i gave you my heart...

fic: original

2009-09-08T19:49:12Z

Title: yeah, chemistry!
Rating: PG
Word Count: 153
Chapter: 1 - it's easy to hit-and-miss when you're not aiming; part c - what you have is easy
Previous Parts: Chapter 1: part a, part b
Summary: A story as unique as every individual, and yet familiar with every one. A story of love and what never was. A story of love and what was. [part 1c/2]
Author's Notes: True story, children.

yeah, chemistry!

one - it's easy to hit-and-miss when you're not aiming

what you have is easy

You stroll, side by side, and then his arm is around your shoulder, you can’t quite remember why. But that’s alright, it’s okay, because it’s comfortable and you don’t mind and you won’t ever mind, should the occasion present itself again. You just slip your arm in that warm space around his waist and feel the friendly brush of hip on leg because you’ve never been tall enough.

The crowd surges around you; his arm tightens imperceptibly. Friends bustle and chatter; you walk on, a conversation flowing freely between you. And then, a pause. Silence, and he thoughtfully brings up, we look a bit like a couple, don’t we?

You pass another store. Friends’ eyes flicker over you with only a trace of uncertainty.

His arm rests across your shoulders; your arm guards his waistline.

And you cock your head at him, contemplate for a moment, and say, casually, I suppose we do.

fic: original

2009-08-03T02:02:53Z

Title: yeah, chemistry!
Rating: PG
Word Count: 320
Chapter: 1 - it's easy to hit-and-miss when you're not aiming; part b - hug me into heaven
Previous Parts: Chapter 1: part a
Summary: A story as unique as every individual, and yet familiar with every one. A story of love and what never was. A story of love and what was. [part 1b/2]
Author's Notes: There's always something magical about a perfect hug, you know?

yeah, chemistry!

one - it's easy to hit-and-miss when you're not aiming

hug me into heaven

    You pass him and his hand flicks out and you’re really not consciously aware of it anymore as you step into the comforting familiarity of his embrace. His arms enfold you and this must be what a child feels like in the arms of his mother, warm and wanted and loved. After everything, no matter the occasion or reason or tear-streak-down-your-cheek, you finally feel like you’re someplace you belong.

   Your arms—this you weren’t aware of—have missed him. They slide into that groove of his waist, meet securely behind his back and bring him closer closer closer until you’re pressed against him and he’s pressed against you and all you can smell is that intoxicating cologne and all you can feel is how soft his shirt is against your cheek and how his chin is nestling in your hair.

   He rocks you, gently, back and forth until it’s almost like a dance and you look up at him and he looks down at you and you both smile because this is comfortable and this is how things are between you, pushing what could have been and what won’t be.

   His arms release you at the perfect moment, nothing too short and nothing too long (and yet, somehow, it’s still not quite long enough). He smiles at you, that charming smile, poise and elegance and underlying mischief, and you don’t need to be in his arms to remember this feeling.

   He walks away and you walk away and his scent lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. His body leaves a warm imprint on yours. Your heart, you suddenly notice, feels light, light, float away on a breeze.

   His arms around you, your ear to his heart, his chin home in your hair…

   You’d almost feel like his lover, if this was what being his lover felt like.

fic: original

2009-07-22T03:02:57Z

Title: yeah, chemistry!
Rating: PG
Word Count: 226
Chapter: 1 - it's easy to hit-and-miss when you're not aiming; part a - getting into the swing of it
Summary: A story as unique as every individual, and yet familiar with every one. A story of love and what never was. A story of love and what was. [part 1a/2]
Author's Notes: This has been a long time in the making. It's from personal experience, and from stories, and from my imagination. It's delicate and personal and I really enjoy it. I wasn't quite sure how to format it, though -- the chapters are made up of short stories. So I'm posting them one short story at a time.

yeah, chemistry!

one - it's easy to hit-and-miss when you're not aiming

getting into the swing of it

His hand is warm and rough and almost too big but not quite around yours. Five fingers, all perfectly aligned, have never felt so more at home in a hand before; they fit exactly, snuggly in the cove between thumb and fingers. And all the while (a comforting reminder at the back of your mind) his hand remains warm and rough and almost too big but just right.

Your fingers flex and his fingers flex and the thin sweat on your skin is only a reminder of the heat between you. Your hands mold together with each squeeze and swing and it’s lovely, sweet and lovely and a high school romance, if that was your thing (it’s not).

His thumb rubs gently over yours. You’re not quite sure when it started, but now it has and every nerve is suddenly alive with curiosity and overflowing affection. Suddenly your whole attention is given to his thumb, moving leisurely against yours, hot friction between skin, his warmth seeping into you.

You wonder, faintly, if he knows, if he’s aware, if he realizes it’s his thumb rubbing over yours like a girlfriend-guyfriend-we’re-the-real-deal-hand-holding-kissing-in-the-alcoves type of thing. You wonder if this gentle touch, this sweet little affection, is as subconscious, hardwired as breathing. You wonder if he knows he’s doing it.

You wonder if he likes that perfectly friendly intimacy too.

fic: twilight [edward/tanya]

2008-08-31T04:05:13Z

Title: oh what a tangled web we weave
Day/Theme: August 30 / beLIEve
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 420

oh what a tangled web we weave

when first we practise to deceive

— sir walter scott

What they have is a tangled web of half-true lies and masked deceit and eternity-long weariness and year upon year of self-loathing.

They don’t have love; they have lust. They don’t have companionship; they have justification. They don’t have a reason, and they certainly don’t need one.

At least, that’s what they tell themselves.

She doesn’t lie (to herself or to him) and pretend that she loves him, that she’s not using him openly. She doesn’t lie and pretend that he’s nothing more than a half-decent lover and an excuse at entertainment.

A thousand years is a long time to live, and she needs something to fill the void.

He’s had a hundred years to perfect the art of lying. He can breathe sweet nothings into her ear like he means them (she can see right through him), he can love her life she’s his means of grace (the only one he’s fooling is himself).

He can lie like an angel, but that doesn’t mean anyone believes him.

Her life is timeless. A thousand years have passed — a thousand more will. She’s seen it all, heard it all, learned and experienced and endured it all. The future lies before her like a well-worn page, memorized from beginning to end, dog-eared corner to ink spot of blue, known like she knows herself and the reoccurring dream (nightmare) of her forever life.

Their lips meet, and he brings her back to something forgotten, buried under the years, the easy lies, the feeling of teeth grazing flesh. He reminds her of what it feels like to live.

He likes to think that he loves her, that every kiss, every touch has a deeper meaning beyond animalistic lust; it’s only a half-lie.

He doesn’t love her; he doesn’t love anyone. The feeling was lost long ago, along with the green eyes and burning heart and humanity.

But when he thinks of her, pale skin and flowing hair and pouting lips, soft body, warm, touchable flesh, he feels something.

He doesn’t love her; he doesn’t even love himself.

But he does love the way she makes him feel.

Hands reach; clothes flutter to the floor in ribbons. Lips are fierce against lips; pushing, persuading, a constant tease and a flicker of worth. She bites his skin and they both revel in his wild reaction.

She’s addicted to that flame of life inside of him. He needs to be wanted like a drug.

They give each other purpose, and that all they could ever ask for.

fic: twilight [leah clearwater]

2008-08-11T04:12:23Z

Title: with a spade in my hands
Day/Theme: August 10 / funeral season
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Leah Clearwater
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 638
Author's Notes: LEAH CLEARWATER IS MY NEW LOVER. Mmm... yes. SPOILERS FOR BREAKING DAWN.

with a spade in my hands

Life seemed to fall on her all at once, crushing her under a lifetime of pain and hurt that came too soon, too fast. She should have had time to regret, to mourn. She didn’t.

She buried so many people that year.

She’s never loved anyone quite like she loves Sam. He’s her sweetheart, the smiling face that makes her beautiful. He’s her sunshine on a cloudy day, the one who makes January seem like mid-June. He makes her love more than she thought she ever could.

She loves him, every part of him, werewolf and all.

He loves her, every part of her, but as the Quileute legends say, “his center of gravity shifted.”

Imprint trumps everything, after all.

It’s a shame she has a bury Emily along with Sam.

She and her father have a give-and-take relationship that suits them both fine. He would take her and Seth on fishing trips that she was always more excited for; she would let him put her dolls in mismatched clothes so long as he rocked them to sleep when she shoved them in his unsuspecting arms.

But that childhood is a thing of the past, just like the sweet girl she had been back then.

She finds her mother, head in her hands, sobbing, and she runs until she can’t run any more.

She buries her father alone.

///

She used to think she was a fairly decent person, funny, happy, loving, loved.

That was before Sam, of course, and before her father, and before this.

Now she’s not even sure what she is, let alone who.

It’s okay, Leah, she hears in her head, and howls.

You’d think it would be hard to bury yourself, but it’s not so difficult when there’s so little of you left.

////

Suddenly all the thoughts that are crowding her mind, all the thoughts that aren’t hers, fade away into nothingness. All she can hear is her own harsh breathing and the sound of her frantic heart.

Leah? she hears, and her heart almost breaks at the sound.

Seth?

A sandy wolf appears in the trees and she phases back to her naked, lonely body, if only to cry.

She hates to bury someone so unwilling to die.

/////

There’s a part of her that hates Jacob Black. She hates his heartbreak, his pitiful hope, the thrum of his paws on the ground as he runs away from what will inevitably catch him and kill him slowly.

She hates that he is so weak where she is strong.

But more than anything, she hates him for being so much like her.

It’s nearly impossible to bury someone who’s been so deeply inside her mind, almost as impossible as burying herself. Good thing she’s had practice.

//////

He comes back to haunt her in ways she never could have imagined.

She hates having him inside her head.

When Jacob walks away, he offers her a different option, a new life, healing, hope. When Seth walks away, he leaves her with no other choice.

When she walks away, a freer Leah emerges.

This time, she’s more than willing to bury Sam.

///////

The first time he phases after it’s happened, she nearly cries with the irony of it.

His heart swells in her chest with an irrational, overwhelming, perfect love. She can feel his happiness and it makes her sick.

Once upon a time, they had talked about it, about how it strips your very sense of choice away, your free will, your very self.

There’s not much left to Jacob Black anymore, she thinks.

In her mind, Jacob has died, and she buries him with tears in her eyes.

////////

Leah packed her bags with an odd determination in her heart.

Forks would be the last thing she ever buried.

audio fics

2008-08-10T22:27:36Z

HEY FOLKS. 8D

I was bored today, so I decided to try something. I've seen a couple people do this already and it sounded like such a cool idea that I wanted to try it out for myself. What am I talking about?

Audio fics!

I did a bunch because I was a little bit overexcited. >>

(These link to the visual files in case you want to read and listen.)

