#we seriously cannot wait to put this book in your hands

[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (5)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 1500

WARNINGS: mentions of blood (the usual)

PART 5 ✧˖°.

You were sitting on your bed, pondering over Dream's words or actually the lack of them from last night. Why was it bothering you so much who he loved or did not? He probably had gone through an army of lovers being so ancient. You knew there was Nada, Calliope, courtesy of Matthew's inability to stay quiet for more than two seconds, and now Hope. But there was something about the first time he had said her name, pure anguish coating every syllable, that had your heart retreating into itself.

"No mate there is absolutely no way I am leaving her behind." Charles' muffled voice sliced through your silent rambling.

"Charles you cannot be serious. We can't put the entire agency to a halt because of one client," Edwin wailed.

"What's the problem?" You peeped through your door.

That's when you saw Jesse's curled form on the couch and the overheard conversation bore logic.

"She's still here?"

"Yeah." Edwin's face wore a scowl. But as he sensed the oncoming taunting suggestion from you, he hurriedly added, "which I have no problem with of course."

"Sure mate," you smirked. "I will stay with her."

Charles lifted his eyebrows.

"Yeah I am feeling super tired anyways. You guys go ahead," you assured the lot of two.

"How do you manage to feel exhausted after sleeping 10 hours a day absolutely stuns me. You stun me woman." Charles relieved a deep breath.

"Aw thankyou love," you pouted.

"Alright, Hazel keep a watch on her. And if anything strange occurs, call us immediately," Edwin spoke. "You sure you aren't staying behind because of your mysterious guy?"

You gave a mock chuckle.

"No seriously Haz how are things going with him?" Charles wiggled his brows. "Which base-"

"Okay okay okay out! Both of you."

You dropped the book titled 'Hope' with a thud on the table in front of you. You were waiting for Dream to join you tonight and in the meantime, your inquisitiveness had gotten a tight grip on you. So you had raked the library to locate Dream's past lover's record successfully, you might add. Excitement swooshing in your entire body, you flung the book open. Nothing. White blankness stared at you. You flipped through the pages. Still nothing. Are you kidding me? How is this even possible? Lucienne had told you that any being, immortal or not, living or not, had a book dedicated to their dreams and stories. Before you could lose more of your mind on the enigma on your hands, you heard the flapping of Matthew's wings. You quickly put the useless book back in its place.

"Boss wants ya."

You gaped at the apparition in front of you. Consider a rhinoceros, but bigger and scarier and from a fairy land. He was partially covered in moss and vines loosely wrapped around his ears and horn. You pitied the humans back in the waking world whose dreams the animal had ever had a cameo in. You were just glad you weren't one of them. Now not so much as the whimsical rhinoceros slowly made its way in your direction. You stretched your arm in front of you. And closed your eyes in concentration. The sounds of heavy stamping grew louder. You can do this. You have been doing this for weeks. The literal fate of the world depended on you being able to do this. You opened your eyes. Yellow eyes speedily approached you. You got this. Blinding pain seared through your palm where the pointed horn of the creature tore through your skin and the acute scent of copper wafted into the air. Dream raised his hand to dispel his creation.

"No!" you shouted. "Don't."

"Haz-"

"I got this." You got this.

Blackness seeped into the periphery of your vision but you reeled your focus back to the huffing beast in front of you. He started towards you again, sand flying from the rear of his feet. You shut your eyes. Enough. You are chosen for a destiny far greater than yours, Dream's words from your first encounter surfaced in your mind when you had accused him of being a serial killer. So much time had passed since then, so much time putting your body and mind through vigorous training, so much time withholding yourself from your bestfriends, so much time with Dream, who had placed his faith in your hands, gentle and soft. A faint energy began buzzing in the core of your soul, spreading throughout, tickling every nerve in your body and roaring in your ears. You opened your eyes, the creature's angry black pupils crashed against your outstretched bleeding hand, almost. The second his bristly face came in contact with your touch, his pupils dilated and he skidded to a stop. Your hand glowed with the hum of energy that slowly receded back from wherever it had come from, inside you. The animal leaned into your touch before pulling back and leaped away to from wherever Dream had summoned him. Dream. You tilted your head to where he stood, his lips twitched upwards all so ever slightly, a ghost of a smile. A fire ignited in your heart, from where it trickled down your insides, painting them warm, at the sight. He walked towards you and the wave of adrenaline rush that had kept you distracted from your punctured hand that was reddening the sand below, died down. Before the blood loss could take its toll on you, Dream's calloused yet silken fingers wrapped around your wounded hand. His touch though cold, lit your skin on fire. He rubbed sand over your hand. The blow of the pain simmered down to a dull ache. He severed the contact between your skins, leaving behind an abrupt chill. It was as if your body was calling for his hand again, craving for his touch.

His perfect lips parted, perfect? you perverted brain get a grip, "Hazel? Hazel?"

Shit. Were you staring? "Yeah,"

"How is your hand?"

You looked down, a black cloth was tied around it. How long were you zoned out?

You might have cared for the throbbing pain still lapping around it if you weren't reveling in the ecstasy your triumph had wrought. "It's better. Thankyou."

"You did well tonight, mortal."

"Shut. Up!" You turned towards the newly joined raven on your shoulder. "He can hand out praise?" You asked incredulously.

"Unsolved mysteries of the world," Matthew replied.

Dream's lips fought a smile.

You fisted blades of grass within your fingers as you sat alongside the Dream lord in your favourite place of all the realms. The darkness was slowly fading away, a hint of pink dotting the mountain edges. It would soon be time for you to wake up.

"Dream,"

Morpheus turned his attention to you. You didn't like the intensity of it. 

"Yes mortal?"

You hesitated.

Dream's gravelly voice jeered, "How many questions do you have?" Amusement danced in his eyes. 

You sighed and laid down your head on the soft grass. "It was you, wasn't it? That day at the sisters' house. You saved me from Aura." You finally gave voice to the doubt solidifying in your mind.

"That isn't a question Hazel."

"Why?"

"Because you are important to the survival of the realms." 

You felt a brush of disappointment at his answer. What were you expecting? That made a perfect explanation for why he had saved you. This partnership was not forged out of any preference or want. You were chosen for this. He was stuck with you.

"So what happens now? With the nightmares under control- Why did you even create them in the first place? Just some merry dreams would have sufficed don't ya reckon?"

"Nightmares serve a crucial purpose. They are merely meant to reflect a man's worst fears so he can face them."

"I wish I could say makes sense."

"Don't trouble your puny mortal brain with the rules of the universe," he said in a teasing tone.

Your laugh was gradual but it came. He was getting better with his jokes. You felt Dream watch you intently. He had begun to open up. You had managed to writhe little information about his past but whatever you had, the Corinthian, Roderick Burgess, Rose Walker, he had given it up willingly. Do you ever get lonely? You had asked him your first time in the Dreaming. Even though he hadn't replied to you then, you had come to know the answer. He was just as eager for company as you were for his.

"Well back to the concerned topic, with the dreams now learning to trust again, what happens now?" You asked.

The sun had emerged from the diving nook between the mountains. Its rays spilled honey all around you. 

"We will decide tomorrow." Were the last words of your dream as you were tugged back into wakeness.

[putellas11]

A/N: Finally! So happy I was able to get this up in time to celebrate Alexia's return!!! Similar to Just a Girl, this was a big challenge for me and I was determined to see it through. This is a story of how love can shine a light in the darkest of moments. btw this is a long one so settle in.

The Missing Piece (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

In the blink of an eye, everything changed. 

A life once lived passionately and carefree, now overwhelmed with uncertainty and trepidation. How else are you supposed to feel when faced with the possibility of losing what you hold most dear? If you lose your guiding light, will you make it on your own or will you wander aimlessly through life?

