#seagulls are trash birds change my mind

[shardofshadow]

I couldn't figure out how to blur the background fml

[ethernetmeep]

as i am on the bus leading to my way home, i suddenly have an idea which impales my core; i should visit the cemetery.

of course, this leads the question as to why; it was something i had done last year or so, around similar time. as to what inspired it, the idea in my mind from today to suddenly go, i… am not quite sure, myself. i looked down at my body and realized i was in a state of contentment that i haven’t felt in months, and simply.. felt fine with a change for the day.

getting off one stop early, i wish my bus driver well and cross the road. as she leaves, i can still hear cars whirr and buzz about on the arguably always active street. a long winding line segment which never seems to end, always going, and going, and going…. branching off into other things. i just am simply near the start of it.

the trek to the cemetery is short and somewhat painful— a thorn hits the side of my ankle. i don’t realize in the moment, but it makes me bleed. wasn’t very painful. i continue onwards until i reach the side entrance— a way i remember entering.

the sun hits the limestone & stone & other material used for grave stones rather beautifully. there are flowers at some graves, none at others. i take a sharp turn east and simply walk, careful to not get too close into any grave stones.. keep my distance as a sign of respect, truly. i sit underneath a tree i remember sitting under last spring, when it had flowers and cherry blossoms which sprouted. feel the wind & breeze and realize today is a nice day. simply sit, basking in the elements. look upwards & see a seagull.

i stand upright and walk around some more— this time following a trail of small stones littered about. more graves— one undeniably of a child. this sticks with me. as i walk and see more stone, more names of those who have perished, i see… a soda can on the ground. expression blank, i pick up the litter and put it in my pocket to dispose of later. then see further on in the trail there’s a garbage bin to place trash inside of.. use this instead of my personal trash bag at home.

i stay for what is essentially half an hour, a mix of sitting & walking & standing— i see a small insect in a water pail. theres many spouts on the cemetery, all following across the trail. none seem to work. i don’t go to the furthest side, the one closer to the open road— chaotic, and not a discovery for today. next time, i think.

something interesting to note is that, despite the death in the area, there’s still more life than you can imagine. birds make their way through the grass, small insects roam about. despite everything, life endures.

on my walk home, really this time, i see a squirrel. reminds me of my friend. pick up more trash to dispose of. i think of the long, expansive road again. once i hit an area near my street, i then look upwards to see a crow fly by. seagull and a crow…

in a way, they’re both similar yet different. a seagull is chaotic, loud, irksome… very much a pestering organism. i remember a time i once tried to feed seagulls. a small snort comes out at the memory. crows can also be chaotic, but seem much more at ease.. fascinating in their own way. a seagull is around life rather constantly, see how they invade parking lots & beaches— & a crow tends to be around death very often, both from stereotype and possible reality. two sides of the same coin.

i think of this, and i suddenly feel a sort of tranquility i haven’t felt in a while. calm.

i pass by a house and remember the apple in my bag which then makes me remember the apple vines of sort which jut out from their property & onto the road. i recall september when they were starting to rot. i recall the wasps & ants i would see eat away at the fruits and smile fondly at the memory.

as i reach my front lawn, i realize something, something i am confident of, a true rarity when it comes to a sentiment from myself towards myself;

this year and the end of last year has been the most alive i have felt in a long time.

[some-dr-writings]

Nagito comforts a depressed Reader

·       In all honesty, it was a rather lovely day. Winter was showing signs of ending, not quite cool or warm. A breeze gently rolled past, lightly rustling the leaves. There were scarcely any clouds in that endlessly deep blue sky.

·       A lovely day…

·       And yet…

·       You strolled along the path with no particular destination, just like your life. Just moving because you were born, no other reason. No ambition. No pride. No dreams. And yet you were called ‘super high school level’, ‘ultimate’… what the hell did those mean anyway? Did you have a path now? Just follow wherever your talent led? Was that your only choice now? Well, you already screwed that up so probably not. Sighing, you continued to walk along, getting absorbed in the blue sea that hung above you.

·       Walking along the road you listened to the tapping of your and others’ foot falls against the stone sidewalk. Your head was just empty. Anything absorbed your attention, consuming everything. It felt like you were underwater. You were aware of your surroundings, but it was all blurry, not able to fully comprehend what was around you unless you bothered to reach out, but even then there was something in the way, whether it be the water or yourself.

·       Suddenly you and someone else crashed into one another. “A-ah, I’m so sorry!” You managed to squeak that out seeing the other person had fallen to the ground.

·       Great, you screwed up, again.

·       Like always.

·       Your vision blurred, tears percolating in the corners of your eyes. Before the stranger could say anything, you dashed away. Leaving him to watch as your silhouette faded into the distant crowd. “Huh? What’s this?”

·       Damn it. This was so dumb. You shouldn’t be crying over this! It was just a little accident… You tried taking deep breaths to ease yourself but it all just kept welling up. Everything. All the stresses, all the fear, all the confusion and sadness. You couldn’t stop or hold back any of it anymore. Even as your breathing hitched, wiping the continuous tears away, you kept walking.

·       Then you heard something. A bird? A seagull. And… waves. Following the sounds, you found yourself leaving the quiet streets for the seaside. The beach seemed to stretch for miles while the ocean was endless, the horizon being nonexistent, the sea and sky appearing to be one and the same. The wind was much more powerful than before carrying that salty scent wherever it went. The shore and town were on separate elevations, only when you had found a small staircase and descended did you see there was a small area of grass separating the sand and the stone settlement of the town. It all appeared so grey or at least muted in color. Perhaps it was because of the patches of snow that sill sat on the grass, refusing to melt even under the sun’s rays. There was not a soul around, just you.

·       Not wanting to deal with the aftermath of sand getting stuck in your shoes you took them off, walking barefoot along the shoreline, the foaming water lapping at your feet. It was freezing. Then you sat, hugging your knees to your chest, the waves occasionally reaching your toes.

·       You never realized just how noisy the beach was even when no one was around.

·       …

·       It even sounds like it’s screaming sometimes…

·       Screaming that kept getting louder with each second…

·       Okay, what was-

·       The noise came to a stop when a boy suddenly appeared beside you. From the marks behind him it seemed he slid face first against the sand! “A-are you okay, sir?” “I’m fine, just some bad luck.” You tried helping him up, gently pulling him by his arm. “Um, you sure? You look… hurt.” He was absolutely banged up, covered in scratches and bruises. His clothes were covered in sand, lightly tattered, absolutely disheveled. There were even leaves and some trash in his hair. “Really, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Then it seemed he noticed something. “Are you okay though?” “Huh!? U-uh…” “Probably not, you started crying when we bumped into each other earlier.” “You’re the same guy!?” You never took a good look at the person, but what you vaguely remember was similar to this guy, most notably the white hair. “I’m so sorry!” “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I don’t mind. You seem to be having a rough day.” “I… I…” Your voice quieted and waivered. “I guess you could say that.” You couldn’t stop the tears forming in your eyes, you turned back to the nonexistent horizon wanting to pretend you were trying to hide it.

·       And you just let yourself indulge in it. That oppressive sadness and pain that constantly crushed you under it’s unbearable weight. “Want to talk about it?” Why was he still here? “I’m just a nobody, the best I can do is hope to be useful, a steppingstone for others.” You buried your face into your knees. You just…

·       Other than sheer laziness, you didn’t see why not.

·       “Do you see it? The horizon?” He looked, even squinting his eyes. “No.” “It all looks like one giant ocean that’s endlessly surrounding us. When you first step into the ocean, it seems nice, but the further in you go the more you realize just how endless it is, not just on the surface though. It just sinks. Deeper and deeper, darker and darker it gets, till you can’t see any light at all. And the more water there is above you, the more pressure there is. With so much pressure, it can be impossible to even open your eyes, to try to do anything anymore. By the time you even begin to wonder which why is up or down, you can’t do anything anymore, and you just keep sinking. Sinking where, you don’t know, you can’t even tell if somehow you were starting to float upwards. And you just keep going and going. When you want to try, it’s impossible to anymore. No matter h-how much you fight, you can’t stop it. You can’t move. You have no control, at all.” Though he didn’t say anything, the unlucky boy thought of your words, taking them in, finding their sentiment, your situation, all too familiar.

