is that like prudent of me or

some good consent phrases

“May I hug you?”

“When I ask you if you want to do something, you know it’s always okay to say no, right?”

“Let me know if you get uncomfortable, okay?”

“How do you feel about (x activity)?”

(When someone’s insecure about having said no and asks if it’s okay/if you’re mad or upset they said no) “I’m disappointed, of course, but I’m really glad you were willing to tell me (no/that you were uncomfortable/etc.). That’s really important to me. Thank you.”

“I’d ALWAYS rather be told no than make you feel pressured or do anything to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”

“I care about you, so when something I do hurts you or makes you uncomfortable, I want to know, because I don’t like making you feel bad.”

“Wanna do (x)? It’s okay if not, but I think it would be (fun/worthwhile/prudent).”

(When starting a social phone call): “Hey, are you busy right now?”

(When confirming plans made earlier): “Hey, are you still up for doing (x) at (time) on (day)?”

“Can I vent a little about (x)?”

“Can I tell you something (gross/depressing)?”

“Are you comfortable talking about it?”

“Do you think you could talk me through this problem I’ve been having? If you have the time and emotional energy of course.”

“It’s okay if that doesn’t work for you.”

“I’m interested in spending more time with you. Would you be interested in doing (x) together on (y day)?”

“No? Well let me know if you ever want to do something else.” (leave it open! don’t nag! let it go!)

Consent culture - it’s about way more than just sex!

Give people as much freedom as possible to make their own choices without pressure or control.

Even children deserve as much autonomy as allows them to remain safe and get their needs met - remember, you can’t train a child to make good/safe/healthy choices without ever giving them choices. A child who is taught to respect consent is a child who doesn’t assault people! A child who knows they have a right to say no is a child who knows that someone who infringes on their autonomy isn’t supposed to do that.

A consent-conscious relationship is a healthier and safer relationship, and a person who is aware of and deliberate about asking for, giving, receiving, refusing, and being refused consent is a healthier and safer person.

When Duty and Desire Meet Chapter 4

Art by @edendaphne , words by moi!

Summary: After their accidental kiss on Valentine’s day, both Marinette and Chat Noir have to deal with the emotional fallout of their actions.

Read on AO3
Read on tumblr

~

Valentine’s Day Part 2

“So, let me get this straight,” Alya said, leaning back against Marinette’s desk chair and steepling her fingers. Beside her, on a little table-cushion Marinette had made, Tikki slept soundly, having already heard the story a thousand times over. “You’re in love with Chat Noir.”

“You already knew that,” Marinette groaned from her chaise, hugging a cushion to her chest and leaning back like a Freudian patient. Lord knows she was about three sentences away from a therapy-inducing hissy fit regardless, so it was probably prudent of her to be lying down in such a way. She was preparing for her inevitable breakdown that’s all. It was the smart thing to do.

And she rarely did the smart thing nowadays it seemed, so she really needed this.

“You’ve been in love with Chat as Ladybug for like a bajillion years,” Alya continued, ignoring Marinette as she continued to rehash pointless details. Details which made Marinette want to bludgeon herself to death with her cushion.

It was most likely impossible to do such a thing but she was never one to back down from a challenge. Death by cushion- she’d find a way.

“Yes. We’ve already established that,” she replied through gritted teeth, said cushion slowly creeping up to cover her face.

“But last night you kissed him by accident,” Alya said.

“Uh-huh.”

“As Marinette.”

“That is correct sir,” Marinette wiggled a finger.

“And he gave you a rose and kissed you back.”

“Tru’ dat.”

It was indicative of Marinette’s deteriorating mental state that she’d said “Tru’ dat”. She’d never said “Tru’ dat” in her whole life.

“I see,” Alya nodded a few times. The fact her tone had remained neutral the whole time was doing nothing to help Marinette’s poor nerves, and so she swung her legs over the side of her chaise, sitting up to get a better view of Alya’s twinkling eyes. A sense of dread settled in Marinette’s stomach. Alya’s eye-twinkles were never a good thing, at least when they were directed towards her.

I see?! Is that all you have to say? Seriously?! I thought you’d be freaking out right now, I mean I’m freaking out but then I ALWAYS freak out. You not freaking out is making me freak out harder! Can you please freak out with me? Join me in the freak out zone already!” Marinette blabbed, waving her arms and promptly dropping the cushion to the ground.

Alya said nothing, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow at her and cross her legs. At least she’d stopped steepling her fingers, Marinette thought gruffly.

After a short pause, Alya finally spoke, but her voice wobbled and strained unnaturally, her lips thinned in a way that was entirely too suspicious. “Firstly, stop saying freak out, secondly I’m not freaking out because this is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She barely made it to the end of her sentence before she doubled over and descended into giggles.

It was in that moment that Marinette realised Alya’s peculiar behaviour had been due to her hiding her amusement, and she felt fully justified in yanking the cushion from its position on the floor and hurling it towards her supposed ‘best friend forever.’

Unfortunately, Alya dodged the fluffy projectile with ease.

“Come on, this is serious! I’m in hot water here!” Marinette cried, crossing her arms across her chest.

“When are you not though? Let’s be real,” the redhead shot back with a wry grin, twirling in the chair and kicking backwards to check her hair in the small vanity mirror on Marinette’s desk. The sight made Marinette relax a little. Alya only checked her hair with such scrutiny when she was seriously contemplating something.

Suddenly missing the comforting embrace of the cushion, Marinette flopped down once more. As her back hit the large pillows adorning her chaise, she let out a long sigh and all the fear, the panic, the fight, left her in one fell swoop. Only tiredness and uncertainty remained.

“How am I going to face him?” she whispered. Her head tilted towards her small, round window, to the afternoon sun beaming down in a total antithesis to her feelings. She wondered where Chat Noir was at that moment.

Did she cross his mind?

Over the years Marinette had asked herself that question more times than she could count. But it was different now. Now she wondered if Chat thought of her, of Marinette, not of Ladybug. Did he dwell on it- how they’d kissed? She had. She’d thought about it all night, until exhaustion had finally overcome her and she’d woken up late, cold, wanting something she could barely comprehend.

For years, she’d thought about what it would mean to kiss Chat Noir, Dark Cupid incident aside considering she couldn’t even remember it.

A small, involuntary whimper left her when she recalled the night before. The kiss had been an accident… at first. But the second she felt Chat’s lips press into hers was burned into her memory, playing over and over again. The moment he returned her kiss had ignited something dormant inside her and she felt raw, emotions exposed and unlocked, with nowhere to hide.

She considered her question again. How on earth could she face him as Ladybug, knowing what she did, knowing him the way he didn’t know he knew her (and god wasn’t that sentence confusing in and of itself)?

For God’s sake Marinette, it was a peck of a kiss at the most, pull yourself together!

“You’ll figure it out.”

Alya’s voice sounded lightyears away, so stuck was Marinette in her own musings. She jumped, a little sheepishly, and realised she hadn’t noticed Alya coming over to her until the spinning desk chair was pressed right by the chaise. The next moment, Alya’s hands were in her hair. Having thoroughly fixed her own short curls, she now concentrated on the silky strands of Marinette’s loose locks, braiding little plaits as if they were children at a sleepover.

Marinette let her. Two perfectly groomed heads were better than one.

“You think you can talk to him about it? As you I mean, not Ladybug,” Alya suggested, quickly clarifying her meaning whilst tugging the red ribbons loose from Marinette’s dark hair.

Snorting in response, Marinette couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Talk? To Chat? The very idea…

“Yeah sure, let me just tweet at him Ayla. Hashtag balcony make-outs,” she giggled, feeling a little better as her hair fell around her shoulders.

Foregoing the braids, Alya reached up and began tying something new into Marinette’s hair, tutting in disapproval. “Slide into the DM’s at least girl, I raised you better than that.”

They shared a laugh, settling into a comfortable silence as Alya worked on both sides of her hair. Marinette sat back and mulled over her options. Truth be told she didn’t have many. She couldn’t talk to Chat, after all it wasn’t likely he’d be back and she had no idea who he was in real life. The notion that she could talk to him as Ladybug, thus revealing herself, made her rapidly descend into a panic so sharp that she quickly pushed that thought to the side.

Really there was nothing else to do but call it what it was. A blip. A crazy alignment of stars which had given her a taste of everything she’d wanted for the past four years, a reminder that it was probably all she was going to get.

She tried not to let the disappointment settle in her bones, yet it was fruitless. Her chest ached as though a hole had been carved there.

Suffice to say it was a familiar ache where Chat was concerned, but it was bigger now.

“There. Done,” Alya pulled back, pleased with her work, and Marinette stood. Stepping over to the vanity mirror, she leaned down to check her reflection. “Matching colours for you and the bae,” she teased, eyebrows wiggling from underneath her rounded glasses.

Marinette threw the cushion at her again, feeling a smug sense of satisfaction as it smacked her right in the face.

At the very least, she had the Gaming Club that night, that would provide a very welcome distraction.

***

Adrien was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Which was ironic, considering he’d joined the Gaming Club to avoid that exact thing from happening.

“I can’t do this, I’m going to cancel,” he whimpered, hiding out in the bathroom a floor above their usual meeting place like the coward he was.

“So cancel,” Plagg shrugged, busy amusing himself with unfurling a roll of toilet paper- as per his usual hobby.

“I can’t cancel!” Adrien replied, horror struck as he gazed at himself in the mirror. His fingers gripped the sides of the sink so hard that his knuckles turned white. “Are you insane?!”

“So don’t cancel,” Plagg’s disinterested monotone was really starting to grate on him. “Honestly kiddo what do you want me to say and will it get me food faster?”

The resounding groan from Adrien’s throat was so despairing in nature that he was afraid he’s start rumours of a ghost haunting the building. He leaned on his elbows, burying his face into his hands.

Stupid. He’d been so, so, stupid. And reckless! Totally reckless. What had he been thinking?!

It was worth it though, a small, unchecked part of him thought. Adrien squashed it flat in an instant. After all there was no time to consider the fluttering in his chest, the pleasant swoop of his stomach. Now was the time to face the consequences of his actions. His incredibly foolish, totally moronic actions.

