Archive of Our Own

Hop Pop stood outside of the door to the basement, counting the mildew spots on the wood as he listened for a movement inside. Any movement.

It was in vain. It always was. 

Sprig approached his grandfather from the living room; Polly in his hands. Hop Pop locked his fingers together as he turned towards his grandchildren. Meeting his eyes, the siblings held an unspoken question on their faces; one akin to a puppy wondering why it had been locked outside.

Hop Pop opened his mouth, but it felt wrong to break the silence that had settled over the Plantar household for the past week. 

Instead he scratched his head, breaking eye contact with the children to settle his pupils on the floor. He sighed as a response, offering a half-hearted shrug to match. 

A slight noise- almost a mixture between a squelch and a scrape- filled the suffocating silence of the small house as Sprig dejectedly moved back to his bedroom, not even bothering to extend any energy to pick up his feet.

Hopadiah listened for the sound that came from closing the squeaky bedroom door, but it seemed that even the house refused to settle and groan when faced with the heavy silence. 

The older frog found himself no longer interested in listening to the sound of his heartbeat and the blood in his veins. Instead, he opted for stepping outside on the porch. 

He hoped his neighbors were arguing.

He hoped Wally was standing on a soapbox, screaming about some incredible creature.

He hoped for anything but the silence.

He couldn't breathe. 

A week.

It had been a week that Anne had spent alone in her bed. A week that she spent in the basement that the eldest of the Planters graciously lent to her in her time of need. 

Two months on Amphibia.

One week locked in her room.

Yet, the week felt longer than the months. 

She was sure she wasn't the only one who felt that way. 

Anne wasn't stupid. She was clumsy, impulsive, and erratic; but she knew she wasn't a stupid girl. 

On the same coin, she wasn't oblivious.

She knew that she was affecting the house and its inhabitants.

She was aware how the silence crushed the others just as much as it did her.

She knew that Hop Pop slowed and stopped by her door everyday on his way out to the market, hoping she would come out.

In the first few days, he had sat outside and given her encouraging words through the thin wood. He had pleaded with her then. The brunette had tried not to listen, his voice carrying snakes full of guilt that coiled around the teenager until she couldn't think, until she couldn't feel anything but the hot tears against her skin,

Until she couldn't breathe.

The teen grasped at herself, trying to find a way to ground her mind back to her body and away from the snakes that had found themselves inside of her veins, clutching at her heart and spitting poison into her skull. She felt hot and bitter; the serpents bearing guilt twisted in on themselves and evolved. The guilt once ice cold spit fire into Anne's every instinct, forcibly pumping anger and frustration into every fiber of her being. 

Grasping at earthy locks of hair, Anne curled into herself. She had so much energy and such little tolerance. 

Every hair stood on its end, pushing her to do something. Anything.

To just move .

She tried to gain control of herself, but her body continued to betray her and give way to the wave of overwhelming emotions that spread from her core.

Breathe,

She told herself,

Just breathe.

Fingers still latched into curly, unkempt hair, Anne pressed her knees up to her chest, laying her face against the gritty skin. She breathed over her knees, counting out as the controlled breaths ticked the peach fuzz on her skin.

One.

One, two, one.

One, two, three, two, one.

One, two, three, four, three, two, one.

One, two, three, four, five, four, three, two, one.

Deep breath.

Five.

Five, four, five.

Five, four, three, four, five.

Five, four, three, two-

Squeak.

Just as the number two had crossed her lips, Anne heard a sound outside of her room; successfully breaking her concentration in forcing the bile back into her throat.

It was a step. And a pause.

The silence only carried through the air for a half a second, but it felt like hours.

Then came the footsteps that broke the tension like a wire. They creaked across the floorboard, having stopped directly by the basement before carrying on down the hallway.

Hop Pop had come to check on her again. She had done nothing but cause grief and concern with her selfish isolation for the past week.

Yet, he didn't give up. 

The Plantars still gifted her with solitude and unconditional understanding through the silence that held the words she couldn't say.

They loved her. Unconditionally so.