These are the questions that have invaded your mind. It’s all you can think about. They keep you up at night and leave you exhausted the following morning. You feel their weight on your shoulders dragging you down. They leave you gasping for air as you struggle to just keep your head above water. And the one person who can help you and protect you from it all, is the very person you’re at risk of losing. 

The only thing that can distract you, even if it’s for the briefest of moments, is art. It’s the only way you can convey what words simply cannot express. When you feel crippled with pain and see no hope in sight, art is your only escape. With your brush, you create a world filled with light and hope. Because unlike life, art is forgiving. When you make a mess, you can paint over it. You can try again. 

Unlike life, art gives you second chances.

"Dios mio, that storeroom is a mess!" your coworker, Carla exclaims, appearing by your side. She drops a box of coffee beans on the floor and with the back of her hand, wipes a drop of sweat from her brow. “Took me 10 minutes just to find this.”

Behind the counter, your attention is on the sketchbook in your hands. When the crowd dies down and you get a little break from taking orders, the small sketchbook comes out from under the counter. Everything from the small details of the cafe to the faces of those who visit it, are you sources of inspiration.

“You mean the one we spent all night organizing last week?”

Annoyance radiates from Carla. “That can’t be us making all that mess, right?” she says, hands on her waist and her foot tapping repeatedly against the floor. “I’m convinced someone is sneaking in at night and trashing the place.” 

The absurdity of the statement makes you laugh, and she finally gets your full attention. “So, they don’t sneak in to steal anything? All they want to do is make a mess?” 

Carla nods with confidence. “It’s the only logical explanation.” 

How she manages to keep a straight face, you do not know. But her eyes certainly give her away. Like you, Carla has no intention of being a barista forever. Put two people together who don’t take their job too seriously and what do you get? A messy storeroom. 

“You’re ridiculous.” With a smile, you shake your head and return your focus back to the sketchbook. 

Carla leans in to take a peek at what you’re drawing, and it doesn’t take long for her to pick out your subject: a young woman sitting by the window, completely immersed in a book. You picked her out because of her auburn hair and the way it shines so bright bathed by rays of sunlight.

"How's the exhibit coming along, by the way?" Carla asks.

It's a simple question that elicits a deep sigh from your lips. Just the mention of it forces you to close the sketchbook and tuck it away under the counter. "It's going...good."

Carla raises her eyebrow, catching on to your very obvious hesitation. "But…" she says, encouraging you to spill whatever it is that’s bothering you.

"I've gotten great feedback from everyone I've shown the pieces to, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is missing. It's like there's something else I need to say, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what that is."

It’s been nothing but sleepless nights staring at a blank canvas just waiting for inspiration to strike.  All the other pieces came so naturally to you. Granted, all of them are dedicated to your mother. But still, you've never experienced something quite like this and with the exhibit only a few months away, you're getting a little restless.

You hope Carla might have some words of wisdom to break you out of the funk you’re in, but the door of the cafe creaks open, and a woman walks in.

Break time is over. 

Like clockwork, Carla takes her position by your side at the brewing station, ready to prepare whatever order the customer might want.

"Hola! What can I get you?" You give the woman the same greeting and smile you give to them all.

The woman glances at Carla, and for a brief moment, it gives you the impression that there might actually be some meaning behind it. But you dismiss it — it's probably nothing.

"Just a cortado, please."

"And the name for the order?" you ask, busy staring at the screen. 

"...Alexia."

It takes the woman a second too long to say her name, but again, you pay it no mind. You've taken thousands of orders by now, and they're all a little different from the last. Some customers are chatty and some straight to the point. Either way, you take their order and send them on their way. You don’t have the energy for anything else.

Carla, an expert by now, has the order done in a second and leaves it on the counter. She shares a look again with the woman, and this time it does spark your interest. You make a note to ask Carla about it later.

The door opens and closes, and now there's one less customer inside the cafe to worry about.

"You know," Carla says, swinging her arm over your shoulder, "that thing you're missing? It might just be standing right in front of you."

You scoff in response, "if only it were that easy."

Carla's expression hints that she wants to say something else, but instead, she gives you a comfortable squeeze on the shoulder.

You’re about to ask her about those looks she was sharing with the woman, but you’re interrupted by the phone vibrating inside your apron pocket. 

It’s a simple message and it doesn’t deliver any bad news, but no matter how many times you receive it, your heart drops to your stomach.

"Todo bien?" Carla asks.

You nod, typing away your response. "Mama just finished her treatment. Tia is taking her home now." Tucking the phone back in your apron, a soft "merde" escapes from your lips. 

Only a year ago, you were living in France with the world at your fingertips. Everything was absolutely perfect. It’s where you went to art school and poured your heart and soul into every sketch and painting with the ultimate goal of perfecting your talent. And when you graduated, all your hard work paid off when Cécile Guth — a painter you deeply admired — granted you the opportunity to be her apprentice. In France, life was art, and art was your life.

But that all changed when your mom got sick.

Leukemia.

That’s when everything came to a halt. The cloud you had been living on suddenly evaporated, and you came crashing down, face first into a harsh reality. You had no choice but to leave France. At first, you didn't miss the life and dreams you left behind. You were so focused on taking care of your mom that everything else was deemed irrelevant. But as the months have gone by, you wonder if you'll ever be able to return. And if you ever do, you fear you might not be the same person. 

"How's Lídia doing?" Carla asks, bringing you back to reality.

"She's a fighter," you say with a sad smile. "She tries to be strong for my sake, but I can see she's suffering. Chemo is supposed to help but honestly, I feel like it's hurting her more than that damn cancer ever could."

Without a second to waste, Carla opens her arms and pulls you into a hug you so desperately need. You've only known each other for a year, but she's been by your side during the most difficult time of your life.

"On a happier note, the flyers for the class are done," you say, wiping away the single tear from your cheek.

Carla, sensing the need to lighten up the mood, claps her hands excitedly. "I'm telling you, you should have had them made a long time ago!"

It was Carla’s idea to have flyers made to promote your small art class, The First Brushstroke. Working at the cafe isn’t exactly making you rich — not that you need to be, but you definitely need an extra source of income with your mom obviously not able to work. 

“I’m picking them up on my way home. If I can get just three more regulars, I’ll be good.” 

Carla waves your doubts away, “trust me, I’m a genius. I bet that you’ll have to find a bigger studio in a few months.”

The door opens once again and it’s time to repeat the routine all over again. You’re not sure how much longer you can take this.

“I hope you’re right.”

__________________________

Once again, you find yourself sitting in front of a blank canvas, just staring at it intently with no hope in sight. All the colors and shapes that once flowed so naturally through your mind seem to have vanished. You’re left staring at nothing, feeling frustrated and helpless. Every time you dip your brush into the paint and make a few strokes on the canvas, it feels forced. Art isn’t supposed to feel forced. It’s meant to feel effortless and natural.

With a sigh you set down your brush and lean back on the chair. Looking around the room, you see a clutter of art supplies and splotches of paint decorating the floor. Very few traces are left of what was once your childhood bedroom. It was actually your mom’s idea to turn it into a little studio when you moved back home. Her way of helping you keep your passion alive, you suppose. 

Admitting defeat, you stand up and walk away from the canvas. The missing piece yet to be found.

You find your mom in her room, tucked under the blankets with a book in her hands. Physically, she has changed so much. A strong woman capable of running mile after mile is now barely able to walk a few feet on her own. Thick, luscious hair is now thin and falls off at the slightest touch.

And yet, in her eyes, you see the same woman who used to run all over the house with you playing hide and seek. The same woman who held you on her hip as she made pancakes with chocolate syrup smiles. Inside, she still has that raw passion and intensity as when she danced flamenco. She’s still your mom but it’s like you lose a little more of her with each passing day.

“Hi, mama,” you greet her, peeking your head inside the room.

The moment she sees you, a big smile appears. “Hola, mi vida. Come in.”

The book is placed to the side, and her arms welcome you as you lay down next to her. She doesn’t want you to ask about today’s treatment or how she’s feeling. She’s tired of only giving you bad news. Even when you’re the one that is supposed to look after her, her priority is still looking after you. 