Because, although a part of him ignited, burned in the best possible way, at the memory of Marinette’s lips against his own, another part felt thoroughly ashamed. It felt like he was tricking her in some way. Granted that had never been his intention. His plan had been simple. Leave the rose on her balcony for her to discover. She’d never know it was him and be happy at the gift from a secret admirer. Obviously, things hadn’t worked out the way he planned, though he should have anticipated that.

When had things ever gone the way he planned?

He needed to apologise to her, as Chat, and he was going to do so that night in fact. But before that Adrien needed to pretend, he needed to lie, to Marinette. To the girl he loved. He needed to act like he hadn’t heard her soft sigh, felt the warmth of her skin and the taste of her cherry-blossom lips. He had to fake it, act like it had never happened.

He had to pretend he didn’t desperately want it to happen again.

The idea of being so fake made him ill, and so he placed his hands under the cold water tap to splash his face, allowing the iciness of the water to penetrate his senses and offer him some much-needed clarity.

It didn’t really work but it was the best he could do.

When he entered the Gaming Club, Plagg tucked securely inside his jacket pocket, he was relieved to see Marinette talking to other people. He could barely look at her, the meagre glimpse he’d gotten from across the room had sent his heart cartwheeling down the corridor and somewhere into the next arrondissement.

Not wanting to look suspicious, and fully admitting that he was stalling for time, Adrien wandered over to the desk where Nino was hooking up an old Nintendo console for one of their signature Mario Kart nights.

Mario Kart…Marinette…partners… sitting close together… oh no.

“Hey bro!” Nino chirped, offering Adrien a fist to bump, clearly not noticing how the blood had completely drained from his friend’s face. “Everything ok?”

“H-hey! Everything’s good!” The first lie of the evening. How could Adrien have forgotten it was a Mario Kart night? More importantly, how was he going to survive the evening now? Sitting next to Marinette, shoulders pressed together, watching her tongue poke out in concentration like it normally did? How could he concentrate on anything knowing how close he’d been to said tongue the night before?

Grow up Adrien! You aren’t some horny teenager and Marinette isn’t a prize to be objectified. Show her some respect already!

If Nino had thought Adrien’s reaction was strange, he didn’t show it. Together they settled into an easy conversation, Adrien helping his friend set up the old console. Focusing on such a menial task did wonders for his nerves. He was almost starting to feel normal. Almost.

Of course, just as he was beginning to relax, Marinette had to tap him lightly on the shoulder.

She might as well have given him a 1.21 gigawatt electric shock, given his reaction to both was about the same. If he’d been Chat Noir at the time, his superpowers might have actually propelled him through the ceiling.

“A-Adrien?” Marinette tilted her head, taken aback by his startled shriek. “Are you ok?”

Subconsciously, Adrien’s hand reached up and he clutched his chest, fingers burying into his jumper as if it would cure the frantic beating of his wild heart.

Because she was there, right in front of him. Marinette. The girl he’d kissed last night.

His eyes flicked down to her lips before he could help himself.

“Adrien?”

The second time her voice permeated through his cloudy mind, something snapped inside of him. It was as if he were a character in a film, once played in slow motion, now fast-forwarding.

“Hey!” he cried, louder than he intended, and the people around him turned to stare. He looked at her eyes instead, with far more intensity than normal, mainly because he was so intent on not looking at her lips any more. “Marinette! It’s my friend- Marinette! My good friend, I’m good! How are you? You good- good? Yeah, I’m good, friend. How are you? Did you have a good Valentine’s day?”

WHAT?! Adrien’s brain-filter kicked in far too late, but began screaming at him nonetheless. Why would you ask her that? WHY?! You know how it went! YOU WERE THERE!

Marinette blinked, and it proved just how far gone he was that he found her blinking adorable.

Her blinking.

“Umm,” she blushed, unsure of what to say and, honestly, Adrien couldn’t blame her. He sounded insane even to his own ears, and he’d just asked her something quite private. Actually, he was surprised she wasn’t berating him for it. Then again, she thought he didn’t know about her encounter with Chat Noir.  His words may have seemed innocent to her ears.

What a mess Adrien had gotten himself into, and it only seemed to grow worse with every bit of word-vomit he expelled.

(Was it bad that he felt a tiny bit of pride at her blushing? Probably. But he was going to hell anyway so he might as well enjoy the slow descent at least a little bit.)

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Marinette glanced baffled at Nino, whom Adrien could see shrugging from his peripheral vision.

But he couldn’t care less.

Because he’d just noticed her hair. Or, more specifically, how she was wearing it.

In place of the red ribbons usually tied into her loose black locks, were two green ones instead. Vivid green. Chat Noir green.

His brain collapsed in on itself.

“I’m good-good too.”

Marinette was teasing him. She was grinning and she had green ribbons in her hair and Adrien was going to DIE.

“Good! That’s good!”

Great. He’d always wanted to die sounding like a partially strangled mongoose.

Marinette, mercifully, took pity on him and waved a controller in his face, offering him a place in the first race of the evening. He sighed, relaxing a little, but only a little. Gaming was fine. It was a welcome distraction, as long as he didn’t sit too close to her he’d be fine (who was he kidding? Of course he was going to sit close to her). At least, when he was focused on blue shells and Bullet Bills his brain couldn’t fixate on the meaning behind Marinette’s ribbons, if there was any hidden symbolism he was missing.

Suddenly the thought of seeing her that night, of apologising, seemed that much more dangerous- forbidden almost. But he had to do it. He owed it to her as her friend. Even if that’s all he could ever hope to be.

Nino still hadn’t finished setting up, and a few other members began helping him in their eagerness to get started. As a result, Adrien found himself more alone with Marinette than ever.

They sat down on the floor, controllers in hands, side by side. Their shoulders brushed, like they always did.

Adrien swallowed, wishing he’d worn a t-shirt instead of the woollen monstrosity currently overheating him.

He was fairly sure he was going to lose the game spectacularly.

His fears were proved right when, later that evening, Marinette’s knee brushed against his own and he ended up sending Donkey Kong careening off the end of Rainbow Road.

It was going to be a long night.

***

For the fifteenth time that evening, Marinette called herself an idiot.

Because she was an idiot. An idiot for standing on her balcony, an idiot for hoping lightning would strike twice in the same spot, an idiot for following her heart…

Tightly wrapping her cardigan around her, she gazed out into the mocking skyline. The bitterness of the cold February air was nothing compared to the bitterness she felt building up like sludge in her chest. Bitterness in her fortunes, bitterness in her decisions, bitterness in her own feelings.

Distantly, Marinette thanked the stars that at least it wasn’t as cold as it usually was. She was thankful she had a tiny shred of dignity left at least- that she wasn’t freezing to death in the vain hope that Chat Noir would show up again.

She reached up, fingers brushing against her lips, and remembered.

Furious with herself, Marinette shook her head, as if the rough gesture would expel all the unwanted memories from her mind. Honestly what was she doing acting like a silly sixteen-year-old with a crush? Again?! It was desperate, obsessive, ridiculous-

And totally in character if she was being honest with herself.

She needed a break. A breather. A respite from her own whirlwind emotions regarding the man in the black mask, the man who’d held her heart for longer than she cared to admit to anyone- not even Alya.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Marinette let out one last frustrated sigh before turning on her heels and making her way back to her room. Maybe her room would be less of a reminder, would save her from her torment.

But, as usual, fate had other plans for her.

Because, of course, Chat Noir happened to be standing there as if he’d suddenly popped into existence.

The shock of seeing him sent Marinette stumbling backwards with a cry, tripping over a flowerpot and tumbling to the ground.

“Whoa!” Chat called, rushing forward to catch her just in time. One hand gripped her flailing wrist, the other pressed against the small of her back as he pulled her towards him.

For a moment, both of them froze in place. Chat’s fingers splayed across her back, and she briefly felt the edges of his clawed-gloves scratching gently against the fabric of her cardigan. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine before she could control it.

Chat’s eyes widened and he stepped out of their half-embrace with awkward, jittery movements, casting his face away from hers. “Sorry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry I shouldn’t have startled you. I guess I have a bad habit.”

Bad habit huh? Marinette had one of those too.

The silence which settled on them both was heavy, uncomfortable, and borderline unbearable. It was laden with memories of the night before, swirling around them, echoing in their minds as though they were standing in an empty theatre, watching their mistakes projected on a screen with no means of escape.

Because it was a mistake… wasn’t it? She hadn’t meant to kiss him, he probably regretted kissing her back. That was why he was here- of that she was sure. To think he was here for any other reason was just asking for a broken heart.

But, oh god, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not to her. She couldn’t ever consider it to be such.

Finally, Marinette could take the silence no longer. Taking a deep breath, she fixed a smile onto her face, painted a picture of a girl who had herself together at least a little, and placed a hand on her hip.

“No rose tonight?”

Chat’s cat-ears twitched. He peered over at her with a puzzled frown before he realised she was teasing. Something dark crossed his eyes and Marinette forgot how to breathe. The look was gone before she could concentrate on it fully, and she found that he was smiling back at her.

“Err, n-no. No. That is- I mean- unfortunately not,” he replied with his signature bow. “But I do have something far more important.”

“Oh really?” Marinette squeaked, inwardly cringing at how lame she sounded. She’d wanted her voice to be sensual and teasing, but instead it sounded like she’d inhaled a ton of helium instead. Clearing her throat, she tried again, arching her eyebrow for good measure and all the while thrilled at the fact that he was simply there. Chat Noir was there. He’d come back to her. “What’s that?”

“An apology.”

Marinette’s blood ran cold.

“About last night,” Chat continued, shuffling from foot to foot, completely unaware of how Marinette’s body, mind, and heart had seized up all at once. “I feel like I made a terrible impression. I- well- I’m not the type of guy to do… what I did.”

From the depths of despair and panic, Marinette felt the faintest hints of confusion. She latched onto it. Confusion was better than rejection.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice small and vulnerable, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Well I’m not really a playboy or anything, despite what the media likes to speculate about me. I don’t kiss strangers on balconies. I guess, I didn’t want you to have the wrong impression about me.”

When Marinette hung her head, Chat felt a wave of regret wash over him. He’d practiced what he wanted to say, over and over again but it never seemed enough to fully explain himself- not without revealing to her that he was Adrien Agreste and he’d been lying to her this entire time. He was too afraid of the ramifications of that- so he needed to end this now- before he hurt her.

