you have many options in life

I’m slowly coming to accept that you’ll always have a big impact on my life – even though you’re no longer in it. Meeting you changed me as a person and so it’s natural to expect that you’re always going to affect the way I think and feel about things. I have accepted that there are going to be reminders and that they’re going to make me sad… but forgetting you is not an option because there were so many positive things you brought into my life that I wouldn’t change for the world and I try to hold onto those because they’re worth saving…
And I hope that somehow you know that you’ll always mean something to me – even if I don’t mean anything to you anymore. I hope you know that I will always love you… in some way… in some form… But most of all, I’d like to think that I still impact your life in a positive way, even after all this time. I’d like to believe that every once in a while when you think of me; it’s not with regret… but with a smile…
“I need you” Sentence Starters

aka my life and yours are two parts of a whole

  • “I can’t do this without you.”
  • “Don’t let go of my hand through this, please.”
  • “If you walk away everything will fall apart.”
  • “All I want is your lips against mine right now.”
  • “It wasn’t just a one off for me; it was me hoping you’d see the connection.”
  • “We’ve been through everything else together.  This is no different.”
  • “You’re my other half.”
  • “There’s no one else I’d rather have with me than you.”
  • “You need to help me, I can’t do this alone.”
  • “I’ve never felt alone since you came into my life.”
  • “What am I supposed to do if you walk away?”
  • “This distance is killing me.”
  • “Don’t let this distance tear us apart.”
  • “I need you as much as you need me.”
  • “Letting go was never an option.”
  • “All the time did was make me realize that you’re supposed to be with me.”
  • “I’ve made so many mistakes, but you’re not one of them.”
  • “I need you to help me reach the top shelf.”
  • “Two people aren’t this made for each other so easily.”
  • “You’re worth any fight.”
  • “I’m crying on the floor and nothing’s right, but I know you can make this better.”
  • “I’m way too drunk to be driving, so I was gonna walk home– stay on the phone with me, okay?”
  • “There’s this couple’s contest, and I know we’re not dating, but the grand prize is this big ass load of food– help me.”
  • It doesn’t matter if you need me; you broke everything.”
  • “Everything’s really shitty right now.  So how about you get in this car with me and we drive to wherever for however long?”
  • “I’ll go if you go.”
  • “I’ll only do this if you help me.”
  • “I can’t depend on anyone else, just you.”
  • “Thank you for always being here for me.”
  • “You could call be at any time and I’d drop anything if you needed me.”
  • “All you have to do is show me that you feel the same.”
  • “I know that I need you, but sometimes the feeling doesn’t seem reciprocated.”
  • “I’m pathetic, because I go to you for everything, but you’d pick someone over me any day.”
  • “Can you give me a ride?”
  • “I didn’t tell anyone else I was leaving… You deserved to know though.”
  • “I’ll still be here when you get back.”
  • “Isn’t in terrifying that we both couldn’t go without the other?”
  • “This ring proves that I’m always here for you.”
  • “Come here, let me give you a hug.”
  • “My date stood me up, can you come with me to egg his/her car?”
  • “My date stood me up, can you come pick me up?”
  • “The lights don’t shine as bright when you’re not here.”
  • “I can’t deal with us drifting apart anymore.”
  • “I feel like I’m gripping with all my might and you’re not even lifting a finger.”
  • “My friend locked me outside naked.  Help.”
  • “My friend needs to see I’m dating someone so they’ll stop including me in blind dates–yes, I know we’re not dating, but still.”
  • “I don’t call you my partner in crime for no reason.”
  • “Can you come over so I don’t feel so alone anymore?”
  • “You ran to get here this quickly?!”
  • “I need you.”

Send a name and a sentence xx

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)

kaz and inej accidentally adopt a child and kind of reform ketterdam in the process?

because @mathiashevlr and i have been screaming about this for days, i felt it necessary to share this with everyone else

  • everyone knows that you should fear kaz brekker and inej ghafa. he rips apart businesses and destroys careers; she slaughters slavers and ruins their ships. but the kids? there are children out there that know kaz and inej are, in a way, fighting for them
  • kaz looks out for the kids that are like him and his brother. there’s so many other kids like kaz and jordie who were scammed and suffered just the same and never managed to get revenge like kaz could, but now? pekka rollins fled the city. he’s never coming back. kaz and inej did that, and it doesn’t bring back the lost families and money but it is satisfying as hell to know he’s had to lose everything, too.
  • so kaz comes across a kid who’s lost everything after being drawn in by promises of wealth and a new life. the kid looks at him, terrified, and then kaz says “it happened to me too”
  • this kid looks at kaz and thinks if he can do it then why can’t they? and seeing kaz as the toughest most terrifying barrel boss goes from something threatening to something empowering because it happened to him, and look where he is now!
  • at this point kaz and inej are in a steady relationship and they kind of, without meaning to, adopt this child because they have nowhere else to go and it’s better than ending up on the streets. (also kaz will never admit it, but he has a soft spot for this weak little child)

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Growing up asexual

You are twelve and your best friend kisses you the day before moving away. He’s nervous and shy, and the kiss is soft, but there are no sparks and no butterflies in your stomach. You are left feeling weird and uncomfortable, like there’s something wrong with you.

You are thirteen and your classmates talk about their crushes and how much they want to kiss them. You listen from a corner but don’t join the conversation. You don’t have a crush on anyone, you wouldn’t want any of their mouthes close to yours, so you can’t add anything to it. One of them still turns around and asks you about your crush. No one believes you when you say no one. The next day there is a rumor that you love one of your friends.

You are fourteen and come back home to find your living room busy with relatives. You join them and for a while everything seems fine, everyone is talking about embarrasing moments, and telling funny stories, and saying lame jokes. But then one of your aunts smiles conspirationally and winks at the other adults, and starts questioning you.

“You must have a boyfriend, someone as pretty as you!” She beams, and everyone gathered agrees. “So tell us, who is your boyfriend? Who do you like?”