"Fuck-"

The guilt bubbled up again inside, churning the girl's body into a boiler as the liquid venom steamed at the back of her throat, forcing the liquid self-hatred to burn through the gaps in her teeth and down her lips.

Anne's eyes watered from the heat pooling into her veins. Trying to find a better position to deal with the pain, she instead stumbled back, tripping over a toadstool and twisting uncomfortably to allow her to land on her scabbed knees instead of her back. Throwing her hands out in a desperate attempt to absorb some of the fall, Anne found herself on her hands and knees, landing in a group of papers that she had slid off of her bed on the way down.

Having removed her hand from her mouth, there was no longer a barrier for the bile that had built up due to her overstimulation. 

Heaving, Anne relieved her stomach of the small amounts of food she had allowed herself to over the past few days. 

She shook violently as she finished, eyes still watering; albeit from the bitter taste instead of the heat in her gut. Wiping her mouth, she chanced a look down in order to see what mess she would have to clean up, but instead found herself staring at the papers she had keeled onto.

Tens of doodles that portrayed her, Sprig, and Polly on various adventures.

They had sat in Anne's room a month before, using colored pencils to create scenes of what trouble they would be getting into if they weren't stuck inside due to the rain. 

Anne had treasured those pieces, and kept them close to her. She had been looking at them often during her current state of depression.

Tens of drawings that the Plantar children had made with her-

For her-

And she had vomited on them.

A muted thud rang out throughout the household as the eldest frog snored. He was thrown awake by the sound, his breath catching in his throat and causing him to choke a little as he became fully conscious.

Hop Pop overlooked a lot of things. He overlooked Polly's habit of screaming in her sleep. He overlooked Sprig's tendency to half-do his chores. He overlooked the questionable language that his grandchildren sometimes picked up in stressful situations.

But,

He thought to himself as he pulled his threadbare blankets off of his chest,

This is something I'm not willing to overlook right now. 

Worry driving his clumsy movements, the frog eventually was able to free himself from his bed, still wrestling the covers as he pressed a webbed foot on the floor. Hop Pop hobbled as quickly as he could without forcing his knees out of place, grabbing onto the door in front of where he suspected the noise had come from.

The basement.

Also known as Anne's room.

Pressing his ear against the rotting wood, he listened for any sign of unrest. 

Silence.

Of course. It's always just the silence.

The elder sighed to himself as he began to move away from the basement. He had been foolish to allow his hopes up. Dropping his head in defeat, he took only a step backwards before he heard something.

A sniffle.

Moving back over, he planted himself even closer to the wood in front of him, putting his full weight against it as he listened. He was willing to stay there for hours in faith of hearing another sound, but it only took a few moments for the rustling behind the door to increase. 

Accompanied by sniffles and the occasional choked noises, the room behind the door was suddenly no longer quiet. 

The silence that had haunted the household was cut, yet the noises of pain barely alleviated the tense atmosphere in its place.

If anything, the sniffs of distress hurt Hop Pop more.

He had tried to get Anne to talk to him, really he had. 

But none of his efforts paid off. He had just been talking to himself outside of her door for a week. So what was the point?

He knew she wouldn't answer him.

But he couldn't stand to hear her in so much pain, either. 

Pressing his back against the door, Hop Pop slid down until he was on the floor. Letting his head hang freely down, he propped his elbows on his knees and began to say what he hoped were encouraging words.

"Anne, listen. I… I know that the trip to Newtopia- and especially the leaving, of course- was hard for you."

He started, stumbling on his words. He sighed, twiddling his fingers for what to say.

It doesn't have to be printed on an inspirational poster, dammit, he reminded himself, it's just gotta be for her. 

"I can't imagine what you're going through. It must be confusing, I know. Well, I don't know. I can't relate to you, this is something I've never gone through. But even thinking about the pressure that has been placed on you breaks my heart. Stuck between two worlds, and no matter what, knowing that you'll have to choose between them. It's scary. It's unfair. And I hate that it happened to my favorite adopted granddaughter."