·       Then you started laughing. It was a pitiful, quiet laugh, sounding like a cut-up cry. “T-that… has been my entire life… and… heh, know what the worst part is?” You honestly couldn’t care what this stranger thought anymore. Even that was too much of a pain, you were just… exhausted. You looked to him, letting him see your tear stained cheeks, puffy eyes, your red face and pained expression. “I purposely sink myself. I do it over and over and over again. It’s comfortable, being in misery. I’ve been in it for so long, I don’t know anything else. Any chance I get at happiness, I destroy it. I’m scared. I don’t want to be like this anymore but before I can even think to stop myself, it’s too late, I’ve already destroyed the opportunity beyond repair and I tie another stone around my neck to sink deeper. I don’t want this, but I can’t stop myself. J-just like this time… this time i… i…” You couldn’t even keep your head up. You just… slumped over. “I received the opportunity of a lifetime on a silver platter and I just ruined it. Without a second thought! It could change my life, I could gain some semblance of control, but I just…”

·       You couldn’t even speak anymore.

·       You couldn’t do anything.

·       You just kept sinking, like always.

·       “You’ll be okay.” “huh?” “You’ll be okay. Even now I see it. The hope blooming inside you! It’s so brilliant and bright! Even though this is the lowest you’ve sunk, and you handicap yourself, you’re still fighting for hope! And even if you sink further, that hope inside you will not break. When you get past this, you’ll be unstoppable! The deeper the despair you face now, the greater your hope will be when you overcome it!” “… what? you don’t even know me. you don’t know that. i don’t need you to lie to me.” “I’m not lying. And you know it.” Amongst the crashing waves and the call of seagulls, you heard a new sound. A light crinkling? You slightly tilted your face as to see what it was from the corner of your eye. “… how did you get that.” “I found it on the ground when we bumped into each other earlier.” You shut your eyes and nuzzled into the little warmth you still held. “The letter is only partially burnt. You stopped yourself.” “… I’m just going to burn it later.” “… No, you won’t. Look at your hands.” You didn’t move… Ever so gently, he lifted up one of your hands. “You stopped yourself this time, it’s already blooming, you’re already trying to change.” Sighing, you glanced at it for but a moment. “It’s just my hand.” “You’re burned.” “… I’m physically self-destructive as well as emotionally and mentally, so what?” “You grabbed the letter as it was burning, even though you would get hurt… You wanted to save it. You may want to wallow in despair, but the hope inside you has grown so much, you can’t repress it anymore. You’re scared to change, but your want for change will soon outweigh the fear.” He slipped the letter into your hand. “But… by the time you gain the courage to take the leap, to try to swim to the surface, it might be too late. I don’t know what this opportunity is, but… it’s clear you want it. You should go for it… but this is coming from a nobody, so I guess my opinion doesn’t really matter.” You felt a small, deep chuckle rumble deep in his chest. “great, another way to screw over myself.” “Another challenge you’ll overcome.” “or not.” “You will.” “you don’t know that.” “I do.” “that’s impossible.” “It’s not.” “i don’t believe you.” “You don’t have too.” “… well you… i… but… I don’t know how to respond to that.”

·       You sighed, realizing you were defeated. You held up the letter, taking a better look. Seeing the ash, you recalled how you so fervently grabbed it off the newly lit log in the fireplace… “I don’t believe you, not a word you say. But… I… might want to believe. Maybe? I don’t know.” You hugged that comforting warmth, not wanting to think of this. Just letting yourself get lost in the moment. The sounds of the waves. The cool wind rushing past. The soft sand and the warmth you felt in the unlucky guy’s voice, his words, what you were holding so tightly and the feeling growing in your chest.

·       Wait…

·       It was then you realized it.

·       When you helped the guy get up, you never let go of his arm… and eventually you started hugging it… And you were leaning your head on his shoulder, even nuzzling into him during your entire conversation… You were even still holding hands…

·       You threw yourself back, a new warmth spreading across your entire face. “I-I, I. I’M SO SORRY! I DIDN’T REALIZE I WAS TOUCHING YOU! WAIT, NO THAT SOUNDS BAD, I WASN’T-I DIDN’T MEAN- I’M SO SORRY!” You ran away as quickly as you could. This was so freaking embarrassing! What were you doing!? In your panic you didn’t notice how when you ran off you were running on sand… Sand which was kicked up and crashed into the poor, unlucky boy. “Huh… was meeting them the good luck that evened out the bad from earlier?”

·       You were so embarrassed you ran all the way home. Once there it sunk in what you had done. And you felt so ashamed for leaving him behind like that.

·       You dwelled on that encounter. For a long time you did. Eventually you reached a conclusion. Taking a deep breath, you accepted the offer. You needed to make a change. Now.

·       Not even two months later and there you were, standing at the entrance of Hope’s Peak. You were actually here. You were going to do this. You trembled, feeling your heart booming in your ears and against your ribcage. This was it. A new chapter in your life that you made happen. A chapter you had control over.

·       Then you heard a crashing sound, seeing something fall out of a tree. You raced up to it, hearing groaning. “I wonder what this bad luck streak is leading up too? It’s been two months now.” “It’s you!” “Huh? Oh.” You were here. “I’m so sorry about just leaving you at the beach! Here, please let me help you up, and I won’t hug your arm this time, I swear. Heh, hehe, heh… I just kinda like hugs and touches and stuff. Wait! Don’t take it the wrong way! That sounded weird, didn’t it? Sorry!” He smiled, instantly knowing that this moment, you reaching your hand out to help him to his feet, chatting away as you walked to class together, being in the exact same class. This was what all that bad luck was leading up too. Meeting you again.

[grahammasurian]

Dumping Your Responsibility.

The dumpster outside my apartment building was completely overflowed. The truck missed a couple weeks for some reason and people just kept piling their shit on top regardless.

“My sin will be forgiven, the next sinner will go to hell!”

This came into my head whenever I thought of the garbage situation. I considered myself 99% innocent since I didn’t use the dumpster during these couple weeks. Unfortunately when disaster happens it doesn’t care how much you were involved, all it sees is your darkness.

What I could have done was call up our landlord. Maybe I didn’t add directly to the trash pile but I still could have brought attention to it. Unfortunately my mind gave me a great reason for not calling him, a wonderful why even bother type of belief. These curses will kill you but they provide immense relief.

He lives someplace nicer and keeps his back turned on this building, so if I don’t tell him anything he’ll keep believing whatever fantasy he’s living. Whenever I bring up something for him to look at he puts it off or conveniently forgets about it, can’t say I blame him. I'd love to do the same sometimes and then feel guilty about it for the rest of my life. It’s hard to convince myself that a life of eternal guilt is worse than a life of hard work. Maybe the simple solution is to just disregard the guilt and make everyone despise me, though I can’t say that seems like a good long term strategy.

I guess everyone likes to avoid responsibility too, don’t get me wrong I get it, because man it sure feels good to not take anything seriously, just sit back and relax through life, I’ll lay down in my bed and fold into a quarter circle. Pull my knees up to my chest and gently hold myself, like swinging in the breeze floating along to somewhere better.

Eventually some birds had a war over the trash that was at this point spilling everywhere, old food, old clothes, plastic shit, maybe real shit. It was a disaster but seemed to be an appropriate punishment for us. I watched a seagull pull apart a bag for 30 minutes, something about the completely boring and ordinary scene held a power over me. I imagined this feeling of our civilizations being consumed again by nature, it’s easy to forget that nature is constantly trying to integrate us more effectively. Integration with an ocean with a mysterious intention.

