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godlygreta · 8 months

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god is fair | j. t. kiszka

title | god is fair

word count | 7.7k

warnings | swearing, mentions of alcohol - nothing too terrible... yet ;)

author's note | i've had this in the chamber for some time now, i just lost the inspo to write, which is why i haven't in a long time. this isn't a promise that i'll post more fics as they come to me, seeing as i'm a senior in college who has a fuck ton of other things to do. there will be a part 2 to this fic, but i couldn't tell you when it's coming :)

also, very much so listening to god is fair, sexy nasty by mac miller while writing this & starting the next part, so take that as you will ;)

unedited as hell so pls excuse any mistakes !

You always had this rivalry since the beginning of freshman year. This guy, Jake, would never show up to any of the classes the two of you had together, but always got the highest grades on every single goddamn exam that your Intro to Bio professor gave out. It infuriated you.

You figured that in the spring semester, you would be freed from the disappearing boy, but you weren’t. While the teacher called roll, everyone shouted out here. She landed upon his name, calling out to the class and looking through the rows of students. He had been there for orientation, sitting in one of the middle rows, slouched in his seat.

You planned to confront him the next day you had class together, on Wednesday, but Jake was nowhere to be found. Your roommate and your friends had heard your exhaustive theories as to why he was never in class. “Babe, you sound insane. Just let it go.”

But you couldn’t.

Competition lived deep within your roots, having an entire competition with the second top student in your graduating class in high school. Though the rage held between each other was never taken far outside of the academic realm, the two of you never thought to be friends and encourage one another. Thankfully, the two of you resolved the competition when the two of you realized you would be going into two very separate fields of study in college.

Camren, who knew she was going to be a chemist from the time she first learned about chemistry, had told you she loved the competition – made it fun and kept things interesting. And there you were, going to school for Pre-Med with the same feeling. The two of you kept in contact, updating each other on the strive for greatness in college as well.

You kept a close relationship with a lot of your teachers, making sure to get on their good side before classes had really begun. You emailed most of them, especially your Anatomy and Physiology professor, Dr. Sahnya Heinz.

She was incredibly skilled in her field, leaving the active medical field to teach the new and future minds of medicine. It was a cliche line she delivered on the first day, but it encouraged that familiar competitive fire that dwelled within you.

You don’t quite remember how you came to figure out that Jake was ahead of you, but you had found out somehow from your professor, although it was an accident.

It made everything in you burn with anger and frustration. Anytime someone mentioned him, or mentioned the fact that you were second, you clenched your jaw and your teeth gritted together. Your friends had an inside joke that you were only mad because you had a huge crush on him.

“I barely even know what he looks like, Mel! I fucking hate the guy. Don’t start shit.” You’d plead, beer can in your hand in the lounge of some fraternity floor.

Over the next few semesters, you kept trying your hardest, spending most of your free time in the library, reading everything that you could to prepare for every exam. You wrote papers early, having them done at least three weeks in advance. As soon as you would be told about a new one, you’d immediately start finding sources.

You sauntered around campus, thinking that you would be way ahead of him. He still never showed up to any classes, aside from orientation and exam periods. You’d stare at him for a few moments while the teacher passed out the exam, looking over his face as much as you could.

His long hair would obscure your vision on occasion, making it hard to catch any of his features at all. From what you could see though, he had nice, full lips. His nose was something you could have stared at the entire exam period.

You watched him as he licked his lips, whispering a thank you to Heinz before grabbing his pencil from his desk and getting to work. You looked away from him as soon as Heinz put your exam on your desk, offering her a small smile and a quick thank you before getting to work.

It was almost spring break, meaning some of your assignments had been slowing, some of them had been increasing. A group of your friends from different majors told you about one of the lounge parties a fraternity on campus was throwing. “Sigma Tau has the worst lounge parties, Tamia. You know this.”

“They’re joining forces with the Delta’s though, so it’ll be better than normal! You have to come, you’ve always got your nose in a book. You haven’t drank with us in so long, I forget what you’re like when you’re drunk.”

“I don’t know… I need to work on this Midterm paper I have in Kainz’s class, it’s due next week.”

“Babe, it’s been done for weeks! You just keep editing it trying to find mistakes and there are none! I’ve literally read it five times. Please, go out with us, just tonight?”

You looked between Tamia and Mel, knowing in the end you would give into them anyways. “Ugh, fine! Tonight, and tonight only, just this once. If I don’t like it, though, I’m leaving and going to bed early.”

“You’ll have so much fun, I swear!” Mel and Tamia looked between each other, sharing expressions of excitement and happiness on their faces. You rolled your eyes, standing up from your chair.

You let them raid your closet, trying to throw something together quickly. Most of the time, Tamia and Mel never obeyed the dress code for the lounge parties, hating the idea of giving into the male gaze of the fraternity brothers. Tonight, however, was a bit different. The theme was Western, meaning it was cowboy hats and very tiny shorts.

You looked over the outfit that laid out in front of you, straw cowboy hat that Tamia had bought from Amazon (one for each of you), a pair of short shorts that may or may not show your ass a bit, and a red bandana top that Mel let you borrow last semester that you forgot to return. “I don’t know about this. I don’t even have the right shoes.”

“You forget we wear the same size, bitch, you’re going. No backing out.” They joked, tossing you a pair of white boots. “Just put that shit on while we heat up the curling iron, okay?”

“Fine, fine, okay.” You peel off your shirt, throwing on the one they picked out. Next to go were your pajama pants, which were replaced by the shorts. You kept the same socks on, knowing that nobody would see them anyways with the boots going up to the middle of your calf muscle. “I look fucking ridiculous.”

“You look fucking hot, now sit down while we do your hair and makeup,” Mel spoke, pulling out your desk chair while Tamia smiled wickedly with the curling wand in hand. You were nervous, looking at the both of them, but the good kind that settled under your skin and was left hidden behind the smallest smile.

You talked about upcoming exams with them while they did your hair and makeup, much to their dismay. They attempted to fill you in on the various drama situations going on around campus while you had been heavily plugged into your textbooks. You gasped often, finding shock and awe in some of the things they had been telling you about classmates.

They spoke about Jake, letting it slip that he had been planning on attending the party, joined at the hip with one of the girls he had been rumored to have been dating. One of the many. “Ugh, he just sounds like a douche. Gives me even more reason to hate him.”

“We’re not feeding into your delusion that he’s some douchebag. Dropping it.” Tamia spoke, putting her hands up in a surrender. Mel laughed, pulling away from you with an eyeliner pen in hand. “Maybe we’ll get you drunk enough to admit you like him.”

“I don’t like him, and I thought we were dropping the topic.” You looked at Tamia in the mirror, watching her face deadpan as she looked back at you.

“I have something hot in my hands, don’t be rude to me.” The three of you laughed, getting back into the rhythm of getting ready. You let them do their thing to you, curling the last bit of your hair and putting the finishing touches of highlighter on your brow bone.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, marveling at the job they did. You thanked them for getting you all dolled up, watching them change into their outfits. It was mostly just them taking off the sweats they were wearing, throwing them over the back of your desk chair. You took a few pictures with them in your mirror before finally deciding to head out.

The party had started a half an hour ago, walking into the party late like most people did. The three of you got in easily with matching the dress code, immediately looking for the drinks table. The boys in charge handed the three of you a free shot of anything you wanted. Mel chose for you, starting the night out roughly with a shot of Svedka.

You grabbed a Sprite from one of the boys in one hand, the shot of Svedka in the other. The three of you tapped your glasses together before downing the shot. The alcohol burned as it slipped down your throat, trying to soothe it with the taste and coolness of the Sprite. You shook a bit, throwing the cup away in a nearby trash can.

“That was fucking gross, I hate you so much for choosing Svedka.”

“I could’ve chosen something even more nasty, like Jack.” Mel laughed, leading the three of you over to a section in the lounge where you could stand a decent enough distance away from one another, instead of being piled on top of one another.

“I would have rather taken a shot of Jack, Mel.” You spoke, sipping more of your Sprite. Tamia pointed out a few of the people they had talked about earlier, letting you put names to faces.

In the midst, two of the Sigma brothers decided to start a dance battle, capturing the attention of those around them. Everyone joined in, gathering around the two guys. Mel and Tamia joined too, but you had slipped out of their grasp by telling them you had to use the bathroom.

You were happy to escape the party, sneaking out with a bottle of Smirnoff the boys had left unattended. You walked outside, taking a deep breath in. You were thankful to be met with the smell of fresh air, not smelling sweat and booze everywhere. Your peace and tranquility was ruined by someone’s voice, “Well, don’t you look adorable.”

Your head snapped towards the voice, seeing Jake sitting up against the bike rack with a cigarette between his fingers. “Shut up.”

“What? I can’t compliment you?”

“No,” you started, crossing your arms with the bottle still in your hand. “No, you can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I hate you.” Jake looked at you, up and down, taking a drag of his cigarette. You screwed off the cap of the bottle, taking a pull. You tried your hardest to not make a face, looking away slightly when the familiar sting settled in your throat.

“Why do you hate me? I’ve never spoken to you before.”

“Do I have to have a reason?” You asked, walking closer to him.

“Suppose not. But if I knew why you hated me,” he tossed his cigarette butt on the ground, stomping on it with his boot. “Then maybe I could find a way to make you not hate me.”

“Unless you flunk your next exam, I guarantee that won’t happen.”

“Oh, I get it.” He chuckled, standing up from the bike rack he was leaning against. He grabbed his cigarette butt up from the ground, tossing it into the nearest garbage can. He turned towards you, staring at you with his brown eyes. “You’re just mad because I’m smarter than you.”

“You’re never in class. You shouldn’t be ahead of me.” You glared at him, lips moving into a frown.

“Just because I’m never there doesn’t mean I’m not getting the information. I work five, sometimes six days a week. We only have class three days a week. Typically, I gotta work those days. Heinz sends me the powerpoints and the assignment notes so I never miss anything.”