He allowed himself a pause for an unamused laugh.

"Regardless of what happens, if you have to leave us, I'm proud of you. You're changing Amphibia for the better. And I know that if you and your friends go home- I'll be happy. E-even if I never get the… honor to see you again, knowing that you are healthy, safe, and happy in a place where you...y-you feel like you belong then I-... I'll be proud of you. You'll always be family to me and I'll always be happy we met. And I know your family back home feels the same way." 

Hop Pop was able to finish without any of the tears that threatened the back of his eyelids falling out. He slumped against the door, racking his brain for anything else he could say- anything - to keep the silence away. 

Unfortunately, he couldn't. 

As the two of them eventually fell victim to the quiet of the house, Hop Pop realized with surprise that it felt different.

It wasn't threatening, or cold, or suffocating.

It was comfortable.

It was domestic.

It was safe.

As the elder frog went back to twiddling his fingers, he heard a small rustling that seemed to build up. 

It was obvious that Anne was moving, but it was still a shock to hear her hoarse voice so close.

"Hop Pop?"

She called out, from the other side of the door. The volume told Hopadiah that they were only separated by the wood.

His granddaughter was only a few inches away.

He stood up quickly just as he heard the door knob click, allowing the wooden door to open slowly.

"Hop Pop?"

Anne called out again as she had one foot through. Hopadiah idly realized that he had not answered the first time.

"I'm here."

It was barely a whisper, but the reassurance burst through to Anne almost as quickly as she burst out of the door and into Hop Pop's arms. They both crumpled to the floor in the impact; Anne falling to her knees and pressing her face against his chest, heaving sobs leaving her gasping for breath as she tightened her arms around the elder like a vice. His cold, clammy skin that was so much different than hers didn't bother her as she milked as much comfort from their position as she could. 

"I-I'm sorry, Hop Pop-I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

Anne's apologies seemed almost pleading, gripping her arms on Hop Pop's shirt tighter every time she breathed in, almost unable to get the words out.

"No, hey, shhh, that's okay," Hop Pop spoke softly as he shushed the sobbing girl in a way that he hoped was consoling. His right arm was wrapped around her waist, supporting her back and holding her to his chest in a way that gave the both of them enough leverage to not go toppling back, while his left hand was in her hair, stroking it and keeping the tear-stained strands out of her face. 

He didn't know how long they stayed there like that, but he knew at some point they began to match each other's breaths. 

It reminded him of when Sprig was younger and would come to his room with nightmares. He would sometimes bury his head so far in the mattress to avoid whatever was in his nightmare that he would successfully render himself unable to breathe. During these fits, Hop Pop would hold the rambunctious tyke against his chest until their breathing matched so he could monitor the child's breath easier. 

He smiled at the memory, unable to keep a tear from falling down his cheek at how similar yet different it was to the situation he was in now. Considering moving his arm to wipe the liquid, he looked down at Anne and thought better of it. She hadn't moved since practically jumping on him.

She's probably asleep he realized, chuckling to himself. Hopadiah relaxed his head and shoulders, allowing himself to rest his cheek on top of the younger girl's head. 

Creak

The oldest Plantar had to refrain himself from whipping his head around and waking Anne as he looked towards the source of the unexpected squeak. 

Standing a few feet away in the middle of the living room, Sprig and Polly stood sheepishly; obviously not intending on getting caught. They both had their eyes glued to the floor with their hands stuck behind their backs.

Hop Pop breathed out in amusement.

Suppose I can't blame them for being curious.

Waiting for the siblings to meet his eye, he gave them a small nod of approval to come forward. Stepping gently towards the soft scene, both of them couldn't help but smile. They had missed Anne more than anything, you know. Polly settled herself at the teenager's knees, short enough to be included without having to bend down.

Sprig, unfortunately, was not as lucky.

Attempting to bend down to sit on his knees, the boy stumbled, sending him rocking a few inches forward and ramming his head into the sleeping girl's shoulder.

The three three Plantars froze in place as they felt her stir. They shared a look of guilt among themselves, not wanting Anne to be uncomfortable with sharing her pain and looking for comfort now that there were two other people in the room. 