You try to laugh it off and get out, and feel uncomfortable about it all, but they keep asking and keep asking and so you say the first name that comes into your mind (because your classmates didn’t believe you and you almost lost a friend because of it). That satisfies them for now and they all commend you for your good taste. No one notices you slipping out of the room until much later, and they all think it’s because you’re a teen now.

(Not one of them thinks that maybe they made you uncomfortable. No one thinks that maybe you would rather not talk about things like this.)

You are fifteen and have resigned yourself to the feelings of isolation. Your friends talk about masturbating, about sex, about the hot people in the class. Your classmates still ask you who you are crushing on. Sometimes you say a random name, and sometimes you claim to be too busy with your homework to worry about love (which seems to be a good enough excuse), but in the privacy of your mind you still wonder.

You look at women, trying to feel any sort of attraction towards them. You even try kissing a friend, but you feel absolutely nothing. You conclude that you can’t be neither homosexual nor bisexual. The logical leap to this is that you must be hetero, since those are the only options.

You try to make yourself fall in love with a boy, then. You stare at the so-called cute boy of your class for hours, waiting for the magical spark to appear. You try to make yourself love a boy based on his clothing. You try to understand what the hell is it that people are talking about.

You waste days, weeks, months on this task. You never succeed.

You are sixteen and you know you are broken. People still ask you about love and sex and crushes, and you still lie for fear of being different, of being alienated, of feeling even more isolated than you already do. You know you will have to marry one day, because marriage is mandatory no matter what you feel. So you resign yourself to pretending, to keep up the act. You try and keep trying not to let it bother you, but the idea of sex, of marriage, of love, all of it makes your stomach churn. You try to pretend you aren’t broken, but you know you are.

You are seventeen when you first see the word asexual, somewhere on the internet. You end up looking that word up, and find a website dedicated to it. There are hundreds upon hundreds of comments in the forums, but you first read the FAQs.

‘Asexuality is not feeling sexual attraction’, you read out loud, barely a whisper, as something inside of you clicks. It makes sense. It makes sense but you ignore it, and convince yourself that you do feel it (because there was that boy you thought looked pretty and that girl you considered cute), and you think the only reason why you don’t really fall in love and want sex is because you are broken. You know this to be true.

You close all of the tabs related to that word. For the next weeks you pretend to never have found it, but it’s always at the back of your mind.

(It’s a chance of being whole, your mind whispers, and you deny it because you are normal. You’ve been trying to be normal for so many years and you must be, have to be, will be…)

Asexuality fits with your life. You are broken, but maybe you aren’t alone.

You are eighteen, and you are more informed now. You have accepted that you are asexual (ace, as the community calls it), and you are somehow much happier now. You know you aren’t broken, now. You know this is an option that was never presented to you before.

You finally come out to your family, feeling safe and secure and confident in your knowledge. Your family laughs. They say that asexuality doesn’t exist, that it’s impossible not to feel sexual attraction. They tell you that you are too young, that you’ll find the right person, not to worry, as if your biggest worry was to not fall in love, instead of not succeding in life. They act like idiots and apologize when it’s too late, and even as you accept their apologies your mind keeps whispering (but what if they are right, what if it’s true, what if you are too young, what if you are faking it, what if, what if)

Your family refers to asexuality as 'that thing’, and they never ask you questions about it. It becomes an unspoken thing. Something that must never be talked about.

Sometimes you feel like crying, but you don’t really know why.

You are nineteen when you come out to your friends. You have put a wall around the fiasco with your family, and you explain everything to them. Your friends are open-minded about it and agree that it fits with your behaviour. They ask you questions and joke about it, but always make sure not to be offensive. You smile all thorought the afternoon, and even once you get home.

A few weeks later one of your friends tells you they are terrified of the idea of being like you, or becoming like you. They say, with concern and real worry in their eyes, that they wouldn’t be able to live a life like yours, so uninteresting, so lonely. You tell them not to worry and don’t even cry about it. But there is a heavy feeling in your chest and a knot in your throat.

You are twenty and the world exhaustes you sometimes. You get tired of watching sex and romance be such an important part of the plots of your favourite movies and TV shows. You are tired of being told in very subtle ways that your orientation isn’t valid. You are tired of the looming threat of corrective rape, of people who hate on you for your sexuality, of stupid jokes and stupid tropes. You are tired of them all.

But you are also twenty and understand that you aren’t broken. You know you aren’t alone. So you wear your ace ring with pride and wear the colors of the flag during the awareness week, and are ready to talk about it with anyone who listens. You are tired of being silenced, so you will yell until you get hoarse if that’s what it takes for the world to listen.

You are twenty, and you accept yourself, and even if things get rough, they can also get better.

tttickingcrocodile  asked:

The foxes find out that Neil actually killed people while on the run.

Looks like tonight is jut a writing night for me lmao I’m not complaining. 


Even in hindsight Neil could never have seen this coming. He’ll look back on it later and still have trouble untangling the series of events that, over the last few weeks, had led him here. 

First, Riko’s “suicide.” When the news struck Neil was prepared, and he’d only been able to tell Andrew on the roof, torn between relief at Riko being gone and unease at the cold, cruel nature of the execution. 

Which is exactly what it was. An execution. 

He should have expected how fast news spread but it still knocked the wind out of him when Nicky came through the main hallway screeching like a bat out of hell to get all the Foxes to come out. He read the news article with a frantic speed, but his precise enunciation leaving no doubt about his words. Riko, the King, the Number One, had killed himself. 

Kevin’s knees go out from under him and the Foxes seem to collapse in on themselves, folding like wet paper dolls. It seems wrong to celebrate, especially with Kevin making pathetic gasping noises on the floor. But what else are they supposed to do when confronted with the death of the man who, for a year, had made their lives a living hell? Who’d made other Raven’s lives a living hell for longer? For, collectively, more years than he’d been alive?