We could have salvaged things there, rescued some of our dignity and just accepted responsibility for what we did by not doing. I sat some nights debating whether or not I should just go out there and clean up everything alone. I didn’t mind the day, but at night I just loved how things seemed to come to life inside me. There was a power that I didn’t have access to during the day.

I decided it wasn’t worth cleaning up, after all I don’t really care what these people think of me, unless they express it to me. Plus I felt like I fit in better with my environment as a lazy drifter. When I run into the people that live here occasionally there is enough willpower on all our parts to say “Hi” and then move on our way. The two people that live under me, man and wife, maybe around late 50’s early 60’s always give me a glimpse into a possible future. The guy looks like his soul has been sucked out and not in a good way. It scares me for a moment and I tell myself I’ll keep it in mind but my actions don’t change.

The next week after the missed pickup and our experiment with apathy, something happened.

It was 12:33 AM, I was laying down in my bed with the window open, listening to the wind and feeling the slight breeze on my skin. Sometimes I’d lay there for hours listening to music or in silence, using drugs of course. The sounds of the night combined with distant sounds of the city created the backdrop for the worlds I explored in my mind. I break away from the atmosphere and write some ideas down in some form then go back to my mind.

I heard a familiar sound, the mother of this girl screaming in that resentful kind of way. Whenever someone talks that way to me my stomach gets sick, I see this person is using me to escape from something. You know instantly that this isn’t about you anymore, it's about them.

I hated the way this mother yelled at her daughter, I didn’t have kids of my own but I didn’t mind them, I generally see children as innocent beings until they gain awareness. When they become aware they turn into wood, hopefully they make it through and become real but many don’t. Some play as the twisted craftsmen, shaping the world with design. Night after night I’d hear this poor girl being molded into something that will make her unhappy for the rest of her life.

Even though it’s hard to feel connected with darkness, you still elicit feelings for things of the night. You react more on principle and not bigger picture at night, this mother was injecting venom deep into the mind of her daughter. Like a jackass I sat there each night it happened and listened to it like music.

 Being man enough to walk down there one day and call her out on her shitty behavior was always in the back of my mind, but then I would think some more and figure what difference would it make? Sometimes I snap out of my delusions and wake up, I see who I am from up here.

Just look for the right words.

It didn’t happen every time but sometimes this warped girl would dash outside, slamming doors and shouting behind her. Most times I’d hear her small steps pace around or walk down out of earshot then eventually I’d hear her again coming from the other side of the building, maybe doing two or three laps like that before cooling off and gaining enough strength to go back. She feels like she just wants to give up but chooses to continue to face that fate which shows just how much courage she had.

This night the young girl made her usual escape, something about the scene caught my attention. Normally I just ignored it for the most part, but tonight I felt worried for her and listened to see if she was okay.

The shriek of her screaming scared me sober. That kind of pitch that you can only get when you feel real terror.

Confusion at night amplifies fear to a level that can go beyond anything you’ve ever felt. Sometimes hearing a loud noise randomly in the middle of the night only to realize it was something conspicuous is an interesting moment of tension and release of tension. When you listen to death it creates tension that doesn’t go away unless you force it to release.

I couldn’t see much but the sounds made up for the rest, I looked on in horror as this poor unfortunate girl came running towards the front door to come back inside. She must have forgotten to prop it open a little this time like she usually did. The door was shut, she couldn’t escape through there and it was the only chance she had time to try.

This whole thing happened so fast it was as if my mind refused to think about what I was seeing, this bear that must have smelled some food nearby came across her instead.

Hearing someone produce screams that come from a dangerous place, sends a painful shock through you. It would have been nice if I was one of those people that got off on that kind of thing but unfortunately I had to deal with the feelings of misery, dread, sadness, fear, anger, all at once.  

A little bit slower than what should have been immediate there was incredible energy from all around, people coming out and making noise, not too many but enough for me to be impressed.

The general sentiment at the time was:

“Oh My God!” A big fat lady wearing a shaggy blue sweater screeched out. There were many other intense shouts, deflated yelps, sobbing murmurs, all mixing together slowly creating the atmosphere for a tremendously horrific scene.

All these half awake people, semi-disconnected souls felt something deep down within them for once. For the first time in decades some of these hopeless people felt alive, they acted without thought calling back to our primate ancestors. They witnessed a driving force, without realizing the lesson unfortunately.

Some of the people approached the girl to try and attempt some kind of help and others stayed away, accepting the situation or too afraid to know how bad it really was.

Some sobs were heard throughout the night as people came and went, voices that sounded defeated, voices that sounded ready to give up and heavy with guilt.

“Emily! No!” The mother cried. Obviously still drunk. Obviously deluded into thinking her daughter is anywhere close to alive.

“Please baby I’m so sorry! Please wake up baby!”

I had great disdain for this mother, but at that moment I felt bad for her. This woman made mistakes and in the end all it causes is suffering.

They came for her daughter, whisked her away into the abyss forever. Black cloaks riding into the stars on their skeletal horses. I wasn’t sure whether or not the constant beating I was hearing was a drum or my heart. We summoned these demons with our ritual, the choices we made were acts of incantation that brought forth monsters with the power to possess mortals, the possession was the final step in ensuring resurrection lest one of us snap out of the hypnosis and rescue the rest from the gaze of Medusa.

Then some downcast EMT workers took away her body, from the low looks and words after immediately coming upon the scene it was clear that hope didn’t exist anymore. I never saw the aftermath personally, where the actual attack happened was obscured to me by the awning over the door. Sometimes imagination makes things worse.

The mother followed her daughter into the darkness 3 weeks later.

[girls-scenarios]

Ocean Muse

Idol: Miya (GWSN)

Prompt: This is probably pretty unique but can I request a fic for GWSN's Miya with a female reader? The reader works as a rescue diver and Miya is an artist. Miya surprises the reader with a painting of sea life + her diving and Miya confesses at the same time? Feel free to change up what you need to lol. A fluff piece, non-idol!AU. If you do this one thank you! And make sure to take care of yourselves this blog is amazing!

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: I love GWSN, they seriously have no bad songs and are all super sweet and fun girls. I really recommend you all check them out! They also upload covers and short videos of themselves that have English subs, so you can get to know them well! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

♡ Tip Jar♡

It was frustration that originally drove Miya to that cliff by the sea that overlooked the beach. For a month, she’d holed herself up in her studio, working to no avail. Hundreds of pieces of paper and canvases littered the floor, painted and then trashed out of frustration. During her most successful year yet, she’d hit a wall: she could paint nothing she was satisfied with and had no inspiration for anything new. Frustration took over, and it was that frustration that led her to pack up her things and head to Jeju, ready to give up forever.

Jeju was exactly what she needed. It was summer, and the air was warm, kissing her skin and relaxing her sore muscles. The picturesque scenery and the peaceful atmosphere even encouraged her to pick up her paintbrushes again, ebbing the anger and annoyance from her shoulders. But it was the cliff that truly changed everything.

She found it while she was out driving, looking for a good spot to sit and relax, and perhaps even paint or draw a little something. It was located near a busy beach and, further down, a dock, where fishermen were always going in and out. But up on the cliff, it was quiet, the wind carrying up the faint sounds below. There was a small bench located near the edge, as well as a metal fence, and that was why she stopped her car and walked over. The air was clear and salty, the sun warm, and somewhere nearby, birds chirped. Down below, she could see families coming and going, and it made her smile.

This was the perfect spot.

She settled down on the ground near the fence and pulled out her sketchbook but left it closed on her lap, breathing in the clear air and closing her eyes. When she opened them again and looked down, something near the cliff bottom caught her eye, and she leaned over to look. Divers, all in black diving gear, were walking out of the water. She had heard about the female divers here, but this didn’t seem to be the same thing. In fact, they seemed to have some sort of health or emergency symbol on their suits. Fascinated, she watched as the group began to take off their equipment and masks, talking among themselves.