Anne rubbed her face against Hop Pop's chest for a moment, making a confused sound as she came back to consciousness. She turned slightly, resting her right cheek against where she felt the older frog's heartbeat. With the rest of her face looking out by the living room, she noticed Sprig's tense face only a foot away from hers. 

The realization of where she was as well as the memories of the past 2 hours flooded over her, yet she didn't feel the need to move.

She knew she should feel somewhat embarrassed for making such a spectacle of herself, but she couldn't force herself to feel anything other than utterly supported in this moment. Focusing her eyes, the frog who had become a little brother to her came clearer into view. She gave him a half smile and he returned it whole-heartedly- bringing his hand out to wipe off some of her tear stains from her face. 

Sprig.

Someone who had been there for her no matter what.

Someone who had braved to step out of his comfort zone multiple times for her.

Someone who always tried his hardest to make her feel better.

Someone who had learned with her.

Someone who had grown with her.

Someone who had and actively was trying his hardest to be the best that he could be.

It wasn't fair to him that she hadn't been trying. That she hadn't been with him the past week. She wanted to do more. She wanted to grow more. She wanted to do it for him. It was her turn.

"I-"

She started, not realizing how hoarse her voice had gotten.

"That's okay, we get it."

Sprig interrupted, grabbing Polly and starting to walk away. Anne straightened up and shuffled, turning so she was now sitting criss-cross on the floor in front of Hop Pop, grabbing Sprig by the wrist and pulling him back towards her. With the eldest Plantar's legs on either side of her, she pulled Sprig and Polly into her lap. She nuzzled her face into Sprig's wild hair as she swallowed, trying to get some of the stiffness in her throat to correct itself.

"I-I wanna get better. I wanna do something."

The other three Plantars smiled at her determination, coincidentally all going to ruffle her hair at the same time. 

Polly's hand got stuck in the mass that hadn't been brushed out in over a week and the others laughed as Anne blushed a bit. Wrapping one arm around Hop Pop's neck, she used the other to bring the Sprig and Polly to her chest. 

She would poke fun at the three of them in the morning for crying so much, but it was no secret that Anne's face had been the wettest. 

As the afternoon rose the next day and the sweltering Amphibia sun found itself a little cooler than the mornings, Anne began to work on her little productivity project.

It was anything special or necessarily needed, but it was something for her to make herself, for herself. And she happened to like it.

Hop Pop had given her a small plot of land to garden. Not for what they usually farmed like carrots and tomatoes to sell, but for flowers. Flowers that were just for Anne. 

It was hard work, and she debated dropping it and just going back to her room, but she promised herself that she would be strong; and that it would be worth it. Besides, the sunlight feels really good when you haven't been outside for a week. 

She had picked up a few easy-to-grow seeds from the market, some willowbark, some water lillies, some sunflowers. The usual.

 Well, it had been "the usual." Until Wally showed up with a few seeds that he swore would grow into luminescent ombre-styled roses. 

I mean- who could resist that, right?

Digging was probably her favorite part. She had bought a pair of plain white gloves from a farmer's market early that morning, and her, Sprig, and Polly had spent lunchtime at the table- doodling and coloring on them. Her white gloves were now multi-colored gloves; with the drawings of flowers and obscenities peppered in graciously. Having been made for frogs and not anyone that grew fingernails, they were a little uncomfortable at first, but Anne was a hands-on girl, and she figured out how to maneuver the gloves pretty quickly.

As soon as she wore her gloves out enough to comfortably work in them, nobody could get her to stop digging. She loved it. She loved overturning the soil, planting a few seeds, and covering them back in. She adored being able to shape the damp soil like play-doh, she loved the smell, but most of all- she loved that no matter how much she messed with it, moved it, and disturbed it- it always fell back into place.

Like it was meant to be there.