So instead of asking, you let her gather her strength and run her fingers through your hair. She asks about your day, and you tell her everything to the smallest detail. She gets a nice chuckle out of Carla’s suspicions about who keeps messing up the storeroom.

“And that missing piece of yours?”

You shake your head. “Still missing and I’m just about ready to give it up. Honestly mama, I think it’s just me being a perfectionist.”

She hums but doesn’t say anything in response right away. “I think…” she says, “that if that heart of yours is telling you that something is missing, you should listen.”

Growing up, your mom would never allow frustration to consume you to the point of giving up. She would guide you through whatever you needed until you came out on the other side. She has always been your guiding light when you just can’t seem to find your way.

You look up at her and smile. “You’re so wise.”

A familiar mischievous glint that you rarely see nowadays appears in her eyes. “Well, one of us has to be.”

“Mama!”

But the two of you share a laugh, and it’s a sound you hope to hear forever and never forget.

__________________________

Tuesdays are slow. The early morning rush of customers has come and gone, and now the café is left with only a few scattered customers. On days like this, there’s only a need for one person behind the counter, and today that lucky person is you. 

With Carla not around to keep you company, the only goal is to keep yourself busy. Occasionally, you’ll take out the sketchbook, but nothing seems to maintain your interest for long. You’re in a proper funk, and rather than fight it, you have decided to embrace it. Even though you still can’t shake the feeling that you’re missing a piece for the exhibit, at this point, you’re only driving yourself crazy.

If the missing piece wants to be found, it will make its way to you eventually.

The door of the coffee shop swings open, and it takes you a second, but you recognize her as the woman sharing those looks with Carla.

“¡Hola, bienvenida!”

The woman gives you a soft smile, “Hi,” she says, tapping her fingers on the counter, “A cortado, please.”

With a nod, you input her order on the screen, “name for the order?” 

Once again, the woman takes just a second too long to respond. This time you glance up just in time to catch a glimpse of sadness in her eyes. 

“Alexia,” she says with a breath. 

As you prepare the order, you can see her taking a keen interest in one of the flyers for your art class. You left them up on the counter so that everyone could see, but as you expected, barely anyone has paid much attention.

Alexia, on the other hand, not only takes one from the stack, but she seems to be genuinely curious. If Carla was here, she would urge you to talk to her. But the truth is, you’ve never been good at selling yourself. You’ve always preferred to let your art speak for you, and for itself.

You place her cortado within Alexia’s reach and as casually as you can, ask, "Interested in taking an art class?" 

Alexia shifts her weight nervously and chuckles, "I'm not very good."

Out of fear that you’ll come off too eager and scare her away, you grab a towel and start wiping the counter that clearly doesn’t need much cleaning. “More reason to sign up.”

“I’ll sign up if you ask me to.” 

Your hand stills at her words. “Um…” Something about the way she said them makes you hesitant to look at her. “Yeah... you should sign up.”

But she doesn’t let you off the hook that easily. 

“Look at me and ask.”

And when you do look at her, you’re left speechless by what you see. This is the first time you look at her — really look at her, and it makes you feel vulnerable, exposed. Alexia’s not just looking at you - she’s looking through you. All of your flaws, insecurities, and imperfections seem to be on full display. 

You feel seen. 

You struggle to speak, the words seemingly stuck in your throat. “Please, sign up for my class.” 

“Finally.” Alexia says and she doesn’t say anything else for a few seconds, almost as if she’s relishing the moment. Eventually, the corners of her lips tug upwards in a smile, “I’ll think about it.”

You want to say something to convince her, but you’re left speechless. No one has looked at you like that in a very, very long time. It's a scary feeling, but at the same time, there's a sense of excitement brewing in the pit of your stomach. 

With the flyer and coffee in her hands, Alexia gives you a little nod. “Nos vemos.” 

You watch as she walks out of the cafe, leaving you to grapple with the unexpected feelings she sparked in you. 

The rest of your shift goes unbearably slow. With barely any customers to keep your mind busy, it keeps wandering back to Alexia. The exchange was confusing, unexpected, and strange. And yet, you want to talk to her again. 

It’s only when you get home that you’re distracted enough to not think about her, and it’s not for a great reason.

Your mom has good days and bad days and when you got home, your aunt’s expression told you all you needed to know. Today is a bad day. 

On the bad days, there’s very little you can do besides make sure she is comfortable. These are the days that hurt the most. You feel powerless and the questions that keep you up at night gain power over you. You try so hard to put on a brave face for her. She can handle the cancer, but not the sadness in your eyes.

After dinner, you’re lying in bed with her watching a movie. It’s a bad day ritual. It’s the perfect way to embrace a new world — a new reality in which your mom is not sick and everything is as it should be.

Halfway through the movie, your phone buzzes softly beside you.

A notification lights up the display: Alexia Putellas has registered for The First Brushstroke class.

A warm, tingling sensation spreads through your body as you read her name. You can't help but whisper it out loud, "Alexia."

Your mom's voice, curious and gentle, interrupts your thoughts. "Did you say something, mija?"

Quickly you lock the screen and shake your head. "It's nothing, mama."

There's no point in explaining how one simple look from a stranger has shaken you to your core.  How can you possibly explain something you, yourself don’t understand? 

__________________________

There’s a vibrant energy that flows through the narrow, winding streets of La Vila de Gràcia district. Before moving away, Gràcia was where you would spend most of your time. You felt understood and encouraged by all of the artists displaying their artwork on the streets. So, when you moved back and needed to find an art studio to host your class, you knew exactly where to look.

The art studio itself is small but fulfills your needs and most importantly, it’s within your budget. The walls are decorated with various pieces of artwork, from sketches and charcoal drawings to oil paintings. At the bottom right corner each one are your initials, and the only hint of the paintings being created by your hand. At the front of the room is a large wooden easel, holding a blank canvas that in a few hours will be brought to life with vibrant strokes of color.

The class is for beginners, so you don’t put too much pressure on yourself. There’s no need for everything to be perfect. In fact, you encourage mistakes. Most often than not, mistakes have the potential to become something unexpectedly beautiful. 

With the class set to begin shortly, those who signed up start trickling in. A couple takes a seat in the back of the room and right away you can tell it might be their first date. He hesitates to scoot his stool a little closer to her, and she tries to hide the blush in her cheeks when he finally does. 

A few of your regulars have the confidence to immediately go and collect their paint brushes, tubes of paint, and containers of water without being told to do so. Their confidence spreads through the room, and eventually, everyone has what they need to start the class. 

Only one easel stands alone. 

You glance at the clock on the wall and feel your heart sink a bit. It seems Alexia changed her mind and won’t be coming after all. You try to pretend it doesn’t bother you, but disappointment is an unwanted visitor tonight. Still, you gather the supplies she might need and leave them for her by the easel. Just in case. 

“Hello everyone, thank you all for being here” you offer a smile to the faces looking at you with anticipation, “tonight, we’ll be focusing on blending colors to create a gradient effect. If this is your first time —” 

The door swings open and everyone's heads snap in its direction. Alexia steps inside the studio and you forget whatever it is you were about to say. 

She stops at the entrance, her eyes locked on you. 

Alexia’s presence sparks an excited chatter amongst the class but their voices are muffled in your ears. You’re entirely captivated by her.

“Hi,” you greet her. 

“Hi,” she says with the softest of smiles.

Finally taking notice of the others in the studio, Alexia gives them all a quick nod before taking a seat.

Before, everyone’s eyes were on you. Now, you see them all taking not-so secretive glances at Alexia. You can only assume it’s because she made a late entrance, but deep down, you have a feeling there might be more to it than that. 

You clear your throat and bring everyone's attention back to you. “Um… yeah, I as I was saying,” but it takes you a second to regain your train of thought, “right —  if this is your first time, feel free to follow along to what I paint, it will be something really simple. But, if your mind or your heart calls out for something else, don’t hesitate.” 

