#she's SUPPOSED to be the most ordinary girl in the world and you know what? ordinary girls are jerks

[doverstar]

to be clear, I think Rose Tyler being an often-selfish character is great. I think it's great because real women are selfish. Real women get petty. Real women hear their ex boyfriend say he's going out with a mutual acquaintance and get unfairly jealous and real women then say things like "she's a bit big" when they shouldn't and they have no right. Real women can be monsters, and Rose Tyler is relatable and I love how she is written and I love her, thanks for listening

[venusacrossthestars]

barbies

Pairings- Dad!Daniel x Mom! Reader

WC-1.1k

Summary- Daniel does in fact not know how to play Barbies

f1 masterlist

A/N- anytime I can slander Tika I will. IYKYK

Daniel had thought that he had the whole girl-dad thing down. He knew how to act during tea parties. He knew not to move during makeovers. He would sing, albeit terribly, during the Princes part of Disney song just so his little girl could focus on singing the Princesses part. He thought he had it all down, but there was one thing he couldn’t master for the life of him- playing Barbies. 

Everytime Charlotte asked him to play it always ended in frustration for both parties. It seemed that no matter what he did it was always wrong. On one occasion he had Robert, the Ken doll that was affectionately renamed, and Charlotte her Barbie- Margot.

 Daniel was laying on the floor, acting his part believing all was well. “Well don’t you look radiant today darling,” he said as he walked Robert into the Dreamhouse. 

This was all it took to set off the six year old, “No daddy! Robert doesn’t call Margot ‘darling’ he calls her babe and Margot calls him honey.” 

“Well why can’t he call her darling?” Daniel, genuinely curious as to why it mattered. 

“Because you always call mommy babe and she always calls you honey,” she stated it as the most obvious fact in the world. 

Daniel found it adorable that your daughter took notice of something as small as pet names and integrated it into her own little world. However, she wasn’t amused. “Daddy, you don’t have to play anymore, I can play by myself now.” She said, taking Robert out of Daniels hand. He didn’t have the courage to argue, knowing how particular she was when it came to playing with her Barbies. 

Later that night, long after Charlotte had gone to bed, the two of you sat in bed watching reruns of your favorite show. 

“Your daughter is very picky about her pet names for her Barbies,” Daniel tells you, remembering the incident that happened earlier. 

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Very much so, Robert only calls Margot ‘babe’ and she only calls him ‘honey’, and you want to know what she told me?” You hum in curiosity, Daniel continues, “its because those are the pet names we call each other. She then proceeded to relieve me of my Barbie duties.”

“As she should, playing Barbies is very serious business.” You tease back. “I was the same way.” 

“Why is it so hard to play dolls,” Daniel buries his head into his pillow. 

“Don’t worry honey,” you rub his back in soothing circles, “maybe one day you’ll get the hang of it.” 

“You never have problems when you play with her.” 

“You forget that I was a little girl once.” 

Every time Daniel, in his words, fucked up playing Barbies he noticed that Charlotte wouldn’t ask him to play dolls with her for a couple days. He didn’t want to sound childish, but it did in fact hurt his feelings. 

As usual, days passed before Charlotte asked him to play again. And as usual Daniel had somehow screwed up, but this was no ordinary screw up, this was monumental. He didn’t even know what he did wrong, things were going so well until they weren’t. 

“Mommy!” The little girl yelled, “mommy!” 

“What?!” Your voice carried throughout the house. 

“Daddy isn’t playing Barbies right.” She whined. 

In a matter of seconds you appeared in the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest, “what’s going on?” 

“I have no idea,” Daniel admits, “we’re sitting here and all of the sudden I’m not doing it right.” 

“Charlotte, baby, remember what I told you?” you remind your daughter. 

She nods in response, “I’m sorry daddy, I know you don’t know how to play Barbies.” 

Daniel looks flabbergasted at what his daughter has just said to him and looks at you through squinted eyes. “You told her I don’t know how to play Barbies?” 

“No, I told her you don’t know how to play the real version of Barbies, you think you know how to, but in reality you play the straight man way.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Baby, how about you and me show daddy how we play Barbies?” You ask your daughter, whose face lights up in excitement. She gets up and hurries over to her bin of Barbies to pull out your designated Barbie, Lisa. 

You move into the room and sit next to Daniel, “watch and learn from the master.” 

The three of begin to play and Daniel thinks all is normal, you are doing everything that he typically does, but things quickly take a turn. 

You walk up Lisa to Robert, “Hiiiii Robert, you look good today.” 

Charlotte, well Margot, quickly interrupts, “why are you talking to my man?” Daniels eyes widen, where did she learn this from?

“I was just giving him a compliment Marggie.”

Charlotte shakes Margot in faux rage, “how many times do I have to tell you that my name is Margot.” 

“Well I think its just the cutest nickname, don’t you Robbie?” You turn Lisa’s attention to the Ken doll Daniel is holding. Daniel doesn’t move or say anything. 

“Are you going to let her talk to me like that Robert?” His daughter- no- Margot questions. 

“See he agrees with me,” you move the dolls hand so it is now resting on Roberts shoulder.

This proceeds to set your daughter off. “I have had it with you and your flirting towards my boyfriend!” 

“Well what are you going to do about it?” You taunt. 

“I’ll show you what!” Charlotte exclaims and then lunges towards you and Lisa. 

Daniel just sits in shock, the noise of plastic colliding, your mock ow’s between giggles, and Charlotte’s laughter fills his ears. When he thought of Barbies he always thought of dressing up dolls, making little families, all that soft stuff. Not this. 

“You alright over there honey?” You ask your husband, who just continues to stare in disbelief  “Charlotte I think we broke your father.”

“I’ve never seen anyone play Barbies like this.” 

“Well this is how I’ve always played, but my mom did say once that I played…. Uniquely,” you shrug. 

“That was fun!” Charlotte exclaims, throwing herself into your arms. 

You cradle her close to your chest, “I’m glad, did you learn anything?” 

“Yeah,” Daniel responds, “that I truly know nothing about playing barbies.”

“This is mild compared to the scenarios I made up,” you admit. 

“This. Mild? What did you do to your dolls woman?” 

“I’m not telling you with such influenceable ears around.” 

“My God,” is all Daniel can manage out. 

“Hey, don’t judge me.” 

“I’m just rethinking my life choices.” 

“You asked me to marry you, you knew fully well what you were getting yourself into.” 

“Mommy?” Charlotte interjects, “can we watch one of those old barbie movies?” 

You groan. “They aren’t even that old!” You exclaim. “Which one did you want to watch?”

“The Island Princess one!” 

At that Daniel groans, “that’s the one with the annoying elephant isn’t it?”

taglist- crossed out names mean I couldn't tag you

@arieslost @miaa1001 @babybadger @k3nmakyan @livelovesports @aspens-trees @yeetskeetstreet @racingheartsposts @emmma232 @isalovestaylor @imchiarashelby1 @m4dyi @melissayalene-blog @gothicwidowsworld @lizzieolsenfan86 @firestormsandlightning @erjn45 @evelyn-4034 @vkncgzxf @naaanasworld @ladyoflynx @bre99 @foulsongfest @teenagedramqueen @kstyles-06 @asparklysoul @kodzzukenn @snakelore @lochnoch @hhppw7 @whentheautumnleavesfall @gxuh @clarasmagic @xoxonoire @annahowardsworld @estellabookreader @user2604 @babysitter19 @dylan-obrienn24 @sadisticfries @cocote1410 @prettylittlels @itsbwokenln4 @amandaauroraelli @wargetter @happylittlereader @2502zena @bathedinheat @itsmeeluciie @olivyamarvelgirl @justtprachisblog @its-cat-eyes @embonbon @nickxcorpse @accnt-1 @cosmoscoffeee @phantomxoxo @caramelahamilton @inejismylife @iloved111lfs @caseket @selsbackyard @alex0808 @blueberrysmoothie673 @sergantbarnesbitch @a-disturbing-self-reflection @bethiebeth12 @thereisa8ella @giada-chan @slaygirlbossworld @chuchiestpt

[luviwon]

박성훈 – alluring me

word count: 2k

COMING BACK FOR MORE?

It seemed to be a loud night in the usual quiet town. The rain drops were slipping down your window, worsening the view outside. You were not much of a rain person, rather you enjoyed sunny mornings so you can be that "girl" they call. Either way, it wasn't morning in first place, so why would you care?

Oh, maybe because you were supposed to leave your apartment room in the following 20 minutes, your friend almost pulling up to pick you up. Nightclub she said. Now, whether you were going to enjoy it or not, you'll have to see, but one thing is sure: you weren't going to let yourself get drunk and end up in a stranger's bed by next morning.

At least not this way.

You were good to go. Makeup on point, clothes suiting your perfectly, golden jewellery around your neck cause you were expensive. The only thing that was missing was some cash and a hot boyfriend to bring with you. But you can't have everything in the world. At worst, you could ask Lia to lend you some money until next paycheck, so you could enjoy a cheap mocktail.

Making sure to lock the front door, you walked to the parking spot, waiting for your friend to arrive as well. Fortunately, it didn't take her too long, as the dark blue Audi made its way in, stopping in front of you. "Hi babe!" Lia shouted, as the car window went down, revealing a tipsy blondie.

"Are you drunk driving again?" you chuckled and walked around the car, getting the door open and stepping in. "Me? Drunk? Y/N! What are you talking about?" said she, while not being able to hide a hiccup. The two of you just laughed, while Lia drove out of the parking spot, speeding up on the lonely road. There was barely anyone, and most probably, there won't be any interesting person at the club either. It wasn't the biggest town, for sure, so there was no reason in trying to aim highly.

Luckily, the club wasn't so far, which made everything just perfect. Less likely to be engaged in an accident, given Lia's condition. The blondie parked, horribly though, in front of the ordinary looking nightclub, and threw her keys somewhere in the back. "Just in case I feel like car sex later, it's better to leave the car unlocked"

"You are crazy" you said, jokingly pushing her shoudler. Lia chuckled, leaving the car and inhaling the fresh air outside, and you did the same. Not long until your nose will only inhale cigarette smoke, so you may as well take advantage of the situation. The two of you stepped in, looking around for someone familiar. Yet it seemed like there was no one you would know.

You made it to the bar, barely being able to hear each other. The music was deafening, much louder than you've expected. Lia seemed to enjoy, though. Judging by her facial expression, she was going to leave you immediately for that hottie she noticed walking around. Typical. Shouldn't you do the same though?

"Hey, Lia, do you think you can give me some cash until Wednesday? Just so I don't awkwardly beg someone to buy me a drink"

"Oh, babe, I'm so sorry! I don't have anything on me. I'm counting on that sexy lad!" she said, pointing to a blonde guy, accompanied by another blonde person. Or was it the other she pointed at? They looked very similar, so no point in trying to guess. "Ah, thank you anyway" you smiled at her.

And just as thought, Lia slyly disappeared from the picture, seeing her next to the two guys, seductively touching their arms. She was so funny. But you couldn't deny, she was so good at this. Definitely better than you. You turned around to the barman, with doe eyes.

"What can I get you, young lady?"

"Anything on the house, please" you tried to make it less awkward by laughing away, elegantly, but it didn't seem to work. "I'm sorry, darling, drinks cost money. If you lack any, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I can't get you anything"

"Loser," you mumbled.

You walked away in annoyance, fixing your relatively short denim skirt. Maybe not the best cloth choice for a night out, but it was so cute! So was your sleeveless white top, revealing a hot cleavage, put in the light by the delicate necklace.

"You alone, pretty girl?" you heard a sensual voice from your left side, turning your head to witness maybe one of the most beautiful faces you've ever seen before.

The guy was wearing a black button up shirt, with the first 3 unbuttoned, and the sleeves rolled up. His messy dark hair and rosy lips looked so perfect in contrast with his white skin. He was sitting down on a white sofa, resting his back on the piece of furniture, with his legs slightly opened.

"Depends on who asks"

That sounded better in your head, but after you let it aloud, you felt so stupid.

"Mhm," he groaned, looking down and chuckling. "I see, pretty girl"

The dark-haired guy grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer, on the spare seat next to him. He smelt so fucking good. He had this kind of screaming sweet scent mixed with some vanilla. Closer now, you could analyse his face so much better. His dark eyes were shining in the multicolour club lights, and his skin was so smooth, at least it looked like it. You didn't dare to touch it.

"What does the pretty girl like to drink?"

"A mocktail would be perfect for me"

He softly giggled at your answer, as his left hand grabbed your chin and turned you closer to him, making eye contact. There they were again, his blinding eyes. "We both know you will get drunk on me later, so what about you start getting yourself ready with a nice set of shots for an even nicer doll?"

You gulped, taken aback by the tension he created. He was so much for it. And the closer he got, the more you got high on his perfume. It was so addictive. Where the hell did he come from? A fairytale? He was much too perfect for this fucked up world.

"I guess that works too" you answered, pulling your skirt down while not breaking the eye contact.

He looked down, sensing your movement. "Don't worry princess, you are alright" his hand was now touching your bare calf, going up your leg at a slow pace, making his way to your outer thigh. His touch made you tremble, it felt so wrong but so good at the same time. Where was the promise you made before you left? Probably somewhere lost, as the guy's hand went up to invading your personal space way too much now.

"I don't thin-"

"You don't think what?" he interrupted you promptly, his fingers teasing gently against the lingerie material. "Let the thinking to me, dollface. You just be good." Using his index and middle fingers, he kept going in circular motions. Before you knew it, you were on his lap, being aroused by his skillful fingers.

Your faces were so close, but he didn't kiss you. He only stared at your perfect looking face, whilst his fingers slipped under your panties, playfully touching your clit. You bit your lower lip in response, holding your moan back. He noticed that, and came closer to your lips. "You wish I'd kiss you so you could moan into my mouth, don't you?"

You gulped again, feeling his hot breath on your dry lips. He seemed like such a good kisser, but why didn't he want to show it to you? Because he was a tease. And he wanted you to earn in. Or shall you just make the next step? You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down until your lips touched together. Fuck, even for the first second, he tasted so good. What was this man made out of?

You could feel the smile that was born on his face at your action. With his spare hand, the dark-haired guy held your back close to him. His fingers were now exploring more of you, teasing your entrance that was already dripping wet. He was making you so needy, and that was more than obvious. He kissed you hard, devouring your mouth, he seemed so famished, desiring you so much. You felt overwhelmed, and when you expected it least, both of his fingers were sliding inside you, making you whine inside his mouth, just as he previously said.

"Good girl" he tried to say in between kissing, keeping on being so hungry for your taste. His fingers went in and out your pussy, causing you to moan again. The hand that was supposed to hold your back went up to your hair and pulled it down, making you face the ceiling as his lips went down your neck "Now moan aloud too, princess"

Not that anyone could have heard you, the deafening music and the smoke around could barely make out what's going on around. But the simple thought of you getting caught was arousing him. Reason why his fingers moved faster inside you, and deeper, making you bite your lips hard. In response, he bit a tiny part of your neck, and pulled your hair harder. His fingers curled inside you, touching continously your G-spot, finally making you let a loud moan out.

He was so proud.

"Good girl, come for me" he whispered, pushing your head back up and going back to making out with you, while his fingers went back to deep and precise motions. His tongue played with yours in a little battle that he won. All the odds were on his side. He had you coming for him, the dark-haired guy not giving you a break. He needed to stop, you really couldn't handle all that. It was too much for you.

It seemed that he almost read your mind, cause as soon as you thought that, he took his fingers out, cleaning them by your chest, covering it in your liquor. "Tight" he said, biting your lips one more time before backing up. That felt so fucking good. You were so out of breath, leaning on his chest. You thought you shouldn't do this, given that he is not your boyfriend. Isn't it normal to just leave when this finishes?

But he was so warm, and you were so stupid.

"You come here often, darling?" he asked, going back to being a gentleman.

He lit up a cigarette, blowing the smoke on the opposite side of you. He offered you one, but you refused. Not quite your thing. But he looked so sexy smoking that shit. So fine. So perfect. And you wish he could have been yours.