“Oh yeah? Where do you even work then?” You asked.

He chuckled, fingers brushing yours that were wrapped around the bottle. “Now if I told you that, it would ruin all the fun,” he looked you up and down once more, licking his lips slightly. “Well, maybe I’ll see you and your bottle inside.”

You waited til the doors closed behind him to roll your eyes, and huff outwardly. You took the bottle of Smirnoff, turned on your heels and walked towards your dorm hall. You hated Jake. You really hated Jake.

—

Your midterms came and went. The stress decreased slightly, but only to be raised again as the end of the semester loomed around. Assignments started piling up, various papers and presentations due all around the same week. Since the end of Spring Break, you had been holed up in your room, left to your mountains of homework.

Your Microbio class had a presentation due that coincided with the research project you had been working on all semester long. Human Anatomy and Physiology (or affectionately known as BIO 312) had a major cumulative exam on the entire semester, which stressed you out more than any other homework assignment or exam you had.

Thankfully, your school held an all day event that attempted to boost the morale of the students on campus. Filled with a bunch of free things, you took advantage of everything offered.

Lined up on tables were various student organizations set up, with their own little games and prizes. A few of them had speakers that played the music they wanted to listen to, all speakers attempting to outman the other. However, the one that ended up winning was a tie dye station located in the lawn, handing out free t-shirts to dye.

One of the guys at the tie dye station had a wide smile on his face while his hands were dripping with dye. Setting your prizes down at a table where Tamia and Mel had put their things, you walked over to him. He welcomed you over with a smile, “Hey! Lookin’ to tie dye?”

“Yeah, I’m a medium.” You smiled at him, blocking the sun with your hand. He called over to Benny, asking him to pull a medium out for you. Benny handed you the shirt with a smile. “I’ve never dyed anything before.”

“Never?! That’s a crime against mankind, darlin’, let’s get this shirt dyed.” He spoke, talking you over the colors in each of the buckets. He explained to you some basic color theory, although you had remembered that from your high school painting class, you didn’t stop him; he was pretty when he spoke.

The curls on his head stuck out from the shaved sides, the gold of his earrings stood out underneath the blistering April sun. He licked his lips often, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his forehead. He helped you pick out the style you wanted, making sure the rubber bands were placed exactly where you wanted them. “I’ll dip them in the bucket for you so you don’t get your hands dirty.”

“Thank you. I could’ve managed on my own, but I definitely appreciate it.”

“Of course. What’s your name?” You offer up to him, before he lets out a chuckle. You question him with a pull of your eyebrows. “Jake talks about you.”

“You know Jake?”

“Yeah, he’s my twin.” As soon as the word left his mouth, you could see the resemblance; you almost scolded yourself for not realizing it sooner. They were similar, especially in their features and their eyes, although the two of them had very distinct color differences. Josh, as he told you after dropping the bomb on you, had warmer eyes, filled with caramel colored hues of brown in relation to Jake’s colder tones; his eyes were a darker shade of brown, with the occasional gleam of flirtation laced within the reflection.

He spoke quite differently from Jake, mostly just with the sound of his voice. It matched their eyes, their personalities. Josh’s bright, bubbly stature followed in his voice, almost theatrical as he spoke. “I guess that makes sense, you two do kind of look alike. Minus the hair, of course.”

“Well, of course. Mine’s better,” you liked that about him - how kind his tone was. You attempted to grill him about what Jake was saying about you, curiosity flowing violently through your bloodstream as if it lit your body on fire. “He just says that you’re second in the Bio class you have with him, and that it makes you mad.”

“It does, Jake’s never there. I’ve seen him three times, and two of those times were for exams.” Josh wrung out the part that had been soaking in the dye for a bit, watching the water fall back into the bucket.

“Yeah, it’s cause he’s working all the time, if I’m honest. Jake stays home during the week to work at the nursing home in our hometown. We don’t really have a large CNA population, most of the people who work there are highschool kids, so Jake’s really been their guy. Especially since high school, as soon as he graduated he moved to full time. All the old ladies love him.” He snorts, dipping your shirt into the blue dye.

“I didn’t know that.” You thought he was lying about where he was, which is why guilt started to eat away at you. You felt terrible for making assumptions, but you couldn’t take any of that back now.

“Jake doesn’t talk to a lot of people, but we love him anyway.” You chewed at your bottom lip, rethinking your opinion of Jake. “You goin’ to the concert later tonight?”

“Hadn’t decided. Mel and Tamia want to, so I’ll probably end up going. Are you?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll probably go.”

“Do you know who’s playing?”

“Some local band I think? I’ve heard a lot of the girls think the frontman’s pretty handsome.” He spoke with a smirk. You promised him you’d go, just to see if the girls had been right. He handed you your t-shirt to hold while he grabbed you a plastic bag. He also handed you a piece of paper with instructions on how to take care of your new tie dye.

“Make sure when you wash it, you wash it by itself. Otherwise, you’ll dye all of your other clothes and believe me, you don’t want that,” he chuckled, as if he was speaking from experience.

You thanked him with a warm smile, waving to him before returning to your room. As soon as you got back, you opened your window, allowing the air flow to travel inside. It kept you cool, allowing you to walk around comfortably with a t-shirt and shorts on. You put your plastic bag in the closet of your room, writing on your white board to remember to take it out and wash it tomorrow.

You texted Mel and Tamia, knowing that Mel would probably have some smart comeback about why you want to go to the concert. It wasn’t that you didn’t join them on nights out, you just had a lot riding on your academic success. Not only because you were the first one in your family to go to college, but also because of your mass of scholarships that only continued to flow if your GPA was at a suitable level. Anything below a 3.2, and you would lose almost all of them.

To: The 3 Dumb Sluts

Are we going to the concert tonight?

From: The 3 Dumb Sluts - Mel

Are you offering to come with us without us needing to beg and plead for you to join?

To: The 3 Dumb Sluts

Don’t make me take it back, Mel

From: The 3 Dumb Sluts - Tamia

We’re absolutely going. Come to mine whenever you want to get ready :)

To: The 3 Dumb Sluts

The doors open at 8 right? I’ll be over about 5:30-6ish. Gotta finish up this paper for Heinz real quick

You locked your phone before they could scold you for doing homework on a day that was designated for relaxation and recuperation. You pulled out your Anat and Physio binder, pulling out the sources you printed off in the library. You ran through the last one with a blue highlighter between your teeth.

You set an alarm on your phone for five o’clock, saving enough time for you to shower. You were about halfway through the last page when your timer went off. You silenced it, attempting to hurriedly finish highlighting the page. The article was placed onto your desk, highlighter returned to the cup on your desk filled with various writing utensils.

You pulled out your shower caddy, putting it on top of your dresser before pulling out your robe. You laid it over the edge of your bed, removing all of your clothes. You threw them into your hamper and put on your robe. You slipped on your slides, grabbed your caddy and traveled to the bathroom.

Underneath the uneven streams from the showerhead, you thought about Jake.

Maybe your first impressions of him were wrong. When Josh told you about the nursing home back in their hometown, you felt instantaneously bad for assuming that he just never showed up. You knew from what Jake had told you, that he had work, but you figured that was just an excuse.

You bit at the skin of your lips, hands on your shoulders as you soaked the warmth of the water in. You were pulled out of your thoughts very quickly as someone flushed the toilet, making the water fade in from super hot to super fucking cold. You hated the school’s water system.

You finished your shower quickly, drying off with the towel slightly before putting your robe on and throwing your hair up into your towel. You walked back into your room, locking it behind you. You set your caddy back where it originally was.

You threw on a pair of jean shorts that hadn’t seen the light of day since early October, pairing it with a long sleeve shirt that you had gotten back in high school for Christmas. It was plain, brown, but hugged your body well. The sweatshirt debate lasted a few seconds before you remembered how hot it was going to be outside. A record temperature for mid-April, almost 80 degrees outside.

When you checked your phone getting back from the shower, it was just barely five thirty. You texted the groupchat again, asking if it would be cool to come over a half an hour earlier than you had originally said. You knew it was a dumb question, you would always be welcome in their room. You chuckled at Mel’s response of, “Are you fucking dumb? Of course you can come over. Bring wine if you have any left! No carry-in’s allowed at the concert.”

You put your phone down for a second and slipped on a pair of shoes that were comfortable enough for you to stand in for a long time. They used to be white, but had gotten progressively dirty from the years of use. You shoved your phone in your back pocket and slid a few different bottles of wine into your backpack, separated by extra clothing so the bottles didn’t clink together.

You walked down the stairs, out the door and over to the other dorm building across the walkway. You scanned your keycard to get into the building, walking through the hallways waving to the RA on duty, McKenna. She had been in a few of your classes and was always incredibly nice.

Her room this year was actually a few down from where you were living. McKenna was a great RA, knowing exactly how to handle the rowdiness of the floor while still keeping the resident’s respect. She didn’t bother them unless she needed to, and they didn’t bother her unless needed. She kept it underwraps about the underage drinking that would inevitably happen, mostly by telling the floor they could do what they want, as long as they were quiet by quiet hours (which was around ten thirty on the weekdays, and one in the morning on the weekends).

You took the elevator to the second floor of East Sunderland, getting off as soon as the doors opened. The booths that had previously been up had begun to dissipate, bringing the plastic tables back into the buildings they belonged in. You took a last glance at the people cleaning before heading into Mel and Tamia’s dorm building.

You knocked on the door, coming as soon as you announced yourself to Mel and Tamia. The girls laughed as you walked in, looking at a picture of Mel from when they were a kid. The two of them showed it to you as you settled your bag onto Mel’s chair in the corner of their room. “Your buck teeth! Oh my God, you were adorable, Mel.”

“Oh shut up, I bet you didn’t look any better.” Mel spoke to Tamia, making the three of you laugh. “Anyways, what wine did you bring?”