As she watched, a gentle wind brought a laugh up from below that seized her heart as the wind ruffled her hair. You pulled off your mask and revealed your face, knocking the breath out of her as you ran your fingers through your wet hair and smiled, saying something to your friend that she couldn’t hear. Despite how far away you were, Miya couldn’t take her eyes off of you. There was something so... alluring about you. About the way you skillfully took apart the equipment with a smile on your face, all while seeming to lead the team. She’d never believed in love at first sight, but what else could this be?

When you walked off towards the pier, carrying your equipment, the spell was broken and she could breath again. Turning around, she stumbled back to where she’d left her art supplies and quickly opened her sketchbook, sitting down on the bench. Your smiling face still ingrained in her mind, she began to draw, full of inspiration for the first time in months.

-

The sketch turned out wonderful, a still of you looking out towards the ocean and smiling, and she hung it up in her new, makeshift work space in the studio apartment she was renting. A thrill rushed through her veins again, and she itched to paint you, to get a closer look at your smile, and to see you again.

So she ended up back at that cliff, her sketchbook in hand, eyes trained on the sea. She had a reason to paint again.

-

Sometimes, you showed up on the beach. Other times, she waited only for you not to appear. Through her watching, Miya started to understand your schedule and your job. You were a rescue diver, that much she’d gathered from overhearing your conversations when the wind was right, and this beach was a practice site where you trained new divers, which explained why you weren’t there every day. Her sketchbook filled up with drawings of you: you coming out of the water, you laughing with your trainees, you diving into the ocean. Alongside those drawings were sketches of ocean life, the beach, and the view from the cliff. Everything seemed to inspire her now, and she loved it.

Eventually, she worked up the nerve to go down to the beach one Monday when she knew you’d be at the beach. Sure enough, you showed up thirty minutes after she did, leading your team towards your normal spot. She watched in awe as you suited up for the dive, taking note of all of the different types of equipment in her sketchbook. This close, she could hear you explaining them all, so she jotted down notes, wanting to make sure her paintings were as realistic as possible. It was interesting, too, how much work went into diving. It fascinated her that people could remember all the rules.

When you went underwater, she busied herself with drawing a group of seagulls and a two nearby fighting crabs until you resurfaced once again. As you chatted with your group and took off the equipment, she took a deep breath and psyched herself up. She had to talk to you. It was now or never.

Thankfully, you always had a habit of walking behind your group, so she wouldn’t have to stop you in front of everyone. As you picked up the last of your things, the rest of the group already going ahead, she carefully approached you.

“Um, hello. I’m sorry to bother you, but could I ask you something?”

You looked up, a bit startled, before smiling, standing up straight and nodding. “Hello, and sure, I don’t mind!”

“Can I ask what you guys are doing out here? With the diving, I mean.” She felt embarrassed as she spoke, her cheeks heating up. This was dumb. What was she even doing?

“Oh, I’m training some of my trainee rescue divers! The water is deep in this area so not many families come over here, but it’s still a relatively safe dive spot, so it’s a good training area.” You tucked your wet hair behind your ear, looking at her curiously. “I hope we aren’t getting in the way of anything.”

“Oh, no!” She waved her hands quickly before gesturing to her sketchbook. “I’m just an artist and I’ve been coming to this beach for inspiration. Since I see you here a lot, I started to get curious. It’s really fascinating to watch you dive.” Did that sound weird? She was sure, but you didn’t seem to think so, your smile widening.

“Oh wow, I’ve never met an artist before, but I’m glad you find diving interesting!”

“Can I ask what a rescue diver does?”

You thought for a minute. “Well, we do a lot of things. A lot of times we get called in to help with sinking boats but really we’re called for any water-based accidents. And sometimes we help with collecting things from sunken boats or cars that might help if there’s an investigation.”

“Wow,” Miya said, eyes wide in awe. “You have a really important job. Isn’t it stressful?”

“To be honest, yes,” you said with a little laugh and nod. “But it’s my passion so I don’t mind it.” You held out your hand. “I’m (Y/N) by the way.”

“I’m Miya.” She shook your hand and smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Can I ask you something in return?”

That took her by surprise, and she raised her eyebrows. “Oh, sure! Since I asked you so many, it’s only fair.”

“What do you do? As an artist, I mean. I’m not really familiar with that kind of stuff.”

“Mostly I paint, but I like to do sketches before I start my paintings. Especially if I’m painting something real. Like the ocean, for example. I want everything to be right.” She shrugged. “It’s nothing impressive but I enjoy it.”

“No, I think it’s impressive! I can’t paint so I’m always amazed with what artists can do. I’d love to see your work sometime, Miya.” You smiled brightly, and internally, Miya panicked. How was she supposed to explain a sketchbook full of, well, you? Swallowing, she quickly flipped through the book, finally landing on the sketch of the crabs from earlier.

“Here’s one of the sketches I did today. It’s nothing special, though, it was a quick drawing.” Her cheeks flushed and she wished she could show you something better. But you, on the other hand, let out a little gasp when you looked at the page.

“What are you talking about? That’s a great sketch! If this is just a quick drawing, your paintings must be amazing!”

She blushed even more, laughing nervously. “I don’t know about that.”

“I’m sure they’re wonderful.” You checked the watch you had on under your sleeve. “Hey, I’m off after this, so if you want, why don’t we grab some lunch? You can tell me more about your art, and I can explain more about diving to you.”

Was this really happening? Miya felt a little dizzy but she grinned, tucking her sketchbook under her arm. “I’d like that.”

“Great! Then let’s meet at the noodle place up by the pier. I have to get dressed, but I know the owner there. She’ll give us a good deal.”

“I’ll be there,” she said, hardly believing what she was saying. Out of all the things she’d been expecting to happen, eating out with you was not one of them. But she wasn’t about to complain.

-

Despite the difference in jobs, it turned out that the two of you actually had a lot in common. You had the same music tastes, the same tastes in food, and the same favorite books. And, of course, both of you loved the beach. It was easy to chat and laugh with you, because you felt like a friend already.

When she left the noddle shop by the pier, Miya had her muse’s number in her phone and a smile on her face. She couldn’t wait to get back to work.

-

“Can I sketch you?” This was probably something she should have asked you before, but it was only now that she had the courage. She was sitting on the side of a boat, her legs dangling over the side and arms resting on the metal railing, watching as you got ready for yet another practice dive. When you smiled at her, she was overcome with affection and courage. The words just came out on their own.

“Me?” Your cheeks colored as you pulled your face mask up to look at her. “I-I mean, are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Whenever I see you getting ready, it gives me a lot of inspiration.” She had never seen you flustered before, and it was kind of cute, making her smile as she watched you busy yourself with tightening your vest.

“I don’t mind it,” you said, voice soft as you pulled the mask back down to hide your face. You were ready to dive now. “I’m flattered, actually.”

“Thank you. I’ll show you the sketch when you come back up.”

Whenever you jumped into the water, Miya got a rush of adrenaline, as if she was the one in the suit. Your head bobbed back above water for a moment and when you looked up at her, she couldn’t help but to smile and reach her hand out to you.

“Good luck.”

You didn’t say anything in return, your mask and oxygen mouth piece already in place, but you reached up to touch her hand, giving it a little squeeze before pulling away and giving her a thumbs up. Then, you were underwater, and she watched for as long as she could see you before you disappeared into the deep blue, leaving her with a pounding heart and a pencil in hand.

-

She could always tell when you’d had a long day. You would text her late in the evening, asking if she wanted to go get late dinner or meet up at a bar to chat. Sometimes, you would even invite her over, or she would, on occasion, invite you over to her place (after desperately cleaning up, of course). Your texts would be a little shorter than usual, and once the two of you got closer, you started to include little sad faces. It was cute, and she found herself doodling them in the corners of her pages.