The first day had been the hardest. The sun gave her a headache and the feeling of her skin on the inside of the gardening gloves was itchy and sweaty. Her body felt stiff and wore out quickly, having gotten used to only moving around once or twice a day in her bedroom. She found herself having to clean up the garden early, opting to stretch out her lanky limbs for a few hours instead. When the sun set, she was content to get dinner and go to sleep. She was discontent with her work and it frustrated her- she even doubted if it was worth it. If ever answering Hop Pop that night that felt like decades ago was worth it. But she got up the next day, looked out the window at the small plot of soil that was put out just for her, set her face, and went to work.

Once she saw the green barely sticking out from the ground, the green that belonged to a small stem that she grew-

Well, there was no going back for Anne.

And if Hop Pop watched her out the kitchen window, prancing and jumping up and down like a fool at the discovery of growth that afternoon, well, he didn't say anything about it. 

Sasha Waybright was likeable. That wasn't her fault, right? She was just a likeable person.

Likeable and a natural-born leader,

She reasoned with herself, 

Why didn't anyone appreciate that?  

She threw the sword in her hand at a nearby target, completely slicing it in half.

Yet, it still missed the mark she had meant.

God fucking-

"UGH!" 

She cried out in frustration, gripping the back of her head and parting her ponytail into two halves, pulling on them with both fists as she sunk to her knees in the muddy. Of course in the mud, always in the mud. Everything was mud.

"When are we gonna leave this shitty bog?"

She shifted her attention away from questioning herself to questioning Grime. 

"Dunno."

Grime had given up on trying to force the girl to take a break. For weeks he had tried to get the blonde to calm down, but each attempt only ended with him feeling like he was thrown in the doghouse. So instead, he chose to live vicariously through the girl and her tantrums. Even while propped up on a log and enjoying some less than savory tea- he had tried , okay- watching the girl push herself past her limits over and over again exhausted him as well. 

His lieutenant glared at the scarred frog in a rebuttal, and he simply quirked an eyebrow at her in response. 

This seemed to only further Sasha's efforts, pushing her to rise and grab the mud-slicken sword once again. She set her face hard, drawing her eyebrows together as she took a running leap at a tree, arms outstretched.

Grime internally rolled his eyes as he stood up. She was pushing herself too hard. He knew it, he knew that she knew it, hell, he'd be surprised if everyone in amphibia didn't know it. He ground his hands together, trying to think of a plan. He knew he needed to stop her, but it was a very tricky thing to do. She just so happened to be an incredibly difficult person. If he told her to stop, he knew she wouldn't. And he had nothing to hold over her head, threats wouldn't work. He could take away her food for a few days, but she was a clever girl, she'd find (read: steal) something for sustenance.

However, Grime didn't have time to finish pondering a plan, as instead he became more focused on the fleshy, wet sound of a new wound being opened. Looking around, he quickly attributed the noise to the tree that Sasha had flung herself at carelessly a few moments prior.

Oh, frog.

"Sasha?!"

The captain called out urgently, making his way to the base of the carved-up tree. Hearing groans in response, he picked up the pace and looked over at the mess that befell the mud in front of them.

Sasha was laid out on her back, face turned towards her right shoulder and doing some heavy breathing exercises. Her left leg was outstretched in a straight line downwards while she cuddled her right leg up to herself- knee pressed to her chest with both hands applying pressure to her ankle, where blood was spilling out fast. 

Grime ran over to her, quickly lifting her up from under her knees and back and taking her back to where they had set up a small camp. Grime laid the girl on the floor, attempting to position her in a way that would keep the foot propped up, but ultimately, he was clumsy.

"Careful!" 

Sasha scolded, voice full of bite as she reprimanded her captain on the painful position she had been placed into. Watching him flinch, she drew back, focusing on the floor instead and allowing herself to soften for a bit.

"I mean- careful, please, Grime."

Just saying the words made Sasha scrunch up her face in disgust.

The captain gave her a quick half-smile as he got up to scrounge for some medical supplies.

The lieutenant leaned back against the floor, loosening her hold on her ankle.