Twilight
if I said I'd been waiting, it would be a lie
here in your arms I find my rest
and when you swept me off my feet
seven days of january

Avatar
Thinking
Vague
The Final Resurrection
Territory
Star-Crossed Angel
Element of Love

Click HERE to download them (sorry, I'm not computer-literate enough to figure out how you can just listen instead of having to download!). They're .wav files, but they open with Windows Media Player.

P.S. invaderk, this is totally for you, bb. Now you can hear me whenever you want! 8D [/obnoxious]

fic: twilight [edward/tanya, poem]

2008-08-10T19:01:51Z

Title: seven days of january
Author: Alisa
Format: POEM
Word Count: 182
Rating: T for implications
Summary: january is such a lonely month.
Author's Notes: I haven't written any poetry in a really long time, but I think this turned out pretty well. More Edward/Tanya, of course.

seven days of January

white

like the lace of her dress

like the color of her skin

like the feel of an Alaskan morning

(new).

Sunrise warms the mountains,

the earth; but

the snow glistens, white, cold,

unchanging;

and he sees her.

He sees her, pale skin

white lips forming black thoughts,

pushing, stretching, bending until

he breaks.

“Not now,” she says, but her hands

are under his shirt.

“Not ever,” she says, but her hands

have got a hold.

I’m not what you need,

she thinks,

and he wishes he knew better.

I can wait you out, he thinks,

(wants to say)

but the words are bitter on his tongue

and leave him colder than before.

But reason is pardoned,

banished in a flash of

white, shimmering, sunrise

light

and his eyes are dark

and her eyes are inviting.

The lace of her dress is stunning

against the white of her cold

cold

skin.

With a deep breath and a plunge:

He touches her gently

(hidden power);

a brush of fingertips

and they’ve already lost

what they never had,

in the fleeting touch of January.

fic: twilight [edward/tanya, edward/bella]

2008-08-10T03:14:13Z

Title: fade into sweetest black
Day/Theme: August 9 / white it out
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya, Edward/Bella
Rating: PG
Word Count: 378
Author's Notes: Written once again for 31_days. Not the most fabulous piece of writing, but I need to write my Twilight OTP again after Breaking Dawn.

fade into sweetest black

Vampires remember everything.

Edward, more than anyone, resents this fact.

He remembers being human, the memories faded Polaroids that have nothing to back them but vague recollections and the warm feeling of what had been love and contentment.

He remembers every thought of every person he has ever encountered, those of vampire and werewolf and human alike. He files them in his head by chronology, and in a separate part of his mind altogether, by name. He can draw any thought at will and play it back with crystal clarity.

He remembers every second of his life as a vampire with exactness so sharp it’s painful. He remembers the good times, the moments of love and contentment, but even they fade in comparison — the bad, the mistakes, his mistakes, the angry words, the foolish helpless descent into sin, every kiss and every touch, they burn brighter in his mind than any good memory.

But more than anything, more than his life as a human, more than all the thoughts he’s heard, more than the memories of his entire existence, he remembers her.

He can see her in his mind as clearly as if she was standing in front of him (or pressed beneath him). He remembers hearing her thoughts mingling with his own; they had stood out sharp in every conversation he’d been within hearing range of, highlighted and bold even as he’d tried to force them out.

She haunts his memories in a way he can never forget.

He resents it, his flawless memories, his unforgetting (unforgiving) mind. He resents that, once upon a time, he could forget.

Human memories fade; he hears it happening every day. Humans, he thinks (and will later recall perfectly), are the luckiest creatures on earth. They live and they die, they grow and change. They forget.

Vampire Edward remembers every moment he spent with her, every moment he thought of her, every moment she thought of him. Vampire Edward remembers her perfectly, exactly, even as he holds his wife in his arms.

But human Edward… human Edward would forget all about Tanya. Human Edward’s memories would fade, just like human memories are supposed to do, just like they always do. Tanya would fade.

But she doesn’t.

After all, vampires remember forever.

fic: avatar [sokka/toph]

2008-08-08T03:51:46Z

Title: As We Dance to the Beat of Your Heart
Author: Alisa
Word Count: 3,139
Rating: T
Summary: Sokka and Toph practice their moves.
Author's Notes: This originally started out as a chapter of a collab story between Invaderk and I, but after that kind of fell through, I decided to finish it for TOKKA WEEK! This is supposed to be half of a story/art duo, but my partner hasn't contacted me yet with the lovely art, so I'm just posting this now.

Toph and Sokka are partners in a dance contest thrown by Fire Lord Zuko in celebration of the anniversary of the war's end. They've danced together before at some random party the Fire Nation always seems to be having. Toph is 17-18, Sokka is around 20-21.

As We Dance to the Beat of Your Heart

Sokka opened the back door of the seediest tavern in Gaoling as quietly as he could. Dressed all in black, a hood pulled over his head, he kept one hand on the meteorite sword on his waist as he slipped into the shadows.

There were few people in the tavern, most of who were workers; two were cleaning the wooden tables while another was sweeping up what looked like broken glass from an out-of-hand brawl. The tavern owner, a pudgy man with no hair on his head but plenty on his scruffy face, was leaning over the counter in light conversation with the only patron in the entire tavern.

She was a pretty little thing, from what he could see in the dimly lit bar. Her petite body was swathed in Fire Nation-red silk, an oddity in the Earth Kingdom. Her hair was black and flowed down her back in waves. Her chin was nestled in her palms as she conversed with the tavern owner and her feet swung, unseen, under her too-long dress.

Suddenly, almost as if she’d sensed his scrutiny, she lifted her head from its resting place. She murmured something to the tavern owner (who shook his head and chuckled) before sliding off her seat.

Striking a pose he was all too familiar with, she tilted her head in his direction and called, “Sokka, why are you hiding in the corner?”

He gave a choked sound in the back of his throat and stumbled forward. “Toph?” he sputtered.

She gave him a tiny wave.

He stopped before her and stared down at his best friend. Gone were the infamous bun, the dusty Earthbending clothes, and the healthy coating of Earth. This Toph — a dainty feminine reincarnation of his tomboyish friend — was disconcerting.

Her lips pulled down as he silently gawked. “What?” she barked. “What’re you staring at?”

“Toph, what happened to you?”

“Nothing happened to me. Can’t a girl dress up every once in a while?” She folded her arms and muttered under her breath, “Acts as if he’s never seen me in a dress before.”

“But you told me we were gonna take over this tavern!”

“We are.” Gesturing behind her to the tavern owner, Toph explained, “Ping owes me a favor and what better place to practice than here?”

“So I got dressed up in my ninja gear for nothing? Ugh!”

Toph chuckled as Sokka made a fuss over removing his assortment of weapons, grumbling as he piled them inside the dark cloak he had worn over it all.

“Chill out, Drama King,” Toph chided, taking up her seat and propping her feet on the counter. “It’s not like you were the only one who had to play dress-up.”

He paused from removing a knife from his shoe and gave Toph another look-over. Her dress had ridden up past her knees and he could see a peek of her shorts underneath; it was hardly worth being embarrassed over, however. He’d seen far more of Toph than her dress revealed. But there was something else that Sokka also noticed, and it caused a pink blush to warm his cheeks.

He’d seen Toph in green, and it suited her. From the rough green of her Earthbending clothes to the fragile green of her silk dresses, it reminded Sokka of how powerful and influential Toph was, no matter the circumstance.

He’d seen her in blue, from her “only trip to the South Pole, I can promise you. Why you would want to be there longer than you have to be is beyond me!” She had looked positively cute all wrapped up in furs, which he had reminded her of constantly, just to see the pretty blush that would flood her face.

But Toph in red was a different person altogether. She was wearing makeup, he was startled to realize: Her lips had been painted and her eyes delicately lined. The dark red of the dress contrasted starkly with the night-black of her hair and the pale white of her skin; the colors seemed to glow next to each other. His eyes grew wide and his cheeks darkened as, for just a fleeting moment, he thought of Toph as sensuous.

He shook his head and placed the knife next to his boomerang. “Why are you even wearing a dress, Toph?”

She paused from picking her teeth to say, “According to the rules, one of us has to be wearing a dress, but since mine aren’t big enough to fit you, I figured I’d be nice and wear it instead.”

“Then why’re you wearing it now?”

“I need to practice dancing in it, doofus.” She grabbed two fistfuls of material and said, “It’s not as easy as it looks to dance in one of these!”

He shook his head and decided not to mention that he’d fought in a dress before.

Placing a length of rope in his cloak, Sokka glanced again at the feminine Toph in front of him. He cleared his throat. “You know, Toph,” he said, gathering the bundle of weaponry, “you clean up pretty well.”

Her eyebrow raised and a small smirk graced her dark lips.

The bundle slipped from his fingers and he scrambled to grab it before the contents spilled all over the floor. His sword prodded sharply into his side and he quickly coughed out, “I mean — you look… nice.”

Toph shrugged and Ping, who had been wiping down glasses behind the counter, shook his head surreptitiously and gestured at Toph with his cloth.

“What I’m saying is…” He set his bundle down and approached her. “You look really pretty, Toph. But…”

Her eyebrows shot into her hair and he watched, confused and horrified, as his hand moved toward her face. His thumb slid slowly over her bottom lip, the paint staining his finger red.

“But I think — I think you look… better when you’re not all covered up like this. Then you look—” He paused as his thumb traced her bottom lip again thoughtfully. “—beautiful.”

He watched her cheeks stain that rosy color he always liked on her face and felt a sudden, horrifying weight in his chest. The air felt thick around him; he could feel the tension, nearly tangible, that he had never felt between him and Toph before. His cheeks were nearly as red as her dress.

Suddenly her hand shot out and slapped his away; the tension broke like being doused in water. Sokka shook his head and avoided eye contact with Ping as Toph slid off her stool, planted her hands on her hips, and barked loudly, “Are we gonna get this over with or not?”

“Right.” Sokka shook his head again, just for good measure. “Right. So, um… where d’you want to start?”

Toph was tying her mane of hair back as she replied, “With the dancing, duh.”

Sokka rolled his eyes. “I know that, but I mean—” He quickly searched the room and went on, “How are we supposed to dance without any music?”

Toph shook her head solemnly. “Have you no faith?” She cleared her throat and called, “Ping! We’re ready to go!”

Ping, along with the three other workers, dropped what they were doing and disappeared into a back room.

Sokka raised his eyebrow and deadpanned, “And scaring off the workers will help us how?”

“Hold your ostrich-horses, Mister Impatient.”

He turned back to the room in which the four workers had gone. There was a small crashing noise, and then a large drum filled the doorway, followed by Ping. The other workers filed out after him, various instruments in their hands. They rushed to set up the small band in an empty corner.

Sokka shook his head and smiled at Toph. “You really are something, you know that?”