“The Barefoot we didn’t finish the other weekend, and then I still had some Rose, so I brought those over too. I wasn’t sure what we were feeling.” Tamia pulled some glasses from her shelves, passing them out to the two of you. You filled their glasses with the Rose you brought.

The three of you talked specifics on the plans for tonight, hitting up another fraternity party as soon as the concert ended. There were two separate ones going on at the same time, so the two of you weighed your options over which one to go to. “The Sigs are throwing one, but I’d rather die. Delta’s throwing one, too, we’ll go to theirs instead. And maybe see if anyone’s at the Sig party that we like and stop there before heading back to the dorms.”

You walked down with them to the Athletic Department, hoping to have gotten there early enough to get a good spot. As soon as the doors opened, you were filtered through the doors, making sure that you were students with the college. The three of you half ran to the barricade, settling yourselves against it on the right side, although still somewhat in the middle.

The show wouldn’t start for quite some time yet, the three of you talked amongst yourselves about upcoming finals, what you had to do for various classes. You also found a few people around you to chat to while you waited, hearing laughter roaring through various parts of the crowd.

A few students from the Admissions Office had taken the stage, playing a random playlist of music that matched what the band was going to be playing. Rock thundered through the speakers, filling audience members with anticipation. Rochel addressed the student body, “Hello everyone!” welcomed by the sounds of cheers and screaming.

“We’ve got about fifteen minutes before the band comes on stage, so help us warm them up to the stage!” Everyone clapped, although some of the girls around you looked unenthused as they stared down at their phones. You checked yours for any text messages from any family members. You had nothing, so you put it back in your pocket.

Around four songs played before Rochel turned the microphone on again. Everyone shouted before she talked. “Well, it’s that time! Please, give a warm welcome to Greta Van Fleet!”

Rochel and the two other students walked off the stage, passing by what you had assumed to be one of the band members. He sat behind the drums, smiling and waving off into the crowd. You cheered for him along with Tamia and Mel, cheering just as loud when their bassist walked onto the stage. Both of their hair was longer, goofy smiles on their faces as they got situated with their instruments.

Your mouth hung open as you watched the last two boys walk on stage, seeing the twins. Jake’s eyes scanned the crowd as he slung his guitar over his shoulder. He found you after a moment, sending a smirk your way. You closed your mouth, glaring at him. Mel laughed at you, noticing your demeanor shift. “How we doin’ tonight everyone?”

Everyone cheered. “A lot of you might know me and Jake, seen us on campus and stuff. It’s wonderful to see all of you here, coming to support us as we celebrate the onslaught of spring! It’s been a particularly warm one today, so make sure to drink water! There’s plenty to go around.”

Jake started them off, pick between his fingers as he strummed the beginning chords to one of their songs. Some of the girls had begun to scream, shouting at Jake’s response to Josh’s little speech before he began playing. His signature smirk formed, watching the girls go crazy, eyes scanning the crowd before he found you again.

As Jake continued to play, he looked over to you any time he could. It was hard to tear your eyes away from him, enthralled by the way he looked on stage. You tried your hardest, truly, to look at any of the other boys on the stage aside from Jake but you just couldn’t. He fit the stage just right, bringing the attention away from Josh and demanding to be seen by the entirety of the crowd. He belonged up there.

Jake went to the center of the stage during his solo. Josh lingered around the drummer, keeping to himself, drinking whatever was in his cup. They kept on playing as Jake took the spotlight, everyone cheering and screaming for him. You kept silent, wanting to hear him play. His fingers worked against the frets of the guitar, not before sliding down and up it quickly.

You tried to hide the awe you were in, but your friends knew. They saw it written all over your face. The frustration and annoyance you felt when you first spotted Jake on stage dissipated the second his guitar solo began. You swallowed thickly, watching as his attention turned from his guitar to you, pointing it in your direction. Your cheeks flushed, and your thighs pressed together.

This was going to be a long night.

The second the concert was over, Josh thanked everyone for coming. His smile was wide as he waved goodbye to everyone, walking off next to Jake who had his guitar by the neck before he passed it off to one of the stage hands. Josh put his hands on his shoulders as they walked off stage.

You stuck around mostly waiting for the crowd to die down before trying to leave the building. Mel and Tamia talked about the show, saying that it was fucking dope, commenting on how excellent Jake’s playing was. You didn’t speak about Jake’s playing, mostly praising Josh for his spectacular performance. “I never expected that voice to come out of him, how heavenly.”

“Talking about me?” Jake cuts through your conversation, walking over to you with Josh not far behind. You roll your eyes. Tamia and Mel congratulate him on such an amazing performance, gushing about how sweet his guitar looks. “Why thank you, ladies.”

“Mel! I didn’t think you were going to be able to come.” He gushed, wiping his hands on the sides of his khaki shorts he had changed into.

“Yeah, well, Miss Quiet over here wanted to see her archnemesis, didn’t you?”

“I-I–” You turned your head slightly towards Jake, who had an amused smirk written all over his face. “I did not, Mellie, stop lying.”

“By the redness of your cheeks, sweetheart, I’d say she was telling the truth.” You had barely noticed that Mel, Tamia and Josh had slipped away from the two of you, leaving you alone.

“I didn’t even know you were playing.” You admitted shyly, hiding underneath a guise of innocence.

“Even if you did, you looked pretty hot and bothered by my playing.” You held the back of your arms, trying hard to maintain eye contact with him. You looked into his eyes, they were staring straight at you.

“Yeah, sure. I actually came because Josh said he was going. He neglected to mention that he was going to be singing,” you looked at Josh who wore a smile that read ‘guilty as charged’ before patting you on the shoulder.

“Hey, you didn’t ask. You just asked if I was going.” You rolled your eyes and chuckled slightly. “Anyways, Sam and Danny are gonna spend the night in my room, so I’ll have to find somewhere else to be tonight. Are you guys going to either of the frat parties tonight?”

“We’re going to the Delta party. The Sigs’ reputation is not the best, and I don’t feel like seeing whether or not it’s right.”

“That is completely understandable. I shall see you ladies there then. You coming, Jake? We still have a lot to put away.”

“Yeah, in a second,” he turned towards Josh who had begun to walk away, waving him off before turning back to the three of you. “I hope you guys enjoyed the show, maybe I’ll catch up with you at the party.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, actually, I would.” He smiled at you before joining the other boys cleaning up their amps and cords.

“Jesus Christ, the two of you just need to fuck or something. I don’t think I can handle another interaction like that,” Mel joked, making a gagging face when she finishes her sentence. You pushed at her arm, turning around and walking out of the gym.

Tamia and Mel giggled profusely about your and Jake’s rivalry. The two even started making bets on when the two of you would finally ‘get it on’, as Tamia put it. You just rolled your eyes at the conversation, changing the subject to something different.

—

The party, though filled with lots of fun and drinking, was a bust. While Josh had shown up with his younger brother and his brother’s friend, as you learned, in tow, Jake was nowhere to be found. You thought to ask Josh why he wasn’t there, but he was too busy dancing with Micah. Through the grapevine, you learned that Micah and Josh had been together since high school.

You stayed around the party for almost two hours before you wanted to go back. A small part of you had wished Jake had actually come. You wondered if maybe the two of you would get along if you put your competitive nature aside. You tried not to dwell on thoughts of Jake’s absence for too long, wanting to enjoy the rest of the night with your girls. But when you had enough of the party, you shouted in Mel’s ear to let her know you wanted to leave.

Mel and Tamia had made sure you got back alright about two hours into the party. Your legs were tired and your feet had begun to hurt. The two of them stumbled with you back to the door of your building, making sure you were inside before leaving to go back. They almost came in with you, until you insisted otherwise.

Laying on your bed with your head pointed towards the ceiling you started thinking about Jake again. What was his reason for not being at the party? Did he just make those comments beforehand just to rile you up? It seemed like the only valid reason your impaired mind could come up with.

You grabbed your phone, almost dropping it on the floor. You sluggishly opened Instagram, and searched for Jake’s profile. You scrolled through, looking at the few photos he did have on his page. Most of the pictures he had were of his guitar, or places he’s traveled. You were sent into a panic when you realized you had accidentally liked an older picture of Jake’s, one from freshman year of college. Hurriedly, you unliked it and immediately locked your phone.

That had been a few days ago.

Now it was Wednesday and your first final exam was here. It was for the class you shared with Jake, BIO 312. It wasn’t exactly final exam time, but Professor Heinz was going to be away at a conference for a week starting Friday. You didn’t mind, though, since it spaced out your other finals enough to have a decent amount of time to study for them.

You sat at your desk, looking over your notecards one last time before the exam began. A frequent look around the room and you noticed Jake walking in, going to a random seat a couple rows in front of you. He set his bag down next to him, before bending down to grab his laptop. He noticed you watching him and sent a wink your way.

You looked away as you tried to hide the rush of rosy skin that fanned over your cheeks and heated up your ears. You tried to ignore him again until at least when the test started, embarrassed that you got caught looking at him. Your phone pinged and you pulled it out of your bag to look at it, as well as turn it on silent.

jacobtkiszka wants to send you a message.

You swallowed and hit the notification taking you straight to the message.

“Person who turns their test in last pays for coffee?”

Your lips curved into a small smile, feeling your fingers type the first thing that comes to your head.

“Hope you brought your wallet with you, Kiszka.”

You put your phone on Do Not Disturb and shoved it back into your bag. The professor walked through the door, setting her things down on the desk in the front of the room. Her coffee mug still had steam coming from it, freshly poured. A quick look of her watch after getting settled and it was time to start the exam. “Okay, everyone. It’s time for class. Take out your laptops and begin your exam. You may leave when you have finished. Thank you for a great semester, and good luck.”