Damn it, he’d gotten so close though. So close to knowing what they could have- what they could be.

But it was a fantasy. Chat Noir was a large part of him, but it wasn’t all of him. The person he was behind the mask was locked away from Marinette, was a separate entity in her eyes.

Who was he fooling? They couldn’t be together. Not like this.

He had to try harder as Adrien and if she rejected him he would simply pick up the pieces of his broken heart. He would respect her, be her friend, move on, and certainly not use Chat Noir’s hero status as a means to trick her into loving him. She deserved better, deserved the world, even if he wasn’t the one to give it to her.

That’s why he had to leave. Right now. Being here, being this close to her, was crumbling his resolve. Every cute gesture she made was another step closer to his damnation. He had to leave before he said or did something he’d regret, before his principles were lost to the wind.

“It was Valentine’s day. I guess… it’s easy to get swept up in the romance of the day, right?” Marinette said. She was smiling, but the sparkle in her eyes was dulled somehow. Once again Chat’s attention was drawn to the green ribbons in her hair, as she quickly tucked a few strands behind her ears. He couldn’t bring herself to speak as she grew distant, deep in her own thoughts, and her shoulders raised. “But if we’re being honest Chat, I was worried you’d see me in a bad light too. Like- I mean- I’m not the kind of girl who kisses random celebrities and I’m certainly not the type to blab to the press about it either.”

“I didn’t ever think you were,” he uttered, swallowing thickly, and a little bit of sparkle returned to Marinette’s eyes. Her cheeks turned pink again.

Chat felt his claws digging painfully into his palms.

“Well… that’s a relief. I mean I always admired you,” Marinette stammered out the confession before she meant to, quickly covering her blunder with half-truths. “You know you saved me once- from an akuma. You didn’t notice me at the time, and it was years ago, but I never forgot.”

Chat felt as though he’d been physically struck by her words.

He’d saved her? He’d saved Marinette? And he hadn’t noticed her?!

“I wish I’d seen you,” he said before he could help himself. The rest of his desires remained unsaid, as new possibilities, new what ifs, formed in his mind- like an alternate reality.

Chat inwardly cringed. No way in hell was he going to get any sleep that night.

“I wish you’d seen me too,” Marinette admitted.

Chat’s hand was halfway to hers before he yanked it back, his heart beating wildly, his mind screaming at him to leave. The pull was almost tangible, magnetic, drawing him closer to her. It was dangerous, and he needed to leave.

“I hate to be a sundae, but I have to split!” he laughed, high and fake, all the while cringing at what was perhaps the worst pun he’d ever made. And that was saying something.

Marinette didn’t say anything, but laughed once.

Ok, she thought, maybe she was ridiculous, but he was equally so. Maybe that’s why she loved him so much.

She watched him make his way to the edge of the balcony and something stirred inside her, the raw feelings which had sparked when their lips had met woke from their slumber, and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Chat?” her voice matched the soft tremors echoing through her body, and she tried to remember to breathe. She couldn’t let him leave like this, she’d been so close. “How about…one last kiss?”

Chat stilled, statue-like. His lips parted, and Marinette panicked.

“I mean!” she corrected, face turning to flames, “I mean sorry that was dumb- so dumb. It’s just that I- I liked that kiss and I thought- I don’t know what I thought- but I wanted to-”

His lips crashed into hers, and the rest of Marinette’s sentence was lost forever.

Chat kissed her, kissed her with a resolve thoroughly destroyed and a heart so indescribably owned; owned by her, possessed by her, consumed by her. His hands were frantic, and Marinette matched him in every way as they pressed into each other. Her fingers gripped the back of his head, tangled in his hair, and pulled him closer.

Like he needed an excuse to get closer to her.

The pair of them moved apart to breathe, great shuddering breaths, and then their lips were together again- as neither of them could stand to be apart for a moment. Chat’s fingers slid from her hands to grip her hips, a primal, dark part of him triumphant as he heard a moan slip from Marinette’s mouth.

They stumbled backwards, towards the wall, and Chat pressed her against it, hands roaming her sides- never going too far- always listening to her reactions. Desire coursed through him, a need to please her, to make her moan again, without pushing too far.

She must have sensed him falter, sensed his caution, as a frustrated hum rose from the back of her throat, almost like a purr of her own. Her hands moved from his hair, gripping the bell around his throat, and she tugged him down towards her, kissing his neck.

Chat was having a hard time not passing out from that alone, but then she rolled her hips, making it so there wasn’t a sliver of streetlight between them, and he was fairly certain he died and was reborn on the spot.

Dangerous was the word whispering in his mind, the word he was ignoring as his hands cupped the sides of Marinette’s face, tilting her head back. She arched into him again, countering his movements like a dance, and he gasped.

It felt too natural, too perfect… almost…familiar.

Dangerous he thought as his tongue flicked against her lips.

Dangerous- he thought as her mouth opened and he was rewarded with another moan.

Stop. Stop before you can’t, he pleaded with himself as Marinette’s hands wrapped around his shoulders, her fingernails scratching against his neck.

He didn’t stop.

They kissed for what seemed like hours, passion moving from an explosive force to one of slow-burning sensuality, settling into a rhythm that was far too natural, but neither of them could bring themselves to mind.

It was a long time before Chat could bring himself to leave her, to stop kissing her. It was addictive, intoxicating, and filled with promise. For months his heart had been starved, yearning and wishing, and now it was real. Their kisses were real, her affections were real.

And so was her voice, ringing out in the coldness of the night, in answer to his question, “May I see you tomorrow night, Princess?”

There was a pause, both of them treading on thin ice, ice which slowly creaked and groaned beneath their feet.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the ice shattered, plunging them both into unknown depths.

(art to follow)

3

middle-earth meme: three deaths [3/3] -> gandalf the grey

Gandalf really ‘died’, and was changed: for that seems to me the only real cheating, to represent anything that can be called 'death’ as making no difference… He was sent by a mere prudent plan of the angelic Valar or govenors; but Authority had taken up this plan and enlarged it, at the moment of its failure. 'Naked I was sent back- for a brief time, until my task is done’. Sent back by whom, and whence? Not by the 'gods’ whose business is only with this embodied world and its time; for he passed 'out of thought and time’. Naked is alas! unclear. It was meant just literally, 'unclothed like a child’ (not disincarnate), and so ready to receive the white robes of the highest. Galadriel’s power is not divine, and his healing in Lorien is meant to be no more than physical healing and refreshment.“
[The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, (#156)] 

“May I hug you?”

“When I ask you if you want to do something, you know it’s always okay to say no, right?”

“Let me know if you get uncomfortable, okay?”

“How do you feel about (x activity)?”

(When someone’s insecure about having said no and asks if it’s okay/if you’re mad or upset they said no) “I’m disappointed, of course, but I’m really glad you were willing to tell me (no/that you were uncomfortable/etc.). That’s really important to me. Thank you.”

“I’d ALWAYS rather be told no than make you feel pressured or do anything to hurt you or make you uncomfortable.”

“I care about you, so when something I do hurts you or makes you uncomfortable, I want to know, because I don’t like making you feel bad.”

“Wanna do (x)? It’s okay if not, but I think it would be (fun/worthwhile/prudent).”

(When starting a social phone call): “Hey, are you busy right now?”

(When confirming plans made earlier): “Hey, are you still up for doing (x) at (time) on (day)?”

“Can I vent a little about (x)?”

“Can I tell you something (gross/depressing)?”

“Are you comfortable talking about it?”

“Do you think you could talk me through this problem I’ve been having? If you have the time and emotional energy of course.”

“It’s okay if that doesn’t work for you.”

“I’m interested in spending more time with you. Would you be interested in doing (x) together on (y day)?”

“No? Well let me know if you ever want to do something else.” (leave it open! don’t nag! let it go!)

Consent culture - it’s about way more than just sex!

Give people as much freedom as possible to make their own choices without pressure or control.

Even children deserve as much autonomy as allows them to remain safe and get their needs met - remember, you can’t train a child to make good/safe/healthy choices without ever giving them choices. A child who is taught to respect consent is a child who doesn’t assault people! A child who knows they have a right to say no is a child who knows that someone who infringes on their autonomy isn’t supposed to do that.

A consent-conscious relationship is a healthier and safer relationship, and a person who is aware of and deliberate about asking for, giving, receiving, refusing, and being refused consent is a healthier and safer person.

If I’m worried that someone may feel pressured to say yes, I like to give them a script for how to say no to me. It usually comes out something like “Do you want to keep doing X, or not so much?” To which people often echo “not so much”, or whatever phrase I’ve used. It’s both unambiguous and easy.

@thatdiabolicalfeminist posted this originally but i cant reblog idk i think they blocked me idk why lol

monthly fic rec: may (pt.1)

- dance to the distortion by lis (domesticharry) (96k)

Louis accidentally breaks Harry’s camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.

- far away by jackstylinson (57k)

Harry swallows hard, clearing his throat. “Hi Lou,” he says, looking at Louis reluctantly. He’s even more gorgeous than he remembers, so much, he feels uneasy looking directly at him, he’s so beautiful.

Louis looks at Harry, does a quick once-over and smiles, eyes so bright and blue—just how Harry remembers. “Harold!” He gets up out of his seat and embraces him into a warm hug. It’s a friendly platonic hug; one that ends way too soon. Harry wishes it would last longer so that he can breathe Louis in and memorize his new but somehow still familiar scent. It instantly leaves his body aching for more.

Harry returns to London after five years. Stuck in the past with “what ifs” and “what might have beens”, he sees that his friends and ex (and possible love of his life) Louis have all moved on with their lives while he finds himself questioning his own life choices, past and present.

- it had to be you by fullonlarrie (45k)

A When Harry Met Sally AU.

Harry and Louis are strangers who share the drive from Chicago to NYC after college. They don’t have anything in common, don’t get along, and at the end of their trip, they’re both glad to say goodbye. During a chance meeting five years later, they find that nothing has changed, and they part ways expecting never to see each other again. Ten years after their first meeting, Louis and Harry meet once again, but this time they become friends. Eventually, things get complicated.