Toph smirked at him and replied, “How else would I have pulled this off? Now let’s get started!”

Sokka followed her to the middle of the room, where a few of the tables had been hastily cleared out of the way for them. She walked briskly, and when she reached the cleared area, she spun on the spot to face him.

“So here’s the deal, Meathead,” Toph began, inserting her nickname for him that was rarely used any more. “You and me, we’re both good dancers. And we definitely know how to dance together.”

At this, her cheeks flushed just the slightest bit. Sokka remembered their first dance together sharply and shifted embarrassedly on his feet.

Toph continued after their tight silence. “We’re both good at making up stuff on the fly. But I think we should plan out our dance and practice it.” As some sort of motivation, she offered, “We can get really awesome and cream the competition, you know?”

“You want to make an entire routine for this thing?” Sokka asked unbelievingly. “But we’re so good at improvising! Why can’t we just work with that?”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t you want to win?”

“Well, yeah…” he consented.

“And don’t you want to make Suki ridiculously jealous and wish she’d never dumped you?”

His eyes sparked. “Yeah.”

“And don’t you want to beat Aang and Katara?”

“Yeah!”

“And don’t you want to shove this in Zuko’s face?”

“Yeah!”

“Then let’s do this!”

“Yeah, let’s do this!” In his excitement, Sokka whisked Toph off her feet and spun her around wildly. She gave a shriek at her sudden departure from the ground and held on to his arms as he shouted, “You an’ me, Toph, we’re gonna rock!”

He squeezed her tight around the waist and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek before setting her on her feet. She pulled away looking ruffled.

After a moment — in which she adjusted her dress and ignored the burning spot where his lips had touched her cheek — Toph turned to the tiny band and asked, “You guys ready to go?”

“Whenever you are, little lady!” Ping replied with a wink, and he shook his tambourine.

Toph returned the wink and the band started out with a lively, face-paced tune. She turned to face Sokka and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as the music swelled; she could sense that Sokka had been struck by the same discomfort that she had just been hit with. Dancing together had been easy on the noisy, crowded floor of a busy tavern, but now they were the only couple in a nearly empty room and their every move seemed multiplied tenfold.

Sokka coughed quietly into his hand and then said, with an attempt at brightness, “Let’s get started!”

He took her right hand in his and wrapped his free arm around her waist, which was just as small as it looked. Her fingers curled against his and her hand moved up to his shoulder. They stood like that for a few lengthy moments, in each other’s arms, before Toph drew back and punched Sokka firmly in the arm.

“Ow!” Sokka jumped away and rubbed at his newly-acquired injury. “What was that for, Toph?”

She was scowling. “You’re making this way too awkward! It’s not like you haven’t danced with me before, so stop being so self-conscious and just have some fun!”

“Alright, alright!” he assented, and then quickly added, “As long as you don’t hit me again.”

“You be good and I won’t have to hit you again,” she quickly countered, but grinned as she draped her body over his. He dropped his hands to the curve of her hips and settled them there; he could feel the warmth radiating from her body, just like it had that night not so long ago. He smiled and they started to dance.

They began simply enough, a few side to side steps and a twirl that flared her dress up to her knees. Her hand was tight in his as they moved in unison: a few warm-up steps, a turn under each other’s arms, a twist that pulled her tight against his chest.

Spinning her out, Sokka pulled her back in and lowered her into a dip, her bangs falling away to reveal her flushed face and a cheeky smile. He yanked her back up with a flick of his wrist and she ran her hands lightly across his chest before spinning out, her hair flying behind her like a banner. Her hand found his and they pulled their bodies together, flush against each other as they spun across the empty tavern to the beat of Ping’s drum.

They moved together with a grace that neither of them possessed on their own, but with a chemistry that they sparked with all the time. Their movements were smooth and hypnotizing, and Sokka could hear his thoughts slipping in and out of coherency; he focused on the feel of Toph in his hands and her earthy smell and her even breath. He focused on his feet and his hands and his hips and the way that Toph was moving, a way he had seen before.

A quick twist and her back was pressed tight against his chest, her hips moving against him in a way he was almost too familiar with. His hands ran down her arms, which were draped over his neck, and across the plane of her stomach to her waist. He rocked her hips in time with his before she flew out into a twirl. He pulled her into a dip as the song ended; her chest rose and fell in time with the echo of the drum.

A silence, heavy and even, rang out in the room as the last peals of the song faded and Sokka’s and Toph’s breathing filled the quiet. She looked radiant, with that smug little smile on her lips.

Sokka tugged her forward and she sprang up to his side. Ping and his band, for whatever reason, immediately began clapping. Sokka raised his eyebrows. The dance had hardly been worth applauding, in his humble opinion; they’d done better at the Fire Lord’s twenty-first birthday party, and that had just been to embarrass him.

Toph waved off the enthusiastic workers and turned to her partner. “Not bad, Mr. Fancy Pants, but I’ve got to say, you’re a little rusty at this.”

Sokka bristled defensively. “Me? I’m the one that’s rusty? Have you seen yourself lately?”

“As a matter of fact, no, I haven’t,” Toph replied coolly, to which Sokka huffed.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Toph brushed him off. “Yeah, yeah, I gotcha.” She motioned to Ping and the group started up another song. “Let’s just try to work out some kind of dance, okay?”

“Right.” He settled his hand on her waist as she placed hers on his shoulder. Their free hands met in perfect synchronization.

“So I was thinking,” Toph began, shifting in time with the beat, “that we could start with this.” She twirled out sharply and then back in, falling into an elegant dip. Sokka followed her moves easily and supported her as she tipped back.

He thought for a moment, Toph still dangling in his arms, one of her legs wrapped around his. Pulling her up to his chest, he suggested, “Why not twirl under my arm the first spin?” They demonstrated the move and she nodded.

“You still got some of your moves, huh?” she quipped, pulling him effortlessly around the room as they talked.

Sokka snorted. “I’ll have you know that my moves never went anywhere. They just got…” — he cleared his throat — “a little dusty, that’s all.”

She chuckled and pulled him smoothly back toward the band with a small tug on his arm. Sokka followed obediently for a moment, and then frowned. His hand tightened around Toph’s and he steered them in a different direction.

Her brow furrowed. “What gives?”

Shrugging, Sokka reminded her, “I’m the one that’s supposed to lead, remember?”

Toph clucked her tongue. “Just another thing we’ll have to work on.”

“Hey!” Sokka directed her back toward the band and pushed her out in an unexpected, messy twirl, as if to prove he was perfectly capable of leading. Toph swiftly corrected her turn and pulled herself back into position, eyebrows raised at him.

“A master leader, I can tell,” she muttered, taking the initiative again.

Sokka pushed their bodies in a different direction (she frowned up at him and flicked his shoulder) as he retorted boldly, “I think you’re just no good at following.”

“Ha! Maybe if you moved with me instead of dragging me around the floor, you wouldn’t be so bad at leading.”

Sending her into a dip that brushed her hair on the floor, he was quick to reply, “Maybe if you would let me actually lead we wouldn’t have this kind of problem!”

“Hey, don’t blame me just because you don’t know how to lead!”

“I do know how to lead, you just won’t let me!”

“Then prove it!” she commanded.

He pulled her body close; his hands followed the curve of her waist down to her hips. She scowled underneath her blush and grudgingly draped her arms over his shoulders.

They managed to get through a few moves before Sokka growled out, “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

Sokka dipped her down and brushed her fringe from her face — he could feel the heat from her skin on his fingertips.

“You’re not letting me lead.”

“You’re not being forceful enough.”

“Not forceful enough, huh?” His movements suddenly became heavy and over exaggerated; Toph struggled to move with him.

“Quit it!” She caught him firmly in the shin. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, then I’m not dancing with you.”

Hopping up and down on one foot, hands clutching his injured leg, he still managed to snort. “And then what? Who’ll you dance with then?”

Her lips moved into a familiar pout and Toph crossed her arms. “I could dance with Haru.” She tried to hide the twitch of her lips and failed.

“You wouldn’t!” Sokka said, affronted, placing a scandalized hand to his chest.

A smirk stretched across her face as she pronounced, “I would.”

“But Toph!” he cried, leg forgotten as he grasped her hands. “Then who would I get stuck with?” He spun her out and pulled her slowly back in. His arms wrapped securely around her waist as he leaned in and breathed against her neck, “You know I only like dancing with you.”

She pressed her cheek into his chest for a moment before murmuring, “Then I guess our partnership lives on.” She twirled out gracefully and added, grinning, “For your sake, of course. I hear Haru is a fabulous dancer.”

Sokka laughed and pulled her close. “And I hear he’s nothing compared to me.”

His hands found her hips and they danced to the beat of their own drum.

fic: twilight [edward/tanya]

2008-07-24T22:54:46Z

Title: if only I were as human as I pretend to be
Day/Theme: July 24 / death by embarrassment
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 227
Author's Notes: WARNING: ATTEMPTED HUMOR AHEAD.

if only I were as human as I pretend to be

There’s a faint tension in the room; he can feel it in the air, hear it in their minds. Jasper won’t look him in the eye, and his thoughts are trivial, purposely distracted.

Edward hides his face behind the book he’s reading and attempts to return to the narrative. It proves difficult when Rosalie’s voice pushes into his mind (we all heard you last night, Edward, stop pretending we don’t know what happened).

Her dress rustles as she walks into the room; his body fills with dread. He can hear Rosalie’s smirk as she waits for something to unfold.

“Edward,” Tanya’s voice whispers smoothly into his ear. She slips her arms around his shoulders and plays with the buttons on his shirt. “Last night was fun.”

The entire room stiffens. His book still conceals his face, but he can imagine the looks of curiosity and discomfort on the faces of his family. Rosalie’s self-righteous smirk.

She straightens, her fingers trailing along his shoulders. She ruffles his hair playfully and murmurs, “Any time, Edward. You know where to find me.”

She floats from the room but leaves the tension behind. He can hear the thoughts bouncing around the room; he doesn’t move his book.

The silence seems never-ending. Then Emmett’s booming laughter fills the room.

“Look’s like Eddie’s got himself a little girlfriend!”

Edward wishes he could die.

fic: twilight [edward/tanya, edward/bella]

2008-07-24T03:03:05Z

Title: you remind me of simpler days
Day/Theme: July 23 / wake up kick
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya, Edward/Bella
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: * Quote from Stephenie Meyer's "Quote of the Day" for July 14th (number 3 on her master list).
Word Count: 669
Author's Notes: Completely different from the last chapter. Is anyone else hoping Tanya will come to the wedding?

you remind me of simpler days

They’re sitting on the front steps, the long grass around them waving lazily in the light breeze. Weak sunlight trickles in through the trees and his skin is like diamonds, like shattered glass. Her warm fingers trace absentmindedly along his palm.

