— Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

Modern Mythology: Styx

“Now I am silent, hate up to my neck, thick, thick. I do not speak.”

A modern Styx that the gods have never been kind to, for they fear her touch, that it will be as jagged as rocks next to the sea, and the curl of her lips are just as unforgiving, however, just as limestone, somethings have already begun to crumble underneath the waves. She has never tolerated the world around her, and it ate away at her skin, just as she did the same to its people. There are whispers of her, that she is as devouring as the promises made upon her name and river, they say there was never a heart pumping against her rib cage, there has never been any mercy in those eyes of hers. However, few know that they are not truly wrong, her heart has long since slipped through the hollow spaces between her bones, melted into the sands as the earth above the underworld swallowed the blood of Pallas and it is only under the darkness of the underworld that she can pretend her husband isn’t a ghost. Under the waves, she can forget the world she never enjoyed anyway and her family with death on their skin, pretend that the water is all the world holds.

#can i talk about this please? #how he has his eyes closed like he’s in a dream state #how he kisses her so slowly and passionate #and like he can’t believe this is happpening #and how he opens his mouth to taste her breath #the same time Caroline runs her hands down his face and neck #klaus is in heaven in this moment #the world could crumble around him and he wouldn’t even notice #he’s so into this kiss #it hurts 
#and Caroline #look at her #this is not just releasing passion #this is love #the way she caress him #the way she kisses him and pulls him back when he moved an inch #the way she tells him with her actions #that she wanted him all along #that she felt the same as him 
#look at how desperate but slowly at the same time they kiss #fuck these idiots #this kiss is so flawless #and in this moment before their big explosion…calming #they just melt together without making an effort

like anyone who dares to utter a single bad word about Joyce Byers and the fact she’s a struggling,poor, single mother can take a literal hike into a nest of wasps because she is the best fucking mother in the entire world and like do you even watch the show cos she fucking ADORES her children and provides for them AND nurtures them and encourages their interests and talents and NEVER gave up on them EVER even when the neighbours were probably sniggering at her and blaming Will’s disappearance on her being a poor single (in their snobby world=bad) mother and then she went through all that shit with a shitty ex-husband and no money and a house falling to pieces with a shitty job and no time for herself whatsoever and then her world crumbled even more around her and EVEN THEN had the strength to take on this whole other kid who NEEDED someone to help them so much and she was there for eleven without a second thought and just JOYCE BYERS IS AMAZING AND SHE DESERVES A BREAK PLS LET HER HAVE LOTS OF GOOD THINGS NEXT SEASON PLS


Every day, the people could sense it was one closer to the inevitable crumbling of their world, and they longed to die and leave their problems behind to a new generation. But as the new wave of children started to grow and display their unique skills, it was murmured around the kingdom that perhaps there was hope for them all yet…”

Eternal chapter 1

Collab with hanasaku-shijin! I’ve always wanted to work with a writer and Hana is a sweetheart and allowed me to work with her in he new multi-chapter RWBY fic ;u; You should totally click the link and read it, just do it

  • what she says: i'm fine
  • what she means: frank castle hears the onslaught of bullets meant for karen page before they rip through her apartment and he shields her with his entire body. he does this on instinct, he does this without hesitation. he wraps his arms around her head, he braces his legs on either side of her - he does nothing to protect himself and she grabs onto him for dear life. and when the firing ceases, the frenzy of dust slowing to a swirling cloud in the air, the final bits of plaster crumbling from the wall, the glass of picture frames shattered and littering the floor, the screech of a baby from a nearby apartment reminding us of the existence of the rest of the world, karen begins to move - she releases her grip on his arm, her hands going immediately to her head, and frank castle, his fingers in her hair, moves his hand immediately on top of hers. "we gotta get outta here" he says and with his hands gripping her shoulders, guides her up from the floor. his hand moves to her shoulder blades and eventually down her back until she is running out the door!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FRANK CASTLE NEVER LETS GO OF KAREN PAGE UNTIL THE VERY LAST SECOND! FRANK CASTLE DOESN'T EVEN CONSIDER PROTECTING HIMSELF UNTIL SHE IS OUT THE DOOR!!!!!!!!!!!

“She left me.” Dean whimpered into his cell phone. “I don’t know what to do, Sammy.”

Sam’s breath was heard on the other end. Dean knew he wouldn’t have any idea what to say when he called, but just hearing his little brother’s voice was all he wanted right now. He needed reassurance that there was a reason for him to continue.