- the afterlife fic (the best i ever had in my entire life… or death) by lovingcup (491k)

AU- After dying in an accident, Louis Tomlinson arrives in the Afterlife. Not Heaven and not Hell, Louis finds himself in Judgment City UK: a pristine city where the food and entertainment are divine and the newly departed must undergo a Review of their life on Earth to determine if they have lived a life worthy of advancement in the universe, or if they must be returned to Earth to be born again in a new body.
On his first full day in the Afterlife, Louis meets Harry Styles, and the two have an instant connection. Over the course of their Reviews, they fall in love and begin to find that even though they didn’t know each other on Earth, they are nonetheless linked to one another in perfect ways. Both are hoping to move ahead in the universe together, but they are challenged with the threat of separation if one or both of them is sent back to Earth to be born again.

Keep reading

Second Chances (m)

Word Count: 8,833

Warning: Yoongi smut

A/N: I decided to write something a little less serious for a change! The smut turned out a little longer than I expected it to, which is also why the story turned out so close to 9k :) I am so thankful for minyoongiish who proofread this entire piece <3 Hope you enjoy~


If you had the ability to turn back time, you wouldn’t even hesitate to use it in this moment.

“Y/N?” The voice on the other end of the telephone asks. “Something the matter?”

“Oh no,” you mumble. “Fuck.” With one finger, you frantically tap the screen, desperately clinging to the hope that this is still in your hands, that you can still turns this around for the better.

Jimin’s voice sounds both curious and irritated at the same time when he speaks again. “What did you do this time? Did you put your keys in the freezer again?”

You can’t even be mad at his terribly timed comment that you’d normally be very offended about. All you do is curse softly, reading the simple message you sent like it’s a death wish.

You: Hey :) [sent 11:27am]

“Jimin!“ you exclaim, and are rewarded with a startled gasp.

"Yeesh, don’t scare me like that!” He lets out a sigh. “Stop acting all mysterious and just tell me what’s going on.”

You tap the screen again, despite knowing that it won’t help now if it didn’t help last time. A nervous gasp leaves your mouth as you turn your attention to the call. “How the fuck do I delete a message?”

Keep reading

Edgli wtf
  • Bavadin: So we all agree: investiture can't be given to just anyone.
  • Leras: Yes, my mistings will only be able to awaken their abilities in a moment of true need. Like, beaten half to death, in a coma for a week bad.
  • Tanavast: I felt a more emotional test was prudent. My Radiants will all be dysfunctional human trainwrecks.
  • Edgli: ...
  • Edgli: If someone dies in a cool enough way I'm gonna use Investiture to glue their cognitive shadows back to their physical bodies.

prompt: ssmonth day 23, it was always you.

summary: innumerable heart of the wind / fluttering over our silence of love.   -pablo neruda

note: i missed writing for you all. ssmonth is like christmas. ❀

she’s different now, and he can’t help noticing. were he less prudent, he might have asked the dobe just what it was that made her scurry off to work each time he came around, or why it was she could look him in his stupid face but never at sasuke. he wonders if he wears it on his face each time, the seed of disappointment that digs deeper and deeper into his gut. “she needs time,” kakashi spoke to him one day, his nose deep in the pages of his orange paperback, “give her that, she’ll come around.” this was a level of transparency sasuke would never get used to.

he isn’t certain just when he started keeping mental tabs of her weekly schedule, only that he made it a point to be at hokage tower in the early evenings on tuesdays and on thursday mornings, or near the hospital just about every other day. false coincidence was the name of the game. their encounters were as brief as a short walk down the street, or up the stairs; the leisure of conversation would occasionally bring a soft smile to her face. but something always turned sour, something silent and nagging within her eyes. gaze averted, she would excuse herself to her tasks. peace times were packed with daily tedious work; sasuke never could have imagined hating the sight of her walking away as much as he did now. he definitely never imagined going as far as asking naruto.

“does she hate me,” he spoke one day, a tone low enough that it hardly escaped the low hum of life on the street outside of ichiraku.

naruto set his bowl down mid-sip, and sasuke felt his gut seize up. it couldn’t be a great sign when the human ramen vacuum stopped eating.

the blonde scratched his head, pensively, “it’s definitely not that…” blue eyes grew more reluctant, his foot tapped nervously, “she says she’s just…not sure.”

not sure? sasuke wanted to say, about what? about me? about my character? about loving someone who has quite literally just hurt her over and over and-? sasuke composed himself, “she said that?”

naruto nodded, “i guess she just,” he shrugged, “doesn’t know what you want.” he was silent at this, feeling the tension collect in his shoulders, along with the ever-increasing sinking feeling he experienced when he tried to begin to fathom what he might say to her. 

“hn,” he finally responded, pushing his empty teacup away.

blue eyes turned to meet the side of sasuke’s impenetrable expression. “what exactly do you want, sasuke?”

sasuke put his half of the tab down and exited the stand.


it’s friday, roughly half an hour after her shift at the hospital has ended. he figures just a half hour off work, she’d be taking her time, ambling her way home at a calm pace. it was a nice night. there were three discernible routes from the hospital to her house. the road most traveled crossed through the akimichi bridge. she loves that stupid bridge, he notes, crossing through the various channels of the village, wondering all the while if he has his timing right. the red of the bridge comes into view as he crosses a corner, eyes searching wildly for any trace of pink in the falling night. there, he catches sight of her at just the other end of the bridge, crossing leg after leg down the lane, face upturned to the stars. he wants to stay there, in the shadows, witnessing the small joy of her walking home on a clear spring evening.

just her, and a stupid bridge, and the stars.

he can’t help himself as his feet start carrying him across the bridge, or his voice as it rises up to meet her, “sakura.”

and he can’t help the way his mouth goes dry and every salient thought shoots directly out of his mind as she looks at him with those damned eyes. he wants to tell her just how suffocating it is when she looks at him like that. 

she doesn’t open her mouth to speak, but she looks at him, and for a moment, he wonders just how much she knows.

“i don’t know why it is things aren’t normal for us,” his voice is even, if only a little too low, “and i don’t know why it seems like neither of us can say something-” he stops. her eyes are steady on his own, he finally notices, unblinking, sincere. suffocating.

“you’re looking at me,” he says.

“you’re looking at me,” she somewhat shrugs, her voice low.

“you never look at me.” anymore. he doesn’t mean to be confrontational, but his eyes do not waver. 

green eyes grow deeper in their dolefulness, “i don’t always know that i can.”

this, he tries to breathe, i didn’t account for this. suddenly, every memory comes rushing into him, a life of regrets he can’t swallow and words, actions, he can’t right. pink hair flying into the open air, lost; emerald eyes searching for goodness where it does not live. please, sasuke-kun. he feels for a moment he might just blow away, ashes into the wind, just scattered. her eyes are so clear even in the dark; he knows he’s been here before. all those years ago, looking at her just as he is now—it’s been so long, and she’s finally here.

“sakura,” he speaks her name, hoping she can feel for a moment just how good it is to say it. she looks like she’s preparing, her eyes are dry, bracing for the force.

“i’m going to kiss you,” he says, taking steps toward her, “if you don’t want that, that’s okay. but i’m going to, if you let me.”

her face is composed and beautiful in the moonlight, a graceful yet indiscernible pain growing in her expression as he draws closer. prudently, he reaches his hand up to move the hair from her face. his breath hitches in his throat as she closes her eyes, allowing him to sweep his thumb down the length of her jaw. something stirs in her expression, softening slowly.

he places a kiss on her lips, soft and grateful.

holding her face in his hand as he pulls back, he speaks, “i can’t stay here.”

she opens her eyes at his words, the pain in her face deepens in the slightest, but she does not look away.

“but please let me know i can keep coming back.” to you.

thought consumes her expression as she looks at him now, as she reaches up to touch him. he relaxes beneath the graze of her lithe fingers on his face, wondering absently if he would ever wish to feel this again should she reject him. nothing feels like this, he knows. no one is like her.

“as long as you keep coming back,” she speaks in a voice even and assuring, hands clearing the hair from his eye-line. her gaze is strong, holding his own, keeping him on the ground.

sasuke wishes to stay here forever, breathing her in, frozen in this night.

unabashed-skyrocket  asked:

Wait what's this about cassandra clare being a plagarist? I only half-read one of her books and it was pretty terrible...

I got a lot of asks about this and I really don’t want to go into it too much cause boy howdy do I not want to bring the wrath of her or her friends anywhere near me. I didn’t survive the fandom wars to go out like this.

I’ll preface this by saying: no one behaved well. There were hackings and threats and fans taking “justice” into their own hands (doxxing), and someone even got thrown out of college because of it and any of us with any sense took several prudent steps back and hid from the fallout that ensued.

CC was a prolific fanfic author for the Harry Potter fandom, she wrote a lot and had a devoted following of fans and while it might seem redundant to accuse a fanfic writer of plagiarism, CC was known for lifting direct lines from other media. Some argue this was part of a “game” like “spot the fandom” sort of thing, but at the time in the 2000s when fanfic sites existed at the mercy of IP holders and without the protection Ao3 affords us, and fanficers were being actively pursued and sued by writers for creating fanfic of their work, these direct “quotes” (and they were not just “quotes”, there were entire paragraphs and pages of her work which if you ran them through plagiarism software it’d spit out entire screeds of other works) was particularly dangerous for fandom and I feel in part goes toward explaining some of the acerbic vitriol aimed towards her—rather than the simple spiteful jealousy her fans like to cite.

There were also some claims that she stole from other fanfic writers, though I can’t find any sources. In fact you will find it remarkably hard to find any “reliable” sources. That’ll happen when you have lawyers and a PR teams to scrub you as clean as they can in order to sell original books. 

And while Mortal Instruments seems to be her own work, (debatable given it’s sort of her fanfic work rehashed, so idk how to make head nor tails of that mess) in 2016 the author Sherrilyn Kenyon attempted to sue over her Shadowhunter series for plagiarism, and while certain things were never proved…eh…I haven’t wanted anything to do with her or her fandom since the early 2000s. And that’s all I’m going to say.

I wanted to ask you this question specifically because I think we’re in similar situations. I’m applying for a four month intensive that will give me a Developmental Disability Counselor certification and a fast track to employment in this field. The only catch is that I will have to take a course called “Introduction to ABA”. I realized that in order to get to what I really want (changing the system from the inside and being able to truly live “Nothing about us without us”), I’m going to have to submit to the ABA course and recognize that it’s probably not the venue to start explaining why it’s bad. I was also advised to use “Asperger’s” on my application (since disclosing is actually my selling point in this situation) instead of “Autistic”. 