 In the moment everything had seemed so intense. She had been seeing red. So it didn't come to a surprise to her that the wound wasn't as bad as she had initially thought. It probably wouldn't need stitches, at least she hoped not. She reprimanded herself for being so stupidly distracted. 

She had imagined Anne. She had imagined her right in front of her face.

And she had lunged.

But something stopped her. Some pull from deep inside- like she was a marionette on a string- throwing her to the side instead. The impact of the impulsive movement had caused her to get sloppy with her swordwork, allowing her the opportunity for an incident. Namely: slicing a gash up her right ankle. 

It was a stupid, silly, small mistake. 

So why was it bothering her so much?

Not even the accident, not even the pain, not even the imperfection of her move, no.

What was bothering her was that she couldn't strike the imaginary Anne.

All this time she had blamed her two best friends for her downfall. For her rude awakening in Amphibia. She could distract herself with anger, she could blame it on them without thinking, she could keep herself busy and away from the thoughts that crept in when she allowed herself a moment to relax.

But laying on the ground, injured and helpless, there was nothing to distract her now.

Distract her from the holes in the logic that was keeping her blissfully ignorant of her own sins.

Of course it was easy to blame Marcy for showing Sasha and Anne the Calamity Box in the first place. It was easy to put her shock of waking up in a disgusting, slimy world on the head of Marcy Wu. But she knew she was just as guilty. She had pushed Anne to steal it. She had just as much influence over their stranding as anyone else. 

It was even easier to blame Anne for the position that Sasha was in now, running from the law.

Sasha was only useful to people as long as she had something they wanted. Back home, she was only adored for her money and what that could bring to others. The girls who whispered about her behind their hands soon cherished her as long as they kept receiving gifts and party invitations. That was just how Sasha had lived her life. And if she didn't have anything to want, she would force it. She forced herself to the center of every event, every dance, every party, every friendship.

Knowing Sasha Waybright was like knowing a one-way ticket to friends, parties, and unlimited attention.

So when she arrived on Amphibia, with nothing but a picture of the two girls that had never asked anything of her and a soiled jacket, the blonde found herself at a loss. 

So she did what she always did-faked it.

Giving compliments, gaining trust, she soon had an army of toads to hold over Grime's head. She finally had something he wanted.

She finally was needed again-useful again.

She assumed she was doing the best out of her trio. She would swoop down, save the other girls from their frog-induced perils, get them home, and be a hero.

Which was what made seeing Anne such an icy punch in the gut. 

The darker girl had been practically adopted. She didn't need to pull strings. She was being cared for without having to induce violence. She was being loved without threats. She didn't spend months losing sleep to form game plans on how she would survive.

It stirred something deep inside Sasha, dark, painful- sickening .

It wasn't fair.

Sasha supposed it had been the jealousy that had pushed her to make Anne choose between the Plantars or her oldest friend. 

She needed that control, that assurance that Anne would stay by her side, no matter what.

Just like she always had.

But Anne had refused. And that burned Sasha's insides deeply. Anne had changed. She had grown. She had learned to say no.

Anne had evolved and grown in her time in Amphibia, but Sasha had stayed the same. Sasha had been given an opportunity to reflect in a new place; and she had used it to stay the same spoiled, angry, manipulative little girl.

She didn't realize the tears were there until she couldn't stop them.

She wasn't angry at Anne for leaving her, she was angry that she was no longer needed.

And why did she need to be needed so much? 

Her stomach twisted and dropped as her thoughts caught up to her, she saw red as she made sense of her realizations.

She didn't hate Anne, she hated herself.

It wasn't as surprising as she found the words to accompany her feelings; somehow she had always known that her inflated sense of ego was a mask for buried self-hatred.

Sasha didn't realize that Grime had made his way back until she felt his sticky hands press onto her injured ankle. Hissing in pain, she sat up. Grime looked surprised at the tears streaking her cheeks, forcing himself to be gentler.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize the pain was that bad." He apologized, handing the human girl a gauze pad from the first aid kit. She looked between him and the pad, blatantly confused.