“I don’t know what to do…” Dean sobbed again, this time allowing the tears to flow down his cheeks and land on the ground as he bowed his head and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “She just walked out with no explanation.”

Sam sighed on the other end and something that sounded like paper was being crumbled. “You let her go alone?”

Dean hiccupped and nodded, shutting his eyes from the world around him. “I’m a screw up, Sammy.”

“Dean, calm down.” Sam tried. It didn’t work, it only made Dean’s heart hurt worse as he sat down on the couch and tried to catch his breath. “This isn’t the first time she’s left, right?”

“This is the first time she left taking all her belongings.” Dean pointed out, hardly able to form the sentence. He couldn’t believe he was hearing the words out loud. It seemed unlikely that you would just pack up and leave. He thought things were going so well…

Silence on the other end. Sam was at a loss for words and Dean didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to live past the night, but he knew he had to protect Sammy. His little brother was all he had now.

Sam finally spoke, choosing his words carefully. Dean prepared himself for the worst, thinking Sam was about to tell him to move on, to forget you, to pretend that he never knew you. Sam was too calm about all this.

“I’ll see if I can find her and figure things out.”


You sipped your soda and peered out the window of the diner. Two states over and you just realized you left your phone behind. Bummer. But you didn’t need it, not anymore. That phone was mostly used for Dean’s own good; so he could keep tabs on you if he went on a solo mission, or if you were in danger. Hardly anybody needed you.

The waitress came over and refilled your glass. She smiled at you and walked off, possibly the first smile you’ve received all week. It was a shame that you felt so down. There were times you wished you would have smiled at that stranger crossing your path instead of scowling at them and running the other way.

You got up to use the restroom. It was a small bathroom with only one toilet and a crappy sink to wash your hands in. There was no mirror, so you had no clue what you looked like. You assumed you must look rather dirty and homeless—you were, though.

When you trailed back to your seat, you noticed there was somebody taking up the other side of your booth. A man with very bright blue eyes and stubble that probably aged him by a few years.

“Castiel?” You muttered, sitting down across from him. The angel hasn’t appeared in two months, and suddenly he’s sitting with you.

Cas looked at you and nodded once before he glanced out the window again. “Sam sent me. You weren’t supposed to know but I cannot lie to you. You should not have to be treated with such manners.”

“Sam sent you?” You cocked your head and tried to hold back tears. Poor Sam. You didn’t even say goodbye to him…

Cas nodded and took one of your fries. He stuffed it into his mouth and swallowed it before he continued his speech. “He tried to reach you through that strange device with the voice. When you didn’t answer, he sent me to look for you. You weren’t that hard to trace, actually. I have been following you since Chattanooga.”

“Is this about Dean?” You asked. You wanted Cas to get to the point of this little visit. This wasn’t at all how you wanted to spend your day.

Castiel paused and nodded again. “Dean has been out of reach for a while. Sam received a call from him a week ago. Sam has not heard from him since. I found him at a motel a few nights ago; drunk and passed out on the bed. He was holding your necklace.”

Your hand flew to your neck. The necklace Dean gave you when the two of you met. You only took it off to shower. It was basically glued to you and you much have forgotten it. “Shit… That’s how you found me, huh?”

Castiel nodded again. “Sam wants me to give you a message. You do not have to listen, but I, too, think you need to hear it.”

“Which is?”

“Whatever the reason you had for leaving, it should not have been worth leaving Dean like that. He is broken. He will not function properly unless you are there. You are his weakness and without you, he is nothing. You do not have to go back to him, Y/N, but you at least need to give him a reason why you left.”

You looked up at Castiel, those blue eyes staring you down. Whether that came from Sam, Dean, or Cas, they had a point. Dean deserved an answer. He deserved to know why you left without saying goodbye. You just didn’t know how to put it into words.

Cas shifted in his seat and took another fry, popping it into his mouth and chewing it up quickly as if he was starved to death—which couldn’t be possible. You shoved the basket closer to him and looked outside. The trees blew in the wind and the clouds covered the sun in the darkening sky. A storm was coming.

Castiel was halfway finished with the fries when you gave him an answer. “Take me back, Cas. I’ll explain.”

Let's reverse the roles, eh?

I for one am sick of the way the fandom is characterizing James and Lily and how every Jily story (I was guilty of this as well) is all about James trying to crack Lily’s shell and showing her how to have fun.