On long days, you just wanted someone to chat with, so that you could forget the events of the day. She always made time to go out, putting off her art in order to meet up at your choice of a place. It was a little open-air bar and seafood place that became your go-to. From the benches outside, the two of you could see the beach. A light wind blew through every night and dark waves lapped against the sand and rocky cliff sides, providing a soothing background noise while the stars shined brightly above, twinkling as the two of you quietly talked, ate, and drank. Sometimes, it was cold, and the two of you huddled together for warmth. Other times, it was warm enough that the bench was hot to the touch.

Tonight was a cold night, so it didn’t surprise Miya when you leaned your head on her shoulder, letting out a sigh. The wind played with her hair and whipped against her face, but the noodles she had were warm, and she touched her hands to the bowl, warming her skin.

“Hey, Miya?” Your voice was light and airy. She figured you were already a little tipsy as she turned her head slightly, only to find your face inches from her own. You were looking at her with wide eyes, and her breath caught in her throat.

“Y-yes?” She managed to get out. You let out another sigh and turned away to look up at the stars.

“What do you think happens when we die?” Your question caught her off guard, and she froze, not knowing how to answer. You shook your head, still leaning on her shoulder. “Never mind. I’m sorry. That was a heavy question.”

She took a deep breath, then reached over to gently put her hand over yours. Deep inside, she knew why you were asking that question, and she wished she could make it all better. “All you can do is your best, (Y/N).”

For a moment, you were silent. Steam curled up from your untouched noodles. “I guess you’re right.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Once again, you shook your head, sitting up straight. “Not really. But thank you for the offer.” You stood from the bench and she watched as you walked over to the railing that separated the eating area from the road and rested your arms there. “Sometimes, I wonder why I do this job. Especially on days like this.” You tilted your head back and looked up at the sky. Your hair caught in the wind and your eyes fluttered closed as you breathed in the ocean air, half in the shadows cast by buildings and half illuminated by the mosquito lights and the stars.

“You do it because you’re passionate and you love to help people.” Miya paused, trying to find the right words. “Sometimes you can’t fight fate. But you have more successes than you do failures. You’re an inspiration to me.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You turned back to her and smiled, a soft, sad smile, and there, with your head framed by the stars and the ocean lapping at the beach behind you, you looked almost ethereal. “Thank you, Miya. I always feel better when I talk to you.”

This was a moment she wanted to ingrain in her mind forever, so she took in the lighting and the way you looked, etching the memory into her brain. “I’m always here for you when you need me.”

You stepped back to the bench and let out a long breath, body falling into Miya’s and your shoulders sagging. She caught and held you, hugging you close, and you seemed to relax a bit in her arms, eyes closing once again. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“No, I’m the lucky one,” she said, looking out at the ocean. You chuckled and she swallowed thickly, closing her own eyes. If only you knew how truthful she was being.

-

“Come on, let me teach you how to dive.” You were grinning widely, as if you weren’t proposing the scariest thing Miya could possibly think of. She could feel the blood drain from her face as she stepped away from the boat and back onto the pier, slowly shaking her head.

“I-I don’t know about that.” It was no secret that she was easily scared, but diving was a whole other level of terrifying. Even with all the equipment, the idea of being deep underwater made her heart drop. “I mean, I’ve never done anything like it before.”

“I’m a certified trainer,” you said with a laugh, reaching out your hand. “I won’t let anything bad happen. I promise.” When she didn’t take it right away, you raised your eyebrows. “Do you not trust me?” Your voice was playful, as if you were teasing her, and she groaned, taking your hand.

“I do trust you, but I’m not sure I want to be underwater.”

“Then how about this.” You pulled her onto the boat, the one you usually used when going out diving. It seemed much more intimidating today than it was when Miya just went out to watch. “We don’t have to go very deep. We’ll go to a more shallow area with roping to follow and I’ll stay right by your side the entire time. If you ever get scared and want to surface, all you have to do is give me this signal.” You pointed up, and she nodded, her heart pounding.

“I’m just really nervous,” she said, pressing her hand to her heart, and you smiled.

“That’s normal. I was nervous on my first dive too.”

The boat began to move and Miya swallowed, looking out at the deep blue ocean. Then, she took a deep breath and looked back at you. “Can I ask you to do something for me in return for me diving with you?”

“Sure.”

“I need photos of ocean life for painting. Do you know where to get a waterproof camera or something?”

You laughed. “I already have one of those, so we can do that today! Come on, let’s get you suited up.”

Miya sighed and let you tug her over to where the equipment sat. There was no way she could get out of this now.

-

The ocean was beautiful. Miya had seen plenty of documentaries about the ocean and underwater exploring, but seeing it up close somehow made it even more beautiful. When she first dove in, the water was cloudy and it was hard to see. But then, as the water cleared, she found the rope and grabbed on, looking around in awe. Already, she could see fish. She didn’t know the types of fish, but there were plenty, schools of them quickly swimming away from her. Where the rope sat, algae and seaweed was growing, and further up ahead, corals.

There were so many wonderful colors that it almost made her forget all of her fears. She studied everything closely: the green seaweed and the purple coral growths on the rocky sea bottom, the striped fish, the green, slippery eel, blue and red corals and hidden crevices with crabs inside. There was even some pink and tans mixed in, making a rainbow paradise under the ocean.

By the time she resurfaced, her heart was pounding for a different reason. That trip had led her to an artists paradise, and although she wasn’t sure she’d want to do it again, she was so glad she’d agreed to give it a try.

“That was amazing. You see that every day?”

You beamed and shook the water from your hair, looking proud. “More or less. It’s usually further out so there’s bigger fish and stuff, but yeah.”

“You have an incredible job.” Miya gasped and laid back on the deck, looking up at the clear blue sky. “But I’m not sure I could do it. You’re incredible, actually.”

Laughing, you laid down beside her. “It takes a lot of energy, but I love it.”

Turning her head, Miya looked at you, feeling her heart swell with affection. You looked so happy and satisfied and beautiful, and her feelings bubbled up, threatening to burst out of her chest. She wanted to say “I love you,” but she forced it down, looked up at the sky, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t ready to confess. Yet.

-

Painting was a slow process, because Miya wanted it to be perfect. All of the sketches, all of the photos, and all of the colors and moments she’d collected over her time in Jeju with you combined to make her final painting. Purples, blues, pinks, reds, blacks, and greens swirled together as she tried to recreate her feelings: the thrills, the ups and downs, the love, and the happiness she felt around you. She locked herself in her studio and painted with a passion she hadn’t known in months, pouring her all onto the canvas until, finally, it was perfect. It took her two weeks to finish the painting.

It took another week before she worked up the courage to give it to you.

-Hey, when can you come over? I have something I want to show you.

-I can come over now! Is that okay?

It was now or never. Miya took a deep breath and looked at the painting one last time. It sat on its stand in the middle of the room, everything else cleaned up and put away around it. It was as perfect as it could be, so she placed a white sheet over the top, and busied herself making sure everything else was perfect.

By the time you got to her studio, she had changed clothes, now in a fresh pair of jeans and one of her nicer button-up shirts with her hair perfectly in place. She was so nervous her hands were sweating, so she quickly wiped them on the jeans before taking another breath and opening the door.

“Hello there.” Your smile made her heart skip a beat. You were also dressed nicely, at least nicer than you usually dressed, looking like you were about to go into town. “Have you finished with whatever piece of art made you disappear on me?”

She flushed and rubbed at the back of her neck, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, I tend to disappear when I’m really focused on something. I didn’t mean to ignore you or anything.”

You laughed, touching her arm and making butterflies appear in her stomach. “It’s okay, I was just teasing you. I’m excited to see what you created!”