"Not really. But if you do, I will have a change of heart"

He chuckled, taking another smoke from the cigarette. Putting your hair behind your ear, he grabbed your cheek with two fingers and acted just like an old lady seeing her nephews. "You are so cute"

You still couldn't move on from what just happened. And even though he stopped a while ago, you could still feel the pleasure your pussy was in. So fucking good.

"What's your name?" you asked, hopeful.

"Does that change a thing? You don't need these details"

"I need you, though" that made him smile.

He gave you a short kiss, a last one, and got up from the white-leathered sofa. "I'm sorry, pretty girl, but I'd need to have you gone if you knew my name." He fixed his button up shirt, and threw the cigarette in the ashtray. You felt so disappointed. How could you let him go so easily?

"How about next Saturday at the same time, in the same place?" you tried shooting your shot one last time.

He didn't say a word. However, he winked at you and then made his way out. That was all you needed. Now, sitting alone in the lonely club, you were so lost in your thoughts. Wow. Just wow. Lia finally made her way to you, way too drunk, and fell next to you. She didn't say a word, but let a sigh out.

"Can you drive home, Y/N?"

But you couldn't answer. You were only thinking about him. Anyway,

how long until next week?

[prettypumpum]

Title: Crossed Dimensions I Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: strong language, mentions of violence, depression, anxiety

Summary: You were living an ordinary life until the day a portal throws you into the Marvel universe. Trapped between an unbearable Deadpool and a Wolverine as troubling as he is charming, you discover powers you didn't know you had and an unknown past with certain heroes. As your anxiety grows in the face of this new reality, will you be able to find your place and perhaps become the hero they need?

Word count: 1,136

"I have good news and great news," Wade began when I returned from the bar bathroom where our pilot was supposed to meet us. "Enrique transferred the money, so for now, we're rich. And drumroll," he said, gesturing for me to tap on my thighs, "Elis is delayed, so we're stuck here until tomorrow morning," added the mercenary cheerfully.

"You think that's good news?" Logan asked, ordering another drink. We’d been here for three hours, and at this rate, the bonus would be gone.

"Are you in a rush to see him again? Need to hear more about that seafood restaurant in Barbados?" I asked Logan, who grimaced, remembering just how annoying our pilot could be.

Our conversation was interrupted by Wade's phone. He showed us the screen: it was Al. She’d be pleased; Enrique had even given us a little something extra in kind.

"So, tell me, how’s my favorite girl?" Wade asked, answering the call. "I meant the dog, you old fossil! She’s saying sweet things about you," he said, pressing the phone to his chest and stepping outside, leaving Logan and me alone.

"How’s your injury?" he asked me.

"It’s completely gone."

He nodded and went back to drinking. I nervously played with my glass; it was my sixth mojito, and I still didn’t feel anything. Now and then, I’d glance at the man beside me. He had never told us what had happened to him or why he was the way he was. He seemed so sad and angry. I’d started to think that this new universe was a second chance for him, too.

"Thanks for helping me with my powers; you must’ve been a great teacher," I said with a small smile, to which he only responded with a grunt. "What did you teach?" I asked, trying to fill the silence that was becoming awkward. We were the only customers in this dingy bar. I’d never been the most social person, but I needed to talk, and Logan was the only one who could understand since he was in the same situation as me, especially with Laura.

"We don’t have to do this," he said, setting down his empty glass and ordering another. It was four in the afternoon, and I’d already lost count of what he’d drunk. I nodded, hoping Wade would come back soon. "I taught history," he finally said after a long silence.

"I used to be a dancer." I wanted to slap myself; I didn’t know why I’d said that—it was like my mouth had a mind of its own. "Well, not in the end… I worked in a bookstore in Brooklyn."

"You could ask Wade’s friend to find you a job."

"I wasn’t that kind of dancer; I performed in Broadway shows," I said with a smile. "I ran into your Variant from my universe during one of my auditions… well, I saw him walking from far away and from behind, but that counts."

"What the hell was he doing at a Broadway audition?"

"He had the lead role in one of the shows."

At least it made him laugh. It was nice to see him in a good mood, even though I quite liked his grumpy expression.

"No kidding!" he said, disgusted, taking another swig of his beer. "If anyone had ever told me I’d end up drinking in a bar with Dreamwalker," he said, more to himself than to me.

"What was I like in your universe?" I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to hear the answer.

"You were a real pain in the ass," he replied before taking a sip of his beer. "But you weren’t the worst."

I nodded, unsure of what to say. I’d been taken by the TVA because I was an anomaly; I’d started to develop powers in a world where that wasn’t supposed to happen. And after meeting Wade, he’d explained who I was while we looked for a Wolverine.

"For what it’s worth, I’m sorry," I said awkwardly.

"You’re not her," he said. "No, you’re definitely not her," he muttered, giving me a look full of meaning.

I wasn’t sure if it was because he’d nearly drunk the bar’s entire supply or if I was imagining things because of the stress and fatigue. But I willingly joined him in this little game.

"Is that right?" I asked, unsure where I found the courage to keep this conversation going as I kept my gaze locked on the mutant’s. His beautiful brown eyes were growing darker and darker.

Our noses were almost touching, and I could feel his breath, tinged with beer and whiskey. His gaze never left mine; it was so dark, almost animalistic. I didn’t know if he was going to bite me or kiss me. The scariest part was that I didn’t know which I’d prefer.

*What am I doing?* My reason was screaming at me not to play with fire, but my heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst. I knew this wasn’t a good idea, that Logan wasn’t the kind of man you approached without leaving a piece of yourself behind. And yet, I was here, unable to pull away. I felt like Little Red Riding Hood, knowingly choosing to play with the wolf, fully aware of what that meant.

"Everything’s fine!" Wade yelled as he reentered the bar, snapping both of us out of that suspended moment. Logan and I quickly pulled away from each other; I turned my attention to my drink, trying to hide my flushed face, and calm my heart, which was about to leap out of my chest. Reality had just jolted me out of that daydream in a brutal and familiar way—of course, nothing was going to happen, not between Logan and me. As if someone like him would actually let himself go for someone like me. I lowered my gaze, hoping Wade wouldn’t notice my flushed cheeks, trying to ignore the painful void left by that stolen moment.

"Did I interrupt something?" Wade asked, curious. I shook my head, staring at the little umbrella in my glass while Logan stayed turned away, still drinking. "Are you sure?" he continued.

"How’s everything at home?" I asked to change the subject. "She got in a car accident," Wade replied calmly.

I still couldn’t understand how a blind old lady addicted to cocaine had a driver’s license.

"Oh my God, is she okay?" I asked, concerned for the old lady.

"She’s in the hospital with a bunch of fractures and a concussion," Wade replied calmly. "But my little Mary Poppins is fine; she’s with Vanessa. Aren't they just adorable together?" he asked in a schoolgirl’s voice, showing me a selfie where Vanessa was holding Dogpool, with Al in the background, clearly in pain.

"Adorable," I replied.

[i-cant-sing]

Idk why, but even before I started writing here, I always imagine Dabi falling for a girl who wears niqaab (a veil). And like I still cant stop thinking about him falling for a niqaabi (who is most likely a Muslim) and like the very essence of respecting her religion and boundaries (aka no physical contact with the opposite gender especially if its a stranger) is like so on spot for Dabi, no?

If you take a modern day niqaabi, Dabi is intrigued by her outfit and the way she speaks, the way she carries herself. He's attracted to a woman he hasn't even seen, which means he is attracted to her brain, to her mannerisms.

And the eyes... oh what if the reader wears the type of niqaab where u could only see the eyes?? They're nothing out of the ordinary, even your brows are covered, but the way his heart stops when you make eye contact with him, however brief, even if he blocks your path or says something to make you look at him, they're- it's like he can feel his very soul connecting with yours.

And if we take the old time era, I'm imagining reader being a princess/warrior niqaabi, and maybe Dabi is her newly appointed bodyguard or a Knight sent by his father to bring you home for an arranged marriage with King Enji?

Dabi isn't supposed to stare at you, the very sight of your shadow is barely permissible for him, but he can't. Not when he's heard rumours about your beauty, about you being so beautiful that men have killed themselves when you rejected their proposals, thus you cover up, even your eyes.

Maybe while escorting you to his father's kingdom, he can feel your resentment to the marriage. Maybe on the way, you guys are attacked, forcing Dabi to flee away with you on his horse, his heart stopping momentarily when he made contact with your body to pick you up and place you on his horse. And maybe while fighting, he was stabbed, bleeding profusely, which you only noticed when you guys finally reached a safe place, by a lake.

You panic because he is starting to look drowsy from all the blood loss, even if he says he's fine, so in a instant, you ripped off your veil and dipped it water nearby before placing it on his wound, putting pressure on it.

Dabi's breath hitches, his entire body stiffens, and for a brief second, it feels like the entire world has stopped as he stares at your face.

Your beauty... your face... it bewitched him.

Even with worry and frustration etched on your face, even as your eyes fill with tears, even as your lips tremble as you pray that his wounds stops bleeding, you looked heavenly.

He feels like one of those poets who would forget about the world and his ownself just so that he could only focus on writing poems that would fail to do justice to your beauty.

As the moonlight hit your face, Dabi despite being an atheist, truly did belive you were divinity.

"Stop staring." You chided, making the mistake of looking into his eyes, and he felt it. He felt the connection, the touch to his soul.

Dabi fainted, whether it was because he was bleeding or because of your beauty, no one knows.

The next day, when he finally woke up, you had ripped a part of your dress to make another veil for yourself. But Dabi wasn't disappointed, no. He had seen you once, and that was enough for this lifetime and all the others.

He was surprised to see you holding his bow in one hand and a bird in the other.

"Breakfast." You said softly, as you began preparing the bird. He didn't know you could hunt, princesses like you were usually not taught skills like that.

And Dabi asked where'd you learned it, and you shrugged, revealing how your father and brothers think you're no good for just because you're a woman, but in reality you succeed all of them in all fields, including academically and military strategies. But the world is patriarchal, so all you're good for is marriage apparently.

"Its a trap being a woman."

Dabi chuckles at that, nodding his head along that a princess would complain of feeling trapped, but he got what you said.

"Everyone is trapped in their own ways, princess. Even me."

The two of you soon began to continue your journey again, and with your caravan now dead, it was just the two of you, chatting more. And even though Dabi had seen your face, he still kept his distance, still respected your boundaries, something none of your admirers ever did.

Dabi asks why you're marrying his father, because he knows you could've easily ran away.

"I plan to be a queen who can make better reforms and changes to the world. What better way than to start with the strongest ruler by my side?" You explain, telling him that you know Enji only wants you because he wants strong children. And you only want his support. It's a mutually beneficial marriage.

Along the way, Dabi had already fallen for you. And you won't admit it, but you were slowly staring to fall for him too. He wasn't like the other men. He didn't feel the need to put you down, laugh at your ideas to "change the world", didn't make you feel stupid or insecure. And he didn't put his hands on you either, most men would've taken the opportunity of being alone in the desert and to do unspeakable things to a woman. He didn't. And you can't explain it, but there's just something about him, something otherworldly that makes you feel bonded with him.

He makes you feel safe, not just from physical threats, but from your own doubts and insecurities too, without you ever having to voice them out.

The final night you two were together, setting camp at the edge of the desert, he told you that he will always support you. He will always protect you, he will always have your back, no matter what.

"Why are you talking like this is goodbye? Won't you still be my royal Knight, after I marry the king?" You ask.

Dabi smiled sadly, looking at the fire he'd made. "I'll always be yours."

"But?"

"After I bring you to the kingdom, my duty here will be done. I will be sent again to conquer more land for the king."

You looked down at your hands, tears brimming your eyes. "So, this is goodbye then." You sniffled,and Dabi could feel someone squeezing your heart when he saw a tear fall out of your eyes.

Oh how he wished to wipe it away, wash away all your sorrows.

You wiped your own tear away, composing yourself quickly. "Well, then I must thank you. For protecting me, for fulfilling your duty, for teaching me things, for everything. Truly, there must be no better man than you."

Dabi grinned. "My pleasure."

Soon, you two fell asleep. Well, you fell asleep. Dabi pretended to fall asleep, but he stayed awake because he wanted to keep looking at you. He wanted to savour every moment, every second he had with you before tomorrow.

At some point, in your sleep, without realising, you had dropped your head in his lap, perhaps to get closer to the fire. Dabi didn't wake you, for if he did, you would've been mortified.

While he was resisting the urge to pat your head, a scorpion came near you two, specifically near Dabi's bare feet. The scorpion and Dabi had a brief staring contest, and as if challenged, it stung him.

Dabi only bit his lip, but he didn't dare move a muscle. How could he, when it would risk waking you up?

Fortunately, the scorpion went away after that. And soon morning came and youvtwo finally reached his kingdom.

Taking you inside the castle, towards his father's court, Dabi gave you all the tips that wouldn't set off Enji and would actually have his favour.

You nodded, and as the two of you stood outside the doors, Dabi reminded you-

"If you ever need me, just call my name. I'll be there."

You wondered how would he know you'd called when he would be miles away, but you suppose he could have his people here to report to him.

You two entered the court and Enjibsat on his throne, looking menacing as ever. Bowing, Enji praised his son for a job well done before excusing him.

Dabi gave you one last glance before leaving the court, and Enji beckoned you forward. You came near him, head still bowing.

"Take off your veil." He ordered.

You looked up at him, confused. You must've heard him wrong. How could you reveal yourself infront of his court like that?

"Pardon?"

"Take. Off. Your. Veil." He repeated.

"Your Majesty, your court is watching-" but you were cut off with a slap to your face that made you fell.

You looked at him in shock, holding your cheek but then Enji pulled you up by your throat and ripped off your veil, earning gasps from everyone.

"If I tell you to do something, you do it. If I tell you to take your veil off, you take it off. If I tell you to strip in front of my court, you fucking do it!" He shook you hard as you struggeld to free your throat from his grip. He pulled you closer, grabbing your cheeks painfully. "Now, let's see if you've learned your lesson." He threw you down again, your tears were falling freely now as you wondered if you had cursed yourself by agreeing to marry this monster.

"Now, strip." Enji commanded from above, glaring at you.

You began hyperventilating, trying to think of a way out of this situation. You looked around you to see if anyone would come to your aid, but the court, all those old men were looking at you in anticipation, as if you're a piece of meat.

Is this.. is this your end?

As Enji stomped towards you, your heart dropped and you screamed instinctively.

"DABI!!!!"

Enji raised his hand to strike you, but instead of a slap, blood had splattered on your face.

You looked down as you heard a thud, and there it was in front of you-

Enji's head.

Your eyes looked back up and you saw Enji's headless body that fell to the side, revealing Dabi behind him holding his bloody sword, face full of rage, eyes full of insanity.

Locking eyes with you, the insanity in his eyes was replaced with... concern.

"Are you okay?" He asked in the softest voice possible. He sheathed his sword, walking towards you. He bent on his knees to be on your level. "Did I scare you? I'm sorry. Hey, hey, no need to look at the head. He can't hurt you anymore. No one can." He said raising his hand to cup your cheek, but he hesitated. You wouldn't be comfortable-

You threw your hands around him, diving your head into his chest as you sobbed. Dabi only chuckled before gathering you in his arms, patting your head and cooing soft nothings, as if hadn't just beheaded the strongest ruler in the world.

"Shh, its alright. Everything will be okay. I'm here now, aren't I?" He cooed as you began carrying you out of the room but not before blowing a whistle as hundreds of assasins and knights broke into the court, killing and maiming Enji's court.

As Dabi walked towards his room, making sure to hide your face well because he doesn't want to kill some poor servant just because he saw your face like he's killing the court, he wondered what would have happened if you hadn't called for him.

Surely, he wouldn't have planned the coup, be wouldn't have had killed Enji, and he certainly wouldn't have had you in his arms.

But for you, he would burn the whole world down if you wish it. He'd burn himself if it pleases you.