As promised, your painting is of a simple sunset with silhouettes of pine trees. You show the students how to mix the colors together with a blending brush, starting with a light shade and gradually adding darker tones for a seamless transition. A painting of this simplicity would normally take you a few minutes, but you take your time to explain the different techniques and all the possible color combinations. 

With the painting done, it’s time for you to walk around the studio and give each student your individual attention. You encourage those who are hesitant to be bold and give praises to those that show improvement since the last time you saw them.

Eventually, you make your way to Alexia. When she notices you, she looks down somewhat embarrassed. 

“It’s so bad,” she says softly, avoiding your gaze.

You take a closer look at her painting. It's a striking red and blue background with the silhouette of a young girl holding a ball against her hip. Despite the simple composition, there's something poignant and personal about it. From your experience, most beginner students choose something generic, easy. But It's clear that Alexia’s painting is anything but.

"It's not bad," you say gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's personal, no? I think that’s what makes it beautiful."

Your words seem to give Alexia a little bit of confidence because she looks up at you, “gracias.” Her eyes drift down at your hand still on her shoulder, a soft sigh through parted lips. 

Fearing you might have crossed an invisible line, you pull away swiftly and give her a little nod. “You’re welcome.” 

The rest of the class goes by in a blur but all throughout you feel overwhelmed by Alexia. You feel her eyes on you the entire time. And while you certainly hope you didn’t make it too obvious, every time she flicked her hair, you noticed. When she scrunched her eyebrows in deep focus, you noticed. 

The students stand up and get ready to leave, but before some walk out of the studio, they do something that surprises you. They walk up to Alexia with a glint in their eyes, and ask her for a picture. She complies with every request.

Clearly, Alexia is someone important and you feel embarrassed for not knowing why. 

Only the couple and Alexia remain in the studio. You start cleaning up all the supplies scattered all while pretending not to listen. With what you do manage to catch of their conversation, your best guess is that it has something to do with a football club which is something you know very little about. Sports are not really your thing and it has nothing to do with being forced to play goalie once when you were six, and then proceeding to get a ball kicked at your face. Repeatedly. 

Alexia and the couple exchange farewells and the conversation comes to an end. With your back turned, you only hear the sound of the door opening and closing and then, a brief silence. 

“Do you usually stay and clean?” 

Alexia’s voice startles you, causing you to jump and let out a shriek. You assumed she had left like everyone else. It’s not like she has a reason to stay. 

“Oh!” she says, taking a step closer with a look of concern, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Slightly embarrassed at your reaction, you take a deep to calm your beating heart. “No, uh,” you say with a light chuckle, hand on your chest. “I stay and clean up. It’s part of the gig.” 

Alexia looks around, noticing all the dirty brushes and containers that will surely keep you occupied for another hour. Without a word, she follows your lead and starts picking up as well.

“Wait, you really don’t have to.” 

She stops and looks at you with the same intensity she did at the coffee shop. “I want to.” 

Once again, you're left speechless by one simple look and unable to make any further protests. Alexia seems to have this power of you that you find both unsettling and strangely exhilarating. 

With all the brushes and containers in the sink, you notice she has no intention of leaving until the task is complete. 

“I wash, you dry?” you suggest, turning on the faucet to allow the water to remove the excess paint from the brushes. 

“You wash, I dry.” Alexia stands next to you, her arm bushing ever so slightly against yours. 

It’s a small studio, so it’s a small sink. You’re acutely aware of the warmth radiating from her and you feel it spreading through you.

"I know it's a little obvious since you're the teacher and all," Alexia says, meticulously cleaning the brushes with a level of care and precision most people wouldn't exhibit. "But you’re really talented."

Your laughter is warm and appreciative. "That's quite a compliment based on just that small painting I did."

Alexia shakes her head slightly and her gaze drifts up to the paintings and sketches adorning the walls of the studio. "These are all yours, right?"

You don't bother looking up at the paintings. You're well aware of the pieces she's referring to. Instead, you fix your eyes on her, astonishment subtly etched on your face.

"You noticed."

Alexia meets your gaze. "Hard not to."

For a brief moment, both of you remain silent, allowing the compliment to linger in the air. But you feel flustered, so you look away and try to think of something to change the subject.

"Do you mind if I ask what you do?"

Alexia straightens her posture with an unmistakable hint of pride. "I play for Barça."

And you feel like idiot for not knowing that. "No wonder everyone was so starstruck when you walked in."

Alexia's lips curve into a tight, shy smile. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that," she says, as she finishes drying the last of the brushes.

"Don't be," you say, shifting your weight against the sink. "I should apologize for being from here and not recognizing you. I feel like I'm committing some sort of crime."

Her laughter is light, and she leans in ever so slightly. "You know, I think there's a reward for turning in people like you," she teases.

Biting your bottom lip to stifle a grin, you reply, "And if I offer a better reward for keeping my secret?"

Alexia edges slightly closer, curiosity dancing in her eyes. "What do you have in mind?"

Her proximity sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "How about a private class next Friday? You'll have the teacher all to yourself."

Alexia pretends to ponder it for a moment, but eventually extends her hand, and you take it without hesitation.

"We have a deal."

__________________________

Over the next few days, you find yourself more attentive than ever at who enters the cafe. Every time the door swings open, your head instinctively turns in its direction. Not only that, you’re so lost in thought that you struggle to remember even the simplest of orders.

After you botch the third order of the day, Carla's curiosity gets the better of her. "Okay, I have to know," she says, her arms crossed over her chest, "what's got your head in the clouds?"

"Sorry... I just have something on my mind, that's all," you reply, trying to dismiss it. "It’s stupid."

She seems willing to let it go, but when you reach for the whole milk, she has to intervene. "He asked for oat milk," she points out, swapping the milk cartons for you. "Alright, spill it — and I don't mean the drink."

With the customer only a few feet away, you lower your voice so only Carla can hear. "I met someone…"

Carla's eyebrows rise in intrigue. "I like where this is going."

You quickly complete the order under Carla's watchful gaze and hand it to the customer with an apologetic smile.

Once he walks out of the cafe, Carla swivels back to you. "You were saying."

"She was at my class last week even stayed to help me clean up. You know I haven't exactly flirted with anyone in a while, but I'm pretty sure that's what happened. And now…" you take a deep breath, "I can't stop thinking about her,” you say rather quickly, almost embarrassed.

“It doesn't help that she's a regular here so I'm expecting her to walk through that door any second, and it has me on edge."

"Wait," Carla says, holding her hand up, "she's a regular?"

You nod. "Yeah, it’s Alexia. I think you know her actually."

You still haven't forgotten the glances her and Alexia have shared in the past. But with everything that has happened, you never had the chance to ask Carla what it all meant. 

Upon hearing Alexia's name, the broadest grin spreads across Carla's face.

"What?" you ask, puzzled.

"It's about damn time!" She exclaims, a tad too loudly. The few customers in the cafe glance her way, and she quickly apologizes.

"What do you mean, it's about time?"

After releasing her excitement with a few soft claps, Carla places a hand on your shoulder. "Querida, Alexia has been coming here for like two months just to see you and you barely paid her any attention. La pobre, she would get so sad whenever you asked for her name."

It all starts to make sense. So much has been happening around you but you’ve been oblivious to it all. 

You playfully slap Carla on her side. "Why didn't you say anything?!"

Carla shrugs, her smile beaming. "What can I say — I'm a romantic! I didn't want to force it." Her smile dims slightly. "Besides, I figured you had a lot on your mind with your mom and the exhibit. I didn't think you were all that interested in dating."

Carla's right: dating hasn't exactly been a priority. You haven’t gone on a date in a year and it’s a fact that hasn’t exactly kept you up at night. How can you seek out love when your heart is in danger of being broken in a million little pieces? If your worst fear becomes a reality, there might not be a heart left to give. But even so, you cannot deny that while it still remains in tack, it beats a little faster at the mention of Alexia. 