And then, like the scent of Bella’s blood, it hits him. His entire body stiffens; Bella does too.

“What is it, Edward?” she whispers, fingers clenching around his wrist.

After a long moment, he relaxes. He smiles at her, drags his eyes away from the forest only long enough to meet hers. “It seems we have an unexpected visitor,” he says, and the forest bursts into light.

There, walking out from among the trees, glowing pale as an angel and glistening like freshly drawn blood, is a vampire.

Bella sucks in a breath the same time he does.

She crosses the distance quickly, her shimmering face defining, the features as flawless and ancient as his memory reminds him. She stands before him, her succubae reputation in shining view, and offers him her hand.

He takes it and stands, as if he never had a choice (but since when did he?).

Her arms slide around his waist; his arms lock around her shoulders. Suddenly their swept up in a lovers’ reunion that doesn’t quite fit, but he can’t seem to bear to let go.

“Ah, Edward,” she whispers into his chest, her arms pulling him tighter. “I’ve missed you.” *

He murmurs into her hair, “And I you.” His eyes are closed against her strawberry blonde curls, he doesn’t remember happening.

The moment seems to last forever. Then, in a feeble voice: “Um… Edward?”

He pulls away as if bitten, mortification written across his features. Bella looks confused, one hand poised halfway toward Edward, as if she’d meant to touch him and paused. Their visitor only smiles.

“Bella — Bella, this is Tanya. Tanya, this is Bella.” (He seems to choke on Tanya’s name both times.)

Tanya tilts her head. “This is your human, Edward?”

He scowls and corrects, “My fiancée.”

“Of course.” Her lips pull down for a moment, then transform into a stunning smile. “Hello, Bella,” she murmurs, extending her hand. “Edward’s told me so much about you.”

Bella cautiously takes her hand, eyes still suspicious. “He’s told me some things about you too, Tanya.”

Tanya’s eyes flicker to him, then to Bella; they travel up her throat and down her arm, to their clasped hands. Slowly, she drags Bella’s wrist to her mouth and inhales. The girl looks terrified.

Tanya lets go. “She doesn’t smell nearly as ravishing as you’d described, Edward.”

He frowns and mutters, “She’s my la tua cantante, Tanya, you know that.” (But suddenly he’s not so sure.)

“You know, Bella,” she says, and the girl looks startled at being addressed, “I thought I had that once… la tua cantante.” She looks reminiscent for a moment, then shakes her head and laughs. “But as it turned out, he wasn’t my type.” A playful wink is thrown at Edward. He frowns.

“Well, if you don’t mind excusing me, I’d like to go greet the rest of the Cullens!” Tanya leans in and places a dainty kiss on Bella’s cheek. “It was lovely meeting you, Bella.”

She leans in, places a kiss on Edward’s cold stone cheek, lips moving silently (if you ever change your mind). She floats inside, her scent trailing behind her.

Edward inhales, remembers her still-familiar scent. Thoughts swirl through his mind and mingle with the ones that aren’t his. He thinks of Jacob Black; of Jacob Black putting Bella back together again; of Bella’s love for Jacob Black; of Jacob Black’s love for Bella; of his own love for Bella; (of his love for Tanya;) of a human Bella with a human Jacob and a human life; of his life with someone a little colder and a little harder and a little less dangerous to love.

He thinks of how Tanya’s scent makes his mouth water.

Edward’s wedding has never seemed so close.

fic: twilight [edward/tanya]

2008-07-21T03:11:55Z

Title: this endless road down which I travel
Day/Theme: July 20 / the world in all its colors
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,055
Author's Notes: With very little exception, this is basically where I think Stephenie Meyer could take Tanya's character (it would suit SMeyer's character style). However, I think Meyer might be a little more adventurous with Tanya because she's a minor character and doesn't need to be developed as profoundly as our main characters. Basically, I can see Tanya taking one of two very different roads personality-wise: 1, the road you would expect from Meyer; or 2, the road I think Meyer might take Tanya down (aka the unexpected). Either way, I'm excited. :)

this endless road down which I travel

“Edward!” she says, and kisses both of his cheeks. “How sweet of you to visit me on my birthday!”

He blinks, startled, then remembers. January 18th. Tanya’s birthday. The day after he met his la tua cantante.

“Of course,” he replies, and smiles. “Why else would I drop by?” (Certainly not to avoid eating Isabella Swan, no of course not!)

She ushers him inside, sits him down, puts in his favorite CD (how did she know?). The familiar jazz relaxes him; the familiar smell of Tanya surrounds him. He pushes aside Bella Swan.

She settles down into a worn leather chair across from him. Her hair spills over a cream turtleneck, the one he’s always been partial to, and her eyes twinkle.

“It’s my thousandth birthday, you know,” she says, and he does know. He can read it in her mind and in Irina’s mind and in the giant “1000” that hangs over the doorway.

“You learn many things in a thousand years, Edward,” she murmurs, her voice drifting. “I’ve traveled the world; I’ve seen so many things. I’ve experienced ten lifetimes and yet I’m still not a day over twenty-three.”

She laughs, suddenly, and he stares at her.

Shaking her head (those curls bounce), she admits, “Isn’t it strange to wish to get older? To get wrinkles and sore bones and a fading memory?” Her eyes meet his. “Is that strange, Edward?”

He regards her for a long time, sifting through her mind for the thoughts he can understand (he thinks about himself). And finally he whispers, “No, I don’t think that’s strange at all.”

“Humans wish they had our immortality,” she says, drawing her knees to her chest. “We wish we could taste mortality once again.”

He doesn’t reply, only watches her from across the room. She looks all her thousand years in her twenty-three-year-old body. Her thoughts are trailing through different languages, different memories, different stages of her never-ending life, but they all twang with a similar feeling, a similar longing.

“Do you know what I’ve always wanted, Edward?” she asks, a finger coiling a strand of hair. “What I’ll always want more than anything?”

He shakes his head because he honestly doesn’t know. Quietly, “What have you always wanted?”

“I’ve always wanted to fall in love.”

His eyebrows arch in surprise, and she shakes her head, as if disappointed with him.

“Why else would I have been so thrilled to meet you, Edward? You gave me hope.”

He stutters out, “I gave you… hope?”

She shrugs and tugs on a strand of hair again. “Ever since I first met you, I thought, perhaps…”

“I would be the one,” he finishes.

She nods, and lets go of the coil of hair. It springs back into place.

“Your family — Carlisle and Esme, Rosalie and Emmett, Jasper and Alice — they have what they need. But vampires like us, Edward, the lonely ones… we’ll always be lacking. I’ve tried to fix that about myself.” She chews her lip for a moment, then admits, “That’s how I got my reputation.”

“Your reputation?”

“As a succubus. Seducing men, being loved by them… I was good at what I did. But it wasn’t enough.” She looks up at him and he recognizes the desolate look of a vampire wishing they could cry. “I wanted someone who could truly love me.”

He blinks, and says slowly, “I understand.”

She gives a sharp laugh. “Do you really? Have you ever experienced real love, Edward?”

He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t need to. They both know the answer.

“I have, Edward.” Her eyes are dark, her mind is dark. “Don’t give yourself more credit than you deserve.”

He stares at her, unsure of how to respond. She looks away.

“Forgive me; sometimes I forget just how young you truly are.” She shakes her head delicately and says, “Let me explain myself.

“When I was human, Edward, I had a family. I had a mother and a father and a brother. I had a husband and a beautiful daughter. I know what it’s like to be loved and wanted forever. I lost that, and for the past nine-hundred-seventy-seven years, I’ve been trying to get it back.”

Her eyes sparkle as they lock with his. “The world is full of life, Edward. People who live and love and die. Don’t you ever wish you could be one of them?”

He sits perfectly still for a moment, then nods. “I wish I could die and see heaven.”

“And I wish I could see my husband’s face again.” She doesn’t say it spitefully or mockingly, just with painful honesty.

“But we’re cursed, you and I, Edward,” she continues, “forced to exist in this world without what would make us truly live.”

His eyes flicker to her, her porcelain features, her strawberry blonde curls, her endless intelligence. He offers her his hand. “We can try it,” he says quietly. “You and I, we could work.”

She shakes her head and laughs, as if he is a naïve child. “Our chance is past, Edward. Perhaps, when you’re older, when you’ve seen the world in all its colors… but not now.”

He withdraws his hand, heart oddly torn. “I can wait, Tanya.”

She shakes her head again. “I’m a thousand years old, Edward. If I was meant to find someone… but you. You’re young. Find someone to spend your forever with.”

“What if I can’t find anyone?” He swallows. “What if I want it to be you?”

She smiles softly. “Then you’ll know where to find me.”

He looks down, suddenly embarrassed, and whispers, “I should go.”

She walks him to the door with her hand on his elbow. He opens it, then pauses.

“In ten years, can we—?”

“Edward…” She places her hand on his cheek. “Give yourself time.”

He frowns. “Twenty?”

She laughs, and her hand slides from his cheek. “How about seventy? Or is that too long for you?”

“No.” His hand brushes hers. “That’s not too long.”

She smiles and says sweetly, “Goodbye, Edward. Thank you for visiting me on my birthday.”

He kisses her softly on the cheek and replies, “It was my pleasure.”

She watches him run away and thinks about what Kate’s seen, the human girl, the love of his eternal life.

She only wishes she could have the same.

fic: twilight [edward/tanya, edward/bella]

2008-07-19T16:49:57Z

Title: here in your arms I find my rest
Day/Theme: July 19 / in spite of everything--
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya, Edward/Bella
Rating: PG
Word Count: 198

here in your arms I find my rest

She knew he was coming, of course.

Rosalie — her smug contempt threatening to snap the wavering thread of friendship that rejection had spun between them — was the one who had called.

“He left this morning,” she had said, as if the idea of Edward freighting through existence (melodrama his fuel) was hardly news to her. And then, her voice hardly loud enough to hear: “Poor wrinkled Bella died in the night.”

(She couldn’t be sure if Rosalie had whispered the statement with longing or relief.)

So here Tanya sat, hands folded in her lap, unblinking eyes locked on the door. Waiting. Waiting.

She stood, smoothed out her dress. There was knock at the door.

Her hand rested on the doorknob. Thoughts of comfort, those hallmark phrases of empty feelings, waited on the tip of her tongue, waited for the onslaught of bottled emotion that Edward always had in ready supply.

The door swung open.

His pale skin was snow white, his eyes coal black (red-rimmed). His hands were trembling. His mind was screaming.

And then, Edward ran in through the door. He ran into her arms. (He ran into her lips.)