Man does that get boring after a while!

So let's reverse these roles.

Write some stories about James going through a hard time. Maybe his parents are sick. Maybe they died. Maybe he went through a really bad breakup. Maybe the world is getting darker and people are dying and he’s only seventeen and still in school and he might not live to graduation and it’s all getting to him and he’s lost that mischievous spark, that thrill of adventure, that smile.

And who should help him but Lily? The woman who can still manage to smile, even as her world is crumbling around her. The woman who can see the light when there appears to be nothing but darkness. The woman who can make him laugh - genuinely laugh - until he’s doubled over, gasping for breath. The woman who is still so optimistic about magic and remains fascinated by it and just seeing her face light up whenever she sees something amazing is enough for James’ face to light up. Give me the Lily who can see the good in anyone, especially when they can’t see it themselves. Give me a happy, optimistic, kind, Lily who knows how to have fun. Give me the Lily who is able to make a Marauder smile again.

(For the love of the literary Gods, stop writing the boring, stuck-up, proper, Lily who does nothing but scream at James or roll her eyes and huff as everyone is having fun around her. I hate that Lily.)

the god of war was never your favourite.
always screwing over us mortals
screwing over the gods
screwing aphrodite.
yet still you fancied yourself an Ares
this hulking beast of a deity
significant, present, strong, powerful
yet not loved
you were certain no one ever could
when even your goddess took more lovers in your bed
than you took lives on her battlefield
you believed with a wave of your fist the world around you would erupt into chaos
and the already present chaos of the world around you
was somehow your fault.

truth is, you’re obviously no god.
but you’ve still started a war inside me
i look at you and i see cities crumble, mountains melt, and the sky slide into the seas.
the lamb loving lion is too limp for what this is
it’s a blade of grass infatuated with the sun
i am not so significant but she is the reason i can live
i will never kiss a solar flare but i imagine the burn would be the same if i pressed my bloodied lips against yours
i set my skin alight with matches and engine oil so i know what it would feel like to touch you
i would wade through the river styx and back if
just for a second
you’d let me drown in you.

but Ares was known for his temper
and it would be my mortal sin to forget the fire in your skull as well as in your skin
i’ve never craved that soul shaking heart breaking orgasm faking kind of love that aphrodite brings
but i would let hades carve your love letters into my ribs to give me one more reason to breathe

we are not gods.
we are flesh,
we are blood,
we are human
and one day we’ll die and i don’t know if we’ll get to heaven
but if we do
i know they’ll answer the gates with
“we’re sorry, but your gods don’t live here any more”
we’ll be left standing at the edge of the clouds
and i think we’ll go tumbling over
it doesn’t matter
i’ve learned falling doesn’t hurt so hard when it’s in love.

—  and oh, she is fire (h.h.)
  • playing bastion: ah what an immersive and innovative game! truly the writers are masters of their craft to create such a poignant and inspiring story! this game is a masterpiece! a shining example of video games as an artistic medium!

anonymous asked:

Weird question, but how do you think Solas would react to finding out a romanced Lavellan had died?

He held the note in his trembling hand, the words blurring before his eyes as his knuckles turned white from the death grip he had on the back of his faded favorite chair. 

“No…” he shook his head, a vain attempt to unsee Cullen’s words on parchment as unshed tears blurred the world around him. 

I’m sorry to write this….we were overrun…so many casualties…she fought to the last breath…

Solas pressed his fist to his lips, fighting against the urge to scream as he bit upon his knuckle, the sharp pain a reminder that this was real. He was awake. This was not a dream. 

The Inquisitor fell on the field….her last words were for you….’Ar lath ma, vhenan’….so sorry for your loss…

The note crumbled in his fingers as he leaned over his desk, all strength lost. 

Not her….

Not her!.

A primal urge tore through him and with a lightning quick gesture he sent the chair skidding across the floor and the desk was violently overturned, flying against the far wall and shattering. All voices in the library above him fell silent. The ravens in the rookery silenced their caws and he could feel all eyes upon him. 

“Solas?” A soft, calming voice laden with sorrow called out to him from the doorway. 

“Leave me, Master Tethras. You can give no comfort here.” His words were acid and his heart was ash. Varric and all the others silently disappeared like ghosts. 

