Lily
◕ ‿‿ ◕ double rainbow.
- 3,328
- Posts
- 20
- Years
- New Joisey
- Seen Jan 14, 2025
typed this up around 10 minutes or less or more or I dunno. basically a drabble. =D frostweaver said advanceshipping was better so I wrote the opposite. *run*
Anger.
Violence.
I was seething.
They were holding hands. The nerves.
I wasn?t the one who got frustrated like this; it usually was her. She was the one who always carried around that mallet, the one who screamed at bugs, and the one who annoyed me so much. I was aggravated by this simple challenging triangle we had created. I tried making my own cerulean eyes glare like hers? did, I tried my best to imitate her attitude, but at the end, all efforts collapsed like the others.
?Let?s go shopping, Ash,? I would sweetly say.
Despite my interruption, his hand tightly clutched the other. The orange haired teen would stare at me queerly, as if questioning me without words, before Ash would toss back his untidy black hair casually. It was another polite gesture for ?no.?
?Sorry, May,? he would reply, grinning. ?I have plans.?
Plans!
Yeah, right.
So I stare up at the perfect blue sky, the perfect dapples of cloud drifting off aimlessly, and the utter, absurd perfection of it all. The other girl?s blue eyes would stare at my own, as if handing me a secret message:
I win. You lose.
Misty Hanosea Waterflower. The name is despicable, I realize, in comparison to my own. Why should she have the advantage when I, May, was so much more?
?Plans!? I echo, half heartedly turning back. ?That?s wonderful, Ash.?
Ash nods, grinning. I wonder what happened to his Pikachu. Oh yeah. How could I forget?
?Can you take care of Pikachu?? he asks, shoves the poor mouse in my hands, and runs off to that girl.
?Oh sure, Ash,? I mutter sarcastically. ?Just lovely.?
Lovely.
Everything is sublime, and things couldn?t go worse, could it? I tug my bandana out of frustration. Everything is the opposite. She was supposed to be the one who was angry, with me flicking back my brown hair, handing her an odd look, whispering furtively.
I win. You lose.
But no.
So here I sit beneath a swaying oak tree, gazing idly at the delicate leaves embroidered on the fragile branches, and the two lone figures at the distant.
Holding hands.
I clench my fist once, try my best to glare at them, and fail.
The nerves.
Anger.
Violence.
I was seething.
They were holding hands. The nerves.
I wasn?t the one who got frustrated like this; it usually was her. She was the one who always carried around that mallet, the one who screamed at bugs, and the one who annoyed me so much. I was aggravated by this simple challenging triangle we had created. I tried making my own cerulean eyes glare like hers? did, I tried my best to imitate her attitude, but at the end, all efforts collapsed like the others.
?Let?s go shopping, Ash,? I would sweetly say.
Despite my interruption, his hand tightly clutched the other. The orange haired teen would stare at me queerly, as if questioning me without words, before Ash would toss back his untidy black hair casually. It was another polite gesture for ?no.?
?Sorry, May,? he would reply, grinning. ?I have plans.?
Plans!
Yeah, right.
So I stare up at the perfect blue sky, the perfect dapples of cloud drifting off aimlessly, and the utter, absurd perfection of it all. The other girl?s blue eyes would stare at my own, as if handing me a secret message:
I win. You lose.
Misty Hanosea Waterflower. The name is despicable, I realize, in comparison to my own. Why should she have the advantage when I, May, was so much more?
?Plans!? I echo, half heartedly turning back. ?That?s wonderful, Ash.?
Ash nods, grinning. I wonder what happened to his Pikachu. Oh yeah. How could I forget?
?Can you take care of Pikachu?? he asks, shoves the poor mouse in my hands, and runs off to that girl.
?Oh sure, Ash,? I mutter sarcastically. ?Just lovely.?
Lovely.
Everything is sublime, and things couldn?t go worse, could it? I tug my bandana out of frustration. Everything is the opposite. She was supposed to be the one who was angry, with me flicking back my brown hair, handing her an odd look, whispering furtively.
I win. You lose.
But no.
So here I sit beneath a swaying oak tree, gazing idly at the delicate leaves embroidered on the fragile branches, and the two lone figures at the distant.
Holding hands.
I clench my fist once, try my best to glare at them, and fail.
The nerves.
