Please help I can't find this fic š I remember it starts at the siege of the Northen water tribe and dokka gets washed away but saved by zuko and iroh. It follows sokka's pov of him traveling with zuko and iroh trying to get back to the gaang, they traveling through the earth Kingdom and eventually sokka gets reunited with the gaang in ba sing se but zuko still goes with his sister then goes back to sokka after the invasion if any knows what I talking about please help I've been looking for this fic for away thank you
Words: 100, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
Writing Prompt: "I've never felt like this about anyone, and honestly it scares me."
Cardinalās head rested on her hand while she idly ran her fingertip along the rim of her tea cup, the cup was still warm and she retracted her finger once it became too hot to continue doing so.
āWhats got you down?ā a voice broke through her daydreaming and she looked up to see Fabian standing over her with a cloth in his hand- heād been using it to clean the bar counter top and he now slung it over his shoulder. She sighed, āCan I talk to you aboutā¦ something?ā
Fabianās attention was fully on her now as he nodded slowly. āYeah- sure, alwaysā he sounded nervous and she supposed her should be, considering what she was planning to talk to him about, or rather: who.
āSoā¦ā she started, looking down at the steam coming from her cup. ā- Reed got a bit drunk, a while ago. And he might have said something to meā she bit her lip, it was difficult for her brain to work through the words, let alone to say them.
Fabian seemed even more alert now and he leaned forward, āWhatever he said, heās a prick and-ā
āFabian, stop its not like that-ā she tried
ā-and an asshole, and when heās drunk he says the most stupid fucking things. He didnāt mean it, he was drunk, but Iāll speak to him as soon as Iām done with my shift I-ā
He didnāt mean it, he was drunk. āFabianā she spoke louder this time to get him to shut up but he continued to go on. āFabian! He said he loved me!ā her throat closed up and Fabian went silent. She couldnāt read the look on his face but she watched as he clenched his fists and his knuckles turned white.
āOhā was all he managed to get out over his own throat closing up. After a pregnant pause of them both refusing to look at the other, Fabian cleared his throat. āWhat- I mean, how does that make you feel?ā she could tell he was struggling, she could tell he was fighting back the hurt that was already starting to show on his face.
āI donāt knowā she looked down at her teacup again. āIāve never felt like this with anyone, and honestly it scares meā she admitted.
āFelt like how?ā the words were scratching his throat now as he struggled to speak them, but he had to know.
āLikeā¦ this much in loveā
Silence. Then a fist banged against a counter. āWell fuckā Fabian strained to not scream, to not do more than bang the counter. He could feel Cardinalās eyes on him but he ignored it, he ignored everything even as what she said pounded on his brain. He couldnāt. He couldn'tāt. It hurt.
āFabian-ā Cardinal softly said his name but he was already leaving.
The tea got cold and Cardinal left, feeling more conflicted than she did when sheād first walked in there.
Her lip quivered as her mother tore apart the valentines note she got. It was a pathetic thing to cry about, she knew, but it was special. Sheād received it in class by a boy sheād had a small crush on and sheād been so elated that he thought she was pretty, that he liked her glasses, itād been excitement she felt when sheād shown her mother the note. And then itād turned to regret when her mother roared. And it was now that she watched with tears streaming down her face. āmommy... please. Heās nice, he-ā
Her mother forcefully shoved her against the wall, cutting off her sentence. āHe was lying, Cardinal! Look at you, you really think anybody could ever like you? Love you?ā her mother roared with laughter and Cardi held back a flinch when her mother cupped her face with her hands, the gesture forceful and she was certain thereād be a bruise where her mothers fingers pressed on her jaw. āForget about boys Cardinal. Nobodyās ever going to want you for anything more than a good time and iām not going to be there for you when you finally learn thatā
Her mother stepped back then and looked her over like she was debating something. āGo to your room. Your father will speak to you when he gets homeā and this time, she really did flinch.
Not a real one. There were no bars or cells, no electric fencing or barbed wire. From the outside it looked like a home: white picket fence, swing set in the back. Two children, a father, a mother.
It was a prison, but it looked like heaven.
~
A little girl sat on a dry patch of grass. Her legs folded underneath her as she slowly wove a needle through the torn arm of her stuffed giraffe, Giffery was its name.
She worried her lower lip as she tried carefully to not prick herself. The world was silent. Not a car drove past, not one bird chirped, not even the wind blew. A door slammed somewhere in her house, and she jumped, pricking her finger just as the screaming started.
The girls heart raced as she stood up and made quick work of hiding the giraffe behind some bushes. She managed to run to the swing set Intime for the back door to open. āHi mommyā she greeted cheerfully as the figure of a woman appeared under the door frame.