Next had been Kevin’s consequent breakdown. They joked about Kevin getting alcohol poisoning constantly but it had actually happened and of course Andrew had been the one to find him. He’d been the one to take Kevin to the hospital, tell Neil who on command told everyone else, and the one to drag Kevin back to Fox Tower by the hair to let Wymack verbally flay him alive. And when Andrew had found Coach to be too sympathetic he’d interrupted and delivered his own stripping words that could be summarized as “Get your head out of your ass,” “you will be taking drinking lessons from Renee,” and the ever pleasant, “you have appointments with Betsy booked until you graduate.” By the end of it Kevin looked even worse, but some small spark of life in his eye said some part of him recognized this as Andrew caring. 

Thing began to get messy from there, moving over Kevin’s slippery slope to sobriety, the consequential decrease of over all alcohol consumed, and the subsequent replacement of drinking with other activities. Many things were suggested, most of them shot down by Andrew or Aaron, but the surviving options were (somehow) movie night, non-alcoholic game night, and bowling. Andrew had tried to shoot those down too but Neil had simply said in ever-improving Russian, “We need to do something, we can’t tell him not to drink to save his life and then bore him to death anyway.” Amazingly that had made Andrew let those options stand. 

Watching the Foxes go from throwing a small ball with a raquet to rolling a large ball with their hands is, needless to say, entertaining. He observes them now, of blacklight night, Matt’s teeth glowing faintly in a grin as he pulls ahead on points. Kevin hasn’t gotten over sulking and rolling the ball between his ankles yet, but with Renee cheerful by his side he can’t sneak anywhere to get alcohol. It just makes him sulkier. 

“Damn Neil, all that time on the road and you’re telling me you never once stopped at a bowling alley?” Nicky says, shaking his head and walking up to the front of their lane in his rented shoes. Neil rolls his eyes and shakes his head, leaning farther into Andrew. Andrew’s arm stays loose and heavy over his shoulders. 

“I don’t know why any of you are surprised by anything I say anymore,” he grumbles loudly enough for Nicky and the Foxes to hear him. 

“You know how it was,” he says to them with a shrug. Nicky hoots as he almost gets a strike and comes over to sit as Dan stands to take her turn. 

“I mean I guess,” Nicky pries, “but even though I know it wasn’t all action movie-esque I still picture it that way.” He snorts. 

“Of course the heroes always kill villains along the way in action movies so I guess that isn’t a very good way to think of it either.”

Andrew goes even stiller than normal when he feels Neil tense, and looks at him when he feels Neil purposefully roll his shoulders to calm himself. Kevin, on Andrew’s other side, feels he cushion shift with Andrew and looks at him, then Neil. Kevin doesn’t say anything but Allison’s attention is caught. 

“Don’t tell me you actually ki-” She starts in a harsh whisper and Dan, walking back over, swats her. 

“Allison,” she hisses and Matt gets up to take his turn but is obviously still listening. Neil shifts uncomfortably.

“We are not talking about this here,” Aaron suddenly snaps with a pointed look around, to the family on their right and the birthday party full of young children on their left. Everyone’s mouths snap shut but their eyes blaze with curiosity for the rest of the night. 

They don’t register who won and Neil hasn’t felt this cornered in a long time as they filter into Fox Tower. He’s stopped by a hand on his arm and jumps away from Allison and right into Andrew’s chest. 

“Back off,” he snarls over Neil’s shoulder and Allison scowls. 

“Fuck off monster,” she snaps at him and Neil glares at her, stepping away from Andrew and scowling. 

“Don’t call him that,” he snaps and hands come between them, Dan pushing him and Allison apart. 

“This is not the way to talk to each other,” she says with authority and both Neil and Allison pull farther from each other. 

“Good,” Dan says and turns her head to address Allison, but Neil beats her to it. 

“What do you want?” He says snappishly, tiredly, and Allison grinds her teeth.

 “You said you killed someone-” she starts but Nicky steps in, “he never said anything-”

“It was insinuated through body language,” Allison snaps and looks at Neil. Neil stares her down. 

“So what?” Neil asks, “is that what it’s going to take for you to take back what you all said after Baltimore? For me to not be a Fox anymore? Because it’s true,” he says icily and the word ‘true’ falls to the floor with a crash like a lead weight. 

“We were on the road for years. More than once we were cornered, or came back to hotel rooms or wherever we were sleeping to find my father’s men, and I didn’t have a choice dammit,” he snarls, reaching up to tug at his hair. 

“She made sure I could protect myself, and sometimes I had to, and sometimes people died but-” he says and he doesn’t realize he’s breathing too fast until there’s a hand on the back of his neck bending him over and squeezing. 

“Breathe,” Andrew snap at him and he gulps in air as Andrew pulls him standing straight again. 

“Neil we’re not going to abandon you for doing what you had to do,” Matt says firmly. Renee and Dan nod. 

“We didn’t mean to push,” Nicky says, even though it was Allison who did the pushing. Because of this Neil looks at her and her eyes are unreadable. 

“I’m not going to apologize,” she says, and of course she isn’t, “but I will say this doesn’t change anything. You are a Fox.” Neil nods slowly and the hand on his neck tugs him back to follow Andrew as he leaves and they retreat to the roof. 

“You’re going to tell me what went on those years,” Andrew comments. He’s not saying now, he’s not demanding, it’s a statement it’s a certainty. Neil knows he’ll tell him- 

“Eventually,” Neil admits and almost as a reward Andrew hands him a lit cigarette. 

“I’ve seen a ton on the facebooks about "thanking veterans for their service.” As a veteran let me just be very straightforward and honest with you. We didn’t “serve our country”; we don’t actually serve our brothers/sisters or our neighbors. We serve the interests of Capital. We never risked our lives or spent months on deployment away from our family and friends so they can have this abstract concept called “freedom”. We served big oil; big coal; Coca-Cola; Kellogg, Brown, and Root and all the other big Capital interests who don’t know a fucking thing about sacrifice. These people will never have to deal with the loss of a loved one or the physical and/or psychological scars that those who “serve”, and their families, have to deal with for the rest of their lives. The most patriotic thing someone can do is to tell truth to power and dedicate yourself to building power to overthrow these sociopathic assholes. I served with some of the most real and genuine people I’ve ever met. You’ll never see solidarity like the kind of solidarity you experience when your life depends on the person next to you. But most of us didn’t join for that; we joined because we were fucking poor and didn’t have many other options.“

— An anti-capitalist veteran

ACOWAR EXCHANGE

As we know all too well:

ACOWAR is COMING

Come May the 2nd, regardless of if you want Feysand to live happily ever after, you need Moriel to be canon, or you’re that one person who somehow thinks Tamlin is a Great Guy™, it’s a fair bet you are going to be emotionally destroyed. We can’t predict what will happen, but we’re all fairly sure it’s going to be brutal.