And for some reason… she let him.

fic: twilight [edward/tanya, edward/bella]

2008-07-17T22:49:10Z

Title: erase the past from my mind
Day/Theme: July 17 / fall from grace
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya, Edward/Bella
Rating: PG
Word Count: 417

erase the past from my mind

He tells Bella she’s his first kiss only because he doesn’t want to remember.

Once upon a time, there was a vampire named Edward.

The Temptation.

She is standing in the snow, her white dress billowing around her in the wind. Her strawberry blonde curls fly behind her like a beacon, drawing him in.

He approaches her cautiously, red eyes alert.

Her mouth opens, and her smooth laughter rings in the air. She gestures him closer.

“Don’t be afraid, Edward,” she says, all kind words and sweet appearance. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He stands in front of her; she offers him her hand.

Her smile is so inviting.

The Fall.

He stares at the book in his hands, eyes not taking in the words. They are sitting together on her couch. She is reading an English book.

Her thoughts are always in Slovakian.

“Edward?”

He turns to look at her; she’s staring up at him through her pale lashes. She thinks something he can’t understand.

Lost in translation, he notes sardonically, and then she leans forward and kisses him.

He doesn’t know what to do but kiss her back.

The Assent.

They sit, side by side, on the cliff; their legs dangle off the edge. She’s wearing a bright yellow dress. He thinks it brings out the red in her hair.

She gently slips her hand within his. An Irish tune plays in her head like a record.

The sun breaks over the mountain, flooding the precipice with light. He turns to look at her. She shimmers softly in the light, a breeze playing with her hair.

He leans over and kisses her delicately. She presses her lips to his and smiles into his touch.

The Repentance.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and for a moment, all she looks is profoundly sad.

“I want you to have something,” she tells him, taking his hand in hers. She places it over her cold stone heart.

He stares at her, his eyes so innocent and young. In her mind, she says something; the words scream with an implication that crosses all barriers (it is yours). His eyes harden.

“No,” he whispers, withdrawing his hand. “I don’t deserve it.”

Her hand falls. She leans forward on her toes and brushes her lips against his cheek.

“You love me,” she murmurs. He’s already gone.

Once upon a time, Edward was in love.

He tells Bella she’s his first kiss only because he doesn’t want to remember.

fic: twilight [edward/tanya, edward/bella]

2008-07-14T17:00:06Z

Title: if I said I'd been waiting, it would be a lie
Day/Theme: July 14 - only in fairy tales
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya, Edward/Bella
Rating: PG
Word Count: 142
Author's Notes: Check out SMeyer's quote of the day for today: number three. Sometimes I love that woman. :D

if I said I’d been waiting, it would be a lie

She can smell him ten miles away. His scent reminds her of youth and innocence and flirtatious nights listening to jazz.

She flies to her room and slips into her white dress, the one of eyelet lace, the one he never told her but she knows is his favorite. She smoothes her curls. The doorbell rings. (and she thinks to herself, maybe, maybe this time...)

She dances down the stairs and throws open the door. She’s got his smile on her face, the sweet, fallen-angel one, the one he never told her but she knows he likes so much.

“Edward!” she gasps like she’s surprised, and then it is surprise.

There, tucked under his arm, all pale white skin and unsatiated hunger and blood red eyes, is a newborn vampire.

“Tanya,” is all he says, but she can hear so much more.

fic: twilight [edward/tanya]

2008-07-12T17:30:54Z

Title: and when you swept me off my feet
Day/Theme: July 12 / the perfect knockout
Series: Twilight
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya
Rating: PG
Word Count: 580

and when you swept me off my feet

The first time he sees her, he can’t imagine a more beautiful woman.

He’s admiring the work done to the engine of a Mercedes-Benz, thinking he’d never be able to fix it up so nicely, thinking that up until now, he was under the allusion that only Rosalie was this skilled.

He hears humming and thoughts of not gaudy red leather interiors.

She walks into view. He blinks.

She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Her face hasn’t quite lost the touch of adolescence, but in the high cheekbones and the pouting lips and the intelligent sparkle in her eyes, he can sense ten lifetimes of wisdom. She’s got strawberry blonde hair, frizzy and curly, falling out of two loosely bound braids that trail down her back. The lithe frame she no doubt has is hidden under a grease-strained gray tee and a too worn, too big pair of overalls. A wrench swings from her finger.

Those overalls—those overalls and that wrench and that smear of grease on her cheek—they remind him of Rosalie. But Rosalie, she never looked like this in her overalls, she never looked like this, like sexy.

Sexy. He’s never thought that about any woman before.

The startled look disappears from her face and is replaced with recognition. She smiles and he sucks in a lungful of air. She has a lovely smile.

“You must be Edward!” she says brightly, extending a hand toward him. “Irina mentioned that you and your family had arrived.”

Her voice is like, is like silk, but with none of the smoothness. It has an edge, a coarseness, a beautiful rough texture like the Olympic Mountain Range or work-worn hands. It’s a soothing, low sound; an alto to Rosalie’s soprano. Like the wind blowing through his hair when he thinks it might be whispering something to him.

She withdraws her hand slowly, and he blinks before realizing it was because he didn’t return the gesture.

“Ah…” He shakes his head, infinitesimally, before smiling at her (almost shyly). “You must be—”

Tanya, her mind supplies, and he repeats it (almost shyly).

The corners of her lips raise, a gentle little smile, and her mind tells him, What a strange young thing.

“This—this is yours?” he questions, at a loss in a situation he can’t quite understand. He gestures to the car behind him.

She nods and sidles up next to him, running her fingers protectively along the hood of the car. “Do you like cars, Edward?” she asks, and her eyes catch his.

He forces himself to answer. “They’re a hobby of mine. But I’m nothing compared to Rosalie….”

She laughs. “I’ve just met Rosalie. She’s quite a beautiful girl.” She pauses, and then, nonchalantly, “Are you two…?” Her eyes lock on his and he feels like she already knows.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Rosalie and I would hardly make a suitable pair.”

She nods and observes him for a moment, humming quietly to herself.

His brow furrows under her stare as he listens to her. The thoughts pouring from her mind are in a different language, one he has yet to learn.

Suddenly, she smiles and he’s lost again.

“You and I, Edward,” she murmurs sweetly, and rests her hand on his, “are going to be very good friends.”

His eyes widen. The way she says it makes him think that friendship isn’t the only thing she has in mind.

fic: twilight [edward/tanya, edward/bella]

2008-07-11T17:31:43Z

Title: in this world you overwhelm me
Day/Theme: July 11 / discreetly trying to catch attention
Series: Twilight saga
Character/Pairing: Edward/Tanya, Edward/Bella
Rating: PG-13/T for a swear word
Word Count: 637
Author's Notes: My first entry for 31_days! There will definitely be more coming this month.

in this world you overwhelm me

They’re fighting, practicing, preparing for twenty bloodthirsty newborn vampires whose only goal is to rip them to shreds.

Emmett circles him carefully, eyes sharp, thought of his evening last night with Rosalie an uncomfortable backdrop for Edward.

Emmett acts on instinct, but his thoughts always betray him a second too soon. Edward locks his arms around Emmett’s neck and brings his teeth to his brother’s throat; Emmett thrashes pointlessly.

“I think we have a winner,” Jasper announces to the crowd, and Edward releases a swearing Emmett from his grasp.

A smile on his face, victory in his heart, Edward turns to his family and asks challengingly, “Anyone else?”

A short silence, almost in anticipation, then: “I will.”

His breathing hitches as he hears the voice; he instinctively tenses as his two worlds collide.

She steps lithely into the ring, not a care in the world.

“Tanya,” Carlisle chokes out, his eyebrows raised in disbelief, “what are you doing here? I thought Irina didn’t want—?”

“Irina and I don’t always share the same opinion, Carlisle,” she says lightly. “She wanted to stay; I considered it my duty to come. We both did what we thought was best.”

“Well, thank you,” he replies, more composed (still surprised). “We’re grateful to have your help.”

She gives him a demure smile. “It’s my pleasure.”

The world seems to stand still for a moment, watching her. Then Tanya shifts.

“I’m quite certain I heard you ask for a fight, young one,” she very nearly sings to Edward. “Are you still up for the challenge?”

“I’m not so young anymore,” he replies, but crouches nonetheless.

She laughs, and he remembers when it was the most beautiful sound in the world. “You will always be young to me, Edward,” she murmurs, almost resignedly, and pounces.

When they move, it is a beautiful thing. Their actions are in perfect harmony, his left to her right, her “fighting, of course!” to his “what are you doing here?,” his “I have a girlfriend now” to her “haven’t you missed me?” They blur together until there is no Edward and there is no Tanya: there is only EdwardandTanya, moving together as one. They blur together until there is no Bella Swan.

Suddenly, fleetingly, their world halts its dizzying dance. Eyes slowly adjust.

Edward is sprawled on his back, eyes wide in surprise. And perched on top of him, crouched on his chest, is Tanya. She leans her head down and places a kiss on the tip of his nose.

(this world is moving too fast, the colors are too bright, the sounds are too loud)

“You cheated,” he accuses half-heartedly, and a dark smile lights her lips as she glances imperceptibly to Bella.

“You cheated first.”

His eyes narrow; her smile tightens and she springs to her feet.

“You’re as awful as ever, Edward,” she laughs, extending a hand to him. “Has our time apart done nothing for you?”

He ignores her hand and stands on his own.

“Our time apart has opened up a whole new world for me,” he says, and keeps his voice mild. “I can’t say the same for you, though, can I?”

She stiffens, and a tension fills the air between them.

“You’re as charming as ever, young one,” she replies, a cold edge to her tone.

Behind them, in a world apart from their own, Emmett snorts and whispers loudly to Rosalie, “Damn, I’ve missed this girl!”

The atmosphere shatters. Tanya floats to Emmett and their laughter fills the air. Bella, in a world he has learned to love, eyes Edward apprehensively. Edward drifts to her side and glances at Tanya.

She’s watching him through her lashes, telling him something he can’t ignore.

He knows the look in her eyes, knows why she’s here. There’s only one vampire who’s her concern.

fic: twilight [edward/tanya]

2008-07-07T23:40:32Z

Title: Forget Me Not
Author: Alisa
Word Count: 304
Rating: PG-13/T
Spoilers: none
Summary: Whenever he thinks about his heart, he thinks about her.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, New Moon, or Eclipse, which were all written by Stephenie Meyer.
Author's Notes: Expect more ed/tanya from me. =)

forget me not

Her lips slide down his throat in feathery kisses, cool marble against granite. Her sweet breath tickles his skin; his lips yearn for hers.

Deft fingers work the button of his shirt, deft tongue taste the skin of his collarbone. His breath catches and his heart seems to speed up (almost). Her hands map the contours of his chest.

Her hair spills over his neck, flooding him, drowning him with her scent. Her powder blue dress rides up her thighs; his fingers flex against the smooth, exposed flesh. Pale lips dance down his chest.

