#notgreenx

*fish flop* hELp

*gets up but falls over again* julia i can’t

( ——  ☂  —— )  

*likes so hard i fall over*

 ₍ ℘.s. ₎ 

IT’S JULIA FACE!! LOOK AT THAT BEAUTIMOUS JULIA FACE!!

       After the curse had been lifted she’d remember the damn thing, stupid itchy little        numbers counting tirelessly down on the underside of her wrist. Still, while it had       been common place in Oz, she wasn’t quite sure if affected any others curse, so        mostly she kept her wrist down and under her sweater sleeve. Besides, she doubted       her supposed ‘soul-mate’ was in the bloody town anyway. She doubted they existed       at all.

                She pulled the sleeve of her gray V-neck down across the numbers, not bothering                 to look, and pushed open the door to Granny’s Diner. Tinkerbell’s, as always,                 brightening gaze met her with a mug of tea, presumably just the way Elana liked it,                already steaming on the tabletop of the booth. She gave Tink a light smile and small                hug before taking her usual seat. They made typical small talk for a bit, ordering the                same food, and Elana finding her tea perfectly done up by Tink as always, but her                wrist kept itching with a persistant burn such that she couldn’t think straight through their                conversation any longer. Angrily, though the continual pain, she yanked her shirt sleeve                up to check the scratch marks. Her stomach flopped on itself & she felt as if she might                suddenly lose the tea crackers they’d been eating. Everything inside felt like melting.

      0 0 : 0 0

     Her wrist continued burning, less like and itch and more like resting your skin     against a hot burner, but she refused to touch the fairy, refused to look back at      the numbers. Refused. he yanked the sleeve back down so forcefully she could      hear the seams ache and stretch, as if to say they almost broke, but didn’t.

5. Firm Kiss

( ——  ☂  —— )  

      Maybe she was tired of hiding, begrudgingly forcing      away  everyone in a one-hundred foot radius of  her.       Maybe it was the cheap bottle of wine sitting on the       table between them.  But more than likely,  she was      just tired.  Tired  of everything  the  idiotic  town  of      Storybrooke  had  thrown at her. Somewhere,  deep      down, she'd known all along the curse existed.  But      somehow,  under the high of cheap  wine  and  the       living  space of a fairy with a stupidly  high-pitched      laugh, she did something so careless,  she couldn't      dare  admit  to  doing  it in her own  state  of  mind.