"Oh, for the, you know…" 

He trailed off, miming wiping his eyes. Sasha's eyes widened as the act clicked in her head. She blushed, embarrassed, and quickly opened the pad, wiping it along her face. 

"Oh, no it-it's not, I mean, this,"

She said, gesturing towards her tear-stricken face,

"...this is from...something else."

She finished, looking away sniffling quietly enough that she hoped Grime wouldn't hear.

"...Right."

He answered, doubt evident in his voice as he began wiping bits of dried blood from Sasha's foot before tackling the blood coming directly from the wound. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, the only sounds coming from their breathing and the fabric sounds of the toad wrapping Sasha's ankle.

The comfortable quiet was broken with a scuffing noise as Sasha pushed herself into a sitting position. Grime watched her as she did so, but she refused to meet his eye. Keeping her eyes on the floor, she cleared her throat a little before speaking.

"Am… Am I a manipulator?"

Grime was visibly startled by the question, his smooth wrapping work stuttering for a moment before he set the bandages down. Opting to turn his body fully towards the younger girl instead, he chose his words carefully.

"I… I think everyone is a manipulator in some way. Verbal and physical manipulation- Well that's just something we have all learned since we were children. Badgering your mother for food, holding your siblings so they won't tell on you- these are all forms of manipulation. It's a learned nature. So I would be lying to you if I said no."

Sasha breathed out through her nose, trying to keep the influx of tears inside. She had already known the answer when she asked, but somehow hearing it out loud hurt nonetheless. Grime glanced at her before continuing.

"There are two kinds of manipulators-in my opinion- however. Those who manipulate for personal reasons, and those who manipulate just to see the effects on others. I believe you fall into the first category, as do most of us. We manipulate, not to hurt anyone else, but to help ourselves. We all have needs and sometimes you have to do things that are… less than satisfactory to fulfill those needs. There are some, however, who manipulate others purposefully just to make them miserable. To give themselves some kind of power kick by having so much control over someone else's life. They manipulate, not out of necessity, but for entertainment. Their sole purpose is to hurt someone else, even if they get nothing but satisfaction in return. Sometimes the lines between these people are very thin, sometimes one crosses into the other. Sometimes you manipulate people without even noticing it. The point is, these insecurities in your relationships and your effect on others, this is natural. You are not the only person who has gone through this- and you certainly aren't the worst of them. You've messed up, Sasha. You've been selfish. But there is no way to change that now. You can only change the way you react to it, and make sure to avoid repeating it in the future."

Grime finished wrapping the wound, preparing to stand up and be told to leave. He had given the human advice before-albeit, unsolicited- and it had always ended up with her becoming more frustrated than before. In the end of these little sessions, one of them always ended up leaving- whether it was her forcing him out or her running out on her own.

As he stood there for a moment, Grime realized none of those things were happening. 

Instead, Sasha was still sitting beside him, face buried in her hands as her shoulders shook in what Grime hoped were sobs and not laughter. 

Grime gave a small tsk , handing down to eye height with the blonde. Gently moving her hands away from her face, they met eyes for the first time since Sasha had hurt herself. Her face was red and splotchy and she tried to hide herself again in embarrassment of her disheveled appearance. Grime stopped her from raising her hands, giving her a soft smile.

"Admitting you have a problem is the first step. And oftentimes, the hardest. Wanting to improve is the second. You're already practically there. Don't beat yourself up too much." 

"God, since when did you become a fucking prophet?" 

Sasha quipped, blowing her nose into the gauze pad and giggling. Grime rolled his eyes, pressing a hand down onto her hair and giving her a gentle noogie. She stuck her tongue out in response before quickly throwing an arm over his shoulder in a half-hug.

"Thank you."

Anne had been in the garden nonstop for the past three hours. The rose seeds that Wally had given her were beginning to bloom, and the brunette wouldn't miss it for the world.

Sitting in the dirt, she pressed her elbows to her knees and impatiently watched the stems curl up and then flatten out again. Their small buds pressed towards the sun, but refused to open. 

Anne felt as if the universe was playing a prank on her.