Solas stood silent, fighting the depth of nothingness that was creeping upon him and would soon consume him. He would yield willingly when the time came. He would return to what he had been before her, a man without a home, and this…, he looked around the rotunda at the frescoes of her deeds - all these stolen moments with her…would become nothing but hazy memories adrift in the fade. She would become the wisp among the ether of the dead that haunted his dreams.  

But not yet!

Keep reading

Scarlet Red

White shirt painted red.
Palms soiled with scarlet.

Sectumsempra !”’

Her heart froze as she saw the dark haired man fall back against the wall in shock. The sound of a woman’s scream erupting through the room as her body flung forward, her hands scrambling over the wounds as they sliced up and down his body, the water pooling around her knees licking her skin.

Grey eyes meeting hers. Tears falling as her sob echoed all around her. The grip on her wand as she whispered the spells she knew, doing nothing as the blood pulsated from his wounds. His eyes dimming as she felt her heart thump up her chest into her throat.

..This cannot be happening..

His white shirt staining red.

..I haven’t had chance to forgive you..

“HELP!” She screamed, her hand falling to his chest as she crumbled over him. Protecting him from the World, from any more harm, from any more danger. Her tears flooding down mixing with his blood. Her hand finding the marked skin, the very reason she hadn’t wanted to be near him and yet now she’d do anything to be closer.

..I don’t hate you.. I don’t..

“You need to move,” she heard faintly, hands on her as she moved through the water, her sobs continuing sounding out everything else.

..Please don’t die..

It felt as though she hadn’t got a safe grip on reality, suddenly watching as he rose from the ground, the black cape billow from sight as she stared at the ground where he had first fallen. The water filling around her still as her eyes fell to her shirt, to her hands. His deep crimson blood all over her skin. Her hair slicked against her face from the water and tears.

Closing her eyes she saw it all, the fight that erupted before her as she merely was passing. The screams. The sound of cracked porcelain. The crack of spells. Pushing into the bathroom, the green spell near missing Harry before the Gryffindor shouted his spell, Draco crumbling like a deck chair to the ground. The woman’s scream shrieking through the bathroom as she rubbed her knees that had connected with stone.

“She needs to go to the hospital wing,” she heard the Professor say above her. Clamping her eyes closed. “And Mr Zabini, ensure that she gets cleaned up.”

She felt the warm arms scoop her, her eyes occasionally noticing the faces of students as she cuddled into his hold. Suddenly feeling the warmth of a bed as she curled into a ball, tears falling silently down her cheeks as she felt her chest want to burst open. The tingling of spells as she watched the blood fade from her skin, her hair and shirt drying. She heard a male voice, but she couldn’t follow him. As if lost between reality and her mind.

And then she was alone. Darkness having filled the hospital wing.

Sitting up to see the blonde across from her. His eyes closed and his face pale even in the moonlight. She found herself perched on his bed, unsure how she even got there as she clutched her face before her head slowly fell to his chest as she clutched his sheets.

“I need you…” She whispered into his chest as her fingers grazed his side. “.. I don’t want to, but, in that moment.. It became clear that, I need you.”

It was probably the most honest moment she had with him up to now. So preoccupied with being right, winning and being in power that they had never really shared much more. She felt much more, that was undeniable. Her eyes filling again at the thought he could never have known, trying to fight back pouring tears all over him when she felt his hand on her head, tears releasing at his touch. Not wishing to look up she remained exactly as she was.

“I still hate you,” she whispered with a smile.

“Feelings mutual princess,” he croaked as she looked up and he offered her a half smile.

“You scared me.”

“I wished for sympathy,” he said as his eyes closed but he smirked.

“I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“It’s exhausting isn’t it,” his hand brushing her cheek.

“We’ve fought for months —”

“— years,” his fingers brushing her hair. “I think it be far easier for you to just relinquish and admit you love me.”

“Never,” she laughed as he smiled.

“You’re no fun.”

Her head moving up as she pressed her lips to his, little shocks electrifying her lips as the pair of them moved softly against one another. Her cheeks burning as they moved apart, his eyes on her.

“No more games?”

“No more games,” he said softly. “Not that I have time for them.” His arm raising as she looked at him sympathetically. “Don’t pity me.”

“I don’t think I can lose you,” she said as she wiped her cheek.

“I’m not losing you now princess.”


“Promise,” he croaked.

“Can I stay here a while?”

His head moving to gain a better view, the moonlight shining his faded pink scars, “you can stay here for as long as you like princess. Forever if you wish.”

