"I'm not telling her that, Toph."
It was raining again. He'd hoped that the downpour would throw her off, make her turn left when he turned right but here she was.
"Sokka, you can't keep it up forever."
"No, but it's hardly been a month. I don't think I need to-"
"That's right. You don't think you need to do anything."
She cut him off just as he meant to round the corner. Feet planted firmly in the ground, arms crossed and white eyes unblinking.
"Sheesh." He hissed, leaning up against the wall. Refusing to give in, he settled on staring up and rather than speak, brought the ever side dangling water sack to his lips.
"She's eight years old. Ri
If he had to pick, he'd have said that remembering wasn't the worst of it. No, not at all. Remembering was painful of course, downright heart breaking. …Not that he'd ever let anyone know. After denying it for so long, it would be another ordeal entirely to suddenly come clean.
John bit his lip, heaving a great sigh.
'My best friend is dead and here I am… worried they'll call me a poof.'
Ah but that was the thing of it in the end, right? Part of the pain, part of that anguish was the fact that he knew Sherlock hadn't been a fake. He hadn't been duped into believing anything. The only lie Sherlock ever told as the one he didn't.
Your hands are the vase that cup my melted heart.
Porcelain white, cold and yet still so comforting.
Tears fall, scattered against your frame and you watch as they run off, pausing only to collect the person that lays pouring beside you.
Your beauty is akin to nothing I can recall and yet it is the height of familiarity. Looking into your visage is as a dream.
My wonder, never leave me or fade away.
'Is that Miguel and... Stiles'
He didn't mean to linger so long by the window, but he couldn't help it. He'd simply meant to take the shorter route home. But as he turned the corner he noticed a figure just beyond the window, one he recognized.
They were murmuring too low for him to make out their words, but he could tell it was heated. Stiles had obviously run his mouth off again, asking questions that didn't need answering or maybe he made a snide remark... or maybe...
"UMPH!" Stiles grunted, jacked up against the locker again.
Whatever the reason, Miguel was pissed. He had an intense fix on the guy, eyes glowing- wait, glowing? It must
It had been at least an hour after Jin collapsed into the couch before he stirred again. The sound of plates clinking and running water brought him out of whatever dream he had been having.
Was it even a dream?
They had been at the hotel and... Kazuya showed up? And why was he so upset? Did they fight? ...Did anyone else know?
"Howie, for the umpteenth time, you don't need to wash up. You're my guest, mate."
"And I ate off of these dishes, I don't leave a mess behind me."
Was that Hwo?
Everything still seemed to be so surreal. He'd been to a bar, he was sure of that. He remembered the bartender eyeing him after a few rounds, taking his
He pulled his head in deeper to the fold of his body, trying his best to avoid the mirror ahead of him. He didn't want to see himself, didn't want to look at the man who'd wronged so many people and done so much evil without batting an eye.
And the worst of it was Dean, God help him.
The one person who'd been there for him when the world had ended- literally. The man who stood by him when he'd broken the last seal, who still loved him despite his many betrayals, the person who was loyal to him when he himself couldn't be more wayward.
He'd stopped loving Dean.
It made sense, no soul means no love. No sadness, no real fear or even happines
Timmy couldn't have pedaled faster if he tried. The wheels of his bike strained against the pavement as he tore through the same portion of road for the third time. He'd left Aj's house only moments ago and decided to go home and wait for Jorgan's final decision. Although he felt he knew what it would be.
He biked through most of Dimmsdale's commercial area, taking the long way home.
Chester was still working and Timmy didn't bother going in to visit. He couldn't imagine of walking up to his register with that kind of news when the guy would have another four hours or so of work to get through.
He'd stopped to chat with Sanjay and Elmer for a
It'd been a long morning, mainly for Timmy.
Jorgen and Wanda could go on and on about it for hours, as Timmy knew well. He'd seen them before, day in and night come going over every point of a given issue. Sometimes he wondered why she never took a job working for Fairy World instead of Godparenting, she was so good at paper work and protocol it seemed almost silly to waste her time tending to human children. But every so often she'd direct her attention to Cosmo and Poof or in his own direction, giving them each little tasks to complete to keep them busy. Or to at least keep them from focusing too hard on the conversation.
"Nothing is differ
Timmy knew something wasn't right the moment he woke up. The room wasn't alive with activity the way it normally was. Cosmo wasn't singing, Wanda wasn't yelling- it even seemed like Poof had gone silent. When he finally sat up and looked over at his nightstand, they were there, wide awake save for Poof who was still sleeping. They smiled at him, but it was a strange smile. It lacked the warmth their greetings usually carried and gave him a feeling he could only describe as foreboding, and it went on with him even when he went downstairs for breakfast.
Both his mother and father were already at the table, everything spread out and waiting for