#anyway. kickflips off into the sunset

[bunnidudels]

Art fight went very well this year!

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 11)

The waves break around her with impressive size. Azula can only attribute it to the after effects of the turbulent weather. She tastes salt and seaspray as her board cuts across the underbelly of the wave. From the right vantage she can see the sun through crystal clear waters, the way it glints and sparkles throwing prismic reflections upon her skin. From the wrong vantage point, it beams directly into her eyes and she has to squint against it or hold her hand at her brows, nearly throwing her balance.

She carves up and down the wave, it is exhilarating and she wonders why she has neglected part taking for so long. It provides the thrill that she craves, the sensation of falling that spikes her adrenaline.

Azula licks her lips, tasting the salt upon them. She is in the mood for something flashy, something that she hasn’t done in ages. It is a tricky feat, something she had just barely managed to pull off before entering a self-imposed hiatus. Evidently, she isn’t sure that she will be able to pull it off at all.

She climbs to the very top of the wave and gives her board a very abrupt snap. The spray she kicks up rises in an incredible arc. Each little drop catches in the sun and glimmers around her likes sparks thrown from a bonfire.

It is spectacular until she loses her footing. She supposes that she has done better than she had in the past, when she hadn’t even been able to produce the spray. Her body smacks the waves with a stinging force and they take her under. She is thankful that the strap on her ankle keeps her board tethered to her as she fights the waves. She would hate to lose it, it was a gift from Sokka. Sokka who had noted her fondness of the color blue and her enjoyment of watching storms over the ocean and bought her a sleek midnight blue board with neon blue lines of lightning painted all over it. Azula resurfaces and, panting heavily, carries the board back to the shore.

Seaweed clings to her shoulder and dangles from the board. It falls to the sand with a wet pop when her footsteps cause the board to shudder. She drops to the sand with a huff and crosses her legs with one fluid motion. She rests her elbow upon the bend of her leg and her chin in her palm. Her expression fixed into a rather full pout.

She has lost her touch. It was a nearly perfect execution. But nearly perfect won’t cut it come the competition. A fall like that would have cost her critical points.

Jet’s pats her shoulder, “I’ll give that trick a solid ten and your landing an eleven for entertainment.”

She watches Chan paddle towards the next wave.

“It was a dreadful landing.” Azula grumbles.

He shrugs. “I mean it’s been months since you’ve surfed. Welcome back by the way.”

“So what, I should be able to…”

“Retain a skill you just finished learning to perform?”

Azula shrugs.

“At least give yourself a few tries.” Ruon-Jian suggests. “Snaps are a pain in the ass!”

She watches Chan perform a seamless bottom turn and then a kickflip. He lands it well and the wave drops away. “You’re up.” He motions to Jet. Jet gives her a two finger salute before running at the new wave.

“I take it that you’re doing better?” Chan asks.

“Better.” She tries the word on her tongue. “Yes, quite. Katara and her family have been good to Zuzu and I.” She has been called a liar before, Zuko calls her a liar quite often. She can’t entirely disagree, not when she is lying to herself.

“Yeah, where’s he at anyways? Ruon misses his favorite loser boy.”

“Dude, shut up!” He scoffs. Nothing peeves him more than having his most absurd, middle school insults brought up.

“On a date with Katara.” Azula replies, her stomach fluttering with envy and loss. She should be on a date of her own, she would be. She swallows, “they’re at the ice cream parlor.”

She is not okay, and to insist that she is, is a larger lie than she has ever told. Jet returns and Ruon retreats, happy for an excuse to run from remarks that make him blush.

“Is your dad still attending AA?”

Azula nods. “Regularly.” She leaves out that he has snuck a glass or two already. She supposes that it is much better than his binge drinking. Still it frustrates her and neither she nor Zuko have the courage or stupidity to get between the man and his glasses.

“You gonna give the snap another go?” Ruon asks.