"You're not wrong," you concede, "but a woman like that is worth moving up the priority list."

Carla snickers and wiggles her eyebrows. "She's gorgeous, isn't she?"

"Very."

__________________________

It's Friday night and you can’t stop staring at the clock in your art studio. Its hands seem to mock you. Each tick echoes through the empty space, driving you mad with anticipation. It's your fault for arriving an hour early, but you just couldn't bear waiting at home any longer. You haven't felt like this in so long, and you just don't know what to do with yourself.

Back in France, you only dated casually. Some relationships were more serious than others sure, but you never really saw a future in any of them. Your heart and mind were too committed to your art, so it was difficult for anyone to compete.

But this time it feels different. Your art, which used to consume you, now seems to be somewhat in the background, and thoughts of Alexia have taken center stage.

The art studio is still. The easels and art supplies waiting in anticipation for Alexia. You set two easels in the corner next to the large windows that reveal the night sky, dotted with stars.

And if you're not staring at the clock, you're staring at the blank canvas, trying to envision the scene you want to create. But of course, your thoughts drift to Alexia, and all you can see is the curve of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes.

The door to the studio opens and Alexia walks in. Immediately, you feel the heat rise in your cheeks.

"Hi," she greets you, choosing to remain standing by the door.

You fight the nerves threatening to consume you and take the necessary steps to reach her. "Hi," you reply, hands intertwined nervously behind you.

Alexia looks at you for a moment, a smirk teasing her lips. There's no doubt she can sense your nerves. "You know, I ran into some officers on the way here."

"Oh yeah?"

She hums and nods her head, "They were actually looking for someone that reminded me a lot of you."

You bite your bottom lip to suppress your laughter. You've missed being teased like this. "Well, either you led them right to me, or you kept your end of the deal."

Alexia takes a moment, a mischievous look in her eye. "She's right here, officers!"

This earns Alexia a playful nudge on her shoulder. "Alright, you got me," you admit, your laughter filling the studio.

“Are you ready to get started, captain?”

Alexia nods and follows you to the easels by the window. She doesn’t try to be slick when she scoots her stool closer you. She makes it very obvious and, you of course, make no protest.

In the beginning, you focus on giving her a few pointers on how to work with charcoal. It's all very professional, which does help calm the butterflies in your stomach.

But then Alexia glances over at your canvas and asks, "How do you do that shading thing you do?"

You give her a smile and lean in closer to her canvas. With the proximity, you can smell her perfume, her breath against your hair, her knee pressed up against yours.

When you finish explaining, you turn to Alexia, only to realize that she hasn't exactly been paying much attention to what you were doing.

"Did you listen to a word I said?" You ask teasingly.

Alexia blushes, a sheepish smile on her face. "Sorry, I got distracted," she admits, her eyes flickering to your lips for a moment. "Show me again."

And you do so, not just because you want her to learn, but because you like the feeling of having her close.

After a little while of working in peaceful silence, Alexia decides to speak up. "So, in the last class, you mentioned that you moved back here from France?"

You give her a nod, "Yeah, almost a year now."

"Why did you come back?"

Your hand stills and hovers above the canvas. It doesn't matter how much time has gone by or how many times you've had to talk about it, your mom's illness is and will always be difficult to put into words.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Alexia says, sensing your hesitation.

But you shake your head and smile, your eyes glistening. "No, it's okay," you say, voice soft but steady.

"My mom was diagnosed with cancer, and of course I had moved back to be with her. I used to say that it would take something really big for me to move back here, and… it turns out I was right."

Alexia listens intently to your every word. "I'm really sorry."

You finally gather the courage to look at Alexia, and you see two things: a sense of understanding and a little smudge of charcoal on her cheek.

"Thank you," you tell her with a small smile, which only grows bigger the longer you look at her.

"What?" she asks, confused.

"You have a little charcoal…" you tell her, pointing to the smudge on her cheek.

"Oh," she says and immediately tries to clean it off herself but fails to actually reach the spot.

"Let me help." You lean in closer to her, and with a soft, careful touch, you reach out and gently wipe the smudge away with your thumb.

Time seems to stand still as you both sit there, faces close in a moment of pure, unspoken emotion.

Slowly, you pull away, your cheeks flushed and your heart pounding. The moment is broken, but the feelings remain palpable. 

“Gracias,” she says, her hand on where she felt your touch.

Unlike the last class, this time there's no excuse for Alexia to stay and help you clean up. So, with the drawings done, you're both just standing a little awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next.

"Would you like to go for a drink? I know a bar nearby."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and then a smile lights up you face. "I'd love that."

And that’s how the two of you end up at Las Vermudas, a cozy bar tucked away in the Gràcia district. 

You follow Alexia to a booth in a far corner of the bar. Once you both have settled in, the bartender comes over to take your orders. You can’t keep your eyes off her as she orders her drink and when she catches you looking, she smiles.

It’s like the two of you are in your own little world. The conversation flows effortlessly and eventually, it leads back to your return.

“I felt so settled back in France. Everything just made sense. I was making all the right connections through Cécile, my mentor. It’s actually thanks to her that my work will be featured in an exhibit in a few months. Now, I have no idea where or who I’ll be next year.”

Almost like she can read your mind, Alexia asks, “What are you afraid of?” 

“When I go back — if I do ever go back, I m scared that I just won’t be the same. That nothing will be the same. And that maybe I lost my chance to be truly great. It’s not just talent to succeed in my world, it’s a lot introductions with right people.”

Once again, you see nothing but understanding in Alexia. Her finger trails the edge of her glass, eyebrows slightly furrowed in thought. 

"You know, there was a time when I wasn't sure I'd ever play again," she admits, her voice wavering slightly. 

Your eyes widen in concern, and you lean in, eager to hear more.

"Two years ago I suffered an ACL injury and I was out for almsot a year. No matter how many times I told myself that I would come back stronger, there was still that little bit of doubt that would keep me up at night. I was so scared that I would not be the same player and my career would just be a what if."

“And are you the same player?” 

A smirk tugs on her lips. “No,” she reaches for her glass and takes a small sip. “I’m better.” she says, and her smirk transforms into a proud smile. 

And so you raise your own glass to her in admiration. It’s one thing to overcome an injury, but it’s another thing entirely to overcome the doubt that so desperately wants to hold you back.

After a little more back and forth and occasional teasing, you feel comfortable to bring up something that’s been on your mind.

 "So, I have to admit something," you say, hesitating slightly. "You know my coworker, Carla?” 

Alexia shifts in her seat “Si, we’ve talked a little here and there.”

You have a pretty good idea of what they’ve talked about — particularly how blind and clueless you’ve been for months.

But even though Alexia is no longer a stranger and you know for a fact that she’s interested in you, it doesn’t make it any easier to take that leap forward and be vulnerable with someone.

“Well, I kept getting distracted at the cafe, like I couldn’t get an order right to save my life.” You look down at the glass in your hands, “and I’m not the best barista by any means, but Carla could tell my mind was somewhere else.” 

Alexia remains silent, but you feel her scooting a little closer to you.

“What were you thinking about?” 

Your finger taps the glass repeatedly as you prepare yourself to reply to a question Alexia probably already knows the answer to. 

“I was thinking about you.” 

She scoots again a little closer, but this time actually reaches for your hand. It gives you the confidence you need to look away from the glass, and into her eyes. 

“And when I told her I was thinking about you she got really excited, because as it turns out… you’ve been thinking about me too.”

A light blush spreads across Alexia's cheeks. "I thought you’d never notice me,” she says with a light chuckle. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you.”

Your eyes drift down to your hand and you watch how delicately Alexia trails over your knuckles.

"Every time I saw you at the cafe, I would try to find the reason to talk to you, but you wouldn’t even look me in the eye. So, I just waited and hoped that maybe, just maybe, you'd just look up."