One, two, three kisses to his skin, directly above where his heart had once been. Golden eyes, normally twinkling, peer up at him deviously; a smirk comes to her mouth. Her thoughts sound fuzzy in his ears, like a radio station he can’t tune in to.

White teeth, exposed in a beautifully frightening way, glisten in the moonlight. Her angel’s face has changed, twisted; a dark humor shadows it. He’s never seen her quite so attractive, or quite so terrifying.

She reminds him of what he is.

Her teeth graze his skin tenderly; a low growl fills the room (source unknown). And slowly, quickly, like a lover, like a vampire, she bites him.

His eyes widen as her teeth sink into his flesh, lovingly, delicately, just long enough for the venom to slip into his body.

She pulls back slowly, running her tongue over her teeth. The crescent on his chest shimmers gently, stinging as her venom mixes with his.

Wide eyes slowly meet hers. She places a soft kiss over the bite.

“Because you’re mine,” she whispers, tracing his jaw, his neck, his chest, his crescent scar. “Now I’ll always be closest to your heart.”

And even as a thousand years pass, this is the only truth that remains.

fanmix: avatar [hit the lights, tokka]

2008-06-29T01:36:41Z

Hit the Lights

a Toph/Sokka fanmix

Miracle — Paramore

we've learned to run from
anything uncomfortable
we've tied our pain below
and no one ever has to know
that inside we're broken
i tried to patch things up again
to cut my tears and kill my fears
but have i told you how i

i won't let you
let you give up on a miracle
’cause it might save you

Hero/Heroine — Boys Like Girls

you caught me off guard
now i'm running and screaming
i feel like a hero and you are my heroine
do you know that your love is the sweetest sin?

Your Glasses — Maria Mena

no it's not you, it's me
and it's not us, it's them
sure, it's not her
it's just the way she moves you
she kisses harder then me

Check Yes Juliet — We the Kings

run baby run
don't ever look back
they'll tear us apart
if you give them the chance
don't sell your heart
don't say we're not meant to be
run baby run
forever will be
you and me

Everyday — Jessie Daniels

everyday i try to tell you
every time i think i get through
you put up a wall you’re so invincible
nothing could keep me away
i'll find a way
everyday

Time & Confusion — Anberlin

when memories fade
we've got each other
when time and confusion collide
singin' "i hold it all when i hold you"
when friends walk other ways
we've got each other
i hold it all when i hold
i hold it all when i hold you

i won't do this without you
so take heart...
'cause you know that you have mine

Everywhere — Michelle Branch

'cause you're everywhere to me
and when i catch my breath
it's you i breathe
you're everything i know
that makes me believe
i'm not alone

you're in everyone i see
so tell me
do you see me?

Everything Sucks (When You’re Gone) — Mxpx

you're in my heart and on my mind
i will bring you along

everything sucks when you're gone
everything sucks when you're gone

Accidentally in Love — Counting Crows

well baby i surrender
to the strawberry ice cream
never ever end of all this love
well i didn't mean to do it
but there's no escaping your love

Tangled Up in Me — Skye Sweetnam

i'm the reason why you can't get to sleep
i'm the girl you never get just quite what you see

get tangled up in me

you think that you know me
you think that I'm only tangled up in me
when everything i do is only to get tangled up in you
you wanna know more, more, more about me
i'm the girl that's sweeping you off your feet

Hit the Lights — All Time Low

now lets take our chances
please give me your answer
it's all up to you so please take me away
we've waited for so long
i can't say it feels wrong to close my eyes
when all i see is you

32 Ways to Make You Smile — Backseat Goodbye

you got straight a's while i was writing fairytales
and looking out window seals asking why
the sun shine liked my eyes
and kissed my cheek
when it knew i was in love with the moon
and of course with you

One Week — Bare Naked Ladies

it's been one week since you looked at me
cocked your head to the side and said, "i'm angry"
five days since you laughed at me, saying
"get that together, come back and see me"
three days since the living room
i realized it's all my fault but couldn't tell you
yesterday you'd forgiven me
but it'll still be two days 'til i say i'm sorry

DOWNLOAD MUSIC + ART HERE

♥ comments are loved and enjoyed with milk and cookies
♥ no need to credit, but if you want to!
♥ enjoy the tokka goodness, lovelies

fic: twilight [edward/tanya, edward/bella]

2008-06-28T03:57:28Z

Title: Sin of Omission
Author: Alisa
Word Count: 749
Rating: PG/K+
Spoilers: Eclipse
Summary: Sometimes he forgets his past. Sometimes he forgets to mention it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, New Moon, or Eclipse, which were all written by Stephenie Meyer. I also do not own anything "in quotes that is not in italics" because that was taken directly from Eclipse. And this is me not claiming ownership of it. 8D
Author's Notes: These two fascinate me. Hopefully Tanya will be brought up in Breaking Dawn and I'll have an excuse to write lots of Edward/Tanya.

sin of omission

Two facts:

1. Edward only wants Bella to be happy.

2. Even if it means lying to her.

He doesn’t know when he became this way, dismantling trucks, scolding her, forbidding her like a child, those little white lies. Anything to protect Bella.

Perhaps he’s always been this way, but surrounded by less breakable company.

“I was talking to Rosalie last night…” She hesitates.

“Yes. She was thinking about that when I got in. She gave you quite a lot to consider, didn’t she?”

He thinks of life and humanity and blood; she sees the empty, frozen tundra and beautiful women.

“She told me a little bit… about the time your family lived in Denali.”

(strawberry blonde curls and seductive hips and too-knowing eyes and he hears the word fall from his lips, “Yes?”

“She mentioned something about a bunch of female vampires… and you.”

They welcome these newcomers into their home, hospitable and warm and women. His eyes rake over the too-beautiful faces; he hears the appreciative thoughts. And then her mind-voice speaks to him for the first time: “Lonely, aren’t you, young one?”

His eyes widen.

“Don’t worry. She told me you didn’t… show any preference. But I was just wondering, you know, if any of them had. Shown a preference for you, I mean.”

She’s anything but shy, yet she has an innocent subtlety about her. She smiles up at him through her lashes. She touches his hand. She calls him young one, laughs at how his brow puckers.

If she could blush, he thinks she would.

“Which one? Or was there more than one?”

He can hear the others’ thoughts, and sometimes he thinks she can too. They look at him, eyes bright, eager, subtle. His parents laugh quietly to themselves as he is questioned about trivial things — books, music, favorite animal.

She pouts her pale lips like she can read their every intention.

“Alice will tell me. I’ll go ask her right now.”

Alice floats to him, a coy smile flitting on her lips. She trails a finger across his shoulder playfully. “I’ve just had the most intriguing vision of you and a certain Denali vampire, Edward! I wonder whose idea it could be?”

“It’s late.” Nervous, embarrassed, he can’t get her impish smile out of his mind. “Besides, I think Alice stepped out….”

“It’s bad. It’s really bad, isn’t it?” She panics, heart accelerating, blood tempting. Strawberry blonde curls.

“Calm down, Bella.” He kisses the tip of her (cold, stone) nose. “You’re being absurd.”

“Am I? Then why won’t you tell me?”

Because I don’t want to hurt you.

“Because there’s nothing to tell. You’re blowing this wildly out of proportion.”

“Which one?”

“Tanya” —Tanya, Tanya, with the strawberry blonde curls— “expressed a little interest. I let her know, in a very courteous, gentlemanly fashion, that I did not return that interest. End of story.”

She peers up, looking so naïve and yet so determined, and thinks to him, “I am going to kiss you now, Edward.”

And before he has a chance to consider this, let alone act, her lips are pressed against his, softly, fiercely, wonderfully.

And before he has a chance to consider this, let alone act, he finds that his lips are pressing back.

“Tell me something — what does Tanya look like?”

He wants to say: like a condemned angel, like the innocence of a child but the wisdom of a thousand years, like strawberry blonde curls and a pouty smile.

Instead, he says: “Just like the rest of us — white skin, gold eyes.”

“And, of course, extraordinarily beautiful.”

Yes.

“I suppose, to human eyes. You know what, though?” he asks, brushing his lips to her ear.

“What?”

“I prefer brunettes.”

“Liar,” she whispers, and laughs into his chest.

“She’s a blonde. That figures.”

“Strawberry blonde — not at all my type.”

He’s wonders how Bella can possibly be so ignorant. He kisses away the doubt along her sweet throat and tries not to remember another (cold, stone) neck.

“I guess that’s okay, then.”

“Hmm. You’re quite adorable when you’re jealous. It’s surprisingly enjoyable.”

…remembering her face, her lips, her strawberry blonde curls fanned out on his pillow.

“It’s late. Sleep, my Bella. Dream happy dreams. You are the only one who has ever touched my heart. It will always be yours. Sleep, my only love.”

“I love her more than I ever loved you.”

Her lips suppress a smirk. “Your biggest lie of all.”

fic: twilight [edward/tanya]

2008-06-23T19:47:28Z

Title: e n d l e s s t h e s t o r y
Author: Alisa
Word Count: 213
Rating: PG/K+
Spoilers: nope
Summary: The story lost between the lines.
Author's Notes: The characters in Twilight amaze me; I want to fic them all in every possible combination. ~~Suggestions?~~ Also: backstory kills me with its brilliance...

e n d l e s s t h e s t o r y

She can read his face.

He can read her mind.

He’s not sure if he likes this or not.

(her teeth on his skin, her hands against his throat — this he does like, and she knows it)

——

She watches him hunt.

Ever the gentleman, his lips remain white, his shirt pressed. (she wonders if he says grace before digging in)

He watches her.

Razor sharp, her teeth slice; blood splatters — on her face, on her shirt, in her hair. Drips from the corner of her ruby lips down her chin. (he wonders if she could possibly know how much he wants to taste her bloody skin)

——

The door slides open; she leans against the frame. quiet as the grave.

Her golden eyes speak to him in a language he’s heard before, once upon a time, pools of rich brown, the monster gone and they lived happily ever after. (He can almost remember the name.)

They say something to him, and he thinks of tender flesh and singing blood and life, bella, life!

The corner of his mouth lifts; her movement sings in the darkness.

Bedsheets rustle and stone lips meet.

Just another page in a book called eternity.

fic: avatar [aang/katara]

2008-06-10T03:52:31Z

Title: Cheat the Cheater
Author: yours truly
Rating: PG-13/T
Prompt: 040. (Dirty) Dancing
Warning(s): one swear and mentions of cheating; AU
Word Count: 100
Summary: She dances with another man.
Author's Notes: I'm gonna finish this monstrous list this summer. I WILL.

He clutches at his glass as his eyes follow the seductive swing of her hips. Hands in her hair, eyes closed, dripping face, she dances with another man.