Again, Azula nods. She picks up her surfboard and returns to the water. This wave is some larger than the first. She readies herself to go for another snap when a realization dawns upon her. She has been presented with a rare opportunity, she rides upon a perfect wave. She could go for a snap, yes. But how often is the chance for a tube ride bestowed upon a person?

Azula takes a deep breath and finds herself some steady footing. She crouches down and glides along as the wave folds over. A grin breaks over her face--she thinks that this one may very well be genuine--as she rides through a perfect tunnel of water. It is a thrilling feeling of elation that she hasn’t felt in ages. If for only a very long minute, it is just she and that wave. That perfect crashing wave. There is nothing like it. Two walls of water to the sides of her with a liquid ceiling and floor. The wave is immaculately and unapologetically aquamarine in color and she could swear, God, she could swear that she saw several tiny minnows swimming their way through just riding that flawless wave with her.

She rides the wave until it flattens with a somewhat noisy crash. Without the liquid roar of the wave she can hear them whooping and hollering something grand from the shoreline. She guides the surfboard to a halt and then allows it to pop out from under her feet. She catches it and, overcome by jubilation and a sense of accomplishment, she throws her arms around Jet.

Were TyLee involved she very well may have been jumping up and down. Instead, he squeezes her tighter as she has a true laugh for the first time since Sokka had gone. “Nice, dude.” Ruon remarks. It is accented by a few final claps from Chan.

Her excitement waynes and her smile begins to fade when it dawns upon her that her arms should be around Sokka. That he should have been there to witness such a monumental moment in her not yet professional surfing career. She suddenly feels ashamed. Ashamed for smiling and having fun while he is still out there, lost and probably deprived of hope. She should be sad right now. She should be mourning.

She pulls out of the hug.

“Hey, I’m glad you finally hung out with us again.” Chan notes as he bats his face with a towel.

She wraps her own around her waist and tosses her hair over her shoulders. “Yes, it was...nice to…” she trails off. “Get a sense of normalcy back.”

“You gonna swing by again?” He offers.

“We’ll be riding waves from noon to three, two days from now.” Ruon adds.

Azula nods. “I’ll try to make it, so long as nothing comes up.” Evidently that day will be a busy one. She, Zuko, and Katara are due to go roller skating with Toph and Aang around sunset.

She supposes that she should be thankful for the abundance of distractions. Which might be exactly what made it so easy to accept another invitation. Between that and the creeping knowledge that she could end up alone… Alone while Zuko has Katara, Aang has Toph, Mai has TyLee, Chan and Ruon have each other, and Suki has a shy boy named Teo.

She watches Chan and Ruon make their way down the beach. “We’ll be seein’ ya then.” Ruon calls back. Chan slings his arm over his shoulder.

“Yes.” Azula agrees. “Two days from now.” With their departure she feels her energy fleeing as well. It is so sudden as though all of her euphoria has turned to sorrow. She finds herself a picnic bench and sits upon the table, elbows resting on her knees, head in her hands.

The sun blazes as it begins its descent.

“You good?” Jet asks.

She shrugs quietly. “I’ll be fine.” Another blatant lie.

They sit in silence for a while she hears the crinkle of a wrapper as Jet awkwardly fumbles with a candy bar. “Want a bite.”

“No thanks.”

More silence. More awkward fumbling.

“Hey, so, I was thinking…” He trails off.

“Yeah?”

“I hope it’s not too soon, but I was wondering if you might like to catch a movie or something? Or have dinner somewhere?”

Azula bites the inside of her lip. She has never broken it off with Sokka. She has never wanted to. And yet there is that nagging in her head, that inkling that he won’t be coming home. And if she waits she might be waiting forever.

She thinks of Zuko’s soft smile and those dumb sloppy kisses he gives Katara. She thinks about the closeness and the laughter. About what that had been like when she’d got to feel it for herself. When she would spend the night at Sokka’s and he would fight with her for the blankets and the popcorn bowl during movie nights. There is such an emptiness without it. Without those feelings and those moments. She stares intensely at her hands, fighting to keep her emotions in check. “Yes Jet, that would be nice.”