The questions on the exam were all ones that you knew and had studied for for weeks. It was strenuous, trying to remember everything on the cumulative exam. You had hoped it would go quickly and you would answer them faster than Jake could. Occasionally, you turned to look at Jake, seeing if maybe he was trying to look at you too.

With one question left of your exam, you click the answer and press submit after a minute of debate. You had a bad habit of second guessing yourself occasionally; it was actually the bane of your testing experiences. You hated when you felt confident about an answer, until you really sat with the other possible answers it could be.

You put your laptop back into your bag, zipped it up and noticed that Jake had already left. You cursed to yourself, knowing that now you had to buy Jake a coffee. You waved goodbye to your professor with a smile and walked out the doors. Jake sat outside of the classroom at one of the tables they had throughout the building. “Whatcha reading?”

“Josh recommended it to me, but I’m going to be honest, I fucking hate this book.” He laughed, shoving it into his bag. “You know any good coffee shops around here? I’m kind of tired of Starbucks.”

“I just so happen to know the best coffee shop in town, but it is a bit of a walk, if you don’t mind that?” You asked, walking through the door that Jake was holding before muttering a thank you to him.

“I could also drive, if you’re okay with that.”

“I’m more than okay with that,” you chuckle, letting him know that your dorm building had enough stairs; any chance you could get to use an elevator, or get driven somewhere, you would take that opportunity in a heartbeat.

The drive was short in comparison to the twenty minute walk it would have taken to get to the shop. Jake tried to offer the radio to you, but you let him play what he wanted to listen to. You didn’t know exactly who was playing, but the blues music that played through the speakers was a breath of fresh air.

Your typical shuffle had a plethora of music from differing genres, whether that be rap or old country. You hadn’t known much when it came to blues music, especially the difference between good blues music and bad. Eventually, you got the courage to ask who was playing and Jake answered, letting you know that the song was by Buddy Guy. “It’s called She Suits Me To A T. I tried for weeks to learn this song when I first started playing music more seriously.”

“This is the coffee shop, at the next corner.” You watched his hand as he made a right turn, noticing him steering with just the palm of his hand. Letting the leather steering wheel glide back to its original position in his hand, elbow propped on the door with the window rolled down.

It’s all you thought about on your way into the coffee shop, completely relying on autopilot. Your responses to Jake were almost textbook, one word sentences that could continue the conversation without much effort. “What’re you thinking of getting?”

“Oh, um, I’m not sure. I usually have them surprise me,” you admit, shoving your hands into your jacket. “Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s not. That’s the gamble you take.”

“I like that a lot, actually. I think I’ll have them surprise me too, if you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all.” You smiled at Jake before he went to order for the two of you. You found a place to sit in the meantime, offering a spot towards the windows so you could watch people come and go, each on their own paths of life.

By the time Jake sat down, both of the coffees were in his hand. After a few questions, Jake set the iced drink down in front of you, and the hot drink in front of himself. “Yours is an iced chai, with brown sugar syrup and vanilla. Mine is some sort of tea, I wasn’t really paying attention to what she was saying. I just wanted to remember what she put in yours in case you liked it.”

“Oh,” you spoke, bringing the cup towards you. “Thank you, that’s really sweet. Do you like your drink?”

“You know, it’s really not bad. I wouldn’t have gotten it otherwise, but it’s really not bad.”

“You hate it.”

“I hate it. It’s not good.” The two of you chuckled before you offered him a sip of your drink. “Mhmm,” he moaned. “That’s good, oh my God.”

The two of you continued small talk, whether it was over the classes you had previously taken, memories of parties from past years – anything. You shared previous high school experiences, mostly about the ridiculous things that were considered parties in your teenage years.

Conversation with Jake was surprisingly a lot easier than you thought it would be. Especially since you’ve hated him pretty much your entire college career. You figured he’d be stuck up, aware of his academic achievements and ready to flaunt them in front of anyone who’d listen.

He was the opposite. His sentences were wrapped with kindness, and the reflection in his voice seemed nothing but positive. His voice was like silk, he could’ve talked you into damn near anything as long as his voice sounded like that. It hurt when the conversation slowed, spending a few moments to take in the scene around you two, as well as finally being able to drink more of your drink (which was very delicious, it was almost like crack).

“How long have you been playing guitar?” You asked after the silence became almost uncomfortable to sit with.

“Oh jeez. I’ve been playing since I was… like three? Yeah, three.” You stared at him with eyes slightly wide, mouth agape. “What?”

“N-Nothing, that’s just a really long time. You’re what, 21 now?” He clarified that he was only twenty, his birthday roughly a week away. You poked fun at him, mentioning how you were older, even if it was by less than a year.

“Josh is throwing us a birthday party, if you want to come. Since it’ll be our 21st, we’re having it at our parents cabin on Lake Michigan. You’re welcome to bring Mel and Tamia if you’d like. Sam and Danny are going to be there, even though they’re underage, but we’re gonna pretend like they’re older.” Jake spoke with one last sip of his drink, letting the empty cup echo on the table as he set it down.

“I will let Mel and Mia know. I can’t make any sure decisions without talking to them first, but I’m pretty damn sure that they’ll say they would love to go.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’ll say no either. They seem pretty adamant that you have a little crush on me or something,” he said, putting your cups inside of a bus tub to be picked up and washed.

“I don’t have a crush on you,” you laughed, walking out of the coffee shop with Jake. “I actually hate you, remember?”

“You may say that you hate me, but you’re not really good at showing it.”

#jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fanfiction #godlygretawrites #godlygreta #pretty boy #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka x y/n

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librarycards · 10 months

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any readings on how physically disabled people are "interrogated"/put under extreme scrutiny (referring both to treatment in medical settings and then social settings where strangers act entitled to our bodies/histories?)

So, to preface: I see a lot of discourse about physical disability exclusive things on here, and while I understand why people are compelled to prohibit, say, the figure of the "able-bodied ND" or w/e from "interacting" with this or that post, this is not something that is widely practiced in actual disability organizing spaces, nor in disability studies broadly (there are always exceptions, but i am speaking about the state of the field as a whole).

that is not to say that lateral ableism, as well as forms of ableism that affect certain experiences more than others, are ignored or irrelevant. it is instead to impress upon you that disability is not a term bounded by certain diagnoses, symptoms, or ideas of "objective" impairment. instead, disability is a political and politicized relationship to systems of medico-legal, social, and deeply carceral ableism, AS WELL AS a tool around which to organize and advocate for shared principles of interdependence, self-determination, and liberation from the aforementioned systems.

in fact, the focus on delineating categories of disabled people - whether in gradations of "severity" or in isolating certain types of experience to solely the "mental" or "physical" realm, reifies the false perception that disability is a concrete and static "thing" to be analyzed and categorized objectively, furthering the very norm of scrutiny and disbelief you want literature deconstructing. for this reason, i put little stock in the kinds of hard divisions i see floating around on here, mostly by people who haven't "done the readings" or, it seems, partaken in social or activist groups that are politically disabled/crip.

with this being said, there are a number of excellent works on the scrutiny under which disabled people are placed! here are a few:

Marta Russell, Capitalism and Disability (rigorous marxist analysis of, among other things, the surveillance and forcible impoverishment of SSDI recipients and applicants)

Mel Chen, Animacies (fixation on children meeting 'developmental markers'/terror at "chemical-induced" difference and ensuing blame game if and when they 'fail')

Alex Cockain, Troubling narratives about dis/ability and the social encounter [...] (looking at the ways abled anxieties about disabled presentation/interaction play out from a CDS perspective)

E. Krebs, Baccalaureates or burdens? Complicating "reasonable accommodations" for American college students with disabilities (about the abusive "accommodations" process in higher ed)

Audre Lorde, The Cancer Journals (Lorde documents her experiences with invasive, abusive, and autonomy-denying medical staff and laypersons alike in light of her decision not to get a reconstruction after her mastectomy due to breast cancer)

Loyd, Secor, and Ehrkamp, Geopolitics of Disability and the Ablenationalism of Refuge (on the policing of legible/legitimate disability narratives in refugees)

hope this helps!

#ask #anonymous #readings #book rec #disability #ableism

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fvllofsoup · 20 days

Text

hi! here's some info about me;

• she/her pronouns

• butch lesbian

• asexual

• 18

• my birthday is on january 11th

• i have clinically diagnosed ocd and manic depression

• i take writing, art, divider, and fanart requests (i'd really appreciate it if you send one in, especially a writing one!)

fandoms i write for:

• obey me! swd?

• omori (platonic)

• she-ra and the princesses of power

• graceling realm series (haven't met many who've read this series 😔)

• arcane: league of legends

• tlok (the legend of korra)

• atla (avatar the last airbender)

• probably more but i'm too dumb to remember. ask for your fandom and i'll do my best.

fandoms i'll draw for:

• omori

• she-ra and the princesses of power

• obey me! swd?

• atla (avatar the last airbender)

• tlok (the legend of korra)

• really any fandom. just ask.

writing and art rules:

• no nsfw of minors.

• i'll do smut every now and then. nothing too bad, though.

• i will not draw sex scenes.

• i will refuse your request if it makes me uncomfortable.

characters i will write for:

• obey me! swd?: lucifer, mammon, asmodeus, belphegor. (i apologize for not doing the other characters. i'm not too familiar with them, as i'm still pretty early in the game. i'll update when i learn more about the characters. :< i'm truly sorry.)

• omori: sunny, omori, mari, hero, aubrey, basil, kel, mewo.

• will put the she-ra characters when i rewatch it.

• atla: aang, katara, zuko, toph, sokka, appa, momo.

• graceling realm series by kristin cashore: katsa, po, bitterblue, hava, fire, raffin, baan, giddon.

• arcane: jinx, silco, vi, ekko, viktor, jayce, caitlyn, sevika, mel.