For you, a thousand times over.

[midnightechoes]

So this week is going to go down as maybe the most sapphic week in animation history. It’s going to have a great case, there are so many sapphic shows or shows with prominent sapphic couples airing this week.

Don’t know what I’m talking about? Here’s a quick rundown:

Yuri Is My Job!

Premiering on Crunchyroll on April 6th.

Yuri is My Job! is based on a yuri manga of the same name. It follows high schooler Hime, who cares deeply about her image as sweet and helpful, even though she’s actually selfish. She accidentally injures the manager of a cafe, and agrees to work there to make up for it. But this is no ordinary cafe, it’s like a cafe dinner theater where all the waitresses play characters from a fictional high school and act out skits for the patrons. Hime’s character is supposed to be in love with one of the other waitresses’ character, but she starts actually falling for the girl. Only problem is, behind the scenes the other waitress seems to hate her.

Yeah, that sounds kind of bonkers! I can already see the story now, Hime starting out playing a role, and eventually having to legitimately earn the love of Mitsuki.

Birdie Wing: Golf Girls’ Story

Season 2 premiering on Crunchyroll on Friday, April 7th

Ah Birdie Wing. If you saw season one, you know just how delightful wacky this show is. It follows the stories of Eve, a golfer that plays in illegal underground golf matches for the mob, and Aoi, a golf prodigy and the new sensation of the golf world. Their lives crash into each other and the chemistry is overwhelming and immediate.

Technically Eve and Aoi aren’t canon as of the end of s1, but it’s hard to imagine that the show isn’t heading in that direction. It makes no effort to hide the fact that these two are into each other.

I’m so excited to see what season 2 has in store for these two. Birdie Wing is just a delightfully weird little show.

Princess Principal: Crown Handler Chapter 3

Premieres in theaters in Japan on Friday, April 7th

Alright, so this won’t be useful to a lot of people reading this, as this is only premiering in Japan this weekend. But I wanted to mention it because (a) it’ll come over to the US sometime this year, and (b) Princess Principal is awesome and I want to promote it when I can.

Princess Principal was a 12 episode series that aired in 2017, and Crown Handler is a six-part sequel OVA series.

In a nutshell, Princess Principal is a steampunk spy thriller set in an alternate universe European kingdom that has been divided by a wall, Berlin-style. It follows a team of spies, masquerading as high school girls, as they try to prevent the two sides from going to war.

I know, “why is this on a list of gay shit?” Well, because it is. Two of the main characters, Ange and Princess Charlotte, are big-time into each other and while the original series does the anime thing of “we’re only allowed to go so far with this”, the OG series has a lot of intimate scenes between the two and does end *SPOILERS* with the two of them sitting on the beach together while holding hands.

And perhaps Crown Handler, being made years later, can finally take their relationship farther.

RWBY Volume 9

Volume 9 episode 8 airing on Crunchyroll on Saturday, April 8th

RWBY has been ongoing, and the current volume has been airing since February, but there’ll be another episode this Saturday. Right now RWBY is in the middle of dealing with a lot of trauma, BUT, the bees are canon and dating so every episode of RWBY is now officially gay. So says me.

The Owl House: Watching and Dreaming

 Series finale airing on the Disney Channel on Saturday, April 8th

I’M NOT READY TO LOSE THIS SHOW! 😭

*ahem* The third and final season 3 special airs on Saturday, and promises to be mega emotional and super gay.

I’m grateful that this show had a chance to finish its story, something a lot of sapphic media doesn’t get to do. But I am still pissed about it getting cancelled in the first place simply because it didn’t fit their “brand” (read: this show is too gay for Disney).

But I just know that Dana and her team put together a sensational finale.

Mobile Suit Gundam: the Witch From Mercury

Season 2 premiering on Crunchyroll on Sunday, April 9th.

Affectionately called G-Witch, season 1 of this show was a revelation in the fall. It follows the story of Suletta Mercury, precious cinnamon roll and the most talented mobile suit pilot around, and Miorine Rembran, daughter of the president of the Benerit Group, a mega-corporation that has massive political power.

The show revolves around a school that’s mostly full of the children of powerful people. And then there’s Suletta, a nobody that just wants to be a normal girl and have a normal school life but through a series of events ends up in a mobile suit duel that she easily wins, earning her the title of Holder, which makes her Miroine’s groom.

At first, the two treat the arrangement as a business arrangement, both seeing practical value in this arranged engagement. But it’s obvious that Miorine is actually pretty into Suletta from the start, and we see Suletta slowly falling for Miorine too.

G-Witch is incredible. Part awesome mecha fights, part political intrigue, part romance between two useless girls who’d rather die that admit their actual feelings.

I am SO EXCITED for season 2!

LGBTQ media hasn’t had it great as of late, with a ton of frustrating cancellations and it almost feeling like Hollywood is going backwards in terms of its commitment to giving us space to tell our stories.

But animation, both in the US and in Japan, seems to be making great strides, being our light in the dark.

All five of these shows are airing episodes this week, and Crown Handler will be in theaters this week and on streaming/blu-ray later this year. RWBY has been airing for weeks and its been the gayest volume yet. the Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady just finished airing and was wonderfully sapphic. I’m In Love With the Villainess is scheduled to air sometimes this year. And just maybe we might get Arcane season 2 before the end of the year.

I’m excited for how sapphic and yuri animation is progressing, I hope it keeps going forward.

[asteriastarr]

Hey!! Sorry if I’m bothering you and I know this is the second time I asked this but could you please do a deuce x fem!human! Reader ? Where deuce finds himself in our world and ends up meeting a human realizing humans aren’t as bad as he thought and ends up falling for her. An she has a rough home life.

Ice cream and Hot chocolate

A/n: Uh so I'm sorry this took so long since you sent this to me agggeeesss ago, but i was focusing on my book on wattpad so i hope you forgive me. This ones kinda long and I'm like not sure how good it is but i hope you enjoy anyways :). (P.s I wasnt sure what you meant by 'rough' home life so i kinda went with a mix of suggestions my friends gave me so- yeah... if you are going through something at home my dms are always open if you need to vent, i might not be able to give good responses but atleast you can get it out somewhere :)

POV: Y/n talks about her homelife with Deuce

Warnings: Mentions of arguing, brief mentions of cheating, mentions of abuse (brief), mention of divorce, Y/n is the eldest child, pRe-MaRiTaL hAnD-hOlDiNg (How scandalous), PrE-mArItAl KiSsInG (SOMEONE CALL THE CHURCH), pRe-MaRiTaL bReAtHiNg (MY EYES, MY EYES :O)

Monsters are real. That is something Y/n L/n has undoubtedly, unequivocally, and unquestionably known since she was a small child. Except monsters didn’t come in the shape of a pale creature with fangs or a woman with snakes for hair. No, monsters came in all shapes and sizes, almost always looking like your everyday human. The only thing that ever truly set them apart from regular humans was that monsters are cruel.

Monsters were cruel to everyone, even those they were supposed to care for and protect.

At least, that’s how she saw it.

Monsters are real. That is something Deuce Gorgon has undoubtedly, unequivocally, and unquestionably known since the day he was born. He didn’t really have much of a choice, given he was one.  Except monsters weren’t always evil, cruel beings. No, monsters were merely, beings. Sometimes they could be cruel but most of the time, they were kind beings just living their lives- or deaths- and navigating through their freaky flaws.

Monsters were just ordinary beings.

At least, that’s how he saw it.

Until he found himself in the human world. Whilst he’d never truly felt at home in the monster world- being a gorgon and all- yet, at least he knew he belonged in the monster world, here? He didn’t belong among humans. Not one bit. Or at least he didn’t.

Not before he met Y/n.

She was a human, that’s true. But even without knowing he was a monster she had shown him nothing but kindness since the day they’d met. The girl didn’t trust easy, he knew that. She was naturally quiet, seldom speaking unless spoken to and even then, it was only ever a few words… except when she was with him.

The moment the two had met they were instantly drawn to each other like magnets, they were each other’s rock, neither of them truly belonged in the human world (despite Y/n being a human) and yet with each other, they were home.

The two of them had met on accident, he hadn’t intended to appear in the human world, hadn’t intended to walk into a random middle school, he didn’t mean to lie and say he was a new student so he could stay in the human world just until he could figure out where he was and how to return to his own world.

He'd never intended to enter the library and lock eyes with a pretty H/c ghoul, her nose in a book and yet the moment she saw him she lowered it, tilting her head in curiosity.

He’d never wanted to enter his new math class, only to find it was a shared class with the ghoul, never intended for the only spare seat to be in the back of the class, next to her. Never thought that the two would bond almost instantly. He didn’t mean for their schedules for the rest of the day to happen to collide (Sitting next to her in every one of those classes however was no mistake).

He never intended to walk down the right hallway at the right time to find the ghoul sobbing in a corner, he wasn’t thinking when he rushed over to comfort her. Didn’t have to think to pull the ghoul into his arms, gently rubbing her back as he asked her what had happened. He had acted on instinct as he listened to her talk about a group of ghouls in her class who had been teasing her, still acting on instinct when he gave her words of reassurance, ignoring the feelings deep down, telling him that she wasn’t telling him the full truth.

Those first interactions had been a complete accident, the work of the gods themselves. And he couldn’t be more thankful for that.

One accidental trip into the human world turned to two, two to four, four to eight and soon enough he found himself visiting the human world whenever he got the opportunity, just to see the pretty H/c ghoul who sat at the back of the class, each visit resulting in him falling more and more impossibly infatuated with her.

He had been 13 when they’d met, had been 14 when he’d finally realised his feelings for her, it took him half a year to finally confess to her, now the two were 15, sitting together on a rooftop in New Jersey, watching cars drive by as they held each other’s hand, chatting mindlessly.

“-And then you wanna know what she said?”

“What?” Deuce hummed.

Y/n paused.

“…I forgot.”

Deuce chuckled and gently removed his hand from hers, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“What?” She asked, looking at him.

He smiled softly, looking down at the human.

“Nothing, you’re just cute is all.” He hummed, gently rubbing his hand up and down her arm.

“Oh, so me forgetting stuff is cute now, is it?” Y/n snarked, smirking.

Deuce snorted. “You know what I meant.” He stated.

“Do I?”

“Do you?”

“I do.” She admitted quietly, gently pressing a kiss to his cheek before leaning her head against his side.

“Good.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

The two lovers sat there for a while, watching as the sun slowly set, the sky turning shades of pink and orange.

However, as a dark blue began to overtake the orange and pink Y/n suddenly straightened up, panic setting in as she saw the time on her watch.

“Crap!” She exclaimed “It’s getting late, I should be going.”

“Did you want me to walk you home?” Deuce offered, watching as the girl moved to gather her stuff.

“Uh- no, no it’s fine.” She stammered, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“Are you sure? You seem stressed out.”

“I’m fine.” She stated, moving to climb down the roof, Deuce quickly following after.

“Y/n… What’s going on? Why are you so worried?” Deuce interrogated, gently grabbing her wrist.

“It’s nothing okay!” She snapped, pulling her arm away, before her eyes widened and she quickly softened “I-I just have to go… now.”

Deuce paused, narrowing his eyes as he thought of something before, he suddenly moved forward, interlinking their arms.

“Then I’ll join you.” He stated.

“Deuce- I said-”

“I know what you said Y/n, but I also worry about you so it’s either you tell me what’s going on, or I walk with you and figure it out myself.” Deuce interrupted.

“Fine.” She groaned “I hate you sometimes you know.” “You love me.” Deuce hummed “Now talk.”

She hesitated.

“My parents… they don’t really get on. They yell… a lot, pretty much all the time… sometimes it gets violent.” Y/n began her voice wavering “They yell about everything, money, us, cheating… my sisters and I have been hoping for years they’d get a divorce… it would be better for everyone that way.”

“Do they ever… do anything to you and your sisters?” Deuce asked quietly.

Y/n shook her head.

“Only when its really bad… and when they do I make sure that everything’s directed at me… Older sister things y’know?” Y/n said as the two walked down the dark street “I tend to make sure they don’t have to experience that.”

“You’re a good older sister.” Deuce murmured.

“I know.” Y/n hummed, glancing at the dark street names.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?” Deuce asked.

“Why would I? All it would do is worry you.” She stated.

“I could’ve helped, you could’ve talked to me about how you were feeling, I could’ve stayed over when it got bad.” Deuce said.

Y/n snorted.

“Ah yes wonderful idea, ‘Hey mother, father, here’s my boyfriend of six months that I’m not supposed to have, who has dyed his hair bright green which you definitely do not approve of, but it’s okay because he’s constantly wearing a beanie no matter the weather so you can’t even see it and don’t worry, he’s just here to interfere with our personal family business.’ Great idea Deuce, that’ll go down swimmingly.” Y/n spoke sarcastically before pausing “Sorry that was mean.”

“It was just a suggestion.” “I know, I know and it’s sweet you care, shows you love me but… this is family stuff, I shouldn’t drag you into it.” She spoke “It’s not fair on you.”

“Fine.” Deuce spoke “But just promise me, you’ll call me when things get bad, so I can help you, we’re in this together okay?”

“I promise.” Y/n smiled, glancing up at him before stopping in front of a house “Uh- this is me.” “You want me to walk you in?” He offered.

She shook her head, glancing at the house, sounds of yelling echoing out.

“I’ll be fine.” She murmured “I’m used to it by now.” Y/n moved towards the door, Deuce watching from the driveway, however just as she’d reached it, two little girls ran out in tears.

“How bad is it?” Was all Y/n asked, wrapping her arms around the girls.

“Really bad.” The taller of the girls mumbled into Y/ns waist. Y/n paused, glancing at Deuce. “How about we get some ice cream and hot chocolate… I’m sure there’s a place that’s open.” Y/n suggested.

The girls nodded and Y/n gently grabbed their hands, bringing them over to Deuce.

“Deuce, we’re going to get ice cream and hot chocolate, did you want to come?” Y/n offered.

“I thought this was ‘family stuff’.” Deuce smirked.

“I know but you’re paying so you have to come.” Y/n retorted.

“Oh, am I now?” “Yup!” Y/n stuck her tongue out at him and rushed ahead, her sisters tailing behind.

Deuce shook his head before following after the human girl.

[talktomeinclexa]

Monsters Among Us

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic violence, Blood and Injuries, Death

Status: WIP (8/10)

Summary: South of France, May 1767. A large beast has been terrorizing the province of Gévaudan for nearly three years, preying on lone boys and girls tending their livestock. The press, idle since the end of the Seven Years’ War, loses itself in conjecture based on the witnesses’ descriptions. What is to blame? A pack of man-eating wolves, a lion, a hyena escaped from a zoo…? Exasperated by the creature’s growing streak of victims and refusal to die, Louis XV dispatches Lexa Woods to the area. After all, who better than a monster hunter to kill a beast that bullets fail to slow down?

***

Chapter 8: The Hunt

“Jordan’s gone,” Harper repeated when her declaration was met with bemused silence. “He must have woken up during the night because he wasn’t in his bed this morning. No one has seen him.”

Lexa didn’t need to catch Clarke’s eyes to know what she was thinking. Despite the beat’s apparent success, the threat remained in Gevaudan. If Jordan had been taken, it was only a matter of hours, days at best, before his mangled body was found.

Harper looked imploringly at Clarke, leading Lexa to wonder how much she knew about the supposed ordinary healer. More than either of them had realized, it seemed, because Clarke’s eyes, too, bulged out in surprise when Harper retrieved a small, brown shirt from one of her pockets.

“It’s Jordan’s. I thought it might help you find him,” she said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“Harper, I…” Clarke stuttered, too stunned to deny the unspoken assumption.

“I don’t care, Clarke.” Harper shook her head. “Please, find my boy. It’s all that matters.”

The silence that followed could have lasted a day, although realistically it wasn’t more than a few seconds. Clarke stared at Harper, hesitant to confirm her nature. Aden glanced worryingly at all of them and made himself smaller. Niylah had to have told him to keep his abilities a secret from humans, and he knew too well the danger supernatural creatures faced when found out. Lexa watched the scene, waiting for Clarke to make a decision.