His eyebrows pucker. Her hands run down his chest, fingertips trailing. His hands move to her hips, feel their pulsing swing. A scowl darkens his features, but he can’t turn away.

“Kinda pisses you off, doesn’t it?”

Surprise, and he finally notices the girl sitting next to him.

“Is that your girlfriend?” she asks.

“I thought so.”

“Well, she’s dancing with my boyfriend.”

Surprise, again.

She extends a hand. “I’m Katara."

"Aang."

fic: avatar [sokka/toph]

2008-03-26T00:48:42Z

Title: A Follow-up to Three Times Toph Was Engaged (& One Time She Wasn't)
Author: me!
Word Count: 665
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: Toph falls in love.
Author's Notes: Since some people seem confused about 3 in Three Times Toph Was Engaged (& One Time She Wasn't) (and that's my fault for not clarifying), I'm posting what was originally 3. Hopefully this will clear everything up, but if there are still any questions, feel free to ask!

Alisa

Her third engagement is arranged when she is nineteen, and this time, it’s of her own free will.

His name is Hotaru (firefly, he tells her). He reminds her of a firefly, too—swift, fluttery, bright, lighting up her world. People tell her she’s so lucky, that he’s such a handsome man, that they will have such a happy life together.

And she believes it.

She’s so very much in love, like she never thought she could be. She loves everything about him, from the way his smile translates through his vibrations to the way he always knows when she needs help but is too stubborn to admit it. He is sweet and innocent and kind and funny and smart with her when she’s smart with him.

He is perfect. He is nothing like him.

Him. Sokka. Her best friend. Her once-upon-a-dream lover.

She swore to herself, a long time ago, that her childish crush on the boy would never be anything more than a childish crush. Of course, it didn’t turn out that way, just as it never does.

She still sees him now, every once in a while, and he’s still one of her dearest friends. And he still, she is reminded on his every return, holds a small part of her heart in his hands. But the majority of her heart, the heart still intact, has already been captured by the pretty words and kind actions of the boy who lives three houses down.

She introduces them once, just to see how they will react to each other.

They all go out to eat at her favorite restaurant. Sokka orders her favorite dish, just like he always used to do, and shares it with her, just like they always used to do. She can tell Hotaru is jealous of the attention she gives her long-lost friend, but he ignores it and instead asks questions: how they met, of their adventures with the Avatar, if Sokka has a girlfriend. Her best friend scowls at the last one.

When their little party is over, Toph leaves Hotaru on his doorstep to contemplate the kiss she left on his lips. Sokka she merely drags back to her house and drops on the couch. He’s unusually quiet, and she waits for him to say something, entertaining herself with Bending her meteorite bracelet.

When he finally speaks, it’s to say, “I don’t like him.”

Toph grins a self-righteous grin and replies, “Good.”

She is engaged the next day.

The wedding is set for within the month. Her suitor has met everyone of importance. Katara finds him ridiculously charming (“if only you could see how handsome he is, Toph, you’d fall in love all over again!”). Aang is enraptured now that he has someone new to entertain with all his old Airbending tricks. Appa and Momo seem to squeak and grunt their approval. Even Sokka grudgingly admits he’s an okay guy.

She’s never been happier, Toph thinks.

And then, just like it has the habit of doing, Toph’s world collapses in on itself.

A small group of Fire Nation rebels are attacking the western coast of the Earth Kingdom. The Earth King is taking a small group of sixth regimen soldiers to deal with the problem.

Hotaru never told her he was in the army.

He’s departing in a week. It’s not enough time to move up the wedding. It’s not enough time for her to say everything she wants to say to him. It’s not enough time.

Because she knows, deep within her, that there’s the very real possibility that he might not come back.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, kissing her cheek as she scowls. “You know how tough I am. You know how much I love you.”

She knows, but that’s not enough to keep him alive.

When he dies in a Fire Nation rebel raid, she swears never to fall in love again.

Of course, it never works out that way, does it?

______________________________________________________________________

Also: I'm shipping out tomorrow for several days, so you kids be good while I'm gone! =D

(Write fic!) <3

.

fic: avatar [sokka/toph]

2008-03-25T01:54:56Z

Title: Three Times Toph Was Engaged (& One Time She Wasn't)
Author: Alisa
Word Count: 2,707
Rating: PG/K+ (mentions of alcohol; also, kissing)
Summary: Three times Toph gets engaged and one time she doesn't.
Author's Notes: This took a painfully long time to finish, but it's finally done. It took a couple of versions and it might not have been very conducive to write it backwards, but it's finished and I'm happy. Also, please read the back story. It really helps the story along.

Please enjoy and review!

Alisa

1. -- Toph is 14.

2. -- Toph is 16.

3. -- Toph is 19.

& one time she wasn't -- Toph is 21.

Backstory: At the Battle of Sozin’s Comet, the Avatar defeated Firelord Ozai. That, however, did not bring an end to his reign of terror. A fight for the throne arose and loyalist groups began rebellions throughout the Fire Nation. Even with the Firelord gone, the war between the Fire Nation and the rest of the world continued. A year after the defeat of Firelord Ozai, Aang insisted that Toph, Sokka, and Katara visit their respective homes; they’d already spent too much of their childhoods at war. They grudgingly went along with Aang’s plan. It didn’t take long, however, for the Gaang to regroup. Some time later, Aang seized back the Fire Nation throne and handed it over to the most capable and most unwilling person for the job, Iroh. All the while rebellion broke out over the land. Iroh thought it would be most advantageous if the Fire Nation was to show its humility by marrying a foreigner into the royal family; that, however, did not turn out as he had planned. Several years passed, in which the Gaang traveled the world, trying to negotiate an end to the war and make peace. Things had just started to settle down when the largest group of rebel leaders struck along the Earth Kingdom’s western coast. Recruits were called and the group was crushed. This put an end to most of the rebellion within the Fire Nation and the country slowly began to stabilize. The war lasted 110 years.

Three Times Toph Was Engaged (& One Time She Wasn’t)

She swaggers into breakfast ten minutes late and not caring one bit. The (always) disapproving looks of her parents ricochet off of her, bounce back to them (years of practice).

“Thank you for joining us,” her mother intones in complete sincerity; her father snorts into his cup of tea.

She slumps into her seat and waits until she’s shoved an entire sweet roll into her mouth before replying, “No problem.”

Her mother takes a delicate sip of tea and her father clears his throat.

“Daughter,” he begins, hands folded lightly on the table and now he’s got her attention, “there’s something your mother and I would like to discuss with you.”

She washes down the bread with a swig of tea and delicately wipes her mouth on her sleeve. “I’m all ears,” she announces, propping her elbows on the table (she can hear them wince) and cupping her chin in her dusty palms.

He clears his throat again; his nerves sing to her sensitive ears. She raises an eyebrow and wants to grin her cocky Blind Bandit grin. She doesn’t.

“Now that people have… discovered what a lovely young lady you are—”

“You mean now that people know I exist,” she helpfully supplies.

He ignores her—she chuckles darkly to herself—and continues, “Now that you’ve reached a marriageable age—”

“I thought marriageable age was seventeen.”

Her father grips his hands tightly and plows on, “Your mother and I have decided you’re to be engaged.”

Silence (she thinks), and then…

A quiet buzz, like ants marching on sand, or light reflecting off water, fills the room (or maybe just her head). She blinks, slowly. Once, twice, three times. She hears voices in her head, maybe from memories, maybe from echoes, maybe from that thing called a conscience that’s far more intelligent than she.

She jams a finger in her ear, rotates it, and says in a flat voice, “What?”

“He’s a lovely boy, dear,” her mother says smoothly. “He’s handsome and charming and comes from a prominent family.”

“I’m not getting engaged,” she says, more loudly than necessary. The buzzing like a hive of bees or Aang’s incessant chatter makes it hard to hear.

“He’s heir to his family’s estate,” her father continues, as if she hadn’t spoken. “He’ll provide a large home and rich surroundings and everything you’ll ever need.”

“I’m not getting married.” Even louder this time, just to get rid of that buzzing.

Her mother takes her hand and pats it soothingly. “Don’t you worry about a thing, darling. Ren will protect you from everything, just as your father and I have.”

Protect you just as your father and I have…

The Earth tremors; her chair topples backward as she stands; pink smarts across her face like a slap.

“I do not,” she growls, fists tightening, eyes stinging, Earth dancing, “need to be protected. And I definitely don’t need to be protected by some snotty rich kid who thinks he can get rid of me by locking me up in some fancy house!”

She turns from them, hides her face so they won’t see the tear rolling from her eye. “There’s only one person who’s ever protected me,” she says (imagines closing her hand around his), voice rising, louder, louder, “and it certainly wasn’t either one of you!”

Silence, and in her ears, that thick ringing, buzzing, flying for the first time, too many hugs from Sokka, seconds from unconsciousness white noise. She thinks she can serve the tension as soup for lunch.

Her father clears his throat.

“You’ll be meeting with Ren tomorrow for lunch,” he says, as if she hasn’t just thrown a tantrum. His voice isn’t hard or disciplinary, but completely and utterly confident in his words. Hot anger scratches at her insides—so arrogant, such an overconfident man!

“I’m afraid I won’t,” she says, teeth clenched, trying to bring her voice back down from seething.

“You’ll wear a lovely little silk dress I had made,” her mother adds, and distain at her daughter’s choice of clothing leaves an aftertaste in the air.

“I won’t, Mother,” she spits, so disrespectful!, “because I’m not going to be going to any dumb lunch. I’m not getting engaged to some guy I don’t know.”

Her father clucks and shakes his head. “Don’t be stubborn, Toph. Every proper young lady has an arranged marriage. It’s our way of life.”

A sharp, bright “ha!” falls from her lips. “It may be your way of life,” she says, her mother lifts her perfectly painted eyebrows, “but it’s not mine.”

Picking up his chopsticks—did he even hear her talking?—her father states, “We will discuss this later, when you have your head about you,” and brings some rice to his lips.

Her mother takes a sip of tea and puts in, “Chizu will come into your room later to get your measurements.”

Never more in her life has she wished she could be a Firebender. She wants to breathe fire like Uncle Iroh, to set the table aflame, to make them see that her opinion does count for something, is worth considering, will make her future.

Instead, she turns on her heel and leaves the room. She walks with perfect ease (the house only shakes once) to her room. She uses her meteorite bracelet to lock the door. She gathers the calligraphy set she stole from her father’s office. She grinds the ink stick just as Sokka had showed her (his hand warm over hers, guiding). A few drops of water from her wash basin and she dips the brush into the ink, blots the access off, puts brush to parchment and writes:

Come get me.

She’s gone the next day.

The doleful sweet melody of the tsungi horn sings through the high-chambered room. She can see the figure of Uncle Iroh behind the instrument—she asked him especially to play.