Draco’s fingers wiping her cheek as she adjusted herself into his arm and chest, her hand placing gently on his arm as she ran circles against his skin. The feel of his breath against her forehead and she was sure that she hadn’t felt anything more wondrous.

He was alive. And she was sure she was in love. A princess in love with the dark knight, a death eater.

Ten Months of Drought

A/N: A commission for @sachiel21, who asked for bumblebee angst/smut, a reunion set after the finale of vol3. Thank you so much for commissioning me, and I hope you enjoy it!

Their reunion was blood and teeth. At least fifty Grimm in the lobby of an old bank. 

A modern lost world, filled with crumbling buildings next to miles left entirely intact, the glass coated in dust yet without a crack to mar the surface. Not even vines could grow there, choke the life from a stone. Every sign of wreckage was Grimm or human-made, remnants of one final, explosive conflict.

Yang’s hair curled and coiled, a mass of white-hot gold that steamed the humid air. Grimm corpses dissolved around her, piled shoulder-high. 

For a while they were quiet, waiting for the next wave. It had been so easy to fall into their old routine; the instant they saw each other the steps came back, like they had never been apart.

But now there was nothing between them but ten months of silence.

Wafts of heat rose from Yang’s body, the temperature so intense it made the air ripple, liquid, like a mirage. Her eyes were red and blank with rage, staring at the floor in front of her as her chest twitched with every staggered breath.

Blake was terrified.

Keep reading

Misunderstandings - Bucky x Reader

“I’ve met someone.”

You were on your way downstairs, your towel around your neck, your bottle under your arm and you were wrapping your watch around your wrist. You didn’t even notice the voice in the first moment.

But the moment you realized, it was like someone stepped on your heart made of glass.

And it cracked.

And it crumbled.

“You did?”

“Yeah, she’s…amazing. She’s always polite and so caring. And funny, even if she would deny that. And she’s beautiful. Heads turn for her and she doesn’t even know. Oh god, she’s an angel. When she smiles, the room gets brighter. My world gets brighter. It’s like I’ve been colorblind. I saw the world in grey and she made it colorful. I feel like a whole different person. Because of her. She’s the light in my darkness.”

“Oh, Bucky. You’re beyond all hope. You fell hard for this girl. Can I meet her?”

“Well…uhm…I didn’t tell her yet.”

“Oh no. When do you wanna tell her?”

“I don’t know, Steve. I don’t know how I should tell her. And what if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“When she hears how you talk about her, she gonna fall in love with eventually. And who knows…maybe she is already. But if you don’t make a move soon, she might be gone.”

Steve was right. If he would’ve talked about you like this, you would’ve fallen in love with him…again. 

Keep reading

I like to imagine

that during that scene in DHp1 when Hermione and Harry dance as friends trying to make each other smile to the song on the radio, elsewhere others are doing the same

Bill pulls Fleur away from the kitchen sink, swinging her into his arms and ignoring her protests about her wet hands

Remus pulls Tonks off the couch, hugging her close(as close as he can, anyway) and just enjoying the music in each other’s arms, with his arms wrapped tightly around her, her small baby bump pressing against him

Arthur approaches Molly, who is knitting quietly, trying to ignore their world crumbling around them, and dances with her as if they were both 18 again

And for the duration of that song, the war ravaged couples get time to be just that- couples, trying to make their way to a better future.

I do think a lot about Kylo Ren being the Azula though and how great it would be for him to have her style of ending.

For his world to crumble around him as he realises that Snoke never wanted him for anything other than his power, and now even that is worthless.

For him to be followed along black and shining corridors by reflections that wear the faces of children with empty eyes, the hollow, animal growl of his lightsaber ringing in his ears even when he isn’t in battle.

For the ruined helmet of his predecessor to become a threat, a warning, I ended here and so will you, until he can’t take the imagined accusations any more and destroys it, his most valuable possession and holiest relic, and weeps over the remains.

For the First Order to drain away around him, for him to be left entirely alone, beached by the tide of a history he took to heart and completely failed to learn from, abandoned as a liability, the old apprentice, the Knight that broke, as Skywalkers sometimes do.

For him to jump at shadows, to snarl defiance at empty air, to hold desperately on to what he knows to be true (I am Kylo Ren, I am the Jedi Killer) even as Rey advances, lightsaber in hand and horror in her eyes.