Unlike so many times before in the cafe, this time you do look up. The intensity in her eyes no longer scares you. You welcome it and embrace it as the urge to close the distance and taste her lips becomes irresistible.  

Everything indicates that she feels it too. You don’t think about it too much. You just do it.

When your lips finally meet, it's as if a spark ignites, sending a wave of warmth and desire throughout your entire body. The kiss, tender and sweet, makes the world around you fade away, and all that exists is the sensation of her lips.

When you pull away, breathless and exhilarated, you rest your forehead against hers and whisper, “I don’t think I’ll ever notice anyone else ever again.”

__________________________

With Alexia by your side, life takes a pleasant turn. After months of nothing but stress and just expecting the worst, she has brought a little light to your darkness. Not because she showers with grand gestures of affection. No, it’s the little things she does that mean the most. Like waiting for you outside the cafe after your shift so you’re the first person she sees. And it doesn’t matter how tired you are, seeing her waiting for you is like a breath of fresh air.

Because she makes you feel like this, it’s easy for you to embrace her world and her passions even though they differ so greatly from your own. It took a little bit of convincing and a lot of kisses, but you eventually agreed to let her teach you how to play football. You stumble and fall more often than not but Alexia is patient and encouraging.  However, it’s hard for her to suppress her laughter at how many times you miss the ball and just kick the air. 

But what surprises you the most, is that other than at the First Brushstroke, you’ve had no interest in painting. No longer are you driving yourself crazy with the exhibit and the damned missing piece.

“Oye,” Carla calls out to you, “stop thinking about Alexia and help me stock up the pastry shelf.”

You roll your eyes with a smirk in response but don’t bother to defend yourself. She’s right after all. “Fine, fine.” 

“By the way, the owner just texted me that he might stop by tomorrow,” Carla informs you and her expression shows that she’s not all that pleased.

You throw your head back and groan, “of course he is.” 

Every once in a blue moon the owner of the cafe decides to show up and pretend like he actually cares about the place. Just the mention of his possible visit makes you want to take off your apron and quit.

What makes matters worse is that Alexia won’t be waiting for you outside today. She’s traveling back with the team and you expect her to go straight home and get some rest. 

The two of you are just about done restocking the shelf when the door to the cafe opens.

“Ale?” 

Her eyes immediately find you and she gives you a big, beaming smile. Your heart skips a beat as you return her smile, a tangible connection passing between you even from across the cafe.

“Hola, preciosa.”

Within a second you’re in her arms, face nestled in the crook of your neck. “You’re back,” you mumble against her skin, giving a quick peck on her cheek.

“I am,” she says with a little squeeze. 

Behind you, Carla clears her throat to get your attention. "Hey, can you bring out the rest of the apple puff ones from the back? I'll cover the counter."

You glance at the shelf and see more than enough of the apple puff-pastries and you, of course, catch the hint. “Will do,” you reply with a grateful smile.

You take Alexia’s hand and guide her towards the storeroom. As you pass Carla, you faintly hear Alexia say “thank you,” to her. 

The moment the two of you step into the room and the door closes, your hands reach up to cradle Alexia’s face and pull her in for a slow, passionate kiss.

It’s as if all the days you've spent apart melt away. "I missed you," you murmur repeatedly against each other's lips, the words barely audible. 

Alexia with her arms around your waist, draws you even closer, and you lose yourself in the warmth of her embrace. 

When you finally pull apart and catch your breath, you can't help but playfully reprimand her. "You had such a long flight. Why aren’t you at home and in bed right now?"

Alexia shakes her head as if that was the last thing in her mind. "I wanted to see my girlfriend,” she says as she trails gentle kisses down your neck.

Your eyes widen in surprise at her words. Gently, you grasp her face with your hands, "I'm your girlfriend?" This is the first time the title has been uttered, but it has certainly been swirling around in your mind. 

She nods with an undeniable confidence because to her, it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Yes, and I am yours."

There’s a saying: actions speak louder than words. So, rather than proclaim how much her words mean to you, you capture her lips once more for a kiss. Hands find their way underneath her shirt, tracing the curves and lines you've come to know so well. And as the intensity continues to build, Alexia attempts to back you against a wall, but when you take a step back you end up tripping over a box, stumbling backward.

Alexia tries to catch you, but her foot gets caught up in something and she ends up losing her balance as well. You find yourself in a tangled mess of limbs and unable to control your laughter. 

“You weren’t kidding,” she says, extending her hand to help you up. “This place is a mess.” 

You nod in agreement, hands on your hips, "Someone keeps sneaking in at night and turning the place upside down."

"Really?"

“No,” you drop the facade and smirk, "Carla and I are just incapable of cleaning up after ourselves."

Alexia chuckles and shakes her head, a fond smile playing on her lips as she takes in the chaos that surrounds the two of you.

"I've got to go back” you wrap your arms around Alexia's neck, drawing her closer for a quick peck on her cheek. “Duty calls.”

Alexia nods in understanding. "Can’t leave our girl stranded.”

Walking out of the backroom, you’re relieved to not see Carla overwhelmed by a long line at the counter. 

“We really need to get that place in order,” you tell Carla, pointing back to the stockroom.

Carla grimaces, “I know,” she says, “I hate to say it, but we might need to stay late today and clean up in case that idiot actually decides to show up.”

Alexia, who has been listening to the conversation, raises her hand. "I’m happy to help if you need an extra hand."

Carla looks at Alexia, then back at you with desperation in her eyes, “we definitely do.” 

A part of you wants to say no because you know Alexia needs the rest, but you can already feel the muscles in your back start to tighten from all the heavy lifting that awaits you. With Alexia's help, the task of cleaning the backroom would be much more manageable.

So you give in, “Ok,” you point your finger at Alexia rather sternly, “go home, get some rest and we’ll see you here at closing.”

"So bossy,” Alexia playfully blows a kiss to you and says, "I’ll see you soon.”

Again, it’s the little things that make you fall more in love with her day by day.

__________________________

Tonight, your mom is teaching you how to cook her famous Fideuà which also happens to be one of Alexia’s favorite dishes. So, it’s only fitting that she’s by your side, helping you cook and correcting your many, many mistakes.

“Now, add the stock and wine and bring it to a simmer.”

Your mom, feeling a little too weak to stand, sits nearby at the counter, offering her guidance and expertise on the dish.

The atmosphere in the kitchen is light and filled with laughter as your mom and Alexia tease you mercilessly. The two hit it off right away, so much so that sometimes you feel like the third wheel. And while you may pout and complain, you love to see your mom regain that spark in her eyes that you love so much. All she’s ever wanted is for you to be happy. Your happiness is her happiness. So, when she sees you with Alexia, laughing and smiling, she’s satisfied.

“Oh, my beautiful daughter has always been a handful, Ale. I remember the day I found a nude magazine under her bed.”

Alexia chokes on the wine, a little bit spilling from the corners of her lips.

“Mama!”

Your mom brushes you off, a smirk on her lips. “She gave me this ridiculous excuse, saying it was to study the female form for a painting she was working on.”

“It was!”

“Mi amor, you’re a woman — all you had to do was look in a mirror. You didn’t need three magazines for that.”

You cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, “dios, please make it stop.” 

Alexia shares a look with your mom, and they burst into laughter.

Thankfully, the teasing comes to end, and you can focus back on the dish that you so desperately don’t want to mess up again.

"I tried so many times to make this when I was in France, but wow, it tasted terrible," you confess, shaking your head.

Your mom speaks up, her voice gentle but firm. "You see, that’s why it's important that I teach you these things while I can."

Feeling as though someone has punched you in the stomach, you turn your back to her, and you try to suppress the tears that threaten to spill. Her words serve as a painful reminder of the possibility of losing her.