• tlok: lin, korra, asami, mako, BOLIN I LOVE BOLIN, pabu, nala.

things i will NOT write in smut: piss, feces, vore, vomit, nsfw age-play, furry (no hate to furries they're chill i just don't wanna write smut with that), lolisho, zoophilia, feedism, rape/cnc, abuse.

dni list: zoophiles, pedophiles, pro-eating disorders, fat fetishists, terfs, conservatives, homophobic people, pro-endos.

"This user ______ when overwhelmed" banners by @/chronicallylegless

#pinned post #fanfics #smut #fanart #dividers by me

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quoteablebooks · 7 days

Text

Genre: Fiction, Adult, Fantasy, Humor

Rating: 3.5 out of 5

Content Warning: Violence, Death, Suicide, Sexual content, Torture, Murder, Sexual assault, Rape, Genocide

Summary: From bestselling author Django Wexler comes a laugh-out-loud fantasy tale about a young woman who, tired of defending humanity from the Dark Lord, decides maybe the Dark Lord doesn’t have it all wrong after all, perfect for fans of Terry Pratchett and KJ Parker.

Davi has done this all before. She’s tried to be the hero and take down the all-powerful Dark Lord. A hundred times she’s rallied humanity and made the final charge. But the time loop always gets her in the end. Sometimes she’s killed quickly. Sometimes it takes a while. But she’s been defeated every time.

This time? She’s done being the hero and done being stuck in this endless time loop. If the Dark Lord always wins, then maybe that’s who she needs to be. It’s Davi’s turn to play on the winning side.

*Opinions*

I watch a lot of bookish content, which is why my TBR continues to grow and not shrink, but this is another read influenced by social media. It was a five-star read for the Booktalker (booksandlala) and the premise sounded interesting to me, so I requested it from the library. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was not what I got out of this novel. This was a satirical, fourth-wall-breaking romp through this fantasy world of Wexler’s creation. While I enjoyed my time in this world (though with a few critics) this novel will not be for everyone.

How to Become the Dark Lord or Die Trying follows Davi, a chosen one sent from Earth to a fantasy realm to save the Kingdom. The only problem? She keeps failing at this task and dying over and over and over again. The good news is that she always returns to where she started, a pool where she first emerged—the bad news, after a couple of thousand years that gets really old. Eventually, Davi decides that she wants to be on the winning team and tries not to save the kingdom, but become the Dark Lord that eventually destroys it. While there are a lot of false starts on this path as well, eventually Davi has a small horde of Wilders, and on her way to the meeting that will choose the next Dark Lord. However, without knowing how things work on this side of the world, Davi has to rely on her wits and a whole lot of luck to get the title she so dearly wants. Then again, if she dies, she can just try again, right?

The way that Wexler wrote this fantasy novel was reminiscent of a Mel Brooks movie, though I would not state that it is executed as well as one of those movies. Davi takes every well-worn fantasy trope and turns it on it’s head during her time attempting to become the Dark Lord, including murdering her quest giver multiple times. The issue I have is that near the end of the novel, is that Wexler attempts to go from a funny romp to serious questions about the world and Davi mentally manages the change in her understanding of how the world works. I understand that satirical novels need a plot, but the shift to serious lore and Davi losing her mind a little was a pretty serious shift, which is then forgotten after a couple of chapters.

The internal logic of this novel did not work at times well, which I didn’t get too hung up on given that this is a humorous novel, but I did catch it. The biggest one is that Davi does not remember anything about her life before coming to this fantasy world, she mentions this multiple times, yet she uses almost exclusively pop culture and known references from our world. You would think that after a couple of thousand years, she would forget movie lines along with what she used to do for a living. You would also think that she would catch on to the lore and myths of this world and use their slang. She is able to speak Wilder, but decides to confuse everyone around her constantly by continuing to talk in Earth references. I get that it is the humor of the novel, but it didn’t make sense within the logic of the world Wexler developed.

While I enjoyed my time with this novel, but most readers will know within the first twenty-five pages whether they like the narrative voice or if it is going to drive them insane. When describing the humor and overall narrative voice to a friend, I stated that it reminded me of Youtubers, especially in the gaming sphere, in the heyday of its popularity. Think like Smosh or early Markipler and Jacksepcticeye. If that is not the type of humor you enjoy, Davi is going to get on your nerves immediately. At times, I even found her a bit too much but I was enjoying the twist on a fantasy novel that I was able to push through those instances, which happened mostly at the beginning of the novel. Another writing aspect that did not really work for me was any time Davi was thinking about sex, which was a lot (see my comment about Youtuber humor). Now there were not the more egregious issues of a man writing a female main character, but there was something in the way that he wrote her horniess that made it clear the author was a man. I am not saying that women cannot be extremely horny, it is the way that it was written. I wish I had a better way to describe it. Again, I watched a lot of Youtube in my day so I was able to deal with it, but I can see it being an issue for other readers.

I personally did not like Davi a lot, but the surrounding characters were enough to push me through when she was extremely annoying. Still, even the primary romance didn’t hold my attention, mostly due to the issue I had with how Davi was written in terms of her thoughts on sex and her pursuing those needs. I did like her love interest, they were one of the few sincere characters in this novel.

I know this all makes it sound as if I didn’t enjoy the novel, but I had a good time while I was reading it. I just never found that I wanted to pick it back up. This is a story that I am interested in seeing where it is going, especially given the ending, but I will be picking it up from the library. This is a 3.5 read

#book review #booklr #3.5 out of 5 stars #How to Become the Dark Lord and Die Trying #Django Wexler #Dark Lord Davi Duology

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polskasroka · 3 months

Text

Distraction | Chapter 2

Here's chapter 2 of my Mel/Od fic, hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Melinoë/Odysseus

Tags: Older Man/Younger Woman, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Pining, Romance, Eventual Romance, Self-Doubt, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Spoilers, Written During Hades II (Supergiant Video Game) Early Access, Character Study, mel is a tough gal overall, but she has her weaker moments, Denial of Feelings, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Kissing

AO3 link

Or Chapter 2 (6166 words) under Read More

In spite of Aphrodite’s straightforward advice, it seems that Melinoë’s chickened out, without wanting to admit it to herself. Yes, she smiled once she saw that her plants had been watered each time she had no time to do so and she indeed felt her heart soar, knowing that Odysseus doesn’t mind that additional chore that he chooses to fulfil more often than not.

Maybe Melinoë should’ve gone for it immediately after her conversation with Aphrodite. Maybe she should’ve thought about herself and her own feelings towards others. Maybe if she’d done it, she wouldn’t end up with a growing need of feeling close to someone.

Of course, she is close with everyone in the Crossroads. But it’s not that kind of close that she’d like. There is that desire to be close to someone emotionally, to feel attached to someone that Melinoë isn’t sure how to deal with. Apart from that, she’d also like to be able to just hug someone, without others looking at her funny or them giving it too much thought. It’s been a while since she’s fallen into someone’s safe embrace and she’s now longing just for that and it may be clouding her resolve and reflexes while traversing Oceanus. Is this the little distraction that Aphrodite was talking about?

It is a bit of a hindrance, yes, but Melinoë reaches Tartarus anyway. Even those coin bags that Melinoë simply despises are manageable and after beating at least twenty of them, she pays a visit to the Titan once more. The hate that she holds towards him obscures any distractions that may have been lurking in Melinoë’s mind during this run. But oh, Chronos has his servants and they have provided him with information that he will use against Melinoë anytime there is an opportunity to do so.

“I thought you would’ve got here sooner than that. After all these attempts, you seem to be slower and less precise in all your actions down here today,” he announces with superiority in his voice that lowers at the last three words he utters.

“Maybe it’s all those satyrs of yours that aren’t fast enough to provide you with the news,” Melinoë quips, determined.

“I might consider taking your advice this time. Perhaps, I will do some cleaning up among my units, since they have been failing me. So observant… Would you care to join me?”

“Never. Dream on, Chronos.” The Princess narrows her eyes and readies Descura for the attack.

“I shall do just that. Beware, for my dreams shall become your nightmares. A humble gift from me to you, granddaughter.”

Chronos’ voice stings and seeps through the skin and flows through the bones like venom that seems impossible to remove once it enters the body. But there is no way that Melinoë will let it all get to her – she’s heard many a rambling and belittling of the sort to let it affect her at this point. Now, it is only a matter of whether she will conquer Time himself or not.

And it occurs that it is yet another futile attempt at beating Chronos. With the last strike of his scythe, he forces Melinoë to return to shadow, his sick laughter resonating in her head, following her to the realm of her dreams where she the least wants anything that reminds her of Chronos.

Time doesn’t relent, though, and keeps tracing each step that Melinoë makes in her sleep. His voice keeps echoing somewhere near and somewhere far from the Princess at the same time and Melinoë can’t run away from it, no matter where she hides in the void of her own slumber. Even when it feels like there’s a moment of rest, the haunting tone of Chronos comes back, reverberating in the abyss, making Melinoë wish she could wake up.

That voice is soon accompanied by occasional wails and screams, all indiscernible at first. They mix with one another, only to become clearer the further into torment Melinoë is lead. The yells are spurred on by the Titan’s demands to reveal the hiding spot of Melinoë’s, to tell her and Hecate’s whereabouts but there’s no answer. And when there’s no answer, the disarrayed yells filled with pain are heard.

Chronos allows Melinoë to know that it’s her father’s laments. It doesn’t take long before she has tears in her eyes. While torturing Hades, Chronos doesn’t hesitate to drill himself into Melinoë’s conscience, blaming her for all that’s happening to her father and the rest of her family. He blames her for cowering in the Crossroads while everything else around her is going to hell.

You keep failing, little one. What hope is there for you to fulfil your task now that I’ve showed you how much of a disappointment you are? Doing all this in vain, only to learn that I am the one in control of everything. You cannot stop me. You cannot stop Time.

Come, granddaughter. Come and surrender. Come and join me, and I shall free your family. That’s a fair trade, is it not?