That didn’t take too long. Despite the danger, Clarke would never refuse to help a friend, nor could she let an innocent child die.

“I’ll do everything I can.”

While Harper closed her eyes and sagged with relief, Clarke quietly glanced at Lexa, not wanting to reveal a secret that wasn’t hers. They knew each other enough by then not to need words, and Lexa nodded at her silent request. “I’ll help.”

Keep reading on Ao3

[kimosims]

Upon returning home, Violet and Primrose moved about each other with a peculiar hesitance. The unspoken tension lingered, as neither sister dared broach what had transpired at their godmother's residence. Primrose, cloaked in her own shame, hadn’t found the courage to apologize, and Violet, for her part, had no desire to stir the embers of that memory. She herself wasn’t certain how to proceed with her sister, yet there was a quiet urgency within her—a longing for normalcy, even if the old, easy familiarity had been irrevocably altered.

Florence, ever the gentle-hearted mother, noticed the change in the air between her daughters almost instantly. Always attuned to the delicate rhythms of her family, she sought Violet out, hoping to understand what lay beneath the surface. She approached her eldest with her characteristic warmth, setting the conversation on the pretense of curiosity about the weekend, her eyes alight with a subtle but unmistakable spark of concern.

“So,” Florence began softly, settling beside Violet with a gentle smile to brush her hair at night, “how was your weekend, my dear?”

Violet’s response was cautious, as if she were picking her way through a field of nettles. “It was… fine,” she replied, her tone carefully neutral. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Florence tilted her head, a slight, knowing sound escaping her lips. “Hmmm,” she murmured, the sound thick with implication while her fingers ran through her daughter's hair. “My girls are growing up so quickly… Just one weekend away, and they return so different. Being a mother is a curious thing; it feels like I must get to know new versions of you every day.”

Violet paused, caught off guard. She hadn’t thought of it that way, but her mother’s words resonated. “I suppose… I do feel like a new version of myself.”

Florence nodded, sensing an opening. “And that’s perfectly natural,” she encouraged, reaching for Violet’s hand. “You are meant to grow, to change. But sometimes, those shifts can bring us to unexpected places… even with those we love most.” Her voice was gentle but nudging, encouraging Violet to go deeper.

Violet hesitated, then began, almost as if confessing to herself, “Perhaps… perhaps I don’t want things to go back to how they were. I don’t want to keep reshaping myself just to fit into what’s comfortable for Primrose.”

Florence squeezed her hand, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “Your sister… well, she’s very assertive. She can be a bit challenging to navigate, can’t she?”

“A bit?” Violet scoffed, a flicker of a smile crossing her face despite herself.

Florence chuckled, ignoring the jest, her gaze tender and steady. “She never means harm, though. She simply doesn’t have the same grasp on herself that you do—she’s still discovering how she feels and who she is. We all move at our own pace, and sometimes… well, sometimes we can be hard to live with.” She paused, a distant, almost wistful look softening her features. “But think of all the good moments you’ve shared, all the laughter and secrets.”

Violet’s expression softened, though a trace of reluctance lingered. “I suppose.”

“Don’t close this door between you two, my dear,” Florence urged. “Sometimes, a small misunderstanding grows into something far larger than it needs to be.”

Violet carried her mother’s words with her, like a gentle warmth nestled somewhere in her heart. But thinking was far easier than acting. In the days that followed, the space between her and Primrose seemed to widen with each passing moment, stretched by silent pride and unspoken shame. Primrose began bringing more friends to the house, filling the space with voices and laughter, yet when the two sisters found themselves in the same room, it was as if they inhabited separate worlds.

Florence and Albert watched from the sidelines, sensing that their daughters needed room to grow into themselves. They chose not to interfere, hoping that time would soften the tension.

Primrose, meanwhile, threw herself into her pursuits with a fervor that bordered on desperation, as if driven by an invisible specter whispering that she was not enough. Like Violet, she carried words in her heart—Georgina’s pointed admonitions that echoed in her thoughts. But escaping the fear of being left behind, of being found lacking, proved much harder than clinging to the notion of triumph. Her need to prove herself sharpened her edges, and she was determined to emerge victorious from whatever imagined race she was running.

Still, Primrose attempted small gestures of reconciliation, but Violet found herself recoiling, her patience worn thin. Habits that she once overlooked now stirred irritation, the smallest of Primrose’s quirks igniting sparks of frustration within her. Primrose would tease her, for instance, about her dedication to learning Windenburgian.

“Oh, all that studying for a boy you’ll likely never see again?” Primrose would say with a laugh, her words tinged with a lightness that Violet found anything but amusing.

Perhaps, Violet mused, her mother was right. Perhaps Primrose didn’t mean any harm. But why should she, Violet thought bitterly, bear the burden of such immaturity, simply because fate had woven their lives together?

And so, the days drifted by, each one adding another layer of polite distance between them, until a new, tentative normal settled over the Darlington household, fragile yet persistent, like a thin layer of frost waiting to be thawed by a gentler season.

[francesderwent]

what is stranger things saying about the dichotomy of ordinary versus strange? it’s more complicated than you think

1x01 Hopper tries to tell Joyce that Will is probably with Lonnie, saying, "99 out of 100 times, kid goes missing, the kid is with a parent or relative." She answers, "What about the other time? You said 99 out of 100. What about the other time, the one?" Over the course of the season, her willingness to entertain unlikely options is proven correct (pro-strange)

1x02 In a flashback, Lonnie skips out on a baseball game with Will and Jonathan tells Will, “He's trying to force you to like normal things. And you shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed to. Okay? Especially not him.” (pro-strange)

1x04 Jonathan tells Nancy why he does photography: "I guess I'd rather observe people than, you know..." "Talk to them," she finishes. "I know, it's weird," he says. "No," she says. "No, it is. It's just, sometimes, people don't really say what they're really thinking. But you capture the right moment, it says more." (pro-strange; verging very slightly into anti-ordinary because Jonathan doesn't trust people to tell the truth from their own lips, he has to seek it out and capture it.)

1x05 The infamous Nancy and Jonathan scene, Nancy says why she thinks her parents got married, "I don't think my parents ever loved each other." "They must've married for some reasons," Jonathan answers. "My mom was young, my dad was older but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family." "Screw that," says Jonathan. "Yeah," Nancy agrees. "Screw that." (pro-strange, starting to creep into anti-ordinary)

1x05 Jonathan explaining what he saw in Nancy's photograph: "I saw this girl trying to be someone else, but for that moment, it was like you were alone, or you thought you were, and you know, you could just be yourself." "That is such bullshit," Nancy says, "I am not trying o be someone else just because I'm dating Steve and you don't like him." They fight, he says, "Does that mean I have to like [Steve]?" Nancy says, "No." "Jonathan says, "Listen, don't take it so personally, okay? I don't like most people. He's in the vast majority." Nancy says, "I was actually starting to think you were okay. I was thinking, Jonathan Byers, maybe he's not the pretentious creep everyone says he is." Jonathan answers, "I was just starting to think you were okay, I was thinking Nancy Wheeler, she's not just another suburban girl who thinks she's rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does, until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac, exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing." (this is a clash of perspective; Nancy is vaguely, defensively pro-ordinary and Jonathan is pro-strange and pretty-anti-ordinary)

1x06 Eleven confesses that she opened the gate and she's the monster. Mike says, "No, El, you're not the monster. You saved me." (her powers and her difference make her a hero; pro-strange)

1x08 Steve, the boring, popular one-time jock, comes back to fight the demogorgon alongside Nancy and Jonathan. (pro-ordinary)

1x08 Mike tells Eleven that when it's all over she can have a real bed in his basement and his parents will be like her parents and Nancy will be like her sister. "I was thinking, I don't know, maybe we can go to the Snow Ball together. It's this cheesy school dance where you go in the gym and dance to music and stuff." (cheesy ordinary school stuff that Mike wouldn't have considered going to before is now a desirable ending. pro-ordinary)

so the main thrust of season 1 is strongly pro-strange. ordinary people are blind to the evil and suffering in the world, and blind to the strengths of people like El and Will. Joyce is contrasted to the perfect prim Mrs. Wheeler; where Mrs. Wheeler's comfort and advice is useless, Joyce sees the truth and saves her child. Nancy and Jonathan butt heads, but end up being an effective team. there's just a little bit of ambiguity introduced at the tail end of the season: Mike doesn't want to escape or rebel against his family, he wants to bring El into it, and wants them both to go to the Snow Ball - the epitome of ordinary - together. and ordinary, shallow Steve surprises everyone (including the writers, who'd planned to kill him off) by showing courage and selflessness when it counts.

2x01 Steve talks to Nancy about the future: "I'm just going to end up working for my dad anyway. Is that such a bad thing? There's insurance and benefits and all that adult stuff." (the scene is about Nancy's fear of following in her parents’ footsteps, and so it leans pro-strange)

2x01 Will tells Jonathan that treating him like he's fragile just makes him feel like more of a freak. "You're not a freak," Jonathan tells him. "Yeah, I am. I am," Will answers. "You know what, you're right," Jonathan says. "You are a freak, but what? Do you want to be normal? Do you wanna be just like everyone else? Being a freak is the best, I'm a freak." "Is that why you don't have any friends?" Will asks. "I have friends, Will." "Then why are you always hanging out with me?" "Because you're my best friend, right? And I would rather be best friends with Zombie Boy than with a boring nobody. You know what I mean? Okay, look, who would you rather be friends with? Bowie, or Kenny Rogers." Will grimaces. "Exactly, it's no contest," Jonathan says. "The thing is, nobody normal every accomplished anything meaningful in this world. Got it?" "Well," Will says thoughtfully, "some people like Kenny Rogers." Bob, passing by in the hallway, says "Kenny Rogers? I love Kenny Rogers!" (strongly pro-strange, strongly anti-ordinary)

2x02 Nancy and Steve fight about whether to tell Barb's parents the truth or keep on pretending everything's alright. Steve says, "It's hard, but let's just go to Tina's stupid party, wear our stupid costumes that we've been working on for a stupid amount of time, and just pretend like we're stupid teenagers, okay?" (this scene is ambiguous, leaning pro-strange, because they both use the language of "pretend"--ordinariness is all a performance, a lie)

2x02 Bob asks Joyce, "What if we were to move out of Hawkins together? I was thinking about what you said, we have all these memories here and you wish you had enough money to move. My parents are selling their house in Maine, there's a Radio Shack nearby I'm sure they'd take me on. We could just..." He sees Joyce's reaction, and says ruefully, "My turn to be silly now." "No, it's just so hard to explain," she says. "It's just this...this is not a normal family." "It could be," Bob says. (this scene is ambiguous, leaning pro-strange. Bob means well but Joyce doesn't see his hopes as possible or realistic given the complications of their life)

2x02 Nancy drunkenly accuses Steve in the bathroom, "You're bullshit. You're pretending like everything's okay, you know, like we didn't...like we didn't kill Barb. Like it's great. Like we're in love, and we're partying." Steve echoes, "Like we're in love?" Nancy says venomously, "It's bullshit." Steve asks, "You don't love me?" (the scene is mostly pro-strange, but with a little ambiguity injected because we can see how much this hurts Steve)

2x02 Will tells Mike about his episodes, Mike tells Will about feeling like he sees Eleven. "I don't know, sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy," Mike says. "Me, too," Will says. "Hey, well, if we're both going crazy, then we'll go crazy together, right?" Mike says. "Yeah, crazy together," Will agrees. (pro-strange)

2x03 Nancy and Jonathan discuss the burden of carrying on after loss. "Maybe things just can't go back to the way they were," Jonathan says. "Doesn't that make you mad?" Nancy asks. (ambiguous! "the way things were" being possibly gone forever is a loss, according to Nancy.)

2x05 Bob deciphers Will's drawings, saving Hopper's life. (pro-ordinary)

2x06 Murray tells Nancy, "Probably, like everyone, you're afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for who you really are, and retreated back to the safety of...name? Name!" "Steve," Jonathan supplies. "Steve!" exclaims Murray. "We like Steve, but we don't love Steve." "We - I do!" Nancy protests. (pro-strange and anti-ordinary; Steve's only desirable characteristic is that he's safe, he's being set up as another Mr. Wheeler, the husband in another loveless marriage)

Bob tells Joyce, "I thought stuff like this happened in comic books and movies, not in Hawkins and certainly not to people like you." "Or you," she says. He chuckles, jokes, "Bob Newby, superhero." She asks if he's cold, he tells her not to worry about him. "It's not as if you didn't warn me, this is not a normal family, isn't that what you said? Kind of makes my idea of moving to Maine seem a little less crazy, doesn't it." Joyce says, "Oh, it's not crazy." (still ambiguous; Bob's heart isn't in question but it's still unclear whether he can keep up with the world he's been thrown into. his plan is to flee it, but is that admirable?)

2x07 Kali tells El, "We will always be monsters to them. Let me guess, your policeman, he also stops you from using your gifts? What you can do it incredible, it makes you very special, Jane." (pro-strange, anti-ordinary)

2x07 El tells Kali that she has to go back because her friends are in danger. Kali says, "There's nothing for you back there. They cannot save you, Jane." El answers, "No, but I can save them." (pro-strange but with nuance! the strange and the special have something to offer the ordinary)

2x08 Bob gets Joyce, Hopper, Will, and Mike out of the lab, saves all their lives. Mike tells everyone that Bob was the original founder of Hawkins AV club, that their teacher Mr. Clark learned everything he knows from Bob. (strongly pro-ordinary! not only is Bob a hero, but he's shown to have been just like the boys, and even though he grew up and became the epitome of normal, his legacy helps other little nerds)

so season two is more complex than season one. on the one hand, Nancy finishes the arc she started in season one: rejects Steve and chooses Jonathan, rejects ordinary and chooses strange, precisely because she sees being with Steve as buying into the whole suburban destiny that she now knows is a lie. on the other hand, the two main heroes of the season are Bob - Mr. Ordinary - and El, who rejects her sister's anti-ordinary worldview and chooses to use her strange gifts in service of her ordinary friends.

3x03 Joyce tells Hopper that the magnets can't be a coincidence, and he says "I don't think it's a joke, I think that when I asked you out, I think you got scared. I think you got scared, and now, you're inventing things. You're inventing things to get worked up about so that you can push me away, because God forbid any of us move on! Because that, that would be too much, right Joyce?" (the strange happenings are seen as an excuse to stay away from ordinary vulnerabilities; the scene is vaguely pro-ordinary, filtered through angry hungover yelling)

3x03 Dustin tries to tell Steve that he should date Robin, Steve tells him she's not his type: "For your information, she's still in school. And she's weird. She's a weirdo. And she's hyper. I don't like that she's hyper. And she did drama. That's a bad look. And she's in band? No." Dustin says, "Now that you're out of high school, which means you're technically an adult, don't you think it's time you move on from primitive constructs such as popularity?" (pro-strange)

3x07 Steve confesses to Robin on the bathroom floor, "The point is, this girl, you know, the one that I like, it's somebody that I didn't even talk to in school. And I don't even know why. Maybe cause Tommy H would have made fun of me, or I wouldn't be...prom king? It's stupid. I mean, Dustin's right, it's all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because when I think about it, I should've been hanging out with this girl the whole time. First of all, she's hilarious. She's so funny. I feel like this summer I have laughed harder than I have laughed in a really long time. And she's smart. Way smarter than me. You now, she can crack, like, top secret Russian codes and, you know, she's honestly unlike anyone I've ever even met before." Robin tells him he's not thinking straight, he says he's thinking a lot more clearly than normal. She says, "Look, he doesn't even know this girl, and if he did know her, like, really know her, I don't think he'd even want to be her friend." "No, that's not true, no way is that true," Steve says. (pro-strange)

3x08 Joyce re-initiates her date with Hopper, calling it what it is this time. If the world doesn't end, they deserve to celebrate. They deserve to move on. (pro-ordinary)

season three takes a step back from the focus on these themes or any themes. as in s2, Joyce tries to have the courage to seek an ordinary happy ending again, and again, experiences loss. the only person still grappling is Steve, who's coming to see more deeply the parts of "normalcy" that deserve to be rejected.