Her dress, layer on layer of fine silks imported from the farthest corners of the Earth, ruffles around her ankles and suffocates her in the sweltering Fire Nation heat. She has the sudden, biting, overwhelming urge to rip the expensive cloth from her body and continue on her walk in only her new underwear.

But that would be disrespectful, she thinks scornfully. —Disrobing in front of the royals, oh how very scandalous. Mother would be ashamed. (She almost laughs at the idea.) A bead of sweat trickles down her back teasingly. Can’t disrespect the future in-laws, she thinks, and licks her dry lips.

Her feet, bare and dirty no matter what anyone says, halt next to the crown prince of the Fire Nation. Anxious waves roll off of him and crash over her body like the cold spray of the ocean; a chill shivers down her spine, sudden, enough to make her teeth rattle. He’s nervous, pressed too hard, not particularly fond of her but it’s for the good of the world and someone has to do it. She tries to keep the scowl from flashing across her face.

His eyes fall to hers, for just a second of a moment. She’s not the woman he wants—she knows his eyes are seeking out a different face (with pretty eyes, not clouded gray).

She knows, if she could, her eyes would be seeking out a different face, too.

The Fire Sage’s voice drones dully in the background, a backdrop to her thoughts. Uncle Iroh, that tea-loving, adopted grandfather of hers, the sweet, wise old man who thought that she would do some good for his nephew and his country, he was happy (as long as you’re happy, Toph). Her parents, they would finally have their invalid (oh yes still little blind Toph, she hadn’t fought in the war, never) daughter married off, out of their hair—someone else’s problem now. Her friends, oh her friends, they were so happy (confused), happy for her and for Zuko.

(Hands tight on her arms, Are you sure this is

what you want?

No.

I’m sure.)

Her hands clench.

“No.”

Voice echoing loud, defiant, every eye turning to stare, Fire Sage stuttering to a halt mid-word—Zuko blinks and questions quietly, “Toph?”

A flush splashes her face and she pulls the ornate headpiece from her hair. It clatters to the marble floor in dead silence.

“I can’t do this.” She pulls at the tight corset, and suddenly she can’t breathe. “I won’t.”

She hears the startled gasps of the audience and her mother’s soft cry of, “Toph!”

Zuko reaches for her arm. “Toph…”

“Don’t be an idiot, Princess,” she spits, chest heaving. “You don’t want this any more than I do.”

He recoils, but doesn’t say a word.

The voice of the Fire Sage breathes in her ear. “Child, hold your tongue! You’re about to marry the crown prince of the Fire Nation!”

“Shut up!” The shout tears from her body and she gasps for air. “I’m not marrying this idiot!”

The Sage gasps quietly at such blasphemy.

She gives a low, breathy, angry chuckle. “If you love him so much, you can marry him. But I’m not making such a stupid mistake.”

Zuko places his hand on her shoulder. “I understand,” is all he says, and a silent chill falls over the room.

All she can hear is her own raspy breathing, the heavy silks heaving with her chest, the lingering ring of her headpiece falling to the ground. She can feel the seconds passing, heavy and uncertain.

Her cheeks feel red for a different reason.

Blowing her bangs from her face with a huff of air, she crushes her silk skirt to her knees and stomps down the stairs from the alter to Agni. She pauses, sharply, and turns.

“Help me out of this thing, would you?” she barks, tugging fruitlessly at her corset, and Katara stands uncertainly.

She trudges from the room, forcing her feet not to run, Katara scuffling along behind her. The moment they pass through the great iron doors (oh to punch one right now!), a wave of shuffling feet and whispered exchanges and scandal hits her ears.

“Toph!”

She turns to his voice, relief flooding her to her very core.

Not a moment to think before she’s in the air, stolen from the earth, dress flying around her. His arms are warm around her waist and his chest is hot through his thin shirt, but this kind of heat she welcomes.

He lowers her to the ground but his body continues to press unfamiliarly against hers.

“You had me worried there,” he breathes against her neck. “I almost thought you were gonna go through with it!”

She presses her hot face against his chest and grasps his shirt in her tiny fists.

“So did I.”

“Listen,” he says, voice soft, comforting, “I’ll be back. I’ll come back. You know me.”

A frown skates across her face and her hands clench delicately. “Just because you say that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen, Hotaru. I knew people who said the same thing—” Her frown deepens as memories, fresh as yesterday and just as painful, flash through her mind. “—and they never came back.”

His hand brushes lightly along her jaw line and moves to cup her cheek. She wants to turn away, turn away and fight him until he hears reason, but instead she shifts her cheek into his palm and closes her eyes.

“I love you,” he murmurs, breath sweeping across her brow. “I love you. I’ll come back.”

Her face hardens characteristically.

He brings his eyes down to hers and presses his lips lightly against her own. She tries to remain firm (for him for her but oh the way he moves his lips) but he’s warm and inviting and too familiar and she can’t help but love it when he kisses her this way.

He pulls back and his breath washes warm over the pink of her cheeks. “I have something for you,” he whispers, suddenly, voice flush with excitement as he moves. He kisses her again, quick, a peck on the lips, a smile in the touch, and presses something into the palm of her hand.

She blinks and tries to hold in her surprise. Her fingers move over the tiny object. Smooth, warm from his heat, engraved, she can tell, by a skilled Earthbender. She slips it over the finger on her right hand.

“Toph!” he says, sharp and offended. His fingers move deftly and the ring is tugged off. “I’d think an intelligent Earth Kingdom girl like you would know that engagement rings go on the left hand.”

Her breath hitches in her throat as he brings his hand to hers, slides the ring in to place, kisses her wrist tenderly.

He gives a nervous, airy exhale and grips her fingers. “What d’you say?”

Her lips meet his fiercely. Then she pulls back and shoves him.

“You idiot!” she yells, stomping her foot, tears tracing paths down her cheeks. “You’re leaving today!”

He tries to pull her into his embrace, but she fights. A wave of energy quakes the ground; she tightens her fists.

“You’re going off to fight in the damn war and you choose today to propose?” she says, trembling with fury. “You could get killed!”

“But I won’t,” he replies calmly. He reaches for her, and this time she doesn’t fight his arms. “I love you,” he repeats into her hair. “I’m going to come back.”

Unfortunately,

(he doesn’t.)

& One Time She Wasn’t

His lips brush past her cheek (just missed the corner of her mouth, she doesn’t notice) in a gesture she isn’t entirely prepared for. She can feel a hot flush suffocating her as he leans away and the heady scent of sweat and dirt and too much rice wine rushes past her nose.

“Toph,” he whispers excitedly, his face very close to hers, the heat of his skin tickling her cheeks (she wonders if her heat tickles right back), “I finally did it.”

The warm air of her own breath bounces off his face and back into hers as she replies faintly, “Did what?” She knows there’s too much wine in his blood for him to notice, but the breathiness in her voice irritates her nonetheless.

“It took me forever,” he says in a rush of air, half-sliding half-tripping into the small space next to her, the small space clearly only meant for one. A lanky leg folds under his body as he turns to face her.

“To do what?” she asks again, her voice gaining authority that is lost the moment his hands grasp at her waist and drag her half into his lap.

She tucks one leg under her body in a reflection of his position and fights the furious blush spreading over her body. His hands are still hot on her skin, riding up her hips and down the full length of her arms. He grips her hands tightly in his.

She can feel his eyes sliding over her face in that intimate way she’s learned to get used to but is still not quite comfortable with. He leans in closer and she knows he’s smiling at her, that smile she knows so well.

“I want you to stand next to me at the wedding,” he breathes.

Her breath catches in her throat and the alcohol in her stomach sloshes around unbidden. Something painfully similar to hope wells up in her chest before she has the chance to crush it.

“What?”

That smile never leaves his face. “You’re my best friend, Toph,” he murmurs, his breath bathing her in sweet wine. “I want it to be you.”

She has to choke the words out. “Sokka, I thought—”

“I want you to be my best man.”

The words halt against her teeth. (—you were dating Suki.)

“Well, not best man,” and he laughs. “Best woman.”

Suddenly, suddenly, he’s out of focus, and all she can see is herself: blood pounding through her veins, throat tight and constricting, breath coming in sharp gasps. Heart. Heart, broken.

No, not broken. Gone.

She’s had her chances, it seems. And he’s not one of them.

fic: avatar [aang/katara]

2008-02-28T02:00:27Z

Title: Between Two Suns
Author: yours truly
Rating: PG/K+
Prompt: 027. Sun
Warning(s): mentions of Zutara
Word Count: 100
Summary: Zuko isn't the only firebender Katara knows.
Author's Notes: Because this makes the perfect counter to all that "fire/water" logic. ^^

Between Two Suns

Iroh mentioned to Katara once, off-handedly, that she and Zuko would make a fine couple.

He could almost see the fury in her eyes burst forth like the fire from his nephew’s palms when he’d heard the same gentle prompting.

“Opposites attract,” Iroh sagely reminded her. “Fire and water work together just as yin and yang circle each other, or as the sun and moon give light to the earth.”

The flame in the waterbender’s eyes flared momentarily, then simmered into a cool knowledge.

“Don’t forget, Iroh,” she responded, a too-sweet smile lighting her features, “Aang is a Firebender, too.”

Title: Competition
Author: yours truly
Rating: PG/K+
Prompt: 038. Jealousy
Warning(s): Tokka
Word Count: 100
Summary: Katara sees Aang with another girl.
Author's Notes: Totally not pimping Tokka. Totally not.

Competition

Aang held the girl tenderly in his arms and whispered sweetly in her ear as she slowly drifted off to sleep. Joy and peace shone in his smile.

Katara tapped her foot anxiously as she observed the two. She knew it was wrong, but she almost felt a little—

No, she wasn’t—couldn’t be—wouldn’t be… was she?

Katara shook her head. No, of course not.

Laughter rang from the kitchen and Aang shushed Sokka as he sauntered in.

“Katara,” her brother hissed. “Toph and I just wanted to know—you’re not jealous of our daughter, are you?”

She blushed.

Title: Someone's Got to Lose
Author: yours truly
Rating: PG/K+
Prompt: 039. Crush
Warning(s): Obligatory aangst
Word Count: 100
Summary: Aang's least favorite homograph.
Author's Notes: My obligatory aangst of the post.

Someone's Got to Lose

Back at the Air Temple, Aang didn’t have to worry about “crush” or “like” or “in love.” It was black and white, love and hate, where everybody liked everybody.

But in the real world, Aang knows it’s different.

He knows you have to win affection. He knows you have to be unconditional and relentless. He knows you have to sometimes be what you’re not to reach that one perfect girl. He knows that sometimes it take a little back-stabbing.

And he knows best of all, as Katara links hands with her husband, that it’s not called a crush for nothing.