The actual question is: Is it OK for me to do these things? I feel like I’m betraying my community by doing this, but I do have my eyes on the prize, and I realize that in order to get through the door, I’ll have to make some sacrifices. My adviser told me that once I’m employed there will be room for me to start improving things for us, but do you think the community will accept that I’m doing this for the time being?


Oh gosh, I love this question so much because it deals with a whole lot of really big things that are also really hard things.

When it comes to ABA, you are right. You have to get through the class in order to make the changes you want to make. Without, you are excluded from the positions of power that allow you to affect the most change.

So take the course. Don’t just take it though, excel in it. Be the best student you know how to be. Ask questions - not to be subversive or discredit the practice - but to learn everything about it that you can. It is perfectly valid to learn the ins and outs of ABA so that you can undermine it.

It is so exceptionally important that the people who have been abused by ABA are the people that lead to fight against ABA. But having working knowledge of the practice from the other side is another important aspect of that fight.

Pathos and ethos are equally important in that each has a role in affecting the people around us. Some people are going to be swayed by the emotionally charged appeals of those who have suffered abuse, while others are going to be swayed by the appeal to authority. Those of us who have been through ABA are the emotion, those of us who learn it are the authority.

When you put those two together, you have the most universally convincing argument possible. I wish we could just take people at their word, but I’m also a realist, and recognize that in the world we live in, we need both voices.

Even so, there are ways that you can be subversive while also attending the classes. Let’s take person first and identity first language, for example. Most people are going to push for person first. You can say that you prefer to use autistic, which is the standard used by the self-advocacy groups like ASAN.

If anyone calls you on it, you have two routes: 1.) state that APA guidelines allow for identity first language or that 2.) if they would like you would be happy to provide a citation for the use of identity language. In fact, it is not exactly uncommon in academic publications that use identity language to see a citation for a study on the need for identity first language. I suggest adding one of the common citations for that into MS Word so you can insert it easily in your preferred (presumably APA) formating.

You can also reframe questions in ways that don’t make accusations but do get other students thinking. Instead of saying, “ABA causes PTSD,” for example, you can ask a questions like, “I read that some people that went through ABA were later diagnosed with PTSD. Obviously ABA does what it is supposed to, but how do I address parents’ concerns about harmful effects? Are there any studies you can recommend regarding long term effects?”

I have yet to have anyone do anything other than blow that question off, but honestly? That’s all you need to start changing the minds of people who are open to change.

Keep yourself educated on studies in other types of therapy. CBT has proven effective, and so has putting the parents through “Awareness” training (put another way, ABA to make the parents understand autistic perspectives). Seek things studies out, and if you have the opportunity use them. Have to write a paper on ABA? Rather than frame it as ABA is bad, frame it as self-advocacy groups have pushed back against ABA, do their arguments have any merit? Cite long term studies on ABA or the lack thereof, and frame it as, “if the advocacy groups are ever going to be onboard, these studies need to be done to address these concerns.”

This, btw, is pretty much how I handle all of my psych classes. Rather than assault the institution directly, I ask questions that I know are loaded or unanswered and leave it at, “it seems prudent to address these concerns.” This is especially important with ABA because while it is awful for many reasons, it is effective. Like, it does what it claims it does. So don’t even try, at least not in that setting. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be subversive even as you toe the line.

As for the whole Asperger thing, I wouldn’t personally do it because I’m that girl who would dare someone to turn me down on the basis of my autism, but I absolutely do believe that when you’re dealing with the hierarchy of stigma it is okay to call yourself an aspie or an HFA.

The simple reality of it is that people who want to work in that field are a dime a dozen. There just is not a shortage of people. In order to Change the World from the inside, you have to play by their rules, at least for a little bit. If you don’t, they will just ignore you.

Put another way, respectability politics of any kind is bullshit. But I have no problem at all playing respectability politics to subvert an institution.

There’s a theme in all of this that I want you to consider: You are using their tools against them. That is so, so, powerful when fighting for marginalized individuals, and there is nothing wrong with it. It is and always has been the primary strategy of subversives throughout history, for good or bad.

I have a lot more thoughts on this, but this is already long so I’m going to call it here. Keep your eye on the long fight. Let those of us who can fight the now fight. We need both.

naruto characters driving

sasuke: abysmally bad driver. my hc is that he cant see almost anything and is always squinting but refuses to wear glasses. VERY stressed and angry driver. wouldnt know how to parallel park even if his life depended on it (“HOW do you not know how to parallel park, sasuke” “im gay leave me alone”). always LIGHTLY crashes and leaves scratches on other parked cars and just like. leaves. also fuck speed limits

naruto: also awful but like its not his fault he just cant pay attention. gets distracted by the outside surroundings all the time. his car is a dumpster full of random papers, takeout containers, and some random shirts that he never bothers cleaning up. doesnt care for speed limits either but like in a different way than sasuke (enjoys the wind. sometimes doesnt even realize hes above the speed limit)

gaara: gaara is a very responsible prudent driver, it just happens that he also sucks at it. like dont get me wrong hes def the best out of the 3, but hes also like an old granpa who drives at the speed of a snail. overcautious n easily overwhelmed. also he didnt get his license until he was already an adult living with sasuke n naruto bc previous to that he always had a private driver. cannot and will not drive a car w a stick shift. has no idea how to change a tire

ino: baaaaaaaaaaaaad. applies makeup while driving. talks on the phone while driving. texts while driving (i dont condone this yall). “oh i love this song!” [turns volume to the max until u cant hear anything else and feel like screaming]. stereotypical girly driving like cher in clueless

sakura: the ACTUAL only good driver here. can parallel park w terrifying ease. knows how cars actually work and how to change tires and do all of that stuff. doesnt drive recklessly fast but also not like an old lady. 

hinata: doesnt know how to drive bc she had a private driver too and after she moves shes just like “oh lets just take an uber” “its a 2h drive” “oh no problem. im gonna call one”

anonymous asked:

Hello Squiggly! I really like your art and it's very nice to look at all the wonderful art you've drawn!! I have one question though, what is a good age to start building a following, like you've said in a post in the past? Just asking for a friend. :>

Hmmmm.

My knee-jerk reaction is to say “START NOW.”  But a better answer is to say: age doesn’t matter so much as maturity does.

That’s a super hard thing to judge, of course.  When I was twelve, man, I thought I was as mature as my parents.  I felt the same up through ‘til I was, like, eighteen.  The reality is that I was a teenager.  I wanted to be taken seriously, I wanted to see myself as mature, and of course as a result I was a terrible judge of my own maturity level.

I started posting my art online when I was, like… oh, god.  Looking back, the first drawing I posted online was back in June 2012:

https://squigglydigglydoo.tumblr.com/post/24508201022/made-this-the-other-day-you-ever-get-that

That puts me at age 17 when I started trying to build an online presence.  It wasn’t for another good three years until I started being actually successful at it.  A lot of that, I gotta chalk up to the fact that I was very immature at the time – certainly, my art was nowhere near what I can do now, but even if my art had been at a higher level back then, I’d have been far too immature to behave properly online in the face of any significant audience for my art.  Like, trust me – most of my personal posts from that time are long gone, but I was EMBARRASSING.

I think the best answer I can give you is: start when you think you’re legitimately ready, and when you do, always do your best to be prudent about your online behavior.  Nobody’s perfect; I act like an idiot pretty frequently on here.  But especially on a website like Tumblr, where the community can be so incredibly nitpicky and judgemental, you gotta be aware of who your audience is going to be, and of the behavior that’s cropped up within it in the past.  There are battles to be picked and fought, and battles to be ignored, and battles to be shut down the instant the first tantrum is thrown.

Kind of a roundabout answer, I guess.  Sorry about that.  Basically: start when you’re ready.

“Don’t.”

“What?” Alfred says, looking at him innocently. When Arthur’s expression only flattens, the other man’s voice pitches up. “What?

“So help me, Alfred…” Arthur warns him. “I’ll know. You know I’ll know.”

Alfred sits back in his chair with a huff, his aura—which is amusingly pink for such a masculine fellow—dappling with light blue sparkles of a mild sulk. “God, this is so not fair.”

“Mhm,” Arthur agrees. He sips his relaxing tea and tries to remain dignified.

“You know I’m gonna wanna peek if you’re not willing to tell me what happened.”

“No,” Arthur says lightly, like scolding a pet dog that appears tempted to root through a garden.

Alfred’s aura darkens legitimately now, which tells Arthur that it’s time to throw his poor lover a bone.

“If you must know,” he concedes, “I failed to stop a bank robber.”

Keep reading

Zelda's Log#4: Getting Reacquainted

A/N: I am back to life!!! Good news: I recovered nicely. Bad news: my PC is dead.
Updates will be slower until I got a new one, since I’ll be working mostly from mobile.

Enjoy this chapter, the Master chef moment is courtesy of @starstruckfemme
—-

‘Goddesses Impa! What did Purah did to you? Did she experiment her weird​ rejuvenating rune on you?! Link, why didn’t you tell me before?!’

The young Sheikah woman was in complete shock to see who was talking to her, more than being confused for her grandmother. Link contained a laugh at Zelda’s remarks.

‘G- grand-m-mother?’, Paya’s voice trembled, as if she was seeing a ghost. 'you have visitors’.

Impa rushed to the door, recognizing already the voice.

'Princess!’, she gasped, eyes full of emotion.

‘It is I indeed, Impa’, her voice cracking, hardly containing​ her tears. 'it’s been so long’.

Both women greeted with a tight, long hug.

'Come inside’, she requested, 'We have so much to talk about. And this is Paya, my granddaughter, Princess’.

'Nice to make your acquaintance, Lady Paya’, she offered her hand, 'You are the spitting image of your grandmother one hundred years ago!’

‘Nice to meet you, Princess’, she shook Zelda’s hand, less nervous than before, after the compliment.

The guests made themselves comfortable, as Paya served food and drinks for all.