Thus, to prepare for The Day of Reckoning, I’m hosting a fanworks exchange to try and grasp one last shred of ignorant bliss out of the beauty of ACOMAF. If you wish to participate, please fill out the form included below and email it to acowarexchange@gmail.com. This exchange will function like a secret santa: everyone will be randomly assigned to a request, which has to be filled by April 25th. Whether they want to anonymously gift it or not is up to them. 

Rules will also be listed below. Fanworks can include artwork, fic, podfic, or really any medium you want to use, so long as you put some effort into it (Remember, someone has to defend their fragile heart against the forces of ACOWAR with this, so try and give them something to hold onto!). If you have any questions, feel free to message, ask, or email me!

If you don’t want to participate, please consider reblogging so that others can see this and hopefully it’ll inspire some people to create even more AMAZING fanwork for this wonderful, if slightly masochistic, fandom! 

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Emotional Writer’s Block

Anonymous asked: “I suffer from writer’s block. I’m in love and I can’t think of anything else. But even when I’m not in love, there’s this feeling that I just can’t write or I can’t force myself to do it while I do want to write. Any tips on this?”

This is one of those things that so many writers I know face yet no one ever really wants to talk openly about it. Writer’s block from something outside of “I have no good ideas” really seems to make some people uncomfortable.  One of the biggest reasons for my writer’s block when it comes up is solely emotional. When you’re having a bad day and are angry or sad or frustrated, you can’t get into the same headspace to write the way you would any other day. 

Love too is one of those emotions that makes it hard to write. I wouldn’t say it permanently makes it difficult but it can derail you for a few weeks or even a few months if you let it. People have all different reactions to falling in love and in some cases, with writers, it might mean it’s difficult to write. 

Keep reading

ratpile  asked:

Dear Dr Ferox, In a lecture today I was told that a good vet, and one less likely to grow disillusioned by their job, is one who knows when they've done all they can, and who realises that a vet can only advise; it's clients that make decisions. I get this, but struggle to agree with it. My duty of care is to the animal, and advising an owner on the best thing to do does not equal *actually* doing something to improve an animal's life. Do you have any advice for detaching in this way? Thank you.

First let me preface by saying that it’s fine to feel whatever you feel about situations animals may find themselves in. Trying to suppress your feelings wont do you any good psychologically, but I understand what your lecturer means.

There are points, and there are many of them in veterinary medicine, where choices need to be made. Sometimes there is a choice that is obviously better than the others. Sometimes there is not.

A veterinarian has to present these options to the owner of the animal. A veterinarian does not get to choose.

Most human being want to be decent. If you give them all the options, they want to choose one of the better ones. Many are limited in one way or another though, either financially, physically or practically. Very few set out to be deliberately assholes.

Sometimes those humans, for whatever reason, will not allow you to do everything that’s in the best interest of the animal. If you are aware of their limitations then often  you can find a decent compromise, but sometimes you cannot.

There is a physical limit to what you, yourself, can do. You can’t go driving round to someone’s house unannounced because they didn’t bring their pet in for a follow up and stopped answering your calls. You can’t kidnap an animal to treat it. You can’t ‘pretend’ to put an animal to sleep and hide it from its owners.

You can, however, report them to the relevant authorities who do have those legal powers.

It’s not that you can’t do something to help that animal, it’s that you have been prevented from helping that animal. That karmic load belongs to the owners, not to you. Especially if you have provided them multiple options for getting treatment.

It’s sort of like in shelter medicine. Veterinarians put down lots of dogs and cats in shelters, many of which are perfectly nice, but have just run out of time. A member of the general public might cry about how could they possibly do that if they love animals. Why don’t they do X or Y instead, or adopt the animal themselves? Never mind the fact that the vet’s household is probably already full, or it soon would be, or the sheer number of animals they’re recommending be ‘rescued’ this way, or that it’s one tiny step away from an animal hoarding situation.

People who understand the industry don’t blame the vets putting these animals to sleep. Euthanasia may not be the very best of all the possible outcomes those animals could have had, but it’s the best choice left out of their options at that time.

The blame is shifted instead to the people who put those animals into those positions in the first place; puppy farms, backyard breeders, thoughtless owners, etc.

There is a difference between all that could have been done and what you as one, single human can do now.

It’s not a bad thing to want to be responsible for the whole world, but it’s easy to burn out that way. You need to know when you’ve done all you can, and when to call somebody else. That other person may be a fellow vet, or a specialist, or an animal welfare inspector. There are just some things that are beyond our control.

And whatever happens you have to be able to get up the next morning and tackle the next problem.

You see those three dots? Yeah? Click on them and those three options pop up. You can block, report, or delete the ask/anon.

If you block them, they can never send an ask again. Please be aware that this can not be undone.

If you report them, they can never send an ask again (blocked) and are reported to staff. Please be aware that they can not send an ask again; this can’t be undone.

If you delete the ask, this ask and this ask only is deleted. They can send in asks again. You only won’t see this ask again, unless they resend it.

Forgive me if I’m wrong but I am fairly sure this is how it works.

If you get anon hate, report/block them!

tips for choosing a college

This is a really exciting time for high school seniors/transfer students who are getting accepted to universities! But now it’s time for the most stressful part: deciding which school to go to. I was in the exact same place last year that you are in right now and I thought I would share some tips for making this difficult (but exciting!) decision.

Research, research, research. Online resources are the best. On the school’s official website, look at their course catalogs and major requirement sheets. If you’re coming in undeclared, look at their list of majors and see if you think they have enough options you’re interested in exploring. 