Once more, the stems stood high, the buds almost being coaxed to bloom. Curling out and then going back in on themselves, she knew they weren't just shy. At this point, they were teasing her. She pouted, pressing her palms into her cheeks, trying to telepathically threaten the flowers to bloom. The sun was going to set in a few minutes, and Anne knew the plants would curl in on themselves and sleep once the night struck.

After another false alarm, Anne groaned, rolling over onto the ground. Her disappointment overshadowed everything else, and she didn't even care that her clothes were getting filthy. The sun was already beginning to set and the blooms hadn't gotten any further than yesterday.

"Please?"

Anne pleaded.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty please? With cherries on top? Plea-aaaseee!" 

The leftmost flower opened for a single second, only to let a petal out in a gesture that significantly resembled sticking a tongue out at someone. Anne gasped, pressing her hand to her chest in offense. Returning the very mature gesture, Anne gave a raspberry at the plants. In retaliation, they curled up even farther than before. 

Anne sighed out, whining incomprehensibly and banging her fists in the dirt like a child. 

Before she knew what was happening, a large shadow fell over the plot, moving towards her. The brunette instinctively brought her arms up to cover her head, preparing for the blows of one of Amphibia's bloodthirsty creatures. 

After a moment with no blows or kicks to the head, Anne dared to peek out from the gap her upper arms formed.

Crouching beside her, was a creature her height. It was covered in a hooded cape, so she was unable to tell what it was. The creature reached out a hand towards the plot of land, slowly dropping in a small potion. Almost immediately as the liquid touched the soil, the roses came into full bloom. 

Anne couldn't remember if she had ever seen anything so incredible in her life. The flowers shone with their own kind of light, painting everything around them a light blue. They sparkled and shone magnificently, from darker to lighter blues in a way that Anne could only describe as mocking bioluminescence. Her mouth open, she turned to the stranger. She was about to thank them, but the words quickly lodged themselves in her throat as she noticed the blonde hair and blue eyes staring back at her, a soft smile plastered on her face.

"Hi, Anne."

Sasha's voice was barely a whisper, but it still sent Anne tumbling back. 

"Sash-"

"Anne, I-"

They spoke at the same time and stopped at the same time, staring at each other. The familiarity and strangeness of the scene seemed to overwhelm them and the girls couldn't help from laughing a little. Sasha's face straightened out long before Anne's, and she cleared her throat, sitting up on her knees without damaging her ankle.

"Anne, I-"

She started, looking up and locking eyes with the other girl. She felt embarrassed and defeated as soon as she saw the confusion and hurt reflected back to her. Taking another breath, she opted to look at the roses instead.

"I'm really sorry. For everything. I know I hurt you and I know I've acted irredeemably. I'm not apologizing for pity. I'm actually not expecting you to accept it-hell, I wouldn't. You don't have to listen to anything I'm saying, you don't have to forgive me. It's okay if you don't. For all these years I've been pushing you and Marcy out of your comfort zones, and now that it's happened to me- I realize how awful I've acted. I had this whole monologue that I practiced on the way here, but looking at you, I don't know what else I could say. I want to go home. I want all of us to go home, together. I don't want things to go back how they used to be. I-I don't want to be that girl anymore. We don't have to be friends, but please let me stay in your life a little longer."

Sasha took a breath, not realizing she had spit it all out at once. She forced herself to look up at Anne, who's brown eyes were lined with tears and acceptance. 

Anne wanted to jump into Sasha's arms, to laugh, to hold her and let herself be held. 

But this was a serious situation, and she knew she couldn't act foolishly. She was relieved, but she was confused and torn as well.

She didn't even know if she was going to accept it or not.

So she opted to just take Sasha's hand instead, and scooch towards her by the flowers.

"We have eternity to talk. But the flowers will curl up and sleep in a few minutes. So let's just watch them for a bit."

Sasha squeezed her hand as a response.

"Okay."

And they sat there, watching the roses glow until the sun set.

The dirt had been tossed around, dug through, scattered, and mounted.

And yet, it still settled.

As if it had always meant to be there.