4x01 Eddie's introduction speech: "We're the freaks because we like to play a fantasy game. But as long as you're into band or science or parties or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets...it's forced conformity, that's what's killing the kids. That's the real monster." (pro strange, casually anti-ordinary)

4x01 Chrissy confesses to Eddie, "You know, you're not what I thought you'd be like." "Mean and scary?" he guesses. "Yeah." "Yeah, well, I actually kinda thought you'd be kinda mean and scary too." (this scene is pro-strange AND pro-ordinary! neither of them is what the other thought they'd be, underneath the "freak" and "queen of Hawkins High" facade)

4x07 One's manifesto: "Why would you cry for them, Eleven, after all they did to you? You think you need them but you don't, you don't. Oh, but I know you're just scared. I was scared once, too. I know what it's like to be different, to be alone in this world. Like you, I didn't fit in with the other children. Something was wrong with me. All the teachers and the doctors said I was...broken, they said. My parents thought a change of scenery, a fresh start in Hawkins might just cure me. It was absurd. As if the world would be any different here. But then, to my surprise our new home provided a discovery and a newfound sense of purpose. I found a nest of black widows living inside a vent. Most people fear spiders, they detest them, and yet I found them endlessly fascinating. More than that, I found a great comfort in them, a kinship. Like me, they are solitary creatures and deeply misunderstood. They are gods of our world, the most important of all predators. They immobilize and feed on the weak, bringing balance and order to an unstable ecosystem. But the human world was disrupting this harmony. You see, humans are a unique type of pest, multiplying and poisoning our world, all while enforcing a structure of their own - a deeply unnatural structure. Where others saw order, I saw a straitjacket, a cruel, oppressive world dictated by made-up rules. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, each life a faded, lesser copy of the one before. Wake up, eat, work, sleep, reproduce and die. Everyone is just waiting, waiting for it all to be over, all while performing in a silly, terrible play, day after day. I could not do that. I could not close off my mind and join in the madness, I could not pretend. And I realized...I didn't have to. I could make my own rules. I could restore balance to a broken world. A predator, but for good....I could reach into others, into their minds, their memories. I became an explorer. I saw my parents for what they truly were. To the world, they presented themselves as good, normal people, but like everything else in this world it was all a lie, a terrible lie. They had done things, Eleven, such awful things. I showed them who they really were, I held up a mirror....To your papa, Eleven, you are just an animal, a monster, a lab rat to be tamed, but the truth is just the opposite. You are better than they are. Superior....If you come with me for the first time in your life you will be free. Imagine what we could do together. We could reshape the world, remake it however we see fit." (this is explicitly the villain’s perspective which it is clear we are not supposed to share, and so the scene circles back around to pro-ordinary. moreover El, our hero, rejects his proposal, and so we see that the heart of the strange doesn't have to be about superiority and resentment, and so it's also pro-strange)

4x08 Will's speech to Mike, about El and about himself: "These past few months she's been so lost without you. It's just, she's so different from other people, and when you're...when you're different, sometimes you feel like a mistake. But you make her feel like she's not a mistake at all, like she's better for being different. And that gives her the courage to fight on." (pro-strange & pro ordinary! ordinary Mike makes his strange loved ones feel like they belong; they fit together)

4x08 Steve's speech in the Winnebago while Fire and Rain plays: "It's silly, but I've actually...I always had this dream that I'd have this really, really big family. I'm talking like a full brood of Harringtons. Like, five, six kids?" "Six?" Nancy repeats. "Yeah, six little nuggets. Three girls, three boys. And every summer I figured all of us Harringtons we'd pack into something like this and just see the country. You know, the Rockies, Grand Canyon, maybe Yellowstone, end up in some beachside town in California, spend a week parked in the sand, learn how to surf or something." Nancy says, "That sounds nice." "Yeah?" Steve asks. "Yeah," she says, then shakes herself and adds, "Well, um, except for the six kid part, that sounds like a total nightmare." Steve gestures around the kid-filled RV and says wryly, "If only I had some practice!" Nancy smiles, and says, "All right, fair. That's fair." (strongly pro-ordinary! but at least a little ambiguous because Nancy tries to brush it off after.)

4x09 Max hides "in the light": the Snow Ball. its ordinary goodness is a haven against the darkness, which is invisible to Vecna who can only see the evil of the world. (pro-ordinary)

4x09 Jason tells Lucas, "I was wrong about you. I never should've let you in the door." Lucas answers, "And I never should have knocked. I thought I wanted to be like you. Popular. Normal. But it turns out, normal's just a raging psychopath." (pro-strange, anti-ordinary)

4x09 El tries to get through to Vecna: "I know what [Papa] did to you. You were different, like me. And he hurt you. He made you into this. He is the monster, Henry, not you. Not you!" "You're right," Vecna answers, "you and I, we are different. And Papa did hurt me, but he was no monster. He was just a man, an ordinary, mediocre man. That is why he sought greatness in others, in you, and me. But in the end, he could not control us, he could not shape us, he could not change us. Do you not see, Eleven? He did not make me into this. You did." (this scene is more ambiguous than his previous one--it's clear we ought to reject his extreme anti-ordinary views that make him want to destroy the world, but it's less clear what we are to make of the fact that El did reshape him)

4x09 Mike's speech to El: “I love you on your good days, I love you on your bad days. I love you with your powers, without your powers. I love you for exactly who you are. You're my superhero.” (like his conversation with Will, it's both pro-strange and pro-ordinary)

4x09 El uses her powers to restart Max's heart, focusing on their happy memories together rather than any anger - her power is more than violence, it can also be beauty. (pro-strange)

season four, things are coming to a head! the "normal" townspeople are shown to be afraid of what they don't understand, and prone to blaming the wrong person just because they're different - but if we look closely, Jason isn't evil, he's just misdirected. he does want to kill Eddie, but then again all our main characters want to kill Henry, and it just so happens that they're correct about who's to blame. Jason's biases are wrong, but his intent- Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good - is very much right and in line with the message of the show. Jonathan and Nancy's forays into anti-ordinary thinking are shown to be eerily similar to that of the monster haunting them - and moreover, Jonathan's solitary ways lead to him smoking so much pot that he can't even be there for the people he does care about. El remains committed to using her powers to help her friends; she doesn't want to be a monster just because she is different. and Steve finally reveals himself as the anti-Vecna, completing his transformation into the embodiment of ordinary. his prior classification as "babysitter", an unorthodox role for a teenage boy to choose, has been replaced by a sincere desire for the most orthodox of destinies for an adult man: fatherhood.

[goalsongspinkthongs]

The Worst Story You Have Ever Read.

what happens what a boy tells you he knows your best kept secret?

tz x little!sisters!best!friend!

a/n: ive been writing for a while and just started a series that i might actually like, so lets hope someone else likes it too (also my writing style was heavily inspired by lemony snicket for this (idk either))

I would like to start this tale by saying, for the record, that nothing good ever happens when your best friend’s older brother is involved. It’s a truth I had learned over time, but was tragically reminded of one afternoon, in the late summer when the air was sticky and the light fell just wrong, like everything was about to fall apart, but hadn’t yet.

I am a rather ordinary girl, if you can disregard the fact that I have loved a boy—Trevor, Ava’s older brother—for as long as I can remember. It’s not that Trevor is a bad person, no. He’s the kind of person who can make you feel both invisible and incredibly visible at the same time, which is an exhausting combination when you’re a person who only wants to be invisible most of the time. I had convinced myself, long ago, that Trevor didn’t know about my feelings. And why would he? I was, after all, Ava’s best friend, a position I had never in a thousand years thought would be accompanied by such... complications.

Ava and I, we had grown up together, like two characters in a very dull and unremarkable book, one that no one would bother to read except for those with an unhealthy amount of free time. And then there was Trevor, who seemed to glide through the chapters of our lives with such effortless confidence, like some sort of heroic figure whose story had been written in a much more interesting book, one of those books you’re too afraid to open because you know once you do, the whole thing will be about how the hero burns the world down and doesn’t even care.

On this particular afternoon, however, my life—and my carefully curated collection of secrets—was about to be tossed into a volcano of very real emotions and terrible consequences. Ava, in a moment that could only be described as an act of betrayal on the grandest scale, decided to leave me alone with Trevor. Yes, alone. In a room. With no immediate escape route. It was as if she’d handed me a ticking time bomb, said "Good luck," and then casually walked out of the room, whistling as if everything were fine.

Trevor was sitting at the kitchen counter, peeling an apple with such deliberate precision that it made me feel like I was the one who was being peeled, layer by layer, with each stroke of his knife. I tried to make myself small, as I often did when the world seemed too big and too full of people who could read your every thought with just one glance. But of course, Trevor wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the apple, and I was both grateful and horrified by this, because it meant he had no idea how loudly my heart was beating, or how my palms were sweating, or how my mind had somehow frozen into a solid block of incoherence.

And then he spoke.

“You know,” he said, casually, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to say to your best friend’s little sister, “Ava’s been talking about how much you like... well, how much you like me.”

And there it was. The unthinkable, the unspoken, the thing that I had tried so very hard to pretend wasn’t true. Ava. Ava had said something. To Trevor. About me. About how I felt.

I couldn’t remember how to breathe, which is not an exaggeration. I forgot all the things you’re supposed to say when you’re caught in a moment like this—things like "Oh, no, I don’t know what you’re talking about," or "Ava’s just joking." Instead, I blurted the only thing I could think of: “I—uh—don’t think you should listen to her. She says a lot of stuff. You know how she is.”

Trevor raised an eyebrow. It was the sort of eyebrow-raising that should have been reserved for situations in which you were confronted with a mystery that didn’t make sense, like finding a cat wearing a bow tie in the middle of the road. His gaze shifted from the apple to me. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t look embarrassed. He just looked... interested.

“I don’t think she was joking, Honey,” he said, his voice suddenly lower, smoother, like the sound of rain on pavement. “And I think you might be lying to yourself about something.”

Now, at this point, I should have done what any self-respecting person would do in this situation: run. Run as fast and as far as possible, preferably to the nearest forest where I could hide for the next hundred years. But instead, I stood there, paralyzed, and watched Trevor put down the apple, wipe his hands on a towel, and take a step closer to me.

I felt the heat of his presence before I saw it. It was a dangerous thing, this heat. It made the air feel thicker, and it made everything inside me go taut, as if I were a string being pulled so tight that at any moment I might snap. He was too close now. Too close to my fragile, ridiculous heart.

“I think,” he said, with that smile of his—half mischief, half something else that I couldn’t quite place—“that I should probably kiss you now, shouldn’t I?”

For the record, if you ever find yourself in a situation where someone says this to you, I would advise you to take a moment. A long, long moment. A moment to process the fact that the world is, quite possibly, coming to an end.

But I didn’t have a moment. I barely had time to comprehend the words, let alone how to respond to them, before Trevor was leaning in and, just like that, the world became something else entirely.

And yes, I kissed him back.

I kissed him back like my life depended on it, which, in retrospect, was probably true. And when it was over, when everything in the universe had shifted into something new and completely terrifying, I pulled away and found myself thinking—of all things—that the entire thing was utterly predictable. It was always going to happen this way, wasn’t it?

No one ever warns you about what happens next.

There’s a part of me that will forever wonder whether I could have handled it differently��whether I could have taken the long, awkward road of friendship instead of charging straight into the storm. But that’s a question with no answer, much like the one about what happens when a girl falls in love with her best friend’s older brother.

And honestly, I don’t think I want to know.

But I think Ava might, which is a problem I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with yet.

[justapoet]

these roads are changing me (but they all lead back to you)

Meeting Percy, when they were both twelve years-old, had been a surprise. When he first walked up the hill of Camp Half-Blood, Percy was a frail twelve-years-old boy with damp blond curls and terror glistening in his sea-blue-eyes. It was chaos. But in those few weeks, it had felt a lot like home, completely, to be at camp again. Meeting Percy when they were both twelve years-old had been a surprise, and one that Annabeth would replay in her head more times that she could count in the years to follow. Loving Percy when they were twenty-five years old was nothing but the most ordinary thing in the world. read on Ao3

chapter 1: to those who ask

to those who wait

Annabeth didn't really remember being a kid.

Of course, she remembered being young and growing up and going through phases — loving unicorns, not being like the other girls, wanting to bleach her hair with chlorine because it was safer than asking her stepmother to buy human-made products —, but she didn't remember being a kid.

It would get to her, sometimes, the realization. It would hit her square in the chest like a derailed train, leaving behind broken bones, broken dreams and more corpses than she would ever like to have seen in her entire lifetime.

Truth be told, she had never had the time to be a kid. No; her mother would forever tell her she needed to mature, that she wasn't supposed to do simple things such as being angry because she didn't get the toy she wanted for her birthday — 'books are going to turn you into a person; an owl plushie is a waste of space and my money' —, or getting sad because her favorite hair clip broke while she tried to brush her curls to make them straighter. Her father would constantly tell her that he didn't know what to do when someone cried, and emphasize that he hated not knowing things — so, she'd keep quiet about her swollen knee after falling on the staircase, and never utter a word about the scrapes on her knees because a car didn't respect the red traffic light.

She didn't have the time to be a kid, always busy trying to figure the world out by herself. Her mother would work the whole day, and she wasn't the type of person who would spend their gracious time cooking things that a child would eat. So, Annabeth didn't have time to be a kid as she tried her so very best to pile some things up and reach the cooktop, or even the microwave. She needed to be careful, because breaking bowls or cups or dirtying the floor would also annoy her mother, and she learned pretty soon that shards could make a small hand bleed a lot.

And, of course; blood could stain the bathroom carpet and would destroy the living room white couch — the one she couldn't sit on because she wasn't an important person that came to talk to her mother —, so there was no other option but to climb back her piled stuff and use the kitchen sink.

Her father was a little quieter on the matter, but her stepmother would pretend politeness and make her feel back about disliking mushrooms and heart of palm; if she wouldn't eat what they served, then her seven years old self was more than welcome to cook for herself. Not on her pans, though, because they were a wedding gift, and not with her cutlery because those came from whatever part of Italy Annabeth wasn't paying attention to know.

She'd make do with whatever she could fit in her backpack when she needed to go to her father's house. She didn't need that many clothes, after all, and she could take the smaller pans since she would only be cooking for herself, Helen out to work and her father locked in his office until his wife came back and they could deal with Annabeth's presence together.

She didn't have time to be a kid because she was busy learning how to wash her clothes and make her hair less difficult to deal with for Helen. She didn't have time to be a kid because she was busy asking neighbors what to do when there's a bubble on your arm after accidentally touching the cooktop and learning how to cry silently not to disturb her mother's business meetings. She didn't have the time to be a kid because she was trying to fix the holes in her clothes or adapt them for when she was too grown up and her limbs didn't fit quite right.

She didn't have time to be a kid, but her half-brothers did.

When they were born, Annabeth didn't see them for months. Helen was too worried about their safety and didn't want an outsider to come visit before she deemed safe — so, when she met them, Matt and Bobby, she had thought they'd be smaller. She didn't understand how those kids had lived inside Helen at all, because they were big and because they were two. But she loved them when she first saw them. Because they were cute, and because they were her brothers.

Half-brothers, Helen had corrected her once, when Annabeth was talking to one of Frederick's sisters.

Half-brothers are still brothers, she had thought happily at the correction. Something stung deep in her chest, that moment, but she chose not to give it much thought. She loved them, and she wasn't a single child anymore.

Annabeth had loved the idea of having younger brothers, at first. She was thrilled, and happy, because she could be useful around the house — she could help take care of them, and teach them all she knew. How to cook, clean, sew, and read. She could be a great older sister, and they would know as many things as she knew.