Her motherās green eyes lowered as she ran them over her daughter. Those green eyes so like the child sitting nervously on the swing before her.
āWhy are you outside?ā the mother asked with a harsh tone. It was an effort for the girl to not flinch.
āYou said I can have one-hour playtime a day mommy. I was only swingingā she said innocently. She knew better than to act dumb around her mother. The motherās eyes lowered some more as she surveyed the fenced in backyard. It was almost like she was waiting for something to pop up.
āYou talk to anyone?ā the mother asked. And the girl in turn shook her head, āNo mommyā she answered. Her mother still didnāt look satisfied and she clenched her jaw. āCome inside Cardinal, an hour is far too longā she retreated into the house, keeping an eye on her daughter to make sure she followed.
The girl slid off the swing, taking as long as she dared. She already felt the lump in the back of her throat and she blinked rapidly. She would not cry. She would not cry.
The mother slammed the door shut behind them and Cardinal blinked her eyes rapidly as they adjusted to the sudden darkness of the house. Her mother remained standing before her, watching the girl closely. There was a dark look on her face as the girl smiled up at her and without a seconds notice, the mothers hand cracked loudly against the side of the girls face.
Cardinal stood still, not daring to show pain, she knew if she cried it would only get worse. If she ran it would get worse. If she moved at all it would get worse. So she stayed as still as she could manage while her mothers hands come down on her again and again. A clenched fist went into her side and it was all she could to keep looking straight, to not gasp for air or whimper.
Her ears buzzed and she saw her mothers lips move but no words came out, dark spots formed across her eyes but she blinked them away and repeated the mantra in her head, she would not cry.
And then it stopped.
She blinked rapidly. Her mother was gone. Her sheets were wet. And the world was silent.
The girl had a few seconds to hoping it was just a dream. To hope that maybe she had died. But in the small second, a voice drifted down the hall and she knew, with a heart-breaking sense, that she was not so lucky.
What are some interesting jobs that someone under their 30s could manage to have? (For example, obviously a 20 year old can't be a big shot lawyer, but what can they be?) Thank you!
Sorry for taking a while to answer your question, darling. I was busy doing research for something else Iām working on. When Iām researching, I canāt stop until Iāve actually finished.Ā
Anyways, hereās a few that I think would be pretty good job for people under 30s. Iām not sure if a few of these are really interesting, but they possibly could be.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
BBC Sherlock is written by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss while Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are ACD's creation.Ā
I own nothing but the story. If it could be called as one.
***
John thought he could read Sherlock.
Not well, but at least based on his actions.
The simple twitch at the corner of his lips, the mocking raise of eyebrow, and the sounds he make when he couldn't find his stash or there's no interesting case on his website.
He already know how to deal with it. At times, he could even feel like he's babysitting a grown man. A grown man with a brain that could keep you insane and high with adventure.
That's why...when he went back to the flat early from buying groceries, he was caught himself off-guard.
He found the flat...tidy.
No dust, no smell of any intoxicated chemicals, nothing.
All...clean.
"John, close your mouth. Bees will come flying inside it." Sherlock didn't bother to look up and greet him. He was lying on the sofa with his back facing at the soldier.
Oh.Ā "I see, Mrs. Hudson cleaned." Yes it must have been her. God, bless Mrs. Hudson for her kindness. He really feel guilty for all of this.Ā I'll buy something nice for her later.
"Hmm," was the only sound Sherlock made.
"What's wrong?"
Sherlock didn't make a sound. When he was sure he won't be able to receive that reply, he walked towards the kitchen, putting down the bag of groceries on top of the table. Even the detective's science mini-laboratory weren't there. The jars of thumbs, dead leeches and eyeballs were missing from where they usually are. What did just happen?
Anyone would know something's wrong. "Sherlock? Are you alright?"
Still, no answer.Ā Maybe I'm just thinking too much about it.
Yet he was pretty sure there is something wrong when he opened the fridge and their resident...the severed head wasn't present in its usual post.
And somehow, it made sense.
"Sherlock," again, nothing. "Did you just clean up here?"
When he turned, he was caught by surprise as Sherlock was there standing few feet away from him. However, he didn't flinch. The detective looked at him in the eye and there was something...something he couldn't define.
It's as if he was...happy.
"Interesting," with no elaboration, the thin man with a blue dressing gown walk towards his room, shutting it down.
There are things John won't understand. Things he won't be able to know from his flatmate. Things he wished the bloody genius won't keep to himself.
...It was things like this he wished he knew what's going inside that blood head of his.
- C
***
An attempt to write drabbles by C
Every now and then, I'll post something spontaneous, whether something as normal or as ridiculous like this.