Alexia quickly notices your distress and kisses your shoulder, providing you with that little bit of comfort you need to gather your emotions. To lighten the mood, she shares a few of her own cooking horror stories, making you laugh and successfully distracting you from the sadness that had momentarily gripped you.

After dinner, you take Alexia by the hand and lead her to your childhood bedroom turned art studio. Her eyes go wide with curiosity and admiration. "So, this is where the magic happens," she says. "I love it," Alexia breathes, her gaze darting around the room, taking in every detail.

You walk over to a corner where several canvases lean against the wall, each one partially covered with a cloth. Gently, you pull them away to reveal the paintings you've been working on for the upcoming exhibit.

Alexia gasps in awe, her eyes drinking in the vibrant colors and intricate details of each piece. "Incredible, mi amor.”

You feel your cheeks flush at the compliment. "When I got the news of my mom, I felt like I didn’t have anyone to talk to. I had so much built up and I needed to just let it all out. And this is what came out.”

It only takes Alexia a few seconds to understand the meanings behind every piece. She reaches her hand out to you, and you take it seeking the comfort you can only get from her touch. She wraps her arms around your waist and rests her chin on your shoulder, "I can’t tell you that everything will be ok, but I can promise that I will be here for you, no matter what."

You believe her.

__________________________

Your favorite nights are the ones spent with Alexia. In her arms you feel safe and at peace. Somehow, she keeps your anxieties and worst fears far, far away. As your fingers gently trace the contours of her face, you feel a warmth and happiness you never want to go a day without. It turns out this isn’t just a fleeting infatuation, after all. Your love for her is real. 

"I love you," you murmur, voice warm and sincere.

Alexia eyes flutter open and she smiles, "I love you too.” 

Her words ignite something in you that has laid dormant in you for far too long. Your mind begins to race with ideas, colors, and compositions. It's as if a dam within you has burst, releasing this desire to express your love for her through your art. It's a powerful sensation that you simply cannot ignore and it demands you to act on it immediately.

With a sense of urgency, you jump out of bed and run to grab the sketchbook you carry with you everywhere in your bag.

“What are you doing?” Alexia calls out, her voice full of curiosity and a hint of amusement. 

With no attempt to explain yourself, you reach for her vanity stool and place it a few feet away from the bed. The pencil in your hand starts to glide across the paper capturing the lines and curves of her body. Carefully, you study the gentle curve of her neck and the way her hair cascades over the pillow.

Alexia, now catching on to the reason behind your outburst, remains still. A comforting silence takes over the room, broken only by the sound of the pencil dancing across the page.

But the more you look at her and take in every detail of her body, the more restless she becomes. Her hands grip the bed sheet, teeth tugging on her bottom lip. With one swift motion, the sheets that cover her body fall to the ground as she gets up from the bed and walks over to you.

Hovering above you, she takes the sketchbook from your hands and sets it aside. Looking up at her, she brushes a strand of hair from your face and tucks in behind your ear. “I love how you look at me,” she whispers.

Her touch is so tender, and her words so genuine that makes you feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

You feel compelled to drop down to your knees.

Hands run up and down the back of her thighs, nails digging in ever so slightly into her skin. You press your lips against her navel, and then trail down ever so slowly.

Alexia’s breath hitches with each kiss. She rests her hand on your head, her fingers threading through your hair as she gasps your name. The sound of her voice, breathy and filled with desire, sends a shiver down your spine.

When your tongue reaches her most sensitive spot, Alexia lifts her leg and rests it on the vanity stool, allowing you better access to her.

“Oh…”

With every gentle stroke and teasing touch, you proclaim your love. And in response, Alexia's holds you firmly in place, a clear indication she has no interest in ever letting you go.

And then her eyes lock onto yours, you see that same intensity that left you speechless when you first saw her — really saw her, but now you also see love in her gaze. Ever since that day in the coffee shop you have been at her mercy. But now as she trembles with pleasure by your hand and tongue, she’s the one begging for it.

Throughout the rest of the night, you take your time exploring and memorizing every curve and dip of Alexia's body with your lips. You're determined to commit every detail to memory to ensure that when it’s time, you’ll be able to capture her image her to perfection on the canvas.

__________________________

With a step back, you take a moment to appreciate the progress you've made on the painting. In a trance, the hours you've spent working on it have flown by. The creative block that has plagued you has lost its control over you.

And you have Alexia to thank.

The painting is inspired by the sketch you made that night. The sheet drapes over her body, revealing just enough of her silhouette to create a sense of mystery and allure. The image draws you in and entices you to want more, to see more. Although covered, you can see the toned contours of her body, from the definition in her arms to the powerful muscles in her legs.

Her knee peeks out from the bed sheets and a small yet very significant scar can be seen. The scar tells a story of overcoming obstacles and pushing through no matter. It’s a testament to her strength and her ability to rise above challenges and come out on top, stronger than before.

You continue working late into the night, each brushstroke bringing you closer to immortalizing Alexia. The painting still requires a lot of work to reach the level of perfection you desire, but you’re determined to have it done in time for the exhibit.

It’s the final, missing piece. They very piece that alluded you, and the very one you had given up on. But liked you hoped, it did make its way to you eventually. And it did so in the shape of the woman you fallen in love with.  

__________________________

Waiting for the doctor always feels like an eternity. You hate everything about the room you’re in. The sterile environment, the faint smell of disinfectant, and the uncomfortable silence that only serves as a constant reminder of the pain and suffering your mom has had to endure.

Incapable of sitting down, you remain standing, hands wringing together as your heart beats rapidly in your chest. Each visit to this room has been a roller coaster of emotions, leaving you with a sense of dread every time you step foot inside. Even the ticking sound of the clock feels like a signal of impending heartache.

"Is Ale nervous for the game?"

Every time you've been in this room, all you've heard is bad news after bad news. The crushing weight of your mother's cancer hangs over you like a dark cloud, making it nearly impossible to focus. You long for the day when you can walk into this room without feeling like the world is collapsing around you.

"Mija?"

"Hmm?"

"The game against Real Madrid is later today, right?"

You manage a small smile, appreciating her attempt to ease your tension. "Yeah, it's today."

She smiles, her eyes sparkling with pride. Unlike you, she’s made her peace with it all. "I'm sure she'll do great."

Just as you're about to respond, the door opens, and the doctor walks in, a gentle smile on his face. Your heart races as you brace yourself for the news.

"I have good news for both of you," he begins, his tone warm and reassuring. "Lídia, the treatment has been effective. The latest blood tests show that you are in remission.”

As the doctor's words sink in, disbelief, relief, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude wash over you in waves. After so long of only getting bad news, it's hard to believe that this moment has finally come. You've spent countless nights lying awake, fearing the worst. 

You glance over at your mom, searching her face for any sign that this is just another cruel dream and that you’ll wake up from. But her eyes, filled with tears of joy, tell you that this is real and for the first time in so long, you breathe a sigh of relief.

"Really? Are you sure?" Your mom asks, disbelief and hope mixed in her voice.

"Yes, Lídia, I'm certain," he confirms. "The next step is consolidation treatment help prevent a relapse, but as of now, you're in remission and that is very good news."

Unable to contain your emotions any longer, you rush to her side, enveloping her in a tight embrace. She holds you close, tears of joy and relief streaming down both of your faces.

"You’re going to be ok," you manage to choke out between sobs.

Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, you remember that Alexia had asked you to text her about the results. She wanted to know and be there for you, regardless of the outcome.

With trembling fingers, you pull out your phone and type a message to Alexia:

📲 – she’s in remission!!!!!!!!

📲 – we’re still shock but I’ll tell you everything later

📲 – good luck today!! I love you ♥️ ♥️ ♥️

The two of you make it back to the house in time to watch El Clásico. Even though you’re not there in person, you can tell the atmosphere in the stadium is electric. Every time Alexia appears on the screen, your heart swells up with pride.