Melinoë bolts upright, sitting straight as a shocked gasp leaves her lungs.

“I’ll show you a fair trade, Chronos,” she growls and stands up in one rapid move, wiping her eyes to get rid of the tears that are streaming down her face.

In a couple of long strides, Melinoë is out of her tent and headed to the training ground, passing the now silent and sleep-veiled centre of the Crossroads. She’s glad that there is no one to stand in her way, even the Commander is not there.

Melinoë picks a weapon for this attempt – Zorephet. She dearly hopes that this will be the arm that will help her fight Chronos and beat him to a pulp, so that he remembers that no one messes with Melinoë or her family.

From the outside, it looks like the Princess is in a frenzy and she… somewhat is. Driven by the nightmarish images that she’s just been a witness to, she has this unstoppable urge to rush through Erebus, Oceanus, the Fields of Mourning and Tartarus to get straight to Chronos and end this stupid war once and for all.

For the first time in her life, it seems to her that she can do it. Melinoë is so fuelled by rage now that there’s no possibility for anything or anyone to stand in her way and prevent her from diving into the depths of the world and slaying the Titan. This is her ultimate aim, this is her task that she’s been preparing for her whole life and she’s going to achieve the goal right now.

At least, that’s what Melinoë thinks she’s going to do. Dragging Zorephet with herself, she marches on to the entrance to the woods, ignoring the familiar voice calling after her. It is only when the voice resounds once more right behind her and a hand grips her wrist that Melinoë halts and turns around to see what the fuss is all for.

“What do you want? I don’t have time,” Melinoë huffs, searching Odysseus’ face with her glassy eyes all frantically, afraid that she’ll be late for something if she stays in the Crossroads a second longer.

“You shouldn’t go there now, Goddess. Not in this state,” Odysseus says with all seriousness, trying to catch up with Melinoë’s wild stare.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, Od. When if not now? I finally feel like I… like I can do it! Like this is the night when all this mess will be put to an end!” Melinoë pulls her hand to herself in an attempt to free herself from the man’s hold but it’s of no use and it frustrates her to the core.

“Have you forgotten what Lady Hecate has taught you? Don’t tell me that I, out of everyone, have to remind you not to act on an impulse,” Odysseus states firmly but there’s nothing mean about it. If anything, his words are packed with concern for the Princess.

“You don’t know how it is. She doesn’t know how it is. I have lost my family and I have to save them. I have to go there now! There won’t be a better chance anytime soon, so let me go!” Melinoë drops Zorephet’s handle and something inside of her stings, as if the weapon has just let her know that it doesn’t like this ridiculous idea of not seizing the opportunity as well.

Melinoë uses her free hand to pry her captured wrist free but Odysseus doesn’t loosen his vice-like grip. It makes Melinoë boil and she grunts and digs her nails into the man’s hand but it results in nothing successful. Quite the opposite – Melinoë’s other hand is now held by the wrist too and she’s forced to face Odysseus and look him in the eye, whether she likes it or not.

There’s fury in her mismatched eyes and that’s clear for both of them. But the white-hot anger is hiding something else beneath – it’s hiding great fear, one that sprang out and evolved into full bloom in Melinoë’s nightmare and has remained with her ever since. Odysseus has known the Goddess for long enough to notice that and be aware that it’ll soon pass and Melinoë won’t go anywhere. She’ll come to understand it in a moment too.

“You know I’m stronger than you,” Melinoë goes on with her little tirade, despite her voice shaking more and more and her feral resolve breaking piece by piece. “You know that I can just push you away and you’ll stand no chance against me, Od!” she yells into his face, all desperate, her rage-powered cover crumbling down. “I’m a Goddess, I’m going there and I’ll kill Chronos because it’s my family that needs me, because it’s my task, it’s what I’ve been training so long and hard for and I can’t let it go to waste now, Od, imagine what Headmistress would say if I just…” Melinoë hiccups and she gives in to Odysseus’ strength.

A sob rips out of her throat and she grows limp, so that Odysseus releases her wrists and wraps his arms around her to safely sit down on the ground with her. Melinoë curls up and presses her face into his shoulder, sniffling and going on about her task mindlessly.

“I can’t let this chance slip through my hands, I’m the closest to beating Chronos than I’ve ever been, I can’t disappoint everyone again, I…”

“You’re not disappointing anyone,” Odysseus speaks evenly and gently, rubbing Melinoë’s back with his hand in a soothing manner. “Who told you that?”

Melinoë squeezes her eyes shut but tears manage to roll down her cheeks regardless. At the same time, she’s trying to calm down, focusing on the grounding presence of Odysseus and his hand spreading warmth over her back.

“Chronos,” she finally confesses and then chokes on a sob that nearly breaks Odysseus’ heart. “He haunts my dreams, showing me visions of my father and all the terrible things that he’s been doing to him.”

“Don’t believe that bastard, Goddess. He’s doing all he can to trick you into self-doubt. But you’re better than that and you won’t fall for that, aye?”

“Aye, sir,” Melinoë agrees and swallows a big gulp down her throat.

Satisfied and more at peace, Odysseus presses Melinoë closer to himself, providing her with all the comfort that he can give her. And it’s working. Despite the Princess feeling more than horrible about everything that has just transpired, she clings onto the tactician, focusing on her own breathing to match it with his even one. She’s also ashamed of her outburst but she can’t really do anything about it, can she?

As if reading her mind, Odysseus speaks again, “promise me one thing, Goddess. You won’t blame yourself for all that’s happened just now. You already have a lot on your plate, you don’t need to add anything to that.”

“I promise,” Melinoë swears with a slight nod of her head.

“Melinoë. Odysseus,” says a distinct and kind voice from behind the two.

“Madam,” Odysseus greets back, now looking at the Witch who’s joined them.

“Headmistress?” asks the Princess in a raspy voice, peeking over the tactician’s shoulder.

Melinoë is the first one to stand up and the man follows her. He doesn’t leave her side when they approach Hecate, keeping his arm over Melinoë’s shoulder in a protective and reassuring way. The Princess is grateful for that as well as for Hecate’s arrival.

“I didn’t want to disturb, since you’ve handled the crisis so well, Odysseus. Truly admirable.”

“I’ve done what had to be done, madam. Besides, I couldn’t leave your student in such a miserable state, now could I?”

“Certainly not. And you yourself know it well that it’s rather unwise to act on one’s instincts. In fact, Melinoë surely knows that too, especially after seeing Cerberus in the Fields of Mourning.”

“When driven by his instincts and utter woe, he’s something I’d never like to become,” Melinoë manages a small laughter, which earns her a slight squeeze on her shoulder. “Otherwise, he’s a good dog.”

Melinoë’s innocent shrug elicits a chuckle from both Hecate and Odysseus.

“Now, Melinoë. Please, come with me and let me shield your dreams from Chronos for the rest of your sleep today. I think I know just the thing. I shall teach you this spell, so that you can cast it yourself and fight our enemy off even in your dreams.”

“Thank you, Headmistress.”

Hecate walks in front of Melinoë and Odysseus as they return to the centre of the Crossroads. The Witch then heads to the Goddess’ tent and announces that she’ll wait there for her if she wants to exchange a word or two with Odysseus.

“Thank you, sir,” Melinoë says softly and a bit sleepily as they pull away from each other.

“No need for that, Goddess. I’m glad I could help.” Odysseus remains humble, a hopeful smile on his face.

“I’ll get you another bottle of nectar tomorrow. Then, we’ll be even.”

“If you insist, I won’t say no. Now, go back to sleep and bring someone around here a nightmare. It always helps you, aye?”

“Aye.” The smile on Melinoë’s own lips is wide before she and Odysseus go their separate ways.

All this time, Melinoë has thought that her nightmares can’t be remedied but Hecate has decided to prover her wrong. The Titaness only resorts to it when the nightmares are becoming too vivid and too realistic, for she doesn’t want to interfere with Melinoë’s nature, she explains.

In fact, Hecate has used such spells on Melinoë when the goddess was younger. It was years ago and Melinoë understands why she doesn’t recall ever being under the influence of sleep spells. She was too young to remember.

Melinoë doesn’t evoke any nightmare that she knows about this time. It’s as if the sleep’s void has consumed her for the rest of her slumber and she’s been embraced by its tranquillity until she completely woke up.

Although she has tried hard to change it, she’s still embarrassed because of her nocturnal activities. Alright, she’s always had troubles with peaceful sleep but she doesn’t have to run around and rouse everyone because Chronos doesn’t let her relax. And he’s not going to. Melinoë knows that the Titan will keep invading her mind anytime he has a chance to do so and she’s going to learn how to push him out of there. He doesn’t belong anywhere near Melinoë’s mind.

But that’s a task for later. For now, Melinoë’s lying in, contemplating the recent events. What she discovers seems suddenly even more embarrassing than waking Hecate and Odysseus up so abruptly. Namely, Melinoë clearly remembers the pang of loss that she felt when she no longer was in the tactician’s embrace. Immediately, she reminds herself about the talk with Aphrodite and it makes her wonder if she’s not talking herself into believing that yes, she needs affection – both physical and emotional at that.

And oh, praise the Fates! Melinoë received both.

When Melinoë allows herself all these emotions, they appear addictive. Once she goes back to the memory of how close to Odysseus she was a couple of hours ago, goosebumps rise on her skin and she wants the ground to swallow her up. Whether it’s all Aphrodite’s doing stops being all that important because Melinoë would like to spend some time with the tactician again. But she’s aware that since she was able to sleep so soundly thanks to Hecate, she can’t waste this energy for pastime now, despite the fact how rewarding it could be.

She will indulge herself in that once she has a spare moment, though. Definitely.

“Hey, haven’t seen you sleep in like that for a long time,” Dora emerges out of nowhere, startling Melinoë.

“Dora!” the Princess scolds her and sits up. The shade shrugs.