It didn't happen like that. Bobby and Matthew never had the time to learn anything from Annabeth, because they were busy being kids. Babies, at first. Then, they were too busy being children.

Helen cooked for them, and Annabeth would wait until the kitchen door closed before going inside and having her stomach complaining from hunger at the smell in the air.

Frederick read for them, and Annabeth would wait for a goodnight kiss on her forehead as she heard through the walls that the boys got before their parents left the room; but her door never opened.

Helen bought them brand new clothes, some too big for them to wear. But it was alright, because they would grow into it — and Annabeth would wait until the monthly box of donations was right outside the boys' door so she could sneak something from there and sew to the clothes that were now bothering her growing limbs.

Frederick would take them out to the park near the house, and Annabeth would wait for the front door to close before she could walk around the house freely, without the sound of her footsteps bothering anyone.

Helen would pack their bags for a weekend trip, and ask the neighbor to watch Annabeth because the kids' seat and their necessities' bags would take up the whole back seat, and the seven year old already knew how to watch over herself.

So, Annabeth was never a kid, and she would always remain in the same place, waiting for things so out of reach that were just on the other side of the wall.

She remained when their weekend trip stretched three more days and the neighbor brought her some lunch when their pantry ran out of things she could reach with her short arms.

She remained while her father would read book after book for the boys, making voices and interpreting some characters she never knew the endings to, because her half-brothers would sleep before the story finished.

She remained when her stepmother noticed that a few clothes were missing and chose to now put them in closed cardboard boxes inside of the garage, and she prepared herself mentally to ask her mother for a new pair of pants.

She remained when Helen suggested she'd cut her hair because it was easier to deal with it while short, and remained as she cried while her locks fell to the bathroom floor.

She remained as she waited for the clocks to tick by and the time come that she would go back to her mother's house.

She remained when her mother sighed, tired and bothered, and waited for Annabeth to climb to the backseat of the car.

She remained.

She remained.

She remains.

✉

"To those who wait.

Hey. Make yourself at home. Sit down, have some tea. I won't offer you coffee because I think your heart is aching too much for us to dare rush it even more than the pain does. I hope you understand and don't take this the wrong way. Sit; there are armchairs, and the paintings on the walls tell stories that time has lost between brushstrokes that some feeling dared to eternalize. There are sofas and coffee tables — although I can't really offer you coffee.

Oh, no, forgive me — there are no clocks on any of the walls. I removed them all a few months ago, some time before. I don't know how long, to be honest. I gave up counting the seconds when the minute clock hand was thrown out of the window.

Make yourself at home, by all means. Wander around if you wish. There's not much to understand here, although there is plenty to explore. The third door on the left, from back to front, is the kitchen. And while I'm at it, it took me God knows how long to get the sugar out of my dream-dessert pastry. So I'll ask you not to add your bitterness to the pan of icing, if you may.

If you'd like, there's a jug in the third cupboard down from the cooker — the dark-wooden one. Don't be disturbed by the smile that disappears every now and then. There's a cat that lives here, I think it came from somewhere in the northern hemisphere, and it likes pointless things — the lack of clocks was just the right choice for him to feel welcome. Perhaps, if you're as lucky as you deem yourself to be lost, he'll like you just as much.

Take the jug, if you'd like. Do you know how to use a cooktop? If not, you can just take out the tallest pan, the one where I put my expectations on others, and put it under the running water on the sink. It's been so long. Maybe I've overdone it and got used to the stench and smoke. Put the jug over the fire and come, wait here with me. It might take a while; I have the impression that tears take a little longer to boil.

The fourth door on the right might be useful if you want to pour out the unspoken. There's a window facing a cliff, and what you say will echo through the time that has passed while you haven't opened your mouth. There's a shelf with bottles of water next to it, too, so that your throat doesn't bleed like your heart has been doing for ages. As for the tissues... I think I left them in the cupboard under the sink.

Sit down, make yourself at home. There are books if you want some distraction to hold you over, and puzzles if you want something that sounds as challenging as the waiting is. I'm bringing the tea you made with the water you left on the fire and some sweets I've made with what's left of the dreams I never finished baking. Don't worry about how long it took for your tears to boil; you just lost track of time near the cliff, even if we don't have much sense of it around here.

I think the cat has taken a liking to you. He suggested we celebrate, and I thought it was a great idea. Have you ever celebrated mismatches? No? Well, that's a shame! So when do you celebrate this life? The meetings? And who do we meet that doesn't leave at some point? And what do you do with your bitterness when that happens? Is this the first time you've made them into tea? Oh, well... Well then, give it a try.

No, dear; I haven't added any sugar. Perhaps the heat has brought up memories that you've left decanted in the midst of the bitterness with which you've flavored them, and this has sweetened your palate a little. But hey, don't let this information sour your soul. Stay calm, enjoy the silence, look around. Make yourself comfortable and as at home as you can. There's plenty to do between one clock hand and the next, especially when you're no longer aware of them.

Oh, but... Please don't go through the first door on the right. It's locked, and will remain so until time takes its toll and your moment actually knocks on the door and opens it for you. Don't wait in front of it, that's my advice — I have the slight impression that the clocks we don't own tick more slowly when we try to listen to them or rush their time away. Take a deep breath, then; there are plenty of doors for you to explore.

The back door I also suggest you don't open. It's tempting, I know, because it's where you came from, but... If you go through it, even if you leave a gap open to the present, you might not see the first door on the right finally open. Don't rush, I said, but don't slow yourself down either.

Make yourself at home. Have some tea. I won't offer you coffee because I think your heart's too sore to hurry. I hope you understand. I have some magazines, armchairs, sofas, cats... I just don't have any watches. Or rabbits. The latter ran off with one last pocket watch when he despaired at the prospect of being late. Until he returns with the time that belongs to you, we can play cards or watch flamingos. Or time, if we don't try to count it.

For those of us who wait, I suppose it's better that silence becomes the ticking of the days and, at night, that we count by hearts attached to a time that no longer passes through ticking.

Patiently,

Minerva."

✉

Meeting Percy, when they were both twelve years-old, had been a surprise. Annabeth had woken up early for another normal day at Camp Half-Blood — a name no one ever considered weird for a summer camp until it was someone who had never been there hearing it for the first time —, ready to help the campers with the activities each cabin had planned for the morning. She had her Yankees cap on, the orange t-shirt all campers wore and the same relaxed expression that always took over her face whenever she woke up to the sounds of life, nature and the ocean in the distance.

When she was there, just another camper and head of Cabin Six, the Owl's Cabin, there wasn't much she could expect to devoid from just another day. Things were ruled and calm and sure, and that was something she loved most about Camp Half-Blood — there weren't expectations, and there wasn't the need to prove herself worthy of being there. Annabeth was welcomed, and cherished, and cared for, even if only for her cabin mates in the light of her resting angry face and sometimes temperamental behaviour.

There was a blueprint to be followed, and it soothed her young soul to its very core. The campers had routines and plans and rules to follow, and it would hardly ever slip through their agenda whatever it was everyone had to fulfil in a day. It was logical and set in stone and built up brick by brick — until the very early evening Percy Jackson came and seemed to make a mess out of everything he touched, talked to or looked at.

When he first walked up the hill of Camp Half-Blood, Percy was a frail twelve-years-old boy with damp blond curls and terror glistening in his sea-blue-eyes. He'd walked up screaming for help and in complete despair, with a friend not-quite conscious in his arms — Grover, the unconscious body; a regular camper that was a dear friend of Annabeth's that hadn't showed up in the beginning of the summer.

It was chaos.

There wasn't a better word in the English dictionary other than that.

Percy was crying, and bleeding, and someone had spotted something on fire right down the hill — the rain had stopped a few minutes before, and still the boy's face seemed to get wetter by the minute. Chiron, the camp's counsellor, and Mr. D, the camp's director, had come running to see whatever the hell was happening, and Annabeth, who had been doing the last rounds around with two of her cabin mates, was just too curious not to run towards the screaming, as well.

She didn't understand a single thing that was happening until the next morning, for the boy had joined Grover in his unconsciousness not long after Chiron and Annabeth were trying to make sense of what happened and some other campers had joined them to see the chaos unfold. Someone had called the police, at some point, and someone else had gone downhill to talk to the firemen that had arrived somewhen in the mess, and the blue-eyed boy couldn't do much but fall to his knees and faint.

When the next morning came, Annabeth had discovered a few more things.

The first one was that Chiron knew whoever the boy was, and that Percy Jackson was Grover's best friend. Grover, who had woken up with a headache and tears in his eyes, and had told her — Chiron and Mr. D and the police officer, really, but Annabeth was close enough to the door — that they had been in an accident. Obviously, Mr. D had said, and Grover could only sob.

It took the boy a while to get the whole story out. Percy was still unconscious in the infirmary, and the campers were sent to do any other thing along the shores, far enough from the main house. Annabeth had stayed, chosen to watch over the sleeping newcomer, and she couldn't complain when her curiosity was screaming inside her head.

They had been running from a monster, Grover had told them. His voice had been weak and terrified, and Annabeth didn't really know what to expect. Something deep in her soul wished that it had been a literal monster, like the ones in the Greek myths that would come and then be killed by a hero coming out of nowhere, and something afloat in her heart broke when Grover gave the monster a perfectly human name — Gabe Ugliano, he had said. He wanted to kill them. Us. And he took her.

Annabeth wouldn't know who it was that Grover had been talking about until very later that same day, all of which Percy Jackson had spent unconscious. She knew he had woken up a few times, and waited quietly until he fell asleep over and over again, unwilling to face the world without whoever she was.

When Chiron asked, Annabeth lied — still nothing. I'm not sure the concussion was as mild as Coran had said, Chiron.

It was. And the stab wound had been somewhat shallow. Not on Gabe, Grover had muttered when Chiron told him about the extent of his friend's injuries, and none of them had had the heart to ask whatever the hell he had meant.

Percy had only woken up when a man came barrelling through the infirmary doors, his deep blue eyes the very same tone and shade as Percy's, even if it'd be something Annabeth would only realize later. Then, she could only note just how similar they were — the same sand-coloured hair, the same trenches-deep frown, the same shell-sharp features. The man had called 'Percy' as an oath, and Percy cried 'Dad' like a prayer.

Annabeth hid in the shadows, for some reason despising the idea of letting the sand-haired boy out of her sight. Perhaps it was her curiosity, maybe it was something to deal with the pride of having information no one else had — mayhaps it was something else entirely, and she wouldn't know until the moment the fates and the winds wanted her to. That evening, she stood there as if the cap she wore made her invisible, and watched as Percy cried and sobbed when his father hugged him as if the oceans would part with his wallowing, would he not.

'Dad,' the boy cried helplessly. 'He took her. She's gone—' he had sobbed, and his father tried to shush him down, carefully and as soft as the ocean breeze that came through the windows.

'We'll find her,' the man spoke. 'We'll find her, Percy. Okay? Your uncle will help—'

'He hates us,' Percy interrupted him, shaking his head violently and with even more desperation to his voice.

'Hadi,' his dad told him. 'Not Zed. He's already looking for her, okay, son?' he asked, and Annabeth had the impression that the man, too, knew that it was helpless. Percy had seen something none of them had, and probably knew better than to have hope.

Annabeth's heart broke at the sight. There was something in those ocean-eyes that seemed criminal to drown in tears.

'Percy,' his father had called. The boy wouldn't meet his eyes. 'Percy, look at me. Please, son,' the man said again, using his fingers to touch the boy's chin and lift his gaze up. 'We'll find her, Percy.'

Percy didn't seem convinced. Annabeth wasn't sure she wanted to know why.

'He had a gun,' Percy said. 'He had a gun, dad, and she looked so— she was so scared, Dad, I—'

The man shushed him again.

'And he was wounded,' his father said. Annabeth couldn't know what it was that made him so sure that things would be alright. It didn't sound like an assurance, whenever he talked to Percy, but one more truth to be acknowledged.

Faith, she guessed. Perhaps not on God or anything else, but it sounded a lot like Percy's father had no reason not to have faith on whoever it was that was missing.

Percy's eyes were big, red, and watery. His father held him close again.

'I want my mom,' Percy cried against the man's shoulder. That seemed to physically hurt him, the man moving as if to shelter Percy from the world with his own body.

'And we'll bring her back,' he swore. Their hug was long and tight, and Annabeth felt a lot like she was an intruder — she was, indeed, but nuance — as the silence stretched. It was Percy's father to break it. 'And I'll need you to stay here, son.'

Percy seemed to be struck by lightning with his father's words, and he suddenly tried to push the man away. His father allowed him to put distance between them, but his hands held tightly to the boy, as if he feared he would bolt out of there as soon as he could. Annabeth wondered how much that was a real possibility.

'Wha— no. No, Dad, I have to—'

'To stay safe, Percy,' his father said, and his tone left no room for arguing. Still, Percy tried. 'Percy, please, listen. There is little to no chance that Gabe will come back here and look for you. Even if I bring you to stay with me, Amy and Tristan, there's still a chance he might get to you. One bigger than if you stay here,' the man reasoned, and Percy seemed torn apart, even more than he had been before. Annabeth could only suppose who those people were, and the extent to Percy's despair. Especially when he gave up putting up a fight, and nodded. 'When we find her, you'll be the first to hug her, okay?' his father promised, and Percy seemed to crumble even more.

He latched himself to his father again, his hands in a blind grip on the back of the man's shirt. The hug he received was equally fierce, as if the man was trying to reassure himself that his son was there, well and alive, and yet very conscious of the fact that he had been wounded. When Percy groaned a bit, probably the stab wound bothering him and the headache coming back, Annabeth saw the rage burn in the cool-blue eyes of the father.

A thunder roared in the distance, and Annabeth, within a second of complete delusion, wondered if the storm that approached the camp was a reflection of that man's anger. She wouldn't doubt it, had someone said so. She wouldn't dare to question it, believing completely that the ache in Percy's face and the anguish mirrored in his father's could tear the oceans apart and cause the sky to fall upon them all.

From the moment the man left — only when Percy fell asleep he had dared to leave his son — Annabeth was asked to arrange one of the empty cabins so Percy could feel more comfortable, more like a regular camper and less like the aim of everyone's curiosity. There were three that were regularly empty, hardly being chosen — the Eagle Cabin, too wide for the campers to find it in them to clean it; the Peacock Cabin, allegedly cursed and never quite chosen even before Annabeth came to stay in the camp; and the Hippocampus Cabin, the only one she couldn't quite understand why remained empty.

Out of the three, the third cabin was the simplest, and definitely not as big. Still, it gave her some sense of peace, and it was definitely as imponent as one would think of the other two. The walls were blue and tall, with all sorts of ocean-related things decorating the entrance and the interior. Chiron said, back when she first came, that the first director of the camp had inspired each cabin on one of the twelve Olympians, and used their symbol animal to name each. The third one, very obviously, belonged to Poseidon — and since he had three animals to represent, they had chosen the horse and the dolphin and gone with the Hippocampus at once.

And she didn't quite know why she had decided that it would be the best fit for Percy Jackson, the boy with stormy eyes and who came presenting as a hurricane into the camp. But Chiron hadn't opposed her decision, and Percy didn't seem to mind it when, the following morning, he had asked to get the hell out of the infirmary.

And it was all he had said that day, hiding behind the blue walls and not setting his foot outside. Grover, who had recovered and given every detail he could remember to the police, had been on the brink of tears from the moment he had woken up, and seemed to give into his desperation as soon as Annabeth, who went to check on her friend, had told him that Percy hadn't joined them for dinner and refused the food Will had brought him earlier that evening.

Grover had cried, and Annabeth had tried her very best to show him some support. She didn't know what he was crying about, if for Percy's lack of appetite, the missing woman or everything all at once, but she hated it with every fiber of her being. Seeing one of her best friends suffering like that made her heart ache, and some irrational part of her brain decided, for a few seconds, to be mad aT Percy Jackson for bringing so much chaos to a perfectly normal summer they were having, and so much pain for someone so good as Grover.