Her mouth felt dry, but she knew she had to do this. So she smiled and closed the door behind you, gesturing towards where the painting was. “Come in, then, and I’ll show you!” She led you to the front of the stand and then left you there, moving beside the painting and raising her eyebrows. “Are you ready?”

You nodded, bouncing a bit on your feet. “So ready!”

This was it. All of her months of Jeju had led up to this moment. All of her months of sketching, the time she spent taking photos, the laughter she shared with you, and the inspiration she’d felt since she first saw you, up on that cliff. After a moment of hesitation, her nerves making her hands shake slightly, she pulled off the sheet.

There, on the canvas, was a painting of you. You were diving, heading for the seabed, swimming as gracefully as a mermaid. Around you were fish, corals, seaweed, and plenty of other sea life, all of the things she’d seen when diving with you. A rope ran along the seabed, and on the sleeve of your wet suit was your rescue diver symbol, proud in the deep blue of the ocean. A crab looked up to you, raising a claw in greeting, and bubbles gently floated up towards the surface, some of them curved in the shape of a heart. The colors of the ocean swirled together with care, bringing the entire painting together and pointing back to the most important part of the painting: you.

You gasped, bringing your hands up to cover your mouth as your eyes grew wide. For a moment, you stood still, before you moved forward to look closer at the painting, blinking away tears.

“Oh my god, Miya,” you said softly, voice breaking ever so slightly as you looked from her to the painting. “It’s... It’s so beautiful. I’m so touched.”

“It’s for you,” she said with a smile, making you gasp again, waving a hand.

“No, I couldn’t take it, really. You worked so hard on it, there’s no way!”

“I worked hard on it so that I could be proud when I gave it to you.” She wet her lips, clasping her hands together. “When I came here, I was totally lost. I couldn’t paint anything and I had no inspiration. But then I saw you, and that all changed. I had never seen anyone I was so fascinated by. You inspired me in a way that I hadn’t been inspired in a long time. I could draw you forever. You really became my muse.” She took a deep breath again before continuing. “Then we got to know each other and.... I realized that I really liked you. With you I experienced so many new things and felt so many emotions. I felt passion again. All because of you.”

“Miya....” You stepped closer to her and she quickly continued before she could lose her nerve.

“(Y/N), I like you, much more than as a friend. And I’m giving you this painting to let you know my feelings. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I wanted to tell you.”

You smiled, and before she could register what was happening, you were wrapping your arms around her in a tight hug. “How could I not love you, Miya? You’re incredible. I was hoping you felt the same way.” At your words, she let out a sigh of relief and hugged you back, making you laugh softly. “I’ll treasure that painting forever. I promise. I love it.”

“I’m so glad.” She felt a bit like crying, but smiled instead, pulling away to look at it. “I made sure it was perfect. Just like you.”

“I’m far from perfect,” you said, shaking your head, “but the painting is absolutely perfect. I can’t believe I’m dating such a talented artist.”

Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. She’d been wanting to hear those words for a long time. “Oh.”

A playful smile came to your lips, one that she recognized well now. “We are dating now, right?”

“I don’t remember ever asking you to start dating me,” she countered, just as playful, making you laugh again. She loved that sound.

“Then I’ll ask. Miya, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Great, now we’re dating!” You tilted your head, smile softening. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

Miya was reminded of that day, the first day she really met you, with the tide rolling in and the sun high in the sky, sand in-between her toes and her heart in her throat. She might have already been in love then. “Sure, go ahead.”

“Can I kiss you?”

She laughed, leaning her head against yours, her heart overflowing with happiness and affection. It was desperation that first drove her to Jeju. But it was love that was driving her to stay.

“Always.”

[pairedaces]

#6 🙃

Life guard au perhaps 🥴

//

Archie loves his summer job, he really does. Being a lifeguard is cool and fun most of the time. Imagine having a job where all you have to do is bask in the sun and save a life every once in a while? Piece of cake. It’s great.

All the locals who own shops down by the boardwalk are always so nice, offering him free lunch and cool merch. There’s nothing else he’d rather do.

Except with all the pros there’s also some cons. The fact that the beach has white sand and clear blue waters is a major tourist attraction. Which means loud, entitled, and rude rich college kids who come down and wreak havoc on anything and anyone in their path.

He despises them. They never follow the rules, get drunk on the beach (which is illegal), and always leave their trash behind.

There was one particular group today that just grated his nerves on another level.

It was night time and the beach was closing down but they wouldn’t leave. Archie was closer to calling the cops then he’s ever been. Luckily he didn’t need to because they relented the second he had used his “intimidating” voice.

He was doing one more survey around the area on his four wheeler, just to make sure everything was alright, before he headed out for the night.

From a distance he could see a figure on the beach. He lets out an annoyed sigh. Speeding up, Archie gets to them pretty quickly.

“Excuse me,” he calls out, getting off the ATV. “The beach is closed.” As he got closer he could hear sniffling.

“I know,” the girl sniffs. “But look! It’s hurt.” She moves to the side to reveal a seagull laying there with it’s wing spread out like it’s broken.

The girl finally looks at him and Archie realizes she was apart of the group that had been giving him a hard time today. The same one he couldn’t for the life of him be annoyed with because she was so beautiful with her wavy black hair that shined underneath the sun, brown eyes that made him feel like he was swimming in chocolate with the way she looked at him from over her sunglasses, and a killer body. It also helped that she was actually nicer then the rest of them.

“Oh my god! You’re the hot lifeguard!” She blurts out, slurring her words a bit. “You have to save it!”

Archie’s face goes red but thankfully she won’t be able to notice with only the moon and a faraway street lamp providing them light. “Uh yeah, I guess,” he says awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “I’ll have a buddy of mine take care of the bird but is there anyone I can call for you? Where did your friends go?”

The girl, who he has yet to find out the name of, mumbles distractedly, staring hard at the bird. She reaches her hand out like she’s going to touch it and Archie’s eyes go wide.

“No-“

The bird squawks which scares her, causing her to screech and run in his direction. She moves clumsily around him and jumps on his back, squeezing him tightly. On instinct, Archie grips her thighs so they both don’t fall to the ground.

“I change my mind- attack that little fucker!” She yells, making Archie wince at the loudness.

Although, Archie doesn’t mind the weight on his back because she isn’t all that heavy, but her arms are kinda digging into his windpipe and it’s getting hard to breathe.

“Uh miss?” He croaks out.

“You can call me Veronica, hot lifeguard.” She whispers in his ear. She makes an excited noise when his hands flex around her thighs.

“Okay, Veronica?”

“Hmm?”

“I can’t breathe.”

[liveitoffthewall]

“I was walking along the beach one winter day. Looking down, I saw a wave push a feather up on the sand. It was a seagull feather stained with oil. I picked it up and felt the dark slick film on my fingers. I couldn’t help wondering if the bird had survived. Was it all right out there? I knew it wasn’t. I felt sad to think how carelessly we treat our home. The earth we all share is not just a rock tossed through space, but a living, nurturing being. She cares for us; she deserves our care in return. We’ve been treating Mother Earth the way some people treat a rental apartment. Just trash it and move on. But there’s no place to move on to now. We have brought our garbage and our wars and our racism to every part of the world. We must begin to clean her up, and that means cleaning up our own hearts and minds first, because they led us to poison our dear planet. The sooner we change, the easier it will be to feel our love for Mother Earth and the love she so freely gives back to us.”

– Michael Jackson : Dancing the Dream

[swishandflickwit]

Shirbert — whenever you're ready 1/1

Summary: The first time they touch doesn't go quite as planned—most plans rarely do. But Gilbert always has a way of bringing her back to herself.

Words: 1.4k

Rating: General Audiences

AN: Shirbert future fic because I’m trash for AWAE and S3 seems like forever and a day away.

Many thanks to my AWAE ladies @ofshipsandswans and @acourtoftruelove — you guys, if I fly it’s only because you have set me free. Like the song says, you are the wind beneath my wings (smh so corny but it's truuuuueee!)