Also think about what it will be like to be a student at that school. Don’t only focus on the practical stuff like rankings and academics.  Look at the student orgs, events, and student resources. Follow their social media accounts (especially Instagram and Snapchat) to get a sense of the school’s vibe. You can even creep a lil and look at current students’ posts to see the campus through their eyes. Search for YouTube videos as well. There might be some vloggers who go to the school you’re interested in and you can see the day in the life of a student.

Take tours! Attend any admitted student days or come to campus for a regular tour. This is soooo important. You will get to learn about the school from an actual student and they will tell you more than you could ever find online. At the very least, walk around the campus yourself a little bit to get a feel for it. If for whatever reason you can’t go to campus before you have to choose, contact the admissions office and ask for some extra info. They might even put you in contact with a student who is in your major who you can talk to.  

Once you have narrowed it down to a couple schools, ask people which one they think you should go to. I did this and realized that whenever they told me a different school than UCSB (which I ended up going to) I would feel disappointed. I would always be like, “But why not UCSB?” You could also do the same thing by pulling names out of a hat. Think that whichever one you pick out, you will go to and see how you feel about it. While choosing a school should definitely be about academic opportunities and other practical factors such as financial aid, I think your gut feeling should play a role as well.

Do not worry about what other people will think. Everyone has an idea of what certain schools are like. It might have to do with rankings or other reputations that the school might have, but try to disregard that as much as possible and form your own opinions. Don’t worry if people don’t think the school is good enough or anything like that. After all, you are the one who will be going there for years, not them. 

Think about distance! I definitely underestimated how important this was for me. Consider how often you plan on going home. If you’re going to go home every weekend, a local school will probably work best in the long run. If you’re the total opposite and plan on rarely going home, a school much farther away will probably work out well for you. 

Talk to current students if you can. Reach out to alumni from your high school or community college who currently go there. If you do stop at the school for a visit, feel free to stop some students for directions then ask how they like going to school there. Check if there are any studyblrs who go to the schools you were admitted to (me if you were admitted to UCSB) and ask them any questions you have. 

So those are all the tips I can think of right now. Enjoy this time in your life because it is so exciting and you have so many options. If you have any questions about college or UCSB feel free to send me an ask! Good luck, and congratulations!

Cleansing/Healing spell bottle

what you’ll need:

  • a small bottle or container to keep the spell in and a funnel if you have an unsteady hand like me lol
  • moon water
  • rose water (optional)
  • sea salt
  • amethyst chips
  • sugar (to add a bit of sweetness to your life)

put the sugar and salt in the bottom of the bottle. about ¼ the way up. place the amethyst chips in next. as many as you want. as long as there is enough space to put the waters in next. pour the moon water (or both moon and rose) in next. it should look like this:

after this is done close your eyes and focus your energy. say: “Today is a good day! Today I will be cleansed and healed from all negativity!” while shaking it gently, mixing all of the ingredients together. 

after that you’re all set and ready to go! you can charge it as you would your crystals! keep it with you in your pocket or bag through out the day for it to do its job! - Mod H

To Care, or not to Care ? (Stiles x Reader)

Requested by @hannazk : heey can you do a imagine where y/n is stiles girlfriend and he’s spending a lot of time with lydia and y/n get’s jealous and fluff and stuff like this? thx!


A/N : I’m not a huge fan of jealously that leads to anger or confrontation, so I twisted it a bit, I hope it’s okay :) Also I gave a first name to Y/N’s father just because I find it awkward to write (Y/F/N) and I feel like it sort of breaks the flow of the story to have too many « blanks » like this. I chose a very generic name, you can disregard it if you don’t like it. Also I don’t like throwing my readers in media res (in the middle of the action) so I added a bit (a lot) of context first, before really working on the request. JuST DEAL WITH ME OkAY

Also, I really like the first 4k words,but then I feel like I messed it up

Set between season 5 & 6.

Word Count : 9,2k (listen, I have no self control)

MASTERLIST

Living in a small town truly was an experience of a kind. It was like living on another planet to a certain extent, while also being just an hour drive away from a bigger city, and all the entertainments it offered. After your parents’ divorce, you were torn away from the big city you were born in, and lived all your life. Your mom left with the new man in her life, claiming she needed some time for herself and to see the world. That didn’t leave you many options besides moving in with your dad, who just so happened to come from a small town, and now that nothing held him back in the city, he wanted to go back and live there.

You obliged, not putting up much of a fight – you were a bit of  loner and never had many friends or anyone worth causing more drama within your household. You didn’t have a boyfriend, your closest friend hadn’t given any news in tn days and when your dad assured you that his birth town was just big enough to have a brand new Theater and Starbucks, it was settled.

Everything happened in a blur really. Your two stories apartment in Oakland quickly emptied and it was like all trace of your passage here vanished from one day to the next. The first seventeen years of your life had been erased, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything besides mild annoyance, because putting all your stuff in boxes – with the perspective of having to unbox them a few days later – was the exact opposite of what you had planned to do for the last couple weeks before the end of summer break.

Keep reading

3

Just imagine this:
Clay runs into Hannah before she leaves school after making the 13th tape and tells her everything he wanted to say. They go to Monets and Hannah opens up to him saying how hurt she is on the inside and Clay does everything he can to help. Clay and Hannah start dating and thing go great just like they imagined. They stay together for years until they get married and have kids. One day Clay finds the tapes that Hannah kept as a reminder of the lowest point in her life. Clay listens to them all and breaks down because he couldn’t never fully understand her before and he decides to ask Hannah about them. Hannah tells Clay that she was ready to kill herself that night they got together, but she didn’t because of him. He showed her that she had value in the world and she could be so much more than what people said about her. This opens all the old wounds Hannah has and she breaks down thinking about it all again, but she sees it from the parent point too. She thinks about her own daughter and imagines her going though the same things and realizes just how much damage she would’ve done, how many people she would’ve destroyed. She and Clay then go on to be anti-suicide activist, Hannah tells her story and they start a organization to help kids all over the country. Then the next year on their anniversary Clay gives Hannah a present, 13 tapes. These tapes are the opposite of the old, they are full of love, and hope, and sincerity, not pain, and resentment, and sadness like the originals. These are the 13 reasons why Clay loves Hannah and how she saves him from himself. They represent how they each saved each other, Clay from himself and Hannah from a cruel world.