‘Several events have occurred since we defeated the Calamity’, Zelda informed her friend, 'Link and I went to Zora’s Domain, and Vah Ruta has a new master, Prince Sidon’.

'Well that’s quite the surprise!’, Impa’s eyes widened, 'I have a guess someone we know would be quite shocked’.

'She was indeed’, Zelda showed the picture she had taken with her Sheikah slate. 'Purah was raving with my findings’.

Impa’s surprise to see her elder sister’s appearance was quite evident.

'Goddesses, she looks like a kid!’, the old woman gasped, 'Paya, look at your aunt!’

'Oh my!’, the young woman shared her grandmother’s surprise. 'What happened to her?!’

'Occupational hazards, I suppose. Apparently, her rejuvenation process stopped’, Zelda explained. 'She is working on a rune to revert the process, even if it’s a little’.

'Considering her prior result, she might end as wrinkled as me!’, Impa laughed heartily, her voice echoing in the room.

'At least she would go out and see us at our house’, Link joined the chat after wiping out his food, 'She is always locked up’.

Our house?’, Impa’s eyebrow raised.

'We’re living in Hateno Village’, Zelda clarified, 'Link bought a house there. It’s nice’.

'That means we will be able to see each other often’, Impa noted. 'Just like old times’.

3.15 p.m. I am so delighted to see Impa again! Despite her age, she is still active, leading the Sheikah and Kakariko Village. Her granddaughter Paya is her spitting image, although quite the opposite in personality (she is really sweet, but shy).

Kakariko hasn’t changed too much in all this time, but its population has dwindled progressively. Paya seems to be the only teenager - the only Sheikah around her age might be Granté, Robbie’s son, who lives in Tarrey Town… which gives me an idea, but I think it would be prudent to save it for later. I will tell Link about this, once he wakes up from his nap.

Zelda’s musings were interrupted by two little girls.

'I have never seen you before’, the older girl observed, 'My name is Koko, this is my sister Cottla. What’s your name, miss?’

'I’m Zelda’, she introduced herself. 'Nice to meet you girls. I came to visit Impa’.

‘I saw you arrive in a pretty horsie!’, the little one asked, 'Can Cottla braid its hair?’

‘Sure, little one!’, Zelda agreed with a smile.

In the end, Zelda gave the girls a little stroll on Storm - sporting a new style with braids and cherry blossoms mixed in its mane- and the sisters later braided her hair as thanks, her long strands turned into a thick fishtail braid with flowers.

‘Hello girls!’, Link approached them, stretching his laziness away. 'Having fun with Zelda?’

Koko and Cottla nodded.

‘Is she your girlfriend?’, Koko asked. 'She is cooler than you’.

‘Yes, she is’, he answered, trying to contain a laugh. 'I know. She is awesome -he lowered his voice- but don’t tell her’.

'Do you like sweets?’, Koko enquired​, 'I’m trying to learn how to make cakes’.

'I would love to try your cooking, dear’, Zelda answered with a smile.

'I can teach you how to make cakes!’, Link offered, 'I know a super secret recipe’.

Koko’s eyes lit up at the proposal, and with her sister, joined Link and Zelda to gather the ingredients.

Soon the cooks were practically competing on which one would make the best fruitcake on Kakariko Village.

'Link, dearest’, Zelda approached him while he made a mixture with cane sugar and butter, 'care to remind me how old are you to be competing with an actual child?’

'She started!’

Zelda decided not to push further, and joined Cottla on the benches.

'Koko is a really good sister’, the youngest girl told the Princess, 'she cares a lot for Cottla and Daddy since Mama went away!’

They are orphans, Zelda guessed. Poor sweethearts.

'They are the daughters of one of the guards, Dorian’, Impa and Paya joined them out of the blue. 'Lovely girls, aren’t they?’

'Indeed, Impa’. She patted the head of the young girl, who held to her like a vine to a rock.

'Is Master Link…?’, Paya’s eyes squinted at the young man, furiously cooking.

'Yes, Paya dear’, Impa and Zelda answered simultaneously. 'It’s just what you think’.

'He is so different from what I was used to see, you know?’, the young Sheikah commented.

‘How so?’, Zelda asked.

'He was all determination, always on the run, never resting’, she explained, 'Now he is free from his burdens, it’s as if he was reborn into the most authentic version of himself’.

Paya’s observation elicited a sincere smile from Zelda. 'It’s just like you said’, she reaffirmed.

Few minutes later, both cakes were on the table, the women testing the cooks’ skills.

'Koko wins by a landslide’, Zelda emitted her verdict. 'Sorry, darling’.

Zelda was surprised at the childish pout he sported the rest of the evening. Never before she would have seen such… expressiveness. She had to make a conscious effort to not laugh whenever she made eye contact with him, he eluded her gaze, with his lips pursed in a pout.

8.39 p.m. Link has surprised me again. He is the most crusty, salty, sore loser I have ever seen. He lost a cooking contest to an eight-year-old girl, and he is holding the most petty grudge against me for choosing little Koko over him.

Anyway, I should be looking for him. We depart tomorrow morning to Gerudo Desert.


10.05 p.m. I finally found Link near the Great Fairy Fountain. He was less pouty, almost back to his usual self. He commented next time we visit, he is going to have payback.

Oh, Goddesses. What have I done to deal with this.

On an unrelated note, Impa and Paya will visit us once we get home. Impa wants to see her little big sister with her own eyes (and probably wants to see I’m not living in a grotto or a cave, considering she’s always been on the more proper, protective side), and I think Paya will be thrilled to see the world outside the Village; maybe she will find a boyfriend there, who knows?

Witch Au Fic Rec

The Sweetest Incantation 40k

Harry has been alive for decades, and yet he’s never been as confused and dumbfounded. He’s a witch, for God’s sake. Can’t get much weirder than all the magical things he’s experienced throughout his lifetime. Never in a million years, however, would he have expected to be mere inches away from a hybrid.

Or: Harry is a witch who’s still working on developing his powers and Louis is a werecat who falls into his life and turns it upside down.

love is divine 25k

Being a witch doesn’t help when it comes to unrequited love.

you’ve got this spell on me (everything you do is magic) ˜3k

Harry accidentally turns Louis into a cat. He doesn’t know how he’s going to fix it, but he does know he’d better do so before he has to deal with Louis’s wrath.

come on, jump out at me 7k

(first one of the domestic monsters series)

Harry is a witch from a long line of power, an ancient line that’s one of the strongest left alive in their hemisphere. He can cast spells without a word if need be, fly on a broomstick, and has a black cat (a kitten, really) named Felix that is his animal familiar. He can shape galaxies in his cupped hands and can destroy them just as easily. He can choose exactly how to use his power, for encouragement and support, or for more nefarious causes if he wishes to.

And as fate would have it, he’s scared of haunted houses.

(Harry is a witch who carries around a stuffed pumpkin, Louis is a vampire with too much time on his hands, and their best mates Zayn & Niall aren’t exactly what they seem…)

wherever you are is the place i belong 10k

(second one of the domestic monsters series)

So a witch, a vampire, a werewolf, and a siren all move into a house together… It’s not a joke, it’s Harry Styles’ life, but sometimes it feels that way.

(Niall and Zayn get jobs, Harry cleans out his feelings, and Louis learns some very interesting things about one of his new flatmates…)

spaces between us hold all our secrets ˜20k

(third one of the domestic monsters series)

The house in Greater Gloomingshire just gets stranger and stranger: Mysterious comings and goings, sneaky glances, and secrets that nobody seems willing to share. Yet.

(Zayn threatens Louis with bodily harm, Niall wolfs out, and when it comes to investigating his flatmates, Detective Harry is on the case!)

i wanna reach out for you (i wanna break these walls) 31k

The wolf’s out of the bag, the witch is out of the broom closet, the siren’s out of the ocean, and the vampire’s out of the…coffin? Everybody knows about everybody now, but it’s not always so easy, rooming with the supernatural.

(the household shifts and changes, Detective Harry is on the case again, and Louis has to come to terms with who he wants to be.)

if i didn’t have you, i’d never see the sun 16k

Everything changes when you have a roommate who doesn’t Get It.

(Liam has trouble with inanimate objects, Harry blows things up, Niall is a brat, and Louis finally talks about his life B.V. - Before Vampirism.)

you will find me in places that we’ve never been 12k

1313 Willow Wisp Lane has seen many things over the course of its long life as a house, but never has it seen a surprise party consisting of an undead king, a witch who can conjure sunlight, a werewolf who doubles as a pastry chef, and a mystery.

(Louis reveals more about his past, Harry makes it rain, Niall makes food, and everyone wonders about Liam.)

i’ll make this feel like home 42k

It’s St. Patrick’s Day at the house in Greater Gloomingshire….in September.

(Liam’s “secret” is revealed, Zayn returns, Niall eats some cupcakes, while Harry and Louis both have to face the past - and the future.)

when the wolves come out 62k

Halloween is swiftly approaching; now, if only they could enjoy it.

(Gemma comes to visit, the crows may or may not be spies, and a spirit is laid to rest.)

we will find a way through the dark 31k (wip)

Louis is tired of running and Harry’s got his back.

(Harry sort-of exorcises a ghost, a Mustang is destroyed, and Louis discovers travel by mirror is not at all what it’s cracked up to be.

Far Afield 11k 

  • (part 1)

Harry Styles is a witch who owns the best flower shop in Manchester. Lottie Tomlinson is planning her wedding, and brings her brother along to her first appointment. Both men have been having a bad day and sparks fly.

Suited for You 4k

  • (part 2)

“Louis Tomlinson, you have had that suit for almost ten years. It is time to get a new one, and it is time to get a good one.” Unfortunately, he could tell his mother wouldn’t budge. The discussion was over. They said goodbye, and Louis immediately dialed his sister Lottie.

She picked up straight away, “You have to get the suit, Lou.”                          

“Argh!” Louis yelled, hanging up on her. He missed his old flip phone, hanging up on someone was so much more satisfying.                                   

Louis’ family convinces him that he needs a new suit for some upcoming special events in his life.

It’s All Been Done (Before) 17k

  • Lilo 

Zayn isn’t normal for two reasons. One, he’s a warlock. Two, he’s Crown Prince of said warlocks. Witches too, actually. Not Wizards though. Those imbeciles give magic a bad name. Especially the one named Liam. He’s particularly awful. It’s too bad that they end up falling in love.