I want him to look up at her and laugh, raw and ragged and wrong as the crackle of his own lightsaber, because the disciple of Vader couldn’t have asked for a more perfect ending.


My name is Christopher Nova Smith, Born In Bad Kreuznach, Germany. I currently live in Honolulu, Hawai’i. I’m a protestor, I do my job well, at least that’s what I’m told. I try to capture the moments that matter and help to create change for the better of society. This job swallows you whole- head, heart, and body. I travel by buses, trains, and planes to go to areas I don’t know and where no one knows me. Every once in a while I meet someone who makes you feel as though you can fly even when the world around him or her is crumbling. I have been in areas where the winds were a furnace and the ground in other areas is a sheet of ice. I stand on desert floors, sheets of ice, grassy meadows, and on concrete. Over 20 years now it never gets old, I have always learned more as I go from the first time my dad put a 35mm in my hands. I don’t always get the chance to use it, but I’m making more time for it. Sometimes it’s my iPhone, Sony DSLR, or some point and shoot throw away.  The need to document what I see and what is happening in the areas I go has become overwhelming to me. My camera helps my third eye to retain and project. It’s the science my figure takes for granted. If another world passes through my lens, the moment is forever a memory and a tool to help others understand. I still don’t know what to say about all the things I’ve missed in life or what I have seen. Some say they wish to be in my shoes. I have heard other say they are jealous because I live my life on my own terms and not by the political society. I don’t worry about such things; this is my life and how it works for me. It’s what wakes me up everyday to continue on. The images are a gift for all the work I put forth. It’s a recorded of my passing through, while trying to leave something meaningful and beautiful for everyone to view.  I like to believe that I don’t just push a button, but I take a photograph that holds a story of a thousand words.

Mahalo for your time,

Christopher Nova Smith

Current equipment, Sony A99, Sony A550, various Minolta lenses, and a MeFoto tripod






Invisible au

Ladybug screamed. She cried. She threw her fists, kicked her feet, scratched her voice raw with unheeded calls. She pulled her hair, pinched her shoulders, scraped her fingers against her skin and her bodysuit. She clawed at her arms, her legs, bit her lips and hands. She threw her body at random people in the street, tossed whatever she could at them, shrieked at them. 

But they couldn’t hear her.

They couldn’t feel her.

They couldn’t see her.

For days she tried. Tried to get reactions. She needed them to know that she existed.

She watched her parents cry their eyes out. She watched them fight, tear down their walls, stood by unnoticed as their world crumble down around them. She listened to their tears, their howls, bawling in desperate wonder at why their loving daughter had run away from them. Why she had left them to suffer in their torment. 

“I’m here mom! Dad!” She would cry back, despite the thousands of other, futile times she cried back at them.”I’m right here, can’t you see?!! I didn’t leave you, I am right here!!”

Soon enough, she lost all hope for her parents. She realized that no attempt, nor no amount of attempts would convince them that she with right next to their shaking bodies.

And so she took to the streets of Paris. She punched and kicked, bit and clawed at nothing. Nothing she did pulled any response from anybody. She was violent, desperate, broken.

And her grasp on reality began to fade. She began to recognize that just like her parents, no other human being would ever see her. Nobody would ever feel her or hear her again. 

And she sunk to the ground in melancholy.

One last time she brought her fingers to the rawness of her earlobes, puffy and slightly bleeding from her countless, vain attempts at removing the ladybug earrings. Touching them did not bring the searing pain that it should have, instead, to her, pain no longer mattered. Why did anything matter when you were completely alone?

She closed her eyes, and let her body relax. Her back hit the ground with a dull thud. She was so tired. 

She was done.

Suddenly, a strange sensation came across her side. A whoosh and another thud is heard next to her. Some grumbling, a sigh, shuffling. 

Ladybug opened her eyes, almost uninterested, her mind hardly able to register anything happening. 

But then, as she sat up slowly, staring ahead of her, void of any emotion, she heard another sound beside her. Her head turned, her face stoic. 

And then she froze. 

Green cat eyes, as wide as an owl’s peered curiously up. Was it at her? She looked around herself, but there was nobody around for those emerald eyes to stare up at. Her mouth opened ajar, unable to comprehend what was happening at that very moment.

Black leather, cat ears, blonde hair.

“Wh- who are you…?” The curious eyes had a voice.

A voice. A voice in her direction. There was nobody around. He was… talking to her.

“Can you see me?”