lay, shaking where she had fallen, tears slowly leaking down her cheeks.  It was dark and she was cold and she had no idea where she was.  How was anybody ever going to find her here?  Her leg hurt so much that she was afraid to even move to see how injured she was.  All she wanted was to be at home again, safe and warm, and she wished more than anything that she had never come into the forest.  

Somewhere to her right a twig cracked in the darkness.  Aliain whipped around, her heart pounding, only to cry out in pain as she moved her injured leg.  With a sob she crumpled back to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself, as though that could protect her.  There was a rustling in the undergrowth nearby and another twig snapped. Thoughts of bear and wolves, attracted by the noise she had been making, crowded into her head and she stuffed her fist into her mouth to try and stay quiet.

The noise came again, closer this time, accompanied by a strange glow. Aliain squeezed her eyes shut and just hoped that whatever it was would miss her, that it would go away and leave her alone.  She hardly dared to breathe and it felt as though iron bands were crushing her chest, strangling her with panic.

Then suddenly a wave of calm washed over her, gentle and reassuring, and a soft voice spoke.  ‘Stay still, everything will be alright now.’ It was not a voice that Aliain had ever heard before, musical with a strange accent, but she did not feel afraid.  She believed the stranger and trusted him, he was going to help her.  With a sigh she followed his instructions, letting her head fall back onto the ground.

The glow seemed to be coming from the stranger himself as he approached, almost as if he held it in his hand.  He was wrapped in a long, travel-worn cloak and carrying a leather pack on his back.  Under the cloak he wore a robe that, though beautifully made, was splashed with mud around the hem.  His boots were stained with mud too and it looked as though he must have walked a long way.  Aliain noticed these details in a distant sort of way as he came to crouch beside her.  

He smiled, a warm, friendly smile, and reached for her injured leg, very slowly as though talking to a frightened animal.  ‘It will be alright,’ he repeated, in a soft murmur as she tried to flinch back, afraid her would touch it and make the pain worse.  ‘I am going to help you.’  Close up, he had strange shiny eyes and long, pointed ears, but this did not strike Aliain as strange until much later.

The stranger held one glowing hand out over her injured leg and closed his eyes, seemingly in concentration.  At first nothing happened, Aliain’s leg ached and burned as it had done before, but then slowly she began to notice the pain receding.  Her cut hands stopped stinging, the pounding in her head lessened and then disappeared entirely, her chest felt lighter and she could breathe again.  The little girl stared up in wonder at her rescuer, as her leg healed over as though nothing had ever happened to it.  

‘How did you do that?’, she gasped when he finally opened his eyes. ‘You made the pain go away.’  

Smiling he got to his feet and offered her a hand up.  Aliain took it, amazed that she was able to stand.  She felt fresh and well, better than she had before her fall.  She was not even afraid of the dark woods any more.  

‘I am a priest,’ he explained kindly.  ‘I used the Light to heal you.’  He held out his glowing hand to her and Aliain took it, peering at the strange Light that washed over his palm.  ‘And now I should take you home.  Do you live in the village?’  He pointed away through the trees.

Aliain nodded.  ‘Yes.  My name is Aliain.’  

The stranger did not introduce himself, just smiled and offered her his hand.  ‘This way.’

The walk back through the trees felt like it took no time at all.  The stranger lit her way for her and even though he did not talk to her Aliain did not feel lonely or scared.  He helped her over rocks and trees roots, always finding the easiest path for her.  In no time Aliain saw the trees were thinning and soon she could see the lantern by the barn winking.  She could even hear her mother and grandmother calling for her.  

‘I will leave you here.’  The stranger stopped and let go of her hand.

‘Thank you, oh, thank you so much.’  Seized by a sudden, overwhelming surge of love and thankfulness Aliain threw her little arms around the stranger.  ‘Thank you.’  She squeezed him, wanting to convey the full extent of her gratitude.  When she let go he smiled at her kindly.

‘Light be with you, Aliain, child of Lordaeron,’  he said and as she looked after him he turned and vanished back into the trees.

[rcsonant-blog]

                                         it was almost too much for my heart to take                                                    but my heart has learned to be                                                          whatever it needs to be                                                                     to survive.                                                        i can get through anything                                                  if i change the shape of it enough.

the picture perfect life. born with no worries, a beautiful surrounding, and a loving family: that was declan’s childhood. having two older siblings whom were incredibly close in age aided in making sure declan never felt alone, despite his reserved and quiet nature growing up. with his older brother, aries, only being 2 years older than him, and his sister, cadence, being one year older than him, the three were as close as close could possibly be.

they brought him out of his shell. they’d walk to school with each other, stopping at the convenience store on their way home to bug the cashier that’s name was brian. they’d always make it a point to go to the neighborhood park that was a block away from home at least twice a week. always the first to tell each other secrets, huddle in pillow forts because the two siblings knew it was declan’s favorite thing to do.

it was because of them that as he grew older, he grew more talkative, more open to other people. his family was adored by all, his parents always volunteering, his sister the star of the school orchestra, his brother the star soccer player on campus. declan wasn’t particularly good at anything but art, but his bright smile and charming personality made him the picture perfect boy-next-door without even having to try.

some envied the family while most adored them, but everyone in town knew them. they functioned like any other family, having their subtle differences and arguments behind closed doors but still loving each other unconditionally. blessed under a roof of love, they flourished with each others support. everything was perfect for them, nothing could ruin it.