The rational and emotional part of her both got on a nearly physical fight with those thoughts and that feeling. He didn't deserve it, and she knew much better than to give input on things she didn't fully understand — right then, Percy Jackson was a mystery, a wreck, a complete mess; but not at fault.

On the following day, after she had convinced Grover to go and see Apollo, the camp's psychologist (and doctor and musician and a bunch of other things, really), she had gone to the kitchens and prepared a few sandwiches while the other campers were out doing their regular activities. Then, she had headed to Cabin Three, walking slowly and waiting patiently after knocking on the door.

When Percy opened it, it took him a few seconds to fully grasp what he was seeing. Protest was his first reaction.

'I'm not hungry,' he said, and Annabeth was already walking past him and inside the cabin.

'I'm sorry, but I have strict orders not to leave you alone while there's still food on this plate,' she said. Percy's brows furrowed, and he seemed annoyed. 'And before you get angry, I volunteered to be here because the other option was Apollo. And you really don't want to deal with Apollo in these circumstances.'

Percy arched an eyebrow, skeptical.

'And who is Apollo?' he asked.

'The camp's doctor,' Annabeth replied. 'And musician,' Percy frowned. 'Don't ask. He demands to be introduced as both.'

'And you comply?'

'At some point, he'll have needles and stitches very close to you. There's no room for arguing once you realize that,' she offered, and Percy's face seemed even more confused. 'They're a bit forgetful of our mortality here. It's some sort of safe-haven, and the campers are a bit too reckless.'

'They,' Percy repeated. 'And you're not?'

Annabeth smirked, a bit too convinced of herself.

'There's a reason why I'm the head camper of the Owl Cabin,' she said, pride in her voice and her eyes glistening.

Percy looked down for a second, as if trying to put some pieces together. He'd do that often, Annabeth would soon realize — amidst the apathy he'd feel all the while he'd stay at camp that first time, Percy would seem to get trapped inside his head until he could understand something, and then, only then, he'd try and see if there's any truth to his thoughts and logic. As if he was afraid of being wrong; sometimes, it'd look as if he was afraid of being right.

'Owl Cabin,' he repeated. 'Are all the cabins, like— related to, uh... Mythology?' he asked. 'The camp and everything?'

Annabeth arched her eyebrows, and pretended to be surprised. Then, her face melted into a know-it-all smile.

'What gave it away? The owl?' she asked. 'Or the giant fish-tailed horse in front of your cabin?'

read the rest on Ao3

[stromuprisahat]

I think Zoya was a good soldier overall, not quite there as a leader but as a soldier, she was essential enough for Aleksander to want to manipulate her. He doesn't just employe 4-5 the post powerful grishasTM, he has an entire army at his command so him wanting Zoya who is strong physically (power wise) and also is herself good at manipulating people too to be on his side is a smart decision really.

Gods, I really have to disagree with all of this.

She wasn't a good soldier, since that one is expected to obey without questioning. Decision making is their superior's job. Show Zoya disobeyed on the skiff, book Zoya while hunting "her" amplifier. In both cases she was jealous of Alina enough to "magically" attack her at training grounds, although soldier should recognize another's strategic importance. What if she cracked Alina's skull in some unfortunate way? Dead Sun Summoner, and useless amplified Squaller offended that daddy doesn't love her the best.

I'd also love to see that manipulation. Sure, she "remembers" the Darkling told her the exactly same sentence he told Alina, but to be fair- she's lying about other stuff too, and why would he tell an ordinary, albeit promising, Squaller they're going to change the world?! How many of those did he meet in his long, long life?! Nah, Zoya's re-writing other events (slaughter of "Second Army") we had the chance to witness, of course the man she was looking up to just HAD TO notice her too! The girl has daddy issues so grand her next target is a fucking dragon. And unless LB retcons the hell out of it, Zoya should pay for her lack of growth by her own body and mind.

The Darkling is also described to be constantly on the move, while Zoya was about a year out of school, and stationed at the Fold. Not much contact if you ask me, and even when studying in Little Palace- how likely is it that Aleksander will make more time for Zoya than the fucking Sun Summoner?! He talked to Alina like once a month max., and most of those were a combination of unplanned meeting and him being happy to run away from his nagging mother. I know people like to throw around the word "manipulation", but a good one-on-one manipulation requires time and contact. Especially if you want to be certain of the result.

I also cannot remeber a single example of Zoya being good in it?! She's about as subtle as a rock through a glass window, she can't even fake being interested in negotiations with people she doesn't like! How is she supposed to act sneakily and hide her true intentions in such a delicate matter?!

If you asked me why did the Darkling "favour" her, he saw powerful Grisha with strong need to prove herself, able to gain enough skill to be worth officer training. Time would show her best use in practice, but so far she's too rash for leadership and too careless for closer cooperation. The Fold was a safe option. Her enemy is pretty straightforward- volcra, if anything. I also wouldn't risk her near the front or borders in general, and certainly not anywhere near more "delicate" positions. I certainly wouldn't call her "essential". That was Ivan. Genya even. Likely other characters we've never been introduced, because we've never seen his side and inner workings of an actual Second Army.

[melsdreamweaving]

I don't know if this is supposed to help anyone. At the moment I am feeling a little lost. And at the same time, I'm pleasantly surprised. After years of suffering, I feel like a chapter has come to a close. I'm just an ordinary person, who has met some extraordinary people on the way. A nobody who really knows nothing at all. I'm happy being a nobody.

A somebody is someone who just does. But in my case, I'm choosing to balance between doing and contemplating. My middle school teacher called me the thinker. She made an award just for me. Praising me for resolving conflicts in our classroom. But the only thing I did was ask a group of teenagers and tweens to just stop and breathe for a second. That petty fights aren't worth their friendship. That is until one of them screamed in my face. I remember Miss Reyes, her lips set into a thin line. Hating that the toxicity of an older teenager was all it took to make me shrink again. But at the same time I had befriended another girl from Puerto Rico. We've been nerdy art friends ever since.

It's funny to me but in my home, I just wanted to pick up the pencil and draw. However I was also told that I had to write. To make our story known... I used to look at my grandmother and ask her, with what voice? You have already taken mine.

I've had many friends, they come and go. I've had lovers, they come and go. Could I have stayed virginal for the "right one"? It depends. Up until that point, I hadn't really met anyone I would have saved myself for. If I even had something to "save" for them. A girl I knew from Dade, had a similar circumstance. She was funny, and she used to say steal all of their virginities. That way they will never forget you. This person was a riot. And at the same time I understood what she meant. I'm glad that they were able to move on and have a better life elsewhere.

One of my friends had pointed out, that those with sour grapes shouldn't spoil your kind spirit. I also ran into one of the two boys that I altar served with. Reminding me that I have kind eyes, eyes that inspire compassion... I appreciated it, especially now that I am struggling not to go low.

My favorite comedian, Margaret Cho, is now in her '50s. When I dropped out of high school, I was filled with shame. The entire year I had spent it trying to get expelled. Coming up with elaborate plans, and failing miserably because I was still a naive young girl. My favorite thing that she said in the stand-up bit called Vicious Cho was: f*** it this is me. I feel like a lot of young people would benefit from watching her. Especially if you're not LGBTQ but are just feeling lost in your own body. I was told to have a career first, and then there will be time for family. But at the same time, I fell in love. A goofy other nobody named cro mag named Ug, really saw me for the first time.

I can't explain it. But most of what I do is motivated by his smile and influence. I was a teenager when I met him. Just barely turned 18. He took me out on a date, and got me a copy of "Brave New World" from the local borders. I definitely recommend reading it. He asked me if I saw myself in anyone. To tell you the truth I saw myself in the indigenous young man. Taken into high society and not being able to cope with man's inhumanity to man. He told me that you can't save everyone. I knew that. Even one of my professors told me that not everybody can get on the ship little one. And then he proceeded to tell me that being a single father is hard. I nodded my head and said that it must be...

I didn't want to rule the world, I just wanted to see it. Having been a nerd, I enjoyed reading the encyclopedia on the computer. At the time, I loved the sound of hearing the machine come to life. The disc whirring and... My best friend would be there to greet me.

I shared the computer with my uncle and brother. It was a lot of fun to look and see what they were into. Sometimes I didn't understand it, but as my mom taught me snitches get stitches. So I stayed quiet, and played on the encyclopedia Britannica. They had this really cool game called mind maze. Were you learned random facts and navigated a castle.

My favorite games were those where you were a protagonist navigating a strange world. The King's quest games were my favorite. I loved King Graham, and the enchanted world of Daventry.

The woman who authored these games, was introduced to the role-playing games by her husband. I always thought it was awesome to be able to do such a thing. In college it was really hard to find others who played these games but it was fun to talk about character design, and story structure.

Currently I'm playing Shadow dark with a group of my husband's friends. What I enjoy about it is that it reminds me of discworld, at least the way we're playing. None of us have died yet thank goodness.

I like drifting away from things too. People, places, and just relaxing. Have you ever just laid face up in a pool for hours? It's my favorite thing to do. You can just meditate and forget everything. It feels like you're in space. Even though I don't think I would like to be up there. Something about the sky always makes me feel like it's trying to eat me. The ocean however feels like home.

Having Taino ancestry I think back to one of the last survivors of Fidel. At the time when he came to power, the first people he targeted were indigenous. My grandmother had to hide my mom. Her straight hair was a huge problem back then.

The man that I'm thinking of if he is still alive, lives by the ocean fishing and just swimming all day. A simple life. A wonderful life really. My husband and I, talk about living by the sea. Not caring anymore. Just enjoying our lives, because why bother with a world that would turn around and defraud its own people. You were ignorant for believing in others... Okay, I think that says more about you than it does about me.

I love my husband because he said go back to the gym palpy you ain't getting my Padme, lol 🤣. Our food names are ironically rice and beans. Everyone used to call him Mr Bean cuz he looked like the actor when he was younger... And at the time my friends all had food names, and I picked rice. Mostly because I go with everything. And of course being a fan of Fruit baskets definitely influenced that. My friends were fun, but I always felt plain like rice. I met other people that are like rice though. I call them burnt rice, mostly because they're rough around the edges and prickly.

If you were a food what would you be?

[skarlette1]

Pearl Girls: Un-Brainwashing

–The penultimate chapter of the Pearl Girls series.

It was nearly three in the morning when I slipped back into my dorm room. Even for a superheroine like me, today had been hard. I’d started out the day as brainwashed college coed Yvonne Yates, hopelessly devoted to Professor Patriarchy. Before the sun went down, I’d reclaimed my identity as the superheroine Sable and hauled him off to the Libido League’s special holding cells at Chastity Island Prison, a place where his stupid-yet-seductive skills of scalp massage couldn’t enslave anyone else. I’d gotten so lucky that my superheroic mentor and lover, Alexis, had been able to use a surplus Absinthe Industries necklace to break Patriarchy’s hold on my mind and deprogram me. She was always so strong, smart, and determined. Now that my brain was my own again, I hoped it wouldn’t be long before I was by her side fighting crime as Argent and Sable, and on my knees as her submissive lover.

“Yvonne! Thank goodness you’re back!” my roommate Thora Thames sat bolt upright in bed, startling me. I’d been so wrapped up in getting myself un-brainwashed from Professor Patriarchy’s control that I’d completely forgotten that he’d used me to capture poor Thora for his growing harem. The fact that she was sleeping in her makeup and wearing an old-timey negligee that the Professor made her buy made it clear that just throwing him in prison hadn’t put an end to his influence.

“Thora! You scared me! I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“How could I sleep when the most handsome, intelligent, brave, strong, and sexiest man in the world has gone missing? Professor Patriarchy has vanished! I was supposed to go to his house to cook him dinner, but the police were there, searching through all his manly belongings. I’ve been calling and texting him for hours, with no response. When you didn’t answer my texts, Yvonne, I got so scared. Like maybe I had just learned my proper place at Patriarchy’s feet and it was going to be taken away from me.”

“I’m sorry, Thora. I’ve been really busy. I haven’t looked at my phone for hours.” I couldn’t tell her I’d spent much of that time locking the Professor where he could never control anyone again.

“What could be more important than finding Professor Patriarchy? Weren’t you supposed to meet him at Doctor Ames’s penthouse for something? I know I’m just a silly girl who doesn’t always remember details when I’m on my knees before the Professor, but I thought he said something while you were teaching me how to worship his cock. Was he at the penthouse? Did you see him? Was he okay? Did he mention anything out of the ordinary? We need to retrace his steps and go over everything you remember to search for clues!”

Even brainwashed, Thora was relentless! It’s one of the things that had made her the Libido League’s biggest fan … at least until I’d captured her for Patriarchy’s harem. “It’s the middle of the night, Thora. In the morning, maybe we can report him as a missing person.” I had to stall for time until I could get Argent to un-brainwash her.

“There’s no time to delay, Yvonne. Most people who are missing forty-eight hours are never found alive. It’s already been more than twenty hours since I felt the Professor’s perfect cock in my mouth. We need to save him right now!” Jumping out of bed, she started to pull on clothes.

“Thora, we just can’t head out into the night without a plan. We’re just two college girls. How about we wait until morning, and then contact the Libido League? I’m sure with their superpowers, they’ll be able to find the Professor.” What I was really sure of was that the League’s superpowers would be able to free Thora from the powerful brainwashing my fingers had rubbed into her scalp.

“The Libido League? Those entitled, deluded bitches don’t know the first thing about honoring their proper place at Patriarchy’s heel. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were the ones who kidnapped him! They probably threw him in their illegal, black site prison!”

“Hey, there are certain security threats that require—”

Thora wasn’t listening. “Kidnapping a iconoclastic thinker is exactly the kind of thing those fascist feminists would do! I can’t believe I used to admire those wretched wenches before you taught me my proper place. I spent so many years obsessing over every detail about those harlot heroines. The only good thing from all that wasted time was learning all their weaknesses. I’ll need everything I know to take down the League and rescue Professor Patriarchy!”

“Thora, you’re getting ahead of yourself. There’s no reason to—Wait a minute! What do you mean you know the weaknesses of the entire Libido League?”

Rummaging through her desk drawer, she pulled out a well-used notebook covered with Libido League decals. “I wouldn’t have been the League’s number one fan if I hadn’t learned everything about them. Maybe not their secret identities, but everything else. When I used to think they were a force for good in the world, I thought that knowing their weaknesses would help me protect them from villains who would hurt them. Or it might be useful if one of the heroines were brainwashed into an evil version of herself. But now that they’ve kidnapped the greatest man to ever walk the planet, I will use my knowledge to destroy the Libido League, one by one.”

On the one hand, I shouldn’t be worried about an angry college girl taking down a team of superheroines. On the other hand, one of those heroines had just been turned into a puppet by a pretty pearl necklace and another had been brainwashed by a fancy scalp massage. Anything was possible. “Thora, you’re overreacting.”

“There is no overreaction where Professor Patriarchy is concerned, Yvonne. You taught me that he deserves nothing but the best, including my best efforts to rescue him and destroy the bitches who kidnapped him.”

“Thora, let’s talk about this.” Ignoring me, she headed for the door. “Thora! STOP!” I reached out to take her by the shoulder. Because she had bent over to reach for the doorknob, my hand came to rest on her head. By force of habit, my fingers pressed her scalp in the same positions I’d used so often in the last few weeks. Thora let out a small gasp as the tension and anger drained out of her body. Her hands dropped to her sides, her Libido league notebook falling to the floor.

I knew the posture all too well: The Professor’s mental focus technique. My fingers had opened her brain to accept whatever she was told. It was the foundation of Professor Patriarchy’s brainwashing. Whatever I whispered to her at this time would become a part of Thora’s world.

Could I use the Professor’s mental focus technique to un-brainwash Thora? Alexis had done something similar in using the pearl necklace to un-brainwash me. But she was always so much smarter than me and I was so out of it I didn’t really remember everything she said and only villains actually mind-controlled people and the scalp massage worked differently than the pearls and—

Stop, Yvonne, I told myself. Breathe and think. I could come up with excuses until the sun came up. I had Thora before me right now, open and receptive of my words. I wasn’t just Yvonne Yates, mediocre college student. I was Sable, youngest heroine of the Libido League. I could do this!