“All I’m saying is that you’ve finally done that. Congrats! You can’t just… you know, rush out of here, ready to beat the old Titan’s ass. Kinda unhealthy.”

“What are you trying to say?” Melinoë wonders, raising an eyebrow.

“What I mean is that you really should rest more. Talk to other shades perhaps. I’ve done that. Was more fun than I’d thought. Thanks, Mel.”

“So I should just listen to my own advice, then, huh?”

“Yep. Go hang out with the Big Witch or the horned guy. He’s cool.”

“You two have been getting on well, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, you could say so. Come join us sometime. Our talks might entertain you. Just unwind a bit more is what I’m saying. Got it, Mel?”

“Got it.”

But that’s for when Melinoë has less energy. Now, she really can’t waste it, so she doesn’t waste time anymore and she’s promptly off and heading to the forest. However, something or someone catches her eye. There’s also some kind of a special atmosphere that’s radiating from Odysseus himself and it’s nothing else but tiredness caused by a nightmare that he must’ve had very recently.

It immediately stops Melinoë’s stride and she feels a wave of guilt wash over her. She realises that Odysseus asked her to give someone a nightmare to feel better but–

“Goddess, I know I don’t look the best today but is that a reason to be staring at me?” he startles Melinoë with his question that’s super playful for someone who’s got bags under his eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I pondered off.” She walks over to the shade and averts her gaze, worrying about Odysseus and his sleep. “Od, I know you don’t like it when I apologise for giving any of you nightmares but…”

“Aren’t you a stubborn gal, eh?” He leans against his desk and folds his arms.

“Maybe so. It’s just difficult not to care. I bet you know the feeling.”

“That I do. Speaking of which, did you sleep well after that, erm…”

“Incident?”

“Accident.”

“Alright. Accident. Yes, Od. Frankly, I haven’t slept so well in a while. It wouldn’t be possible without Hecate’s spell and, well, my nature getting out of hand, apparently.”

Melinoë sighs and looks down, which makes Odysseus lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“I know I’m trying to slay a titan on my own but… You shouldn’t be getting any collateral damage anyway.” Melinoë shrugs and peeks up at Odysseus uncertainly.

“We all knew what we signed up for, Goddess. We can handle it. Trust me.”

“You’ve handled worse is what you’re trying to say, right?”

“Aye. You’re a quick learner, as always.”

“Except for the bow?” Melinoë sniggers briefly.

“Except for the bow.”

It is quite amazing to think that after such a nightmare, Melinoë has managed to slay the Titan. She doesn’t go boasting that much about it but it’s clear to everyone that she’s proud of herself – rightfully so. She receives praise from Hecate and that matters a lot to the Princess but it doesn't mean that Melinoë will rest on her laurels. There’s still much to learn and practise, so that one day Chronos will be beaten for good. Melinoë knows that such a day will come eventually, especially when she’s aware of her power and capability of getting rid of the Titan.

The event boosts her confidence to a great degree and she doesn’t hesitate to try and fight Chronos once again. The next run, however, is not as successful and she falls to Cerberus this time. For some reason, this failure doesn’t sting as much as it probably should. It’s likely that it’s caused by the fact that Melinoë does sympathise with the poor dog and she fights him only because she wants to help him. Perhaps she should look for an incantation that would permanently shield him from the sorrow that’s omnipresent in the Fields of Mourning.

Melinoë would also gladly come up with something that would keep Chronos’ minions away from Cerberus but this may take quite a while.

For now, though, the Goddess is sat at the bank of Cocytus, watching the constant flow of the river and the occasional ripples in the water. Sometimes, she even catches a glimpse of a fish playing in the tide. The sight and the sounds soothe her and help her zone out which is highly needed after a day of hard work. After all, it’s not only the physical aspect that’s taking a toll on Melinoë – when all the emotions ebb away, the Princess often feels like falling asleep.

The rhythmical sound of steps approaching her keeps her awake, though. If she doesn’t get herself together, the visions of the one who’s joined her at the river bank might keep her awake at night and that’s something she shouldn’t afford. Not now.

“Goddess.”

“Odysseus!” Melinoë’s face lights up. “What brings you here?”

“I reckon that the nectar you’ve kindly gifted me with tastes better when shared with someone.”

“You don’t have to!”

“In fact, I do,” he says jovially. “Considering today’s events, we’ve something to celebrate.”

“Are you suggesting a feast? Here? In the Crossroads?” Melinoë asks in disbelief and amusement.

“Just a little one. Not sure if Olympus would approve of that but…”

“They’re not here, are they?” A smile doesn’t leave Melinoë’s face and it only makes one linger on Odysseus’ face as well. “Besides, this is our place. We feast here as we see fit.”

“Impossible to disagree with that, Goddess.”

After that, Odysseus opens the bottle of nectar and is about to pour it into two cups but Melinoë deems it unnecessary and a tad too stiff. The man doesn’t mind and happily hands the Princess the bottle from which she takes a not-so-modest gulp. She then passes it back to Odysseus, who drinks from it too.

It’s only a matter of seconds until the topic drifts from the victory against Chronos to the tales about Odysseus’ journey. They have spoken about it a million times but Melinoë thinks that each time she hears these stories, a new detail emerges, one that she hasn’t heard of before, and this is what makes the tales fascinating even after all these years. Melinoë probably knows them all by heart now but it changes nothing.

Apart from that, she also enjoys the way Odysseus tells his stories. Enthralling as always and Melinoë can’t take her eyes and ears off of him.

Attention flatters him and attention from a witch who’s also a goddess flatters him twice as much. He just can’t help it. It’s possible that everyone in the Crossroads knows that already (Moros and Hecate certainly do) but Melinoë sees nothing wrong with that. Especially not when the nectar bottle becomes half-empty sooner than she thought it would.

“You really wouldn’t like to hear that wailing of Scylla’s, you can trust me on that,” Melinoë claims, chuckling softly when they’ve reached that part of the tales.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Goddess,” Odysseus laughs lowly himself and takes another swig from the bottle.

“You can go with me next time if you want. You’ll just have to survive every wretch I come across before we reach Scylla and the Sirens. And don’t forget Headmistress!”

“What do I have my scout-shades for, then, eh?”

“Are they there, in the audience, watching me fight those noisy creatures?” Melinoë wonders and snatches the bottle from Odysseus to have a large sip of nectar.

“Some of them.”

“Always keeping an eye on me, aren’t you? Is that your idea or Headmistress’?

“Neither’s, Goddess. We trust in your skills out there, whether it’s Erebus, Oceanus, the Fields or Tartarus. And the shades… The shades are just doing their work.” Odysseus ends his statement in such a way, that Melinoë immediately knows that there’s something more that he wanted to add.

“But?” she asks, silently mourning the little amount of nectar left.

Odysseus sighs and then answers, “but it’s good to know that you handle it all out there as well as you do. It’s something that does make me and Lady Hecate proud of you. Don’t know about Nemesis, though.”

“Thank you.” Melinoë’s cheeks flush with a pale pink hue. “And when it comes to Nemesis – she’s the opposite, I assure you. I sometimes wish she weren’t and I’m trying to get through to her but all my efforts seem futile.”

“It takes two, no matter the relationship, Goddess. You can’t force her to like you,” Odysseus states matter-of-factly.

“At least, she tolerates me. That’s a start, I guess.” Melinoë shrugs, staring at the river.

She shakes the almost empty bottle in her hand and offers it to Odysseus but he kindly refuses and tells her to down the thing. That cheers the Goddess up after the brief talk about Nemesis and she drinks the leftover nectar until there’s no more of that in the bottle. She puts it on the grass beside her and soon finds that she’s got nothing to do with her hands.

Normally, Melinoë would embrace her knees in a spot like this but she knows it may look as if she doesn’t want to talk or open up to her companion. That’s something she doesn’t want at all, so she slumps her shoulders and sighs, now inspecting her phantasmal arm. She’s aware that as she wrings her hands and wrists, Odysseus is watching her from the corner of his eye.

There’s silence between the two and it’s a rather comfortable one. Melinoë and Odysseus are simply enjoying each other’s company and the blissful effect that the nectar’s put on them – slight light-headedness and a rising want and courage to do something, anything. Preferably, something out of the ordinary and maybe somewhat against the custom.

By some miracle, Odysseus has been keeping himself in check the whole evening and he’s unashamedly proud of his own self because of that. Melinoë, however, has been suffering from various thoughts racing in her mind, encouraging her to act on the emotions that the nectar has seemingly uncovered or released.

It’s like her hands are itching to just act but it actually doesn’t matter what part or parts of her body the Goddess engages in whatever activity she’ll see fit.

Then, Melinoë decides that it’s high time she took Aphrodite’s advice to heart and let her divine nature reign for a while or two. She’s a goddess after all and she will not hide behind inhibitions that a mortal could have.

Thus, all unceremoniously, Melinoë leans her head against Odysseus’ shoulder, which causes him to freeze and halt whatever he’s been thinking about until now. It makes Melinoë stop any movements for a second as well and reconsider whether it was a wise choice. She did this with Icarus, after they’d got to know one another, and he didn’t mind. But he didn’t mind many things; in fact, he enjoyed them. They both did.

But Odysseus is not Icarus and Melinoë can’t let herself forget that.

“Please, do tell if I’ve overstepped–” Melinoë may have no inhibitions but she will still be polite.

“No… No, you haven’t, Goddess, I… I just wasn’t expecting that,” Odysseus admits in a startled but happy tone, his form becoming relaxed once more.

“I’ll warn you next time.”

“I don’t mind a pleasant surprise.”

The warmth in his voice puts a smile onto Melinoë’s lips. She also lets her eyes close as she tunes in to the sound of the water flowing so close to her and the deep breathing of Odysseus’. Those things could easily lull her to sleep but Melinoë isn’t sparing that a single thought, for she’s already plotting what else she could do to entertain herself on this fine evening seasoned with at least half a bottle of nectar. She indeed thinks that she drank more than Odysseus did.