This is how I would loved the story to end I completely understand why the author had it end like he did but I just there was too much left open. I like to think that they could be happy and save each other. I’m in no way saying that Hannah needed a man to save her or anything sexist like that, she needed Clay specifically to help her see her worth, not validate it. I also like to think that Hannah helped Clay overcome his anxiety and being trapped in his own mind. I love the idea of them being there for each other in every way and especially saving each other’s lives. I think that everyone needs a hero in their life and that theirs was ultimately each other instead of a martyr or a reason like they actually were. I think I understand the original points of the story: suicide shouldn’t be an option, how it hurts so many other people, how everything you do can have repercussions and you’ll never know how they will affect others, and that once you commit to taking your own life there’s no going back and it shouldn’t be taken lightly. I personally like the idea of showing that no matter what, things can get better and never give up. I know it’s cliché and boring and it’s been done before but I’m hopeless romantic, sue me.

todoloquetecaemal-deactivated20  asked:

i'm thinking on working on a fanfiction. it's focused on the harry potter world, and even though i want to make the characters seem noticeable different and grown as people, i still want to have it make sense and stay true to the story, since it happens right after the books end. any advice? thank you, love!

Thanks for your question, darling!  This is a really interesting topic to discuss, since so many fanfic writers try their hand at the aged-up AU without really thinking about what that entails.  No one really talks about it, so of course, we all go at it blindly.  But I have a few thoughts that might help :)


Writing Aged-Up Characters

I’d like to note first that this post applies best to characters aged up from 1-15 years older than their current age.  Once you start aging characters from 20 to 50 years old, the process becomes much more complicated – especially considering the life experiences in that time frame, like marriage/divorce, children, career changes, retirement, health changes, etc.  This is also a process that mainly involves list-making, so if you like lists, then you’re gonna love this (+ any of my ideas tbh I’m such a list whore).  Anyway

Step 1: List the Character’s Traits

You were warned.  The first step to aging a character properly is to take inventory of who they are now – their negative and positive traits alike.  How extensive you choose to be is really up to you.  You can list all their major traits, their preferences and fears, down to their quirks and sense of humor.  Or you can just stick to their major traits (which is what I’ll be doing for the example list).  From experience, though, I recommend you be as in-depth as possible.

To give an example, I’ll create the character Kara Roberts:

Kara Roberts

• Daydreamer
• Patient
• Loves big dogs
• Bad relationship with family
• Strong physique
• Intelligent
• Loving
• Has a crush on her English professor
• Believes in “do unto others”


Step 2: Separate “Developed” and “Undeveloped” Traits

So now that you’ve got your list, the next steps are to help you decide which traits to keep, which to change, and which to remove completely.  The first step to organizing your traits is deciding which are developed, and which are not.  Which traits have potential to naturally improve/escalate, while others are at their complete state?  In Kara’s example:

Developed:

• Daydreamer
• Patient
• Loving 
• Loves big dogs
• Intelligent
• Strong physique
• Believes in “do unto others”

Undeveloped:

• Bad relationship with family
• Has a crush on her English professor

The process may not have been clear, so let me explain.  Traits like patience, loving dogs, intelligence, and morals don’t have anywhere to go from their current point – all you can become is more patient, more intelligent, or more entrenched in your beliefs.  Unless an external incident takes place, they don’t naturally change.

But a crush on a professor can escalate without external change – it can become an obsession, or an obstacle to education.  Or it could just fade with time.  A bad relationship with family can become worse with time apart, or better as time heals wounds.  Unless something situationally changes, these are the only two traits that are mutable with time.

So once you’ve identified undeveloped traits, decide how time develops them.  Leave the developed traits alone for now (we’ll deal with them later) and just consider how their current situations resolve over however many years your character ages.  Put that aside for later.


Step 3: Separate “Innate” and “Acquired” Traits

So we have a new list, minus the two underdeveloped traits, but it’s not our final list.  Next, we separate the character’s traits into those which are innate – those which our characters are born with – and those which are acquired.  In our example:

Innate:

• Daydreamer
• Patient
• Loving
• Intelligent

Acquired:

• Strong physique
• Loves big dogs
• Believes in “do unto others”

This is simple enough to distinguish.  Kara wasn’t born with a strong body – she was born a tiny, squishy baby.  She wasn’t born loving animals, but she learned to love them due to her experiences.  She also wasn’t born with the ideology of treating others how she’d like to be treated, because babies don’t do that.  These are all consequences of how she was raised.

So what do we do with this second list?  Reduce some of the acquired traits according to the character’s experiences.  Kara can keep on loving animals; in fact, she could work at an animal shelter and wind up loving them more.  But if she’s sitting all day in an animal shelter, her strong physique may start to go with time – or if she gets pregnant, or if she starts stress-eating – or even if she becomes an Olympic athlete, her physique would change.  And her “do unto others” belief can easily fade if life starts to hit her hard.  In fact, it’s more likely that her innocence/idealism would take a hit, as she leaves college and enters the competitive job-hunting world.


Step 4: Separate “Rational” and “Irrational” Traits

Now we’ve got an even narrower list, but we’re still not done.  Now you’re going to take the list of developed, innate traits and split it one more time: into rational and irrational traits.  Rational traits include matters of the mind, while irrational traits are based on decisions, feelings, or matters of the heart.  This finalizes the list:

Rational

• Daydreamer
• Intelligent

Irrational

• Patient
• Loving 

Kara daydreams because that’s how her brain wanders.  She’s intelligent because it’s something she was born to have.  But patience is a matter of the heart – you’re born with a certain amount of patience, but you choose to continue being patient.  You can be born a loving child, but you choose to act in that love.  Patience and love are matters of the heart – they’re not just how the brain works.