[whifferdills]

the other day at work i was sent to Next Door for chicken thighs. we share a bunch of equipment, including a freezer. so, chicken thighs. phrased like, ‘here is where the chicken is, go get it’. so i get there, and i’m like, ‘i’m here for chicken???’ since i’m real bad at marshaling at what comes out of my mouth under the best of circumstances, let alone a kitchen i don’t know that is Sensory Overload 3000. everything is loud and on fire and there is so much of it, yknow?

their sous, who is deeply easy-going, leads me back to their walk-in, and through to the freezer. the instructions i had carefully saved in my head were ‘it’s on the LEFT SIDE in a PLASTIC CONTAINER’. me and the sous looking around cause neither of us has a fuck of a clue about this chicken. we find it on the right side, in a full metal hotel pan. like, this is a dickload of chicken thighs.

“how much chicken does chef need?” sous asks.

fuck, man, idk. and i can’t go back and ask, right? my brain, having carried the full 2 thoughts it is capable of over moderate distances, is just like, aiight, nevermind, deuces.  “i don’t have that information,” i said.

“fuckin chef,” he says. we share a moment, bc fuckin chef, right?

“i’ll just take all of it and bring back what we don’t need,” i said.

okay. so i take the hotel pan full of chicken. it’s metal, from the freezer, so it’s absolute tits-off cold, and it’s about as heavy as anything i’ve ever not wanted to pick up. and the chicken packets are piled up over the rim so it’s, yknow, precarious. whatever. i got this. i’m fuckin, chanting to myself, don’t-drop-the-fuckin-chicken, just-one-more-step. my hands are going numb from the cold.

this is a busy street, btw. like people are watching this. me and my short ass and all this fuckin chicken.

i make it to the front door of where i work, ten years later. it opens outwards and there’s a knob, so i try to balance the hotel pan against the wall one-handed and open the door. this does not work. chicken’s all sliding around, falling off, i start kind of slo-mo crumpling to the ground trying to catch them. people are watching me through the windows. someone has to come open the door for me.

“you ok? need help?”

FUCK no i GOT THIS. “fuckin. chicken. frozen-ass fuckin. chickfuck,” i say, stumbling into the restaurant.

so i get the chicken into the kitchen and slam it down onto the prep table, panting and flapping my hands around to get the circulation back.

“aw, honey,” chef says. “i just needed one packet.”

“my bad,” i wheeze, handing her the packet. smiling like a fuckin loon bc, idk how else to process this. “i’m ok no worries it’s just real cold. i’ll go bring the rest back.”

“use towels,” she gently suggests. “so it won’t be so cold.”

my brain at this point is flipping me the bird and kickflipping its skateboard as it vanishes into the sunset and this whole ‘you don’t need to directly touch the painful thing’ is a fuckin revelation. anyway. i take the chicken out of the kitchen, and through the restaurant, onto the street and back into Next Door. through the hallway, second hallway, into their kitchen. my arms are made out of jello.

“HHHAAAUUUGH,” i say. “whoops, too much chicken. where?”

their sous is looking at me like, this poor dumbfuck, lmao. but he’s a good guy and very kind and he leads me back to their walk-in and to the freezer. i keep thanking him. like, every step of the way, every minor thing he does. thanks dude. i drop the pan of chicken onto the floor right before my skeleton explodes from my body.

“thanks again, dude,” i say, wobbling and gasping for air. i knock over a stack of pans as i leave the fridge. it’s loud, everything is everywhere. i keep wobbling away. “you need help with - no? ok. thanks, dude. have a good one.”

get back to actual work with like pool-noodle arms and trying not to look like i am about to vomit my lungs up. chef’s looking at me like, aw, sweetie, you dumbfuck. i start grinning like an idiot again and coughing out ‘NAW HEY HA HA GREAT WORKOUT HA HA HAHHHH’

anyway that’s the last time i experienced any serious physical exertion