A moment later, Melinoë is boring a hole in Odysseus’ profile with her gazing. The nectar is surely doing its work on her as she doesn’t let her eyes fall off the man beside her. Of course, Melinoë notices the smirk and hears the huffed out chuckle that has Odysseus’ shoulders shake slightly.

“What’s so funny?” she asks innocently.

“You’re beaming with mischief, Goddess. I don’t have to look to know that you’re plotting something against me and I can’t seem to put my finger on what it could be no matter how hard I try.”

“Maybe you should try harder. And how can you know that it’s you, out of all people, that I’m plotting against? How can you be sure that I’m not inventing new ways of how to fight Chronos? Or at least bother him significantly?” Melinoë tilts her head slightly, scanning Odysseus’ profile with her curious mismatched eyes that always land back on the man’s smug smile.

“One learns to recognise it after years of experience.”

Melinoë rolls her eyes at that but she doesn’t mean anything unkind. She’s generally amused by the whole exchange and the way Odysseus looks like he wants to make a move but is convinced that it’s going to earn him a curse. So, Melinoë makes a decision for him and allows herself to lean in closer and plant a quick and soft kiss on Odysseus’ cheek.

As she pulls back, the corners of her lips rise once again and she searches the tactician’s expression for any clues as to how he’s feeling about what the Goddess has just done. There is that calm satisfaction there that serves as a mere cover for the hammering of his heart and the racing thoughts in his head.

Melinoë may not realise that she’s just caused some part of Odysseus’ resolve to shatter.

Once he moves to face her properly, she quickly turns her head away in mock-timidness. Yet, what she can’t hide is the blush that’s spread from her cheeks down to her neck and bare shoulders – something that doesn’t escape Odysseus’ notice. The sight of an allegedly bashful goddess has him swallow and exhale slowly; the latter mostly to compose himself.

“Will the years of experience help you now?” Melinoë wonders, her tone laced with more playfulness than she expected.

“Only if you let them, Goddess. If you let me.”

Melinoë can’t say no to that low tone, so she spins her head around to find that Odysseus is closer to her than she imagined. She feels her cheeks burn and she grabs the hem of her chiton between her fingers as Odysseus places one of his hands behind her, on the grass. Melinoë almost doesn’t know where to look anymore, her own heart racing when she wills herself to meet Odysseus’ gaze.

And a little nod of her head tells him everything that he wants to know.

He doesn’t have to wait any longer, so he leans in to kiss the Goddess properly but ends up pressing his lips to the corner of hers when she’s moved ever so slightly. Yet, it’s enough to make Odysseus let out the quietest groan of disappointment mixed with endless determination to woo every witch he encounters.

“Sorry,” Melinoë whispers, glancing to the side, crumpling up the fabric in her slender hands.

“No harm done. Tell me to stop if that’s what you wish,” Odysseus muses against her skin, making the Princess dizzy with his breath that’s warm – unnaturally so for a shade.

The last time she’d been so close with anyone was years ago and she now realises how much she’s missed all the feelings and flutterings of heart connected with such activities.

“It’s just… The shades, they’re looking at us. They’re going to talk and soon the whole Crossroads will–”

“Does it matter? You’re a goddess, so those shades should be of no import to you when it comes to your pastime.”

Melinoë knows that the way he murmurs those words to her is going to be the end of her. It’s as if she can’t think straight and it scares and excites her all at once.

“You’re right,” she decides, biting down on her lower lip as Odysseus hums in approval and moves on to leave a trail of butterfly kisses on her cheek and up to her ear. “Maybe we should give them a little show?” Melinoë even manages out of her lungs that are too busy trying to level her breathing to care about some redundant waste of air.

The suggestion pulls a chuckle out of Odysseus and Melinoë closes her eyes to enjoy the sound to the fullest. She then lets out a shaky exhale and revels in how the man so close to her plants kisses on the shell of her ear and then nibbles on her earlobe only to return down the pale skin of her cheek to where he started. It does draw Melinoë’s attention back to him being so near in front of her again and she lets her eyes flicker open to meet his, lidded with careful but still avid adoration.

“Goddess…” he rasps out with nothing but reverence in his voice.

“Od…” she breathes and tilts her head to finally seal their lips together.

Only then does Melinoë learn that she has indeed missed this. Greatly.

It’s not rushed and this is exactly how Melinoë likes it. She’s actually in control here and she’s well aware of that. One word, one flick of her fingers and Odysseus could be gone or at least severely cursed but she would never ever do that. Not after being shown how delicate and passionate this man can be in the art of kissing.

Melinoë shifts in her spot a little, still holding the hem of her chiton but it changes once Odysseus lays his other hand on the other side of her face. His palm is warm but it’s nothing in comparison to the feverish flush of the Goddess’ skin.

The Princess relishes having her cheek cradled like this and she can’t help it but put one of her hands atop Odysseus’. She only squeezes it a tad when he nips at her lip and she can’t be bothered by the fact that it drags a soft whimper out of her mouth. But Odysseus is there to swallow it and store it in his memory for later.

A moment after that, a dissatisfied grunt can be heard and it belongs to Melinoë who chases Odysseus’ lips once he’s broken the kiss.

“Od…” Melinoë whines silently, leaning into the hand that’s still cupping her cheek. She looks at him with her shining mismatched eyes and a little frown, and it takes his whole strong will to put this thing to a halt. For now.

“If you’re not going to curse me, then Lady Hecate or Nemesis will if I keep you here any minute longer. You know how annoying our dear Retribution can be when someone tells her that you’ve allowed yourself a moment of rest, aye?”

Not the best reasoning by his standards but it should do.

“Aye, sir.”

She says it so lightly, out of habit and politeness. She can’t imagine what that short word is doing to Odysseus in a situation like this (it surely makes him forget his crappy excuse from a second earlier).

“Good.” Odysseus moves away but before any physical contact is lost between them, he rubs Melinoë’s skin with his thumb and then holds her hand for a while or two. After all, he won’t refuse a goddess who’s intertwined her own fingers with his. “Now go and take some real rest, Goddess. You need it.”

“I wish you were wrong sometimes, Od.” She gives his hand a squeeze and then lets it go. “Would you… mind repeating it one evening?” she asks almost too straightforwardly.

“By no means. As long as you’re interested, so am I.”

Melinoë sends him a warm smile that he reciprocates.

“But, are you really sure that I won’t curse you?”

“I’ll take my chances.”

#hades 2 #hades 2 fanfic #melinoe #odysseus #hades melinoe #hades odysseus

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ao3feed-piltovers-finest · 1 year

Text

for crown & country

by hellboy

Princess Caitlyn of Piltover is the delight of their realm: beautiful, intelligent, and blessed with magic.

As well as being particularly prone to getting herself in trouble.

Fearing for her well-being, or perhaps as punishment, she is assigned a private guard in an attempt to quell her rebelliousness.

It has varied success.

Alternatively described as: this started as a simple "catch the princess's cat to win her hand in marriage, oh she is the cat," trope & then it turned into this 100,000 word monster.

Words: 100163, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English

Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Characters: Caitlyn (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends), Jayce (League of Legends), Jinx (League of Legends), Mel Medarda, Cassandra Kiramman, Viktor (League of Legends), Tobias Kiramman

Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Forbidden Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Magic, Fantasy, Mythical Beings & Creatures, War, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Masturbation, Explicit Sexual Content, Secret Identity, Assassination Attempt(s), Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Gender or Sex Swap, (briefly) - Freeform, Pining, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Slow Build

from

AO3 works tagged 'Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)'

Read here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49554667

#ao3feed-piltovers-finest #a03feed-piltovers-finest #caitvi #arcane (league of legends) fanfiction

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loverboy1717 · 3 months

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Hi, me again, still collecting all the fandom notes and reading my welcome brochures and learning my way around. But are there good rote podcasts? Like ones that use a queer lense? I’m all for just general analysis and character and plot deep dives, but I need to know that the people I’m committing so much time to listening to are not in the “Fitz is straight” camp. Cus I’m terrified of getting into a pod and then having to adandon it cus some dude somewhere explains away the incredibly glaring subtext so he can identify with a “manly protagonist.” Like I need it to be explicitly acknowledged that this series explores gender and sexuality and sexual politics intentionally. I need whoever I’m subscribing to to agree thay the wit is an obvious metaphor for queerness. Like right out of the gate. Cus if not idk the point of even getting into discussions of later books.

#rote #Mel reads rote #realm of the elderlings #hi fandom! I’m still new!#your fic recs were spot on so help a gal out with pods #Fitzloved

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kaze-writes · 1 year

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About Me

Hello, my dear friends. You've made it to the small (but neat, if I may say so) realm of Anya, aspiring 'author', creative mess, and fan of all things literary. This is where I post my original shorts, updates on my plethora of WIPs, and links to other platforms where I share my work.

I love to connect with other writers and hear about their work, just as much as I love rambling about mine (because who doesn't?), so if you want to share, please go ahead!

My Writing

I write and read whatever tickles my fancy, and the WIPs on my backburner range from Western to high fantasy with the odd shortcut into children's stories and murder mysteries. It's a bit of a chaos, but I lost control long ago.

Find my Wattpad page with multichapter projects and collections (tba) here.

Works in Progress

When Stars Ignite

Equinox, the world's greatest modern rock band, are just about to start the U.K. leg of their latest European tour. The stage is set, the crowd is ready, the band is waiting in the wings. But behind the scenes, fine cracks are beginning to show. Rich Cameron, the band's manager and father of bassist Mel, has one rule, and one rule only - no getting involved with the other band members. Little does he know that guitarist Leon Dayal and drummer Jaz Kingston have developed a habit of sneaking into each other's hotel rooms. It's only sex, nothing more, but can their friendship beat to their new rhythm?