Through centuries of war, revolution, art and innovation; Zayn tries to stay away from Liam, until he can’t

Bewitched 160k

“So what’s your problem, mister?”

“I’m married to a witch.” says Louis, disbelievingly, shaking his head slightly, swirling the ice around in his shot glass. “My spouse is a witch.”

“Cheer up.“ says the Bartender “You should see my wife.”

Louis doubts that his wife is a real spell-casting, cloak-wearing, cauldron stirring, witch, like his new husband, Harry.

But, Louis suspects that nothing could surprise him anymore. Not Harry’s magical friends, not his literally disappearing sister or even the way that Harry’s able to clean a kitchen in 2 seconds.

Louis had always thought that Harry was charming, he just didn’t know how much.

Adaption of the hysterical and wonderful 1960’s tv show, starring, of course, 1D; each chapter is self contained within the universe.

Spellbound 62k (wip)

Louis Tomlinson leads a charmed life. Not because of his good job, nice house or the fact that he’s happily married; despite all those things being true.

No, Louis lives a charmed life because of the fact that his best friends, in laws and (perfect) husband all happen to be magical beings.

And just as he’s getting used to things like his sister in law literally popping in unannounced, or watching his husband turn people into animals, a new bundle of joy arrives and throws a wrench into the works.

But, you know what? Louis wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sequel to Bewitched

a long way down (to the bottom of the river) 24k

“ Most people would call Harry silly for believing in curses. Childish would also be a probable insult thrown his way. In their little town full of little people, Harry’s whimsical nature and beliefs mean that he’s subjected to frequent judgemental looks and whispers. It doesn’t usually bother him. Most people don’t know about the magic thrumming through his veins or about how powerful words can truly be. Most people don’t carry around their ancestors grief like a burden. They don’t have to pay for deeds hundreds of years old like Harry and his family have. They get to love freely without fear.

Harry and his kin aren’t so lucky.”

a practical magic au in which Harry and his sister accidentally kill her abusive boyfriend with magic and Louis is the D.I working the case.

wash him deep where the tides are turning 3k

"When Harry finally tells Louis about his family’s curse and the true love spell that broke it, they’ve been dating for seven months, nineteen days and about twelve hours and Louis’ cock is buried deep inside his arse.”

Part two of a practical magic au.

taken by the wind 8k

When he decided to move to London with his sister, Harry thought he would finally get to learn how to control his magic. He couldn’t possibly have predicted that he would fall for her neighbour.

Or the one where Harry is a clumsy witch and Louis is making everything worse just by existing.

baby, we could be enough 3k

  • ot5

A few weeks later, they’ve finally begun to settle in, and it’s time for Liam’s first in-home transformation.

He’s dreading it.

Keep Me In Your Pocket 3k

Louis has been living in a teapot since he was miniaturised by a witch, but Harry is determined to break the curse.

take a sip from my secret potion (falling in love) 6k

After running away to Pendle, Louis is being haunted by some angry spirits, and so he seeks solace in Worst Witch Harry Styles. Louis is looking for a potion to fix his problems, but the answer may be a bit simpler than that.

Nocturnal Creatures Are Not So Prudent 24k

  • Witch!Louis

Louis spins a finger in midair, like he’s indicating someone to turn around, staring pointedly at Liam as the faucet turns itself on and the can rinses itself in the sink behind him. Liam, moon burn him, doesn’t rise to the bait, choosing instead to lean back on his stool and wrapping his hands around his own mug.

“Anyway, like I was saying and that you were ignoring, there’s this new club near my school and I want you to go with me. Could do you some good, getting out once in awhile.”

Louis is a white witch with a little black cat named Hemlock and a best human friend Liam (they’re a lot like Samantha Stephens and Louise Tate). When he’s dragged out to a new club Liam’s heard about from a friend and classmate, Louis comes face to face with that which witches do not touch: a charming vampire by the name of Harry.

Everything You Do Is Magic 5k

October is a month of magic. Most carry on with their lives thinking that leaves change color from science and that the pumpkins no one has seen growing all year actually came from the ground. But others know the truth. That some possess the power to create life and take it away. Harry was one of those people.

(or the one where Harry and Zayn are witches, Liam and Louis are new in town, Niall may or may not be magic, and Harry thinks nothings better than the feeling of magic, till something is)

Try Refusing A Million Times (But You’re in Love) 16k

Harry’s a witch selling tea and sweets in The Umbrella, a shop he and his best mate Niall have just opened. But on ‘Official Opening Day’ he runs into Louis, and there the chaos ensues when Harry’s magic trickles into Louis. With Niall and Zayn at his side, it’s a regular quest for love: either Harry gets his magic back from the forbidden Louis whose dating Liam, or he performs a dark ritual on himself to save himself from Louis’ madness that he most certainly will not survive

anonymous asked:

how come you prefer book!Sansa to show!Sansa? The first is a victim and very passive while the show counter part is empowering and has more agency

De gustibus non disputandum est, but IF YOU ASK,,,

  • While I do know and understand show and book are different media and I do not think that one is automatically inferior to the other or that we have to have a carbon copy, I do tend to prefer official derivative works to stick to the original as much as possible out of respect for the author who created the characters. He picked certain traits and, whether it is important plotwise (TPODG: Basil’s faith in good that leads him to die) or symbolically (TPODG: Dorian’s gold hair like a cherub bby angel of purity when he’s not pure at all), we should respect the reasons those are there to start with. Especially when a work is NOT finished so we do not know what is going to be important or not in the future or a red herring.
  • It narratively makes little sense in correspondance to her relationship with Arya that has been often described as being the opposites and yet needing each other. In the moment they come to share a core trait of the other’s personality or story line (eg, vengeance and brute force use is a core point of Arya’s SL) it damages not only the independency of the story lines and the characterization of boths but it kind of limps also the eventual knot of their own relationship between each other.
  • It seems to be derived more by poor writing rather than anything else, especially given the fact to Ellaria happened the same exact thing. It seems like D&D can give us only one type of woman: revengeful and violent , in a sort of algid beauty or badass/ice/evil queen trope which tbh is acceptable but when all your characters seem to go in the same direction it is called not being able to differentiate personalities. Like… is writing more than one female mind hard?
  • Not all characters need to be empowering. Some characters are meant to depress and shock, some are meant to sweeten and heal, some are meant to make you reflect on the shades of grey, some are meant to make you broken so that others can make you whole and some are meant to empower, some are meant to hold different function for the readers vs the characters (eg, Jeyne P. shocks and moves us readers but heals and push-to-action Theon) and also for different characters (eg, Sansa is very healing for Sandor and exploitable/strumental to Petyr). I think there is ton of empowering characters in ASOIAF without need to make every character empowering. Also what someone can find empowering can be less empowering to others. Some victims of abuse found Tyrion killing his father empowering, to me it felt tragically greek and shakespearean , some people found Theon saving Jeyne P. the sad tale of two survivors who are not going to end well anyway, I personally weeped like a motherfucker at “Theon grabbed Jeyne about the waist and jumped” because to me it was pure catharsis. I also personally don’t find killing people empowering, in the case in point.
  • The world is vast and full of many types of people. While some ofc will come to violence and revenge, I find the stubborn sweetness and the subtle tender idealism that Sansa still holds (at time despite her own wish to) a beautiful thing to see. She’s an abuse survivor but she didn’t let it made her bitter and cold. She got wiser, more prudent, trusts less, but her heart is still the sweetest and she still actually believes in doing good and be kind, she just is now aware the world is not perfect and b/w. She still holds her values tight in her heart - her skin may have turned to steel but her heart is still soft and I think this is also a good thing to show, that abuse won’t necessarily turn you into someone else.
  • Book!Sansa is not passive imho, she is in a very castrating situation. Book!Sansa is gracefully strategic. She knows who she is playing against, she knows she can’t count on power or force so she counts on her brain and manners. That doesn’t make her passive. Being active doesn’t mean simply the brute force. Sansa actively changes the life of the Hound (whether you see this romantically or not, does not interest me) , she saves Dontos Hollard’s life AND the mother with the children’s corpse by manipulating Joffrey, she endured abuse and proved herself brave in front of the worst, she tries to comfort others in times of difficulty, she does manipulate people with a certain skill, plays her role as Alayne splendidly. Maybe it’s not exactly as “out there” brave and active as Robb starting a war, but I wouldn’t define her passive just for her weapon of choice. Or whether she kills people or simply gets what she wants.
  • THIS GORGEOUS POST - “But one of the things that I love so much about this series is that violence isn’t treated narratively as the only, default, or best option, and the characters who prefer to and excel in finding and implementing non-violent or minimally violent methods of resolving conflicts get as much (or more, depending) authorial respect as the out-and-out warriors.”
  • If you like show!Sansa great a+++ you do you, but don’t tell me my daughter is in any way inferior because she uses her brain to overcome situations instead of tying someone to a chair and making him get eaten alive by dogs. I understand for some is important and cool to see an abuse victim to get back at their abuser, I’ll still wish they used another character (one maybe which whole character wasn’t about “true knights”, “make them love me” and “gentle the rage” idk …. ARYA?  DANY? ANYBODY ELSE?) and I still stand on the fact that not searching for a physical revenge doesn’t make you more of a victim or more passive. There are not good and bad victims and there are not active and passive survivors.
!READINGS OPEN!

Hey guys! As y’all know by now, I’m am quite a bit short on my college funds: I need $2,000 in order be able to afford the required meal plan (with “financial need” not being an adequate reason to be taken off it). I’m currently working on pricing for art commissions, but in the meantime, I thought it prudent to open back up my divination readings!

These are pay-what-you-want readings I’m offering. You can choose to give me nothing, $1, $10, etc. I’m offering tarot, cartomancy, stichomancy, and astragalomancy readings, all over on CardinalReadings, where my PayPal button is also located. I’m also up for pretty much any kind of reading, including things like past life spreads, yes/no questions, relationship readings, etc. 

Click HERE for more information specifically regarding reading requests. 

Click HERE for the FAQ.

witch fic rec (9 fics)

i just wanted to do a small fic rec of magic/witch aus! i didn’t dig too deep so i will probably be making another part if i find more fics!! as always, i hope y’all like these and drop by my ask with requests! 💖

please take care and check the tags on these before reading!