“Thora, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Yvonne. I can hear you,” she said in that dreamy monotone I remembered so well. Had I sounded that out-of-it when I was under Patriarchy’s control?

“Good. You need to listen to me, Thora. Professor Patriarchy is … well, he’s a bad man. Let me tell you why....” I went and on and on, refuting every thought that the Professor had forced me to massage into Thora’s mind. His iron-clad arguments for why men were superior to women—wrong! His reasons that his ideas were always the best—wrong! His dissertation on why even the worst man was superior to the best woman—wrong! His detailed description of how we had no choice but to obey his every command—wrong! By the time I paused to catch my breath, I could only hope that it was enough to save Thora.

“I understand. I should ...” she paused as if she were frightened of the next word. “I-I should ... not obey Professor Patriarchy.”

I let out a sigh of relief. The un-brainwashing worked! I knew I’d be able to rescue her!

“Who should I obey?” Thora asked.

Uh oh. I wasn’t ready for this. “Obey? Um, you shouldn’t obey anybody. You’re not a— I mean, you should obey the law, obviously. Unless it’s an unjust law. And you need to obey your other professors so you don’t flunk out of college. But only in class. And outside of classwork related to the class. But you shouldn’t obey them about stuff that’s not about class.”

As I spoke, her face twisted into an expression of pained confusion. “I don’t understand, Yvonne. Who should I obey?” Her plaintive voice sounded nothing like the girl that was going to take down the Libido League with a notebook just a few minutes ago.

I checked my fingers to ensure they hadn’t slipped out of the proper configuration. It didn’t make any sense. Thora shouldn’t have been able to push back on my suggestions with her frontal lobe paralyzed and—

“Holy higher brain functions!” She couldn’t think for herself because I was preventing her from thinking for herself. She gazed vaguely up at me with unfocused, glassy eyes. I was way out of my depth here, but I couldn’t just leave her suspended without critical thinking. I panicked and couldn’t tell you the reason I spoke those next three words.

“Obey me, Thora.”

“Yes, ma’am!” She let out a relieved sigh as her face melted back into blissful openness. “I will obey you in all things, Mistress Yates.”

I yelped and pulled my hands back. It felt so wrong to be called “Mistress.” Somehow, I’d found a way to break my friend’s brain even more!

Freed from the grip of the mental focus technique, Thora closed her eyes and shook her head. I buried my face in my hands. I couldn’t bear the look of betrayal I knew I deserved.

“Oh my god,” Thora whispered. “You saved me! You saved me from the evil clutches of that wicked man. With a name like ‘Professor Patriarchy’ he even sounds like a supervillian. And you rescued me from him!”

“Thora, I don’t know how to tell you—“ I peeked out from between my fingers to see my roommate gazing up at me with a look of pure adoration. I’d seen her look at the heroines of the Libido League like that, but never at plain Yvonne Yates. Her eyes were so deep. And open. And beautiful. Even if I hadn’t had a tiny crush on Thora before this all started, I don’t think I could have kept from falling into those eyes.

“What do you need to tell me, Mistress Yates?”

“I, um ...”

“Do you need to tell me how I can thank you for rescuing me?” She took my hand in her nimble fingers. “I am so grateful for all you’ve done for me, Mistress Yates.” She brought my hand to her lips and kissed each fingertip. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” She pressed my hand to her chest. Her skin was so soft. She slid my hand inside her negligee and until it cupped her warm breast. Thora moaned, a slight smile playing across her lips.

I knew this wasn’t right. Thora wasn’t in her right mind. She hadn’t been since I first laid my fingers on her scalp. But I didn’t know how to give her right mind back to her. I only knew how good her nipple felt as it stiffened against my palm. I knew if she had to obey someone, it was better she obey someone who wouldn’t hurt her. Someone who would take care of her. Someone like me.

“Thora?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“If you’d like to kiss me, I’d like to kiss you.”

“Yes, ma’am!” She leaned in and pressed her beautiful lips against mine. They were so soft, so warm, and so willing. She pulled me close with one hand and and used the other to guide my fingers over her ass. I could feel more than hear a moaning, deep in her throat. She craved me, lusted after my flesh, wanted to drown herself in my touch. It was intoxicating to know how much she wanted me. That’s how I had felt with Professor Patriarchy.

Exactly how I’d felt with Professor Patriarchy. I pushed her away. “Thora, you can’t let me … It’s not right ...”

“I’m sorry I didn’t please you, Mistress Yvonne. I can do better. Just tell me what I’ve done wrong and let me worship you.”

Her lust was a side effect of the Patriarchy’s mental focus technique. When he had touched me, I would have done absolutely anything to get my lips on his skin. Any rejection had cut deep into my soul, making me more desperate to please him. I’d put Thora in the same position! As hot as she was, it was wrong to simply take advantage of her vulnerability. That’s the sort of things supervillains do.

But I couldn’t stop, either. In her current state, that sort of rejection could be traumatic. How could a simple college girl like me deal with this?

She couldn’t. She’d need the wisdom of a superhero.

“Thora, you told me once that you only wanted to have sex with the Libido League.”

“I used to fantasize about them so much, Mistress Yvonne. They are so strong and smart and beautiful and so fucking sexy.”

Perfect. “We’re going to play a game when we’re alone together. I’ll be your mistress, but we’ll pretend that I’m actually a member of the Libido League. You’ll call me ... ‘Mistress Sable.’”

If I gave Thora something that I knew she wanted before I’d messed with her mind, I was just fulfilling her fantasy—a fantasy that belonged to her true self. It wasn’t as though I were taking advantage of her because she was hot and helpless and I was horny for her—I was helping her explore her sexuality. Sable had always been the best parts of me, so just hearing the name would remind me not to abuse my power.

Her knees went wobby and she let out a squeal like only a fangirl could. “Oh my god, yes! Yes, Mistress Sable. Yes! Yes! You’ll be my mistress and I’ll be your slutty, subby sidekick, the Blonde Thora-nado!”

I laughed. “That’s perfect! Are you ready to help me with mission preparation, Blonde Thora-nado?”

She sprang to her feet and saluted. “Yes, Mistress Sable. I’ll do anything to help you save the city.”

“Many of the supervillains we face can use their powers to twist our lust against us.”

“I’ve read all about that, Mistress Sable. Villains like Mynx, the Emerald Edger, and Venus de Milo enhance their target’s innate sexual arousal.” God, how did she make nerdy enthusiasm seem so sexy?

“Right. If we happen to run into one of them, it will be best for us to be sexually satisfied. Completely and totally. They can’t use our desires against if we’ve already … y’know … fulfilled them all.”

Thora sank to her knees, a wide, sexy smile on her face. “Mistress Sable, that’s exactly the kind of mission preparation I’ve been dreaming of for years.”

As she kissed her way up my thighs, I began to feel at peace with what I’d done. Thora had nurtured a crush on Sable for years, it was obvious from the tender way she teased my pussy lips with her tongue. I would have flirted with her if I hadn’t needed to maintain my secret identity. In a twisted way, this whole ordeal with the Professor had brought us together, just the way her mouth came together with my pussy to send waves of bliss across my body. Every lick felt so good, I never wanted it to end.

Maybe we wouldn’t need to go to the League tomorrow to get their help un-brainwashing Thora. We were living her fantasy and it wouldn’t be right to un-brainwash someone out of their fantasy. Just like it wouldn’t be right to take her tongue away from clit even for a second when her movements were driving me closer to an orgasm boiling up, deep inside me.

What was so wrong with us continuing to play this game? “Ooohhh, Thora! Don’t stop!” Is this what it felt like for a domme to be worshiped by her sub? How could this be wrong? I slid my fingers over Thora’s scalp to show her the perfect pace. “Yes, Thora! Yes!” I couldn’t stop dominating her any more than I could stop cumming all over her face!

As I collapsed onto the bed, my body trembling with aftershocks, I resolved that I would dominate her for her own good! I’d be a good domme to Thora just as I was a good sub for Alexis.

What could possibly go wrong?

--To Be Concluded...

---

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[demonsanddemogorgons]

Sunny in Philadelphia - A Joseph Quinn Story (Chapter 6)

Chapter 6 - Cheers, Darling

The car pulled over to the sidewalk and came to a stop, signaling that you had arrived. The driver got out of the car and came around to your door, opening it for you. You climbed out, Joe following close behind. He gently placed his hand on the middle of your back as he walked alongside you, escorting you inside. It was a small, quiet place. The hostess asked for a reservation name and Joe gave her his. She immediately escorted the two of you upstairs to the rooftop for a more private setting, something Joe must have requested beforehand. Once seated, you thanked the hostess as she walked away. Joe opened the wine list and began looking through it.

"Get whatever you want, love. Is there a certain wine you prefer?"

You looked through your copy of the menu. Most of them you had never heard of, apart from a select few types that were common.

"I don't really know what any of these are," you said back with a giggle. "But I like sweet wine."

"Sweet it is. I'll pick something for us then, yeah?" He smiled at you as you nodded in approval.

"Sorry, I'm not really used to places like this. I am from an area where the fanciest place around is Olive Garden," you laughed.

"That's alright," he chuckled back. "Where are you from?"

"I live about 4 hours away from here in the middle of Pennsylvania, in a small town that has one stop light. No one has ever heard of it."

"What's that like? Much different from here or London, I'm sure."

"It's quiet, much calmer. I'm not used to city traffic, noise. I visit places like this for concerts and different things, but I am glad I don't live in the city. It can be too much for me."

"I can see how it would be overwhelming."

"Yeah, it's much different in the middle of nowhere, but I wouldn't change it for the world. Maybe someday I can show you, if you're up for a visit."

"That sounds lovely."

"When you need an escape from the hustle and bustle, you call me," you said, smiling and looking in his eyes with a wink. They glistened a little brighter when they caught sight of your smile. If only you knew how smitten he was over you at that moment. He didn't need a model or a rich actress. He was already perfectly content with unique, ordinary, small-town you. He found it intriguing that you were different. He had been with plenty of city girls in the past. All they wanted to do was go to parties and pubs. He enjoyed those things but was beginning to grow tired of the same type of night life all the time. It would be nice for him to experience something different in his free time.

"You're something else, you know that?" he said, putting his hand on top of yours across the table. You smiled at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with your free hand.

The waitress came by and Joe ordered a bottle of wine for the two of you to share, and some bread for himself. You chuckled at this, knowing from his guest appearance on a podcast how much he liked it.

"What's so funny?" he said, confused.

"You and your bread," you laughed. "With salty butter," you added in a mocking British accent, teasing him.

"It's heaven, there's nothing better," he replied with a smile, going along with your joke. "So, you seem to know a lot about me," he smirked. "I suppose tonight is about me getting to know you better, then."

"Okay. What else do you want to know, Mr. Quinn? I'm an open book."

"Mmmm, I like when you call me that," he said a bit seductively, his teeth sinking down on his lower lip briefly, earning a teasing smirk from you. "Well, you start. What do you think I should know?"

"Well, I'm 27. Capricorn," you said jokingly with a snicker. "I'm kidding, I don't know the first thing about horoscope stuff. I know I'm a Capricorn, and that's about it." He laughed at your goofiness.

"So you were born in January? Me too."

"Yes, the 17th."

"Okay, so future joint birthday parties, good to know," he joked.

"That's not a bad idea!" you laughed together.

"Hmm, what else?" he asked, placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his fist in interest. "What about work? What do you do?"

"I am a sonographer – I do ultrasounds. I work night shift in a hospital."

"That is amazing, love! Are babies fun?"

"They can be," you chuckle, "but it's a lot more than just those."

"Really? Like what?"

"Livers, gallbladders, thyroids, scrotums..." you trail off with a joking smile.

"Oh, yuck," he laughed.

"Yeah, those aren't my favorite," you respond, shaking your head with a witty exhale.

The waitress then comes back with the wine bottle and two glasses. Joe takes the bottle and pours into your glass first, and then his own.

"Cheers, darling," he smiled, clinking his glass into yours and then taking a sip.

The two of you talked as the bottle of wine grew emptier and emptier, and you had quickly forgotten about the sensitive topic that you had accidentally started the night with in the car. Joe made it easy for you to forget. He made you feel like the only girl in the world and like nothing else mattered to him in that moment, and nothing did. Next thing you knew, it was 11:00 and the waitress came by with the check, which Joe grabbed before you had a chance to. Three hours were spent just indulging in each other and mindlessly flirting, hand touching, blushing, smiling. The evening was pure bliss. You had forgotten what the real world felt like, and you didn't want to remember.

"Well, it's getting late, love. Are you ready to go?"

"Do we have to?" you laughed.

"I could stay here all night with you if that's what you want," he smiled, taking your hand. You smiled at his words, but the smile slowly faded off your face.

"As much as I would love that, I have to leave in the morning, so I should probably get some sleep." Joe could feel the sadness radiating from you.

"Darling, it may feel like it, but this isn't the last time we will be seeing each other. I would love to see you again, if you'll have me."

You smiled at his politeness. He knew what you both felt for each other already, but the gentleman in him was still allowing the decision to be yours.

"I would love to, Joe. More than you know."

He led you outside to the car waiting along the sidewalk. The driver opened the back passenger side door and the two of you climbed in. The ride back to your hotel was quiet, but a peaceful quiet. The two of you were just letting the night you had together sink in as you held hands, fingers intertwined. The car pulls up outside the main entrance of the hotel and the driver comes around to open the door for you.

"Come on, love. I'll walk you in," Joe says, guiding you to get out of the car.

You climbed out, Joe following, and started inside. You got in the elevator and pushed the button for your floor. Joe stood beside you, still holding your hand, and smiled at you as the doors closed.

"I hope your friend didn't mind me stealing you for the evening."

"No, she said she was just enjoying a night in. Besides, she is dating my brother, so she probably spent hours on the phone with him. She was entertained in her own way," you laughed. Joe chuckled in response. The elevator doors opened on your floor and Joe stretched out his arm, politely signaling for you to exit before him.

"Ladies first."

You smirked at him and took his hand, pulling him along behind you. You made it to your room door and started to dig through your crossbody bag for your room key.

"Ugh, where did I put it?" you said, continuing to dig in your bag. Before you could find it, Joe grabbed your forearm and gently pulled it out of your bag, his hand sliding down your arm to grasp yours. He wrapped his other arm around the small of your back and pulled you closer. You looked up from your bag to meet his eyes as he did this, your heart fluttering at the sudden decreased proximity between the two of you. He slowly leaned in and gently placed his lips on yours. Your brain could have went to mush right then. You felt your knees going weak at his touch, your lips melting and moving together like they were matching puzzle pieces. You kissed each other slowly and tenderly, until your head felt like it was in the clouds and you could hardly stand it any longer. You pulled away from him slowly and he placed his forehead to yours.

"I've been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you," he said quietly, tenderly rubbing his thumb on your cheek.

"It was so worth the wait," you said with a smile. He pulled you into a hug, your cheek settling on his chest as his hand gently held your head against him. When he pulled away, you looked up at him with glistening eyes. "Joe, when will I see you again?"

"I don't know, darling. Hopefully soon. I have to be in Texas next weekend for another convention. Then I'll have a little bit of time off before Gladiator 2 starts filming in Morocco."

"I work this week and then I have a week of vacation time off the next week."

"Looks like I may be cashing in that hustle and bustle escape sooner than I expected," he said, smiling as he gently rubbed your forearms with his thumbs. Your eyes widened at his words.

"Really? You'd come and see me?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

You pulled him in for another hug, squeezing around his waist tightly.

"Thank you, Joe. Really. You're amazing."

"Only what you deserve," he responded with a small smile and a wink, quoting what he had said to you on the phone earlier that day. He leaned down and kissed your cheek. "Now go rest up, darling. Have a safe trip home."

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