So you have a third list, and these are the traits you don’t have to just develop or reduce.  Irrational traits are subject to change.  Kara may have been patient and loving in college, but in fifteen years, she doesn’t have to be that way anymore.  Life can change her – normal experiences can change her.  Some of these changes don’t even require an explanation, because life… just does that sometimes.


Step 5: Finalize Your Character’s New Traits

So you have three kinds of traits which you can develop, reduce, or change – but you shouldn’t do this to too many traits, or the character can become unrecognizable.  If we took all our options and made Kara a selfish, unhealthy, impatient person who’s in great standing with her family and stalks her English professor… she just wouldn’t be Kara anymore.  But instead:

Maintained Traits

• Daydreamer
• Loves big dogs
• Strong physique
• Intelligent
• Loving
• Bad relationship with family

Changed Traits

• Patient
• Has a crush on her English professor
• Believes in “do unto others”

So Kara’s still got her charm; she’s strong, smart, and loving… and she’s gotten over her English professor.  But her relationship with her family is still bad, and as time progresses, this wears on her patience.  As her patience diminishes, she stops waiting for things to work out in her favor – so she starts to cut in front of people, abandoning the “do unto others” ideology.

She would probably behave the same with friends, although she’d be less patient during arguments – and she wouldn’t put their needs above her own.  In a business environment, she’d probably be more successful on the career ladder – but in customer service, her impatience would prove a fatal flaw.

So she’s changed, but not completely.  We can see linearly how she’s changed and why, so we believe what we see.  And that’s what makes the whole list process worth it!  You can see exactly what to change and why, without messing with anything else.


Anyway, that’s my method of aging characters.  I hope this helps you to age up the Harry Potter characters – I personally love seeing different takes on mature HP characters, so I’ll be looking out for your fic if you ever choose to publish it!

If you have any more questions, my inbox is always open :)  Good luck!


If you need advice on general writing or fanfiction, you should maybe ask me!

When you don’t have what the spell calls for/don’t know where to get it...

It sucks.  That much we can all agree on.  

But it’s not the end of the world!

There are all sorts of other possibilities and substitutes for your everyday spells charms and potions, not to mention unlikely sources!  Here are just a few!

Substitutions

  • Socks make great ‘pouches’ for spell bags.  They’re even easy to get in the right colors, usually black or white!  Just add what you need , tie a knot in the sock, and it’s a perfect spell bag!  You can even store your tarot decks or crystals in one!
  • Most witches know this, but in almost any spell, a white candle can be substituted for any other color.  What many witches don’t think of are all the other options there are!  Just need a few minutes?  Birthday candles work well, and come on almost every color of the rainbow!  And remember that life hack from a few years ago?  In an emergency, a crayon will burn for 30 mins?  What’s a crayon but a candle with no wick?  Light the paper instead, and you have nearly every color of the rainbow at your disposal.  Be careful, of course, as with all candle magic!
  • Instead of small offering bowls, which can be A) expensive, B) fragile, and C) easily lost, don’t hesitate to use something a little more creative!  A hollowed out fruit or orange skin, a small, still soft dish made of playdough, or a regular kitchen cup all will work just fine!  Just be sure to pick up any fruit as quickly as possible.
  • True cauldrons are difficult to come by, not to mention expensive.  A nice cast iron pot or dutch oven, however, doesn’t have to be!  It keeps all the same qualities on would look for (Natural, easy to clean, holds remnants of what has been made before within it) in a cauldron, but can be gotten for under 10 dollars at most thrift stores.  Get there early, though, as they are popular!  Once they’ve been seasoned, they make absolutely perfect cauldrons!
  • Interested in chord magic?  There’s no need to go out and buy special rope or chord.  Most houses have a skein of yarn or spool of twine around somewhere, and both work just fine.  Even sewing thread will work if you don’t mind your finished project being rather small.
  • Potion bottles and jars can be expensive, not to mention the fact that the few I have for that purpose are almost always filled with one thing or another.  So when you’ve made a perfectly good batch of holy water or confidence draught, only to find that you’ve got nothing to keep it in, remember, nothing but the aesthetic will suffer if you just put it in a plastic leftovers container, or better yet, a spaghetti sauce jar!  Anything good enough to hold your food is good enough for your potions!

Now onto where to get your supplies, as well as the substitutes above!

  • Most herbs can be found in grocery stores, obviously, but it’s also a great idea to check health food stores in the bulk bins section.   If you only need a bit of something, it may cost you only pennies!
  • Candles can be a bit expensive.  Unless you don’t mind scented ones, in which case the dollar store is the way to go!  I’m unsure if there’s an international equivalent, but in the US, you can usually get a small candle for one dollar.  Not bad!  Plus they almost always have packs of tealights and glass dishes, which work well for candle holders or offering trays!
  • two words: GARAGE. SALES.  I’ve found all sorts of amazing stuff at these, some of which I couldn’t buy (My mother would be suspicious.) But there’s usually everything from cast iron to yarn to buttons to books to dishes to statues to cloth to anything you can imagine!  Check them out!
  • Socks can also be bought at the dollar store.  Btw.
  • Farmers markets are great if you are looking for produce for kitchen magic, as the items have more personal touches to them.
  • WILDCRAFTING.  You can find so much out on a walk.  I’ve found bones, crystals, and all manner of herbs, spices, and plant material.
  • Offer to weed a neighbors garden in exchange for the weeds you pull.  Dandelions, pokeweed, and pigweed are all great spell ingredients.  Ask for bits of what they grow as well!
  • Trade with your witchey friends!  I grow lemon balm and always have an unholy amount of it, so I swap that and anything else I have extra of for anything from crystals to advice!
  • I hope all this helped.  Blessings, everyone!

anonymous asked:

Is it possible to have a planet without a certain kind of environment? Like a world without tundra or deserts?

In a word: Absolutely!

In many, many more words (and a picture):

You have several options here. The first and most obvious one is simply this: Do whatever the hell you want. If you want your world to have never seen snow, then go for it! No rainforests? Be my guest!

But since you’re asking about possibilities, I’m assuming you want something more scientific than that. And I’m always happy to oblige. 