❉ - means you need an ao3 account to read!

you’ve got this spell on me (everything you do is magic) byteenagedenigma (2k)

Harry accidentally turns Louis into a cat. He doesn’t know how he’s going to fix it, but he does know he’d better do so before he has to deal with Louis’s wrath.

Keep reading

Survive Or Die - E.D Part 2

Requested: hello! can you please make an imagine of either of the twins but in the world of the walking dead? thank you! ☺️
Warnings: I said the f bomb, like once
Summary: Your all alone in the zombie apocalypse when Ethan saves you from yourself. He takes you back to his compound, but it seems far to good to be true. Is it?
A/N: I lied, the second part is also a story filler cause ya girl loves character development, but STICK WITH ME, IT’LL GET GOOD I PROMISE

Part 1 

“Welcome to my home” he said calmly as the corner of his mouths tugged upwards into a small smile. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. This situation was flawless and I know I have to be vigilant. We started walking throughout the compound as I scanned and noted every single house and feature that may be important. The houses were impeccable, as various residents walked the streets or continued to complete the tasks they had been assigned. I have to admit; the layout of the community was quiet intelligent. There were multiple gardens filled with crops, and planned breeding programs with farm animals which I can only assumed was their main food source. There were multiple water tanks and what looked like some handmade water systems which collected and cleaned the water received by natural rainfalls. The fences were extremely tall and well-built with what looked like multiple layers of metal, wood, and maybe barb-wire, but was it to keep things out or in? Multiple questions rambled through my mind as I thought out every possible way to escape if I needed, but as far as I could think of, the only way out, is the only way in.
“We’re going to go meet our leader, Mark. He’ll determine if you stay or not” Ethan spoke sternly, judging my character as his eyes drifted from my feet to my face. I could tell that he was precautious of my presence, but he was far too kind. It was almost like everyone here hadn’t seen the world outside these walls. They haven’t suffered like I have. They haven’t had to fight to stay alive. 

We stood in front of quiet a large building with two story floors, and overwhelmingly tall wooden doors. Ethan knocked three times in a constant pattern as they shifted, opened by two guards on the other side. He strutted forward which made me assume that he held a position of importance within this community of people, which means if I should befriend anyone here, it should be him. I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings, more so I was analysing all the guards, their weapons, and evaluating if I could make it out of here alive if it turned into a warfare situation. My odds were few.
“Well hello. Welcome to our home!” a booming voice spoke loudly from the front of the building. Before me stood quiet a large man with grey hair and kind eyes. He looked strong, and maybe ranged from the ages of 40-50, but it was hard to tell in this lighting.
“Do you speak?” he said peacefully, with a large smile. I nodded my head prudently. 
“You have no reason to fear me” he stated, much like Ethan had before. It sounded rehearsed.
“I don’t mean to be rude sir, but I will be the judge of that” I hiss bitterly, talking a small step backwards.
“I can only assume that you’ve been through many struggles during these desperate times, so I won’t take your hostility as offensive. I understand that you are in pain, but I would like to state that however nice we are, we are no pushovers and will not hesitate to act against violence. Now, you are welcome to stay here and be housed in either a small home or with other people. We have hot water and food, but you will have to work for it.” He instructed, as he paced forward towards me. I stood my ground and tried my hardest to keep an open mind about the whole offering. If this was true, this was heaven and an opportunity I should at least see through till the end. And if it was a trap, I’ll have to find a way to escape anyway, so it’s best to play along.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t met anyone out there that has been as kind and welcoming as you and your people. I would love to accept your offer if you will have me. I can fight, forage, and shoot pretty well if you need another guard. I used to cook before this all happened, but I don’t know how good I am anymore” I admit.
“We can figure out your new job tomorrow, for now, why don’t we find you a home so you can clean up and rest. I’m sure you are excited to sleep in a bed” he chuckled. God, he was right.
“She can stay with me” Ethan spoke up. I had forgotten he was here until he spoke. I turned my head to look at him, trying to gage his intentions, but as far as I could gather he was just being kind. Odd.
“That sounds like a great idea! If it doesn’t work out, we can find a home for you somewhere else. I forgot to ask, what is your name love?” the leader said gently.
“Y/N” I forced a smile.
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you”.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Well, here we are” Ethan said, as he signalled towards his house. It was quiet beautiful to say the least, and definitely well kept. It had a white exterior with a grey-tiled-roof, and various pot plants on the windowsills facing the road. He opened the pale wooden door for me, as I stopped to take my shoes off at the door.
“They’re muddy, I don’t want to make a mess” I say softly, bowing my head as I step inside too take in the sight before me. The house had white walls and beautifully polished wooden floors, with furniture to match the homely theme. I spun around on my heels, as my jaw slacked at the sight.
“Your house is beautiful” I choke out.
“Thank you” he said proudly. He continued into the kitchen as I followed suit. The sight made me jump up and down like a kid at Christmas time. The kitchen had white cabinets with grey, marble tops, with several kitchen appliances scattered perfectly on the surfaces. A wooden-carved dining room table was a couple of feet away, with matching chairs. The whole house was extremely well lit, and past me would have been ecstatic with the ‘photo opportunities’ but now it just made it feel like home.
“I’ll show you around the rest of the house” Ethan muttered as he headed back into the hallway and opened up another door. There was the bathroom which, had a very similar look as the kitchen with a large, deep bathtub underneath the window.
“I can’t remember the last time I had a bath, or a shower for that fact” I giggle. Did I just giggle?
“You have quite a beautiful laugh Y/N” Ethan smiled widely at the sound. I smiled back as I stepped out of the way so Ethan could continue the house tour. He lead me into the main bedroom which I could only assumed was his, which was extremely clean and well kept, and then the guest bedroom which Ethan told me was now mine. It was plain, but beautiful all the same. A few art decorations hung on the wall, with a double bed in the middle and various cupboards situated around the room.
“I’ll have one of the ladies bring you in some clothes, in the mean time you can wear some of mine” he said sternly, his cold exterior returning. I muttered my thanks and stood there awkwardly.
“Why don’t you have a bath and I’ll leave some clothes and towels outside the door for you?” he said softly. A part of me jumped for joy. I know it sounds silly, a girl getting excited over a bath? But when you haven’t had hot water touch your skin in months, you start to crave the oddly simple things.
“That would be lovely” I said slowly as I walked towards the bathroom and shut the door behind me

~ ~ ~ ~

“Y/N, we have to leave now!” my mother shouted from the car as I quickly packed everything I could and shoved it into a bag.
“Why?” I shouted back as I grabbed a couple of random clothes and filled my backpack whilst I sprinted out the door and jumped into the car.
“I’ll explain on the way. Where’s your brother?” she panicked. I jumped out of the car and raced into my brother’s room as he cried.
“Jason, why are you crying. It’s going to be okay, I’ll help you pack” I said calmly, knowing I had to be strong for him. I threw his bags over my shoulders and grabbed him by the arm too dragged him out of the house as quickly as I could without hurting him. I made sure he was safe and buckled up before I did my own seatbelt. Mum launched the car down the street, speeding past various families doing the same, throwing there things in the boot of the car and leaving.
“Mum, what’s going on?”.
“We have to go pick your father up from work. When we get there I’ll explain” she huffed. I looked out the window trying to understand my best of what was happening by observation, but all I could see was the world being torn apart. There were some blood splatters on the street and a few random blood curdling screams. I turned to look at my younger brother as the colour faded from his face. I grabbed my phone and shoved my headphones into his ear, turning the music up loud so he couldn’t hear and couldn’t see what was going on.
“Mum, what the fuck is happening”
“You know that television show I told you to stop watching before bed?”
“The walking dead?” I quarry.
“Yeah well, that”.

“Everything okay in there?” Ethan’s voice boomed from outside the bathroom door. I hadn’t realised I was having a flashback until my forehead was covered in sweat and my body was trembling.
“Yeah, everything’s fine” I shook. I heard Ethan’s footsteps move down the hall as I slid out of the bathtub and grabbed the towel and clothes he had left and got changed.  I quickly tried to dry my hair as much as possible, but it was a mess as half of it was mattered and knotted. I didn’t have time to brush my hair out there. I used to have beautiful hair. It used to be long and healthy, and I would curl it whenever I went out to a party or on a date. Now? It was long, dull and destroyed.
“Hey, can I ask a favour?” I said quietly as I walked into Ethan’s room as he was preparing some of his clothes for me.
“Yeah sure?” he said warily.
“Can you cut my hair?”

4

Yugioh Arc V Manga Volume 1 Special One-shot Chapter!

Credit to Kankurou on NAC

Yuya: -It’s noon, huh… I’m fed up of preserved foods, guess it won’t hurt to have lunch outside once in a while…
Yuya: -I wonder what I should eat… (something about eating on "Oomori Ramen")

Yuri: -That’s outrageous!

Yuto: -That’s right, only Yuya can eat whatever he likes outside…
Yugo: -Let us pick something we like to eat too!
Yuya: -What are you guys saying? The one who’ll be eating is me, am I right?

Yugo: -If you switch places with us, then we too will be able to get the feeling of tasting real food!
Yuya: -But then it’ll be as if I didn’t actually eat, won’t it!

Yuto: -If we have to pick something for lunch, it really should be “Curry”, after all…
Yugo: -Nope, it clearly should be some “Tongatsu” soaked in oil!
Yuri: -Lately, it seems like Yuya has been lacking physical training… For the sake of our beauty and health, it would be prudent to skip lunch…

Yugo: -Skipping lunch is completely out of question! We’re having Tongatsu!
Yuto: -Currey!
Yuri: -We are going on a diet!
Yuya: -Listen when someone’s talking, geez!

Yugo: -Yuya picked “Ramen”, right…?
Yuya: -Y- Yeah…

Yugo: -Then, let’s settle down who gets to choose!
Yuto: -Very well! But unfortunately, only Yuya has a Duel Disk…
Yuri: -In that case, let’s decide it with Janken.

Yuto: -Let’s do this!
Yugo: -Let’s go!
Yuri: -Here I come!
Yuya: -Ack, geez! Janken…

Yuzu: -It’s decided, then! We’re having noodles!
The Yus: -Whaaaat?!