Song (and title!) inspiration: Surrender by Natalie Taylor

Also on: ff.net | AO3

The first time Gilbert touches her, it is not a happy memory.

He caresses her wrist, lightly, feather touch even, but all it does is takes Anne back. Back to the Hammonds, where no one held her except to punish her, where Mrs. Hammond would grip her wrist so tight the skin around it would turn deathly white and she'd leave bruises the shape of her bony fingers (and even then it wouldn't be the worst bruise she'd receive because it would only be the prelude), where Mrs. Hammond would shove her outside and across the dirt, where her knees would be stained red and muddy as Mr. Hammond struck her with his choice of the birch switch or his belt, both of which she so despised, his mark hitting true despite being a drunkard, again and again, till her skin was a mottled red to match her hideous hair, till she hurt so badly that she couldn't bear to sit at all the next day and maybe even after then. She thought she was passed this so how strange it was to her, that this would all come flooding back after many a years living with the tender love of the Cuthberts, after knowing the warmth of Gilbert's reverent gaze. So she freezes, all the heat that he incites within her siphoned from that simple touch and she thinks, rather hysterically, that this is it—she has scared him into leaving her for she has revealed herself, her true self, the quiet, fearful child she's always tried to hide behind the pretty words, the brazen opinions, the foul temper and the wild calls for adventure. She is but a seagull with a crooked wing, doomed to be grounded. For what is a bird without flight? What could such a crippled thing deserve?

Certainly not Gilbert, she thinks desperately, with his doe-eyed sincerity and his pure heart. No, she certainly did not deserve Gilbert, and Gilbert certainly deserves more than a broken thing like her, with her cracked mind and her fragile, glass heart. She thinks of running and instead she runs her mouth for that's the fastest thing about her, Lord help her, she can't even break properly. And so she tells Gilbert all that she's never spoken of, not to the Cuthberts, not to Diana or Cole, not to herself, alone in her room during her evening prayers and not even to the darkest of nights or the most blinding of mornings when both feels as if the entire world was holding its breath in perfect stillness and everything that could ever happen in that moment was a secret between you and the heavens. She speaks and she speaks and she speaks till her words feel like spilled ink across a white carpet except she isn't pouring words, she's pouring her heart and it is bleeding bleeding bleeding over Gilbert's worn shoes and staining the wooden floorboards of his home and isn't that we she does? Because she is broken and she is a blotch and she is a shame and—

"Anne!"

A voice other than her own, his voice, startles her into silence. Softer, he tells her, "Breathe." And that's when she notices the shortness of her breath, the blackening at the edges of her vision. And so she tries to breathe but it suddenly feels as if she's forgotten how and the panic wells within her chest, a minuscule pin of an annoyance that grows into an anvil and she's lightheaded and—and—

"Breathe." Gilbert. He reminds her. "With me."

She focuses on his chest, on the way it rises and falls, on the way it expands as it fills with the sweet air of Spring and contracts as he exhales, the heat of it a fervent whisper against her already hot cheeks. She manages to catch her breath, only to have all her demons dancing across her mind, daring to steal it once again and just as she feels the depths of despair yawning before her and ready to drag her into its clawing grips, Gilbert brings her back, her name almost like a benediction on his lips. When their gazes meet, she feels awful struck for she has seen many looks on Gilbert's face, smug, bereaved, triumphant, defeated, joyous and resplendent, always resplendent, but never this, as if she were standing in front of a mirror.

"Anne..." he murmurs.

As if he was broken too.

"You're wrong," he declares with a shake of his head and they may be older but some things are far beyond the valleys of hope to ever change and the need to prove each other right almost overrides her fears. She is about to protest when he barrels on, ardently.

"You are not broken. You are a sculpture, you are clay. You're a mosaic of all these lives you've touched, lives that are made beautiful because of you." He smiles, the curl of his lip and the slightness of his eyes seeming to convey, Including mine.

(Which is silly, cause he has always been beautiful, even if she hasn't always wanted to admit it)

"And you are made beautiful because of all the wondrous things you give to the world." He stops smiling all of a sudden. It brings a new gravity to his next words, as weighted as the look in his eyes. "There has never been more whole a person as you."

And then.

Stillness.

Silence.

Her mind, for once, has gone quiet.

"I once asked you if you ever needed any dragons slayed and, this may be no dragon but—whatever you need of me, however impossible, just ask and I will do it because I'm always going to be here, for you. By your side is where I always wish to be,” and do her eyes deceive her or is that a blush blossoming in his cheeks? And she would dearly love to tease him, if she were sure her own face was not as heated from the passion with which he speaks, the air around them heavy with his pronouncement. “I mean, that is of course, if you'll have me. I'm yours," he murmurs, his palms supinely bared to her, kneeling as if she might actually be a queen and he, her loyal knight. "Use me as you please."

Use me, his mouth conveys.

Touch me, his eyes declare.

...

So she does.

Lightly, first, much as he did—a ghost of a touch. She pads a finger down the bridge of his nose only to make her way to the shapely arch of his brows. And then there are his cheeks edging to the cut of his jaw, rough from the hint of stubble and sharp enough to cut a diamond with. Which brings her to his lips, the softness of it contrasting oddly to his jawline. She traces the shape of it with her thumb, the cushion of that cupid's bow, the lambent curve of his smile. It's what makes her sink to his level as well though he remains that much taller. So much so that she must tip her head a tad back to meet his eyes, that scorching ashen scrutiny screaming at her, touchmetouchmetouchme—

Till, finally, unable to contain himself he utters, albeit beneath his breath, "Touch me."

"I'll do you one better," she grins because of course in the spirit of competition, she simply must, she places both her hands firmly on his chest—which had been gradually moving towards an erratic dance to match his breaths. And then she tilts her head.

And slants her lips atop his.

So, yes, perhaps when Gilbert Blythe first touches Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, it isn't the brightest of moments.

But when breathing each other in fades into the need to breathe at all, when Anne finds her hands buried into the thick strands of Gilbert's hair, when Gilbert discovers (and delights) in the futility of space between their bodies, their foreheads touching and his arms curled like vines around her waist, when their hearts feel utterly entwined it's as if they might fly out of their chests only to wrap themselves in one another as their bodies seemed to have done, well then.

That's when the moment Anne Shirley-Cuthbert touches Gilbert Blythe, really touches him, becomes a memory with enough light to power all of Canada, bright enough to rival all the stars in the universe.

Bright enough to set her shadow demons ablaze.

Let me know if you have any requests ;)

[kickasstransdumbass]

my enemy, my friend

hullo my few followers, i have recently started re-writing a story in watt pad that i made, let my know what you think of the first two chapters?

Chap One: Enemies

The moon shone down peacefully on the oceans, its reflection dancing in the lazy, cold waves. Seagles rested in their nests, oblivious to anything but blissful sleep. The docks were quiet, the boats rested in the soft waves, and the stars were bright above. Nature was ignorant to the intense battle taking place in one of the warehouses a little further inland.

The figure clad in dark green leapt up onto a platform, turning to face their opponent with a triumphant smile.

“Give it up LunarStar, You won't succeed tonight.” The figure's blonde hair reflected the moonlight through the hole in the ceiling they'd made earlier. The dark blue and silver adorned opponent growled a curse in reply, thrusting their arm out to create a lunar light cage about the green hero. The Hero only chuckled, twisting their hand and bending the darkness into blades. The blades cut through the lunar light with ease, and the hero turned them against their villainous opponent.

The villain sprung to the side, bending the lunar light into a shield to counteract the hero's attack. They turned away and ran towards the turquoise glowing machine.

“Oh no you don't” The hero muttered with a boston tilt.

The Hero transformed into a cloud of darkness and raced ahead of the villain, landing on the floorboards in front of the machine.