until something did.

declan still remembers that day. it was cloudy out, his sister and him sitting by the window next to her bed, counting cars that wizzed by every few minutes as they waited for aries to get home. the clouds were barely parted, sunlight peaking through every few minutes or so to shine directly into cadence’s eyes. just as they were in a heated conversation about the season finale of their favorite show, their mother peaked her head in. she needed bell peppers and rice, two things of which were absolutely necessary for tonights meal. even if she wasn’t asking directly, it was clear what her request was.

declan scrambled off the bed, throwing on a coat and complying without a second thought. cadence offered to come with, no, she was already up getting her coat on under the assumption that she would come, but declan stopped her. the store wasn’t far, and aries would kill them for the undeniable exclusion (he was always petty like that). so instead, cadenced plopped herself back onto her bed, telling declan that if he took too long she’d turn on the wii and destroy his high score on mario cart without him.

he parted from his family, shouting a quick love you before storming into the cold weather towards the store. he wasn’t gone long, perhaps thirty minutes. the broken crosswalk light had taken longer than usual to signal he could walk, and the line at checkout had taken nearly ten minutes to dissipate until he could finally make his way back home.

he walked leisurely, swinging the bag in hand. as he neared closer, he noticed smoke not too far off in the distance, burning dark black and garnering attention. walking closer, he realized that it was a bit too close to where his house should be. he was beginning to walk so fast that he hadn’t even realized he’d slammed shoulders with someone running by, his pace quickening into a run. nothing could mask the horror that he felt when he saw his own house come into view and saw the fire and smoke pouring out of the windows.

nothing was worse than realizing his family was nowhere on the sidewalks.

of course, he dropped his bag and was ready to run into the house himself until some neighbors grabbed him. he tries to fight them off while he screamed, but it was to no avail. that was the most helpless declan had ever felt.

just within thirty minutes, declan’s life became the biggest town tragedy, and he became the biggest sob story. he garnished attention from all corners of the town, everyone now not knowing him as the cute next-door-neighbor but instead the seventeen year old orphan who’s life had tarnished right in front of thousands eyes. it only took so long until the grief subsided into resignation.

he needed to get out of town, out of the watching eyes and the solemn whispers, and so he did. declan moved to the farthest place he could imagine; somewhere more than out of state given the national platform the story had all around america. korea. he changed his name to silas, something of which he has been going by since the age of nearly nineteen.

he is no longer declan yoo, town tragedy with a family of which went up in flames, but instead lee silas, a man who has very little contact with his parents who live in america and has no siblings. he spent years recreating himself and years trying to find the same charming personality that he once had.

he is lee silas, a man with an ability to see the future that he still has no explanation for and a man who has no idea just how entangled his entire life is with another mans.

⸻ THE BASICS

name: lee silas

real name: declan yoo

age: 25

birthday: june 13, 1993

race: korean

gender: cismale

sexuality: homosexual

relationship status: single

⸻ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

hair: brown

eyes: brown

height: 182 cm (6′0)

build: fit

distinguishing marks: none

common accessories: his brother’s necklace, where the charm on the end is a ring of his sisters. both were salvaged from the fire.

⸻ PERSONAL  

profession: set designer

languages: english, korean

residence: busan, south korea

birthplace: stowe, vermont

religion: catholic

fears: death by fire

disabilities: none

good traits: analytical, brave, cautious, creative, consistent, eager, opinionated, soft-hearted, thoughtful, passionate

bad traits: deceptive, feisty, frustrated, perverse, rigid, secretive, skeptical, hesitant, erratic, anxious

⸻ TRAITS

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded / in between.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

optimistic / pessimistic / in between.

traditional / modern / in between.

hard-working / lazy / in between.

cultured / un-cultured / in between.

loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between.

faithful / unfaithful / unknown / in between.

⸻ PLACE IN SOCIETY

financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

class or caste: upper / middle / working / unsure

education: high school / college / dropped out

criminal record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no

⸻ BELIEFS

monotheist / polytheist / atheist  / agnostic

belief in ghosts or spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

belief in an afterlife:  yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

belief in reincarnation:  yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

belief in aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care

philosophical: yes / no

⸻ CAPABILITIES

combat skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

literacy skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

artistic skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

technical skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

social skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

⸻ HABITS

drinking alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

smoking: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

other narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

medicinal drugs: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

indulgent foods: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

splurge spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

gambling: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

⸻ HABITS

nail biting / throat clearing / lying / interrupting / chewing the ends of pens / smoking / swearing / knuckle cracking / thumb sucking / muttering under their breath / talking to themselves / nose picking / binge drinking / oversleeping / snacking between meals / skipping meals / picking at skin / impulse buying / talking with their mouth full / humming or singing to themselves / chewing gum / leg jiggling / foot tapping / sighing / hair twirling / whistling / eye rolling / licking lips / sniffing / squinting / rubbing hands together / jaw clenching / gesturing while talking / putting feet up on tables / tucking hair behind ears / chewing lips / crossing arms over chest / putting hands on hips / rubbing the back or their neck / being late / procrastinating / doodling / shredding paper / peeling off bottle labels / forgetfulness / running hands through hair / overreacting / teeth grinding / nostril flaring / slouching / pacing / drumming fingers / fist clenching / pinching bridge of nose / rubbing temples / rolling shoulders