Let’s establish something that is important to keep in mind when discussing fictional non-Earth worlds:

We know how Earth works and how it supports life. We know how other real single-biome planets work that do not support life. But we can’t know everything about things we haven’t discovered. Since our life is the only kind we know, it might be possible that somewhere out there, a planet that we cannot imagine living on actually does manage to support life. Extra-terrestrial life could potentially work in a variety of different ways, as could ecosystems and atmospheres and all other planetary components. 

This can be less flexible if you’re talking about sticking humans onto other worlds. We know that humans need certain things to live (water, oxygen, etc.), so if you’re taking humans as we know them, then you’ll need to write a world that is prepared to support them. 

So…how would you write a biome out of a world in order to support life as we know it?

There are several ways you can do this, as long as you remember that the key to any ecosystem is balance. Part of the problem with single-biome worlds supporting life is that they don’t offer any type of balance. Not enough plant life means not enough oxygen, too much flora with too little fauna might mean too much oxygen. So if you nix a specific biome (let’s say we kill off the hottest biomes, deserts and rainforests), then you need to make sure you give a sufficient placeholder. (i.e. If you erase a rainforest and replace it with nothing but dirt, then you have eliminated a potentially vital source of oxygen from the planet, thus upsetting the balance.)

Wait, so how do you kill off the equator-biomes of Earth?

Let’s imagine a planet:

The axis doesn’t tilt. This does several things, but it would most prominently:
  - eliminate seasons
  - isolate climates/environments/biomes

Here, you’ve got a planet that’s probably much farther from it’s sun than Earth is from Sol. Or it is orbiting a much cooler star. Either way, you’ve got to deal with the fact that the sun will always be hitting each part of the planet with the exact same intensity. You can place it closer, if you want, and have an uninhabitable equator and people only living on the poles, where the sun doesn’t shine so intensely (but you NEVER have nights!). 

And there, you’ve given yourself an environment that could possibly kiss hot climates good-bye. This offers a chance for global balance (though individual cities and countries might not feel that balance). You can place water anywhere you like, just remember that it’s basically required. 

How you decide to balance the eco-system of your world is up to you, but just based on the basic elements of how Earth’s biomes are created, how seasons and climates affect one another and change over time, you can do a lot to manipulate the characteristics of a new world.

And also notice that in this physical planet/climate/biome manipulation, we’ve created some really interesting culture possibilities just by default. 

Gosh darn it, but worldbuilding is fun. 

im uncomf with the “bi women who prioritize women vs. bi women who prioritize men” shit for so many reasons and ive tried to put them into a coherent post for ages but i cant so here’s a list of Feelings i have about it

  • the only concrete definition of “bi woman who prioritizes women” that i’ve come across is “bi women who dates women primarily or exclusively (exclusively is better) and definitely is not dating a man at this exact moment in time”
  • and look:
  • if i was going to repress all attraction to all genders except for one i’d probably take the path of least resistance and “decide” to only act on my attraction to men because do you know how much easier my life would be if i “acted straight”? do you know how many people have implicitly or explicitly suggested i do so? do you know how many “gay celibate mormon” ~inspirational articles have been posted to my facebook feed since i came out? 
  • so like, if that were at all an option for me i think!!! i would’ve done it by now, i even heavily considered it at one point!!! but it feels like going back into the closet, like hiding part of yourself away so other people can ignore it. it’s incredibly damaging to my mental health, and that’s just when i’m attracted to women generally, if i actually fell for a specific woman and wanted to be with her?? it would kill me.
  • and people act like this is different because it’s coming from a different direction, it’s Radical but it’s the same thing, it’s just asking me to hide away a different part of myself because it happens to make you uncomfortable
  • its just political lesbianism by another name because bi women aren’t allowed to call themselves lesbians now but we’re still expected to act like them
  • and that’s the thing, the whole thing relies on the idea that your attraction is political, that who you date and sleep with and love is a political statement, and it’s not!! my entire life is not dictated by politics, i’m allowed to do things because i want to and not in service of The Cause. 
  • people act like asking us to “prioritize women” is so easy, like we’re boycotting men the same way we’d boycott a racist movie, instead of asking us to prioritize their politics over our own personal, intimate romantic and sexual desires
  • like i Get if you’re not attracted to men you think that that attraction is trivial (esp if you’ve experienced compulsory heteronormativity and were once convinced that you were attracted to men but realized that attraction was false) but it’s not, it’s as real and strong as my attraction to women
  • and you don’t have to understand that, you just have to respect it
  • the whole thing feels like some kind of violation, like a stranger walked into my home and demanded i started decorating differently, except it’s not my home, it’s my head and my heart but they’re so casual about it it’s like THEY think it’s my home, like an external representation of how i live my life instead of a very personal, intimate representation of my own thoughts and feelings
  • and ALSO i hate the idea that i need to “prioritize” women or men, that i need to frame my attraction in terms of social classes instead of in terms of individuals. 
  • if i date a man, and i prioritize him over random women i don’t know, i’m not prioritizing men over women, i am prioritizing a loved one over strangers???
  • similarly, if i date a woman, and i prioritize her over random men i don’t know, that’s not a political statement, that’s just…me being a human being and considering the feelings of someone i know and love over someone who has no connection to me?? oh my god
  • also what’s with the equation between prioritization and romantic relationships…the person im dating may or may not be more important to me than my platonic friends but if they are it’ll be because of my specific relationships with those people, not because romantic relationships are by default the most important relationships in any given person’s life
  • also what’s with the assumption that all bis are monogamous. if a bi woman is dating a man and a woman at the same time, what’s her status?? who is she prioritizing?? We Just Don’t Know
  • AND what about people who identify as neither a man nor a woman? what about people who identify as both? where does this leave us?
  • anyway my point is i don’t prioritize women over men OR men over women, i prioritize the people i know and love and my relationships with them over people i don’t know but happen to share a social class with. 
  • which goes back to the politicizing. you can prioritize certain groups in your activism (there’s cases where you shouldn’t, but like, it’s a thing that happens) but someone’s dating life isn’t activism and they’re not obligated to bring their activism into the bedroom.