“You know,  turning all freshwater in this state into sea-water isn't a bad plan. Apart from the little factoid that the rest of America would probably donate their freshwater to help.” The Hero smiled thoughtfully, “Maybe you should help kiddies with their science projects, eh? Might feel good to win a first prize.”

“Shut your mouth.” LunarStar growled. He waved his hand upwards, and the sea broke through the floorboards, surrounding the hero in a salty, freezing cage. The Villain pushed the salty water back into the ocean with as much force as he could muster, hoping that it knocked whatever pride the hero had out of them. He turned back to his machine and began towards it.

The hero was still underwater, trying to regain a sense of up and down.

Water. One of their only weaknesses, and LunarStar had managed to pick that moment to submerge them in it. The Hero swam in what they hoped was up, feeling with their hands for the surface. They broke out of the water and gasped, breathing in the strong scent of salt and mildew. They were beneath the docks, just a few yards away from the hole LunarStar had blown in the floor.

The Hero swam over and pulled themselves up through the hole with difficulty. So long as they were submerged, they couldn't shadow-travel. But once they were out, it didn't matter that they were soaked to the bone.

LunarStar turned towards the wet figure, smirking as he noticed them pulling themselves up through the hole.

“I thought you could teleport?” He asked with a snide smile. “You're too late, Shade, I've just entered the last digits for the machine's code.”

“It's not called teleporting.” Shade whispered. “It's Shadow-traveling.”

“What?” LunarStar scowled. The Hero changed into a shadow, left the water behind, and sped towards the confused Villain, knocking his feet from under him as they materialized. They stood and orchestrated the darkness to form a cocoon around LunarStar, blocking out the hole in the ceiling as well for good measure. Shade slipped a shadow around the villain's neck, blocking the arteries to make him fall unconscious. The villain glared at them until he passed out, and they promptly let the shadow's go, quickly wrapping nearby rope around LunarStar's arms and legs. Shade tied him to a pole, and crushed the machine easily with the darkness in the warehouse.

They looked over at the unconscious villain and clicked their tongue.

“When will you learn?” they tutted, pressing a call button on their watch before transforming into darkness and speeding out through the hole in the ceiling.

The Moon shone down on the ocean, and Nature was still oblivious to the battle that had taken place.

Chap Two: Friends

The moonlight pierced the darkness of the apartment through a lone window, illuminating a couch in front of a TV, and two rooms devoid of any humans.

A lone female figure shuffled through the apartment door, seemingly exhausted. Her keys rattled as she tossed a gym bag into a closet by the door, and the apartment shook when she closed the front door with a kick. She winced, hoping that her roommate hadn't been woken by the bang. But, as she crept towards her room-mate's door, she sighed in relief when she found it empty.

She flipped on the kitchen light and dove into the freezer for ice cream. After the night she had had, she deserved some. The apartment door opened just as she sank a spoon into the soft, chocolate desert.

“Hey Fox.” She called softly. The person in the doorway jumped at the sound of her voice, but relaxed when they saw her standing in the kitchen.

“Hey.” He returned, throwing his Gym bag into the same closet and closing the door in the same way as the woman had. “Mind if I have a bite?” He gestured to her ice cream.

“Not at all.” she shifted her weight to the side as she reached for a spoon from the drawer behind her. “How was Thai Kwan Do?” She asked as she handed him a spoon.

“Good. What about Jiu Jitsu?” He replied, taking a spoonful from the ice cream carton.

“Same.” She took a bight of her creamy desert. “God bless who ever invented ice cream. And donuts.” She lifted herself up onto the counter, spoon in mouth. “and cereal, and food basically. But then i'd be blessing God wouldn't I? Cause he made food to begin with so--”

“Emma, you're weird.” Fox interrupted, taking another spoonful of ice cream.

“Yup.” she shoveled a large scoop of her desert into her mouth. “Ahh bwain fweeze.” She said with a full mouth.

“Case and point.” Fox aimed his spoon at her. “Try rubbing just behind your front teeth with your thumb.” Emma followed his advice and exclaimed as the pain left. The two continued in their attack of the ice cream, almost finishing the carton before they bid each other goodnight and headed to their rooms, one on each side of the apartment.  

It was a Saturday.

The cars in the streets below honked and cast the smell of exhaust about the city, clogging up what once was fresh air a few hours earlier. The people busied themselves with going to work, jogging, or taking a stroll through the park.

The nearby College was devoid of any students or professors, as no one signed up for Saturday  classes. The beach was slowly filling up with bikini and board short clad people, as well as tourists from all around the world.

In the apartment, a girl lay sprawled out on her bed, snoozing the late morning hours away.

Her roommate was no where to be found in the apartment, and quiet bird song crept through the girl's bedroom window.

With a gasp, the girl sat up suddenly in her bed, looking about her room and sniffing. Her eyes drooped as though she'd not gotten any sleep, and her flaming hair stood on her head like a rat's nest. She smacked her lips a few times before rising from her tangled mess of sheets and heading through her door to the kitchen.

She poured her cereal into the last clean bowl, and reached for the milk, pouring it into the bowl as well.

It wasn't until she'd poured the milk that she realized it was off.

Or that the cereal she'd poured was the last of all the cereal in the small apartment.

Emma sighed and pushed the bowl to the side, towards the sink. She tossed the milk carton towards the trash can, along with the cereal box, and groaned when the cereal box bounced off the side of the bin and landed on the ground. She muttered incoherent words as she shuffled over and placed the box carefully into the bin.

She wandered off to the bathroom, brushing her hair and teeth before crossing the hall into her bedroom to change. She put on a baggy t-shirt and jeans, opting for no shoes that day. She had no obligations to fulfill on Saturdays. She tottered out of her room just as Fox entered the apartment, carrying two large boxes.

“Hey, I saw the milk was off and went to get some breakfast.” He explained, placing the two boxes on the counter. “These should keep us going for a few more days.” he opened the boxes, releasing the smell of fresh donuts and bagels into the small home.

“Fox, you're my hero.” Emma bounded over to the boxes and grabbed two of each of the boxes contents, devouring them in minutes.

“You'd think I didn't feed you.” Fox shook his head and walked to his room.

“You don't, I feed me.” Emma replied with a mouth stuffed with a doughnut. She sighed happily and jumped onto the couch to watch the TV, flipping to the news station to see the latest media attention grabber.

“Thank you for tuning in to JNC, I'm Heather Lance, reporting in on the latest bit of breaking news: there is a report at the docks of the Hero Shade's and the villain LunarStar's latest battle. It appears that a fisherman had witnessed the whole ordeal, and we will be interviewing him shortly about the incident. As it is uncommon for the actual battles between Jacksonville's villains and heroes to be heard or seen, this will be quite a rare occurrence of a witness today. Over to you, Sally.”

the screen changed to a dark haired woman on the docks, standing near an old sailor with a bushy beard and wild eyes. They were standing in front of a boat, the news reporter fending off a seagull when the cameras changed.

“Thank you Heather—agh get off!--sorry, we're having some minor technicalities with the birds—Get away!--alright. Now that that's solved, Mr. Henderson, could you relay to us what it was exactly you saw last night?”

“Well, I was just fishing out there—you see just past them rocks—when I heard a big CRASh! And then there was a PhsoOo and a BANG!” the old man told the story with wild hand motions, “I was scared out of my damn mind! Then, I saw a big shadow leave the building. I looked in the building afterwards--you know after I docked--and there wasn't anything there but the giiiinormous holes in the ceiling and the floor. I know what went down, and it can't have been pretty.” the man proudly stuck his thumbs through his overall straps and stood on his toes, while the reporter looked mildly disappointed and disgusted.

“Alright, you heard it from Mr. Henderson, a first hand account of what went down last night. Next, we'll be showing you the damage inside the building. Back to you, Heather.”

Emma switched the TV off an sighed. It was always nice when they threw in a so called “Eyewitness” account, it made for a nice laugh.