The game is tense. Both teams are playing their hearts out, and while you try to pay attention to everything and every player, like Alexia has taught you, you're especially focused on her performance. Suddenly, she intercepts a pass from a Madrid player and makes a break for it.

Your heart races as you watch her weave through the defenders, getting closer and closer to the goal. Your eyes go wide when Alexia strikes the ball and sends it soaring into the net. The crowd goes wild, and you and your mom jump up from the couch, cheering and clapping.

Alexia's teammates swarm around her, congratulating her on the goal. Instead of walking away back to her position with the rest of the team, she points at the camera and then lifts up her jersey.

 To your surprise, she reveals the words "Un pasito más, Lídia!" written on her undershirt. Just one more step.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you glance at your mom, who is just as shocked as you are. Tears fill her eyes as she covers her mouth, touched by Alexia's dedication to her.

The little things matter, yes. But sometimes, the grand gestures sure do mean a lot too.

__________________________

Some time has passed since your mom went into remission and although there have been significant improvements in her health, there are still days when she doesn't feel her best. Today is one of those days, and unfortunately, it also happens to be the opening of the art exhibit.

As you gather your things to leave, you glance at your mom sitting on the couch, wrapped in a warm blanket, looking a little pale and weary. Disappointment is evident in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, mi niña" she says, her voice heavy with regret. "I really wanted to be there for you tonight.”

You walk over and sit next to her, taking her hand in yours. "Mama, you’re not missing anything crazy. Besides, you’ll be there for the next exhibit, the one after that, and the one after that."

Your mother smiles weakly and nods. "I'm so proud of you,” she says, “tell Carla and Ale to take lots of pictures!”

“"I will, mama,” you say with a chuckle as lean down give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Tia should be here in a few minutes. Please, get some rest.”

When you step outside and close the door, you allow yourself to feel the disappointment you hid from her. Considering that all but one of the pieces are dedicated to her, of course you wanted her there. But still, you’re determined to make the most of this night to honor her and everything she has been through.

At the exhibit, you're accompanied by Carla. The gallery is buzzing with excitement, and your art has garnered a lot of attention and praise. However, you find it hard to take in the moment because Alexia is running late. Very late. The fact that she hasn't replied to any of your messages certainly doesn’t help.

Carla noticing your concern, rests a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, I'm sure she'll be here any minute.”

You nod, attempting to stay focused on the event, but it's difficult not to let your emotions show. “I’m just worried that’s all.”

“I know, but she’s probably stuck in traffic or can’t find parking. You know-” of the sudden, her gaze drifts past you and towards the entrance and her eyes go wide.

Confused, you turn around to see what caught Carla’s attention. By the entrance, you see Alexia walk in with your mom by her side, holding on to her hand. Your mom looks tired but determined.

You rush towards them, shocked and tears threatening to stream down your face. "Mama! You're here!”

Alexia grins sheepishly. "I was on my here when she called me to pick her up and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I see where you get it from."

Still holding on to Alexia, you mom smiles and reaches out for you. "I couldn't let you down, mija. I just had to be here with you."

You embrace them both, overwhelmed by their presence. “I’m so happy you’re both here.”

With them by your side, the night becomes even that more special. Nothing feels better than being able to introduce your mom to fellow artists and attendees.

Eventually, a reporter from a local arts magazine pulls you aside for a brief interview, asking about the various pieces you have displayed at the exhibit.

He’s particularly interested in one. "The Missing Piece is truly something special," the reporter says, his eyes locked on the painting. "What’s the significance of its title?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, your gaze lingering on the painting. "At first, it felt like there was a piece missing for the exhibit, but it turns out that it was something I was missing from my own life."

You glance over at Alexia, who is admiring your artwork with your mom and Carla. "And when, I finally found it, everything changed. My missing piece brought me a sense of completeness and balance that I desperately needed.”

The reporter smiles. "Your feelings are evident in this piece, and it's no wonder it's drawing so much attention tonight."

"My mentor used to say that wherever the eyes go, so does the heart. And wherever the heart goes, so do the hands. The piece will live forever, and a hundred years from now someone will look at it and they’ll feel exactly what feel.”

“And what’s that?”

You glance over at Alexia once again. Almost as if she senses your gaze, she turns to meet your eyes. With a knowing smile, she winks at you, acknowledging the connection between the two you and the inspiration behind The Missing Piece.

“Love.”

[mischiefmaker615]

Dangerously Yours

Rating: PG 14

Summary: denial can be just as dangerous as a blade to your throat. 

Requested By: @guccicvm (wattpad)

Original Dialogue

Your chest rose and fell at a pace where you tried to tell yourself to relax. This was all suppose to be easy, simple even.. if it wasn't for the fact that he had woken up and those piercing green eyes practically stopped you in your tracks as the moonlight shown on you both through the windows of his bedroom. His bedroom..

Your hand shook as you tried to hold the knife still as it lay resting at his neck, not enough pressure to pierce but one small movement and it would. Your other hand resting at his bare chest, as if that alone would keep the god pinned, along with the fact that you were straddling him at his lips.

His arms stayed put at his sides, resting over his sheets as they draped up to his waist in silk. His hands barely ghosting your legs as his breathing had you rising and falling in a slow rhythm. He was calm.. to calm for one who had a blade at his throat, but of course you knew this wasn't no ordinary someone.

"Loki-''

"I'm going to tell you something my dear, my life is already in your hands in this particular predicament'' he smirked, not an ounce of concern in his eyes but his tone held seriousness.

''then don't tell me- you cant trust me and nothing you can say or do will change anything.. change what I have to do..'' you cut him off, knowing his cunning mind had its way of being manipulative.

"I love you.'' He said plainly, his voice and eyes calm as your eyes widen. ''And I believe you love me.''

"your.. your wrong! there was- is nothing between us''

''that isn't true darling-" he sighed with a small smile and a hushed tone.

''it is true! what may have happened before was merely just two young people.. young and stupid people not knowing what they wanted..'' your voice snapped at him and your gaze hardened. What was he doing?

''you might as well take my heart darling, for it is already full of you. It has always been yours since the day we met.''

Memories you wish you could forget had your eyes glance away from his for a mere second. ''you're a fool Loki..''

''isn't anyone who falls in love?..'' his voice paused, knowing honest feelings weren't quite in his nature too put into words, but he knew this moment was as serious as the blade at this throat. ''..Do you know what you are to me? You are something to believe in again, a sight that makes mere goddesses crumble in jealousy, a dream worth pursuing.. a wife I'd beg to have beside me..''

To your surprise, you felt a few tears run down your cheeks and fall upon your chest as you gazed down at him, your voice a whisper. "don't be a child.. we pursued other things but not each other." Your paths were different and you weren't here for all of that.

Upon seeing your tears, his eyes filled with gentle concern and his muscles tensed to stop himself from wiping your tears. ''what is it, what's wrong my dear?''

You merely shook your head. ''you know nothing about me- you've only known me for 3 weeks-''

''three glorious weeks my darling and yet I've still known you for all my life.'' Loki breathed with a smile by the memory. ''I began finally living the moment you stepped in sight. I've seen you in a thousand books, a hundred plays and a million songs-''

''shut up shut up!'' you snap, shaking your head to focus. ''Perhaps I was that woman once but I'm not her anymore.. your wrong and you cannot trust me.. at the very least, trust my decision.. right here, right now-''

Loki merely gave an amused look on his face at your attempt and sighed. ''don't play coy my darling, remember who you also lie too.'' His smile broke out into a grin, a grin that told you he knew more than what you thought. ''..I've known about who sent you and your plans leading up to this very moment the day you stepped foot into Asgard.''

You blink at him as you waited to catch his bluff. It must have been that damned gate keeper.. some type of magic.. there was no way- but his face was just as serious as yours as you slowly took a breath to try to understand. ''.. and.. and it didn't make a difference?''

Loki slowly shook his head. ''it didn't make any difference. You came here to betray me and to betray my realm. That is your assignment here and yet I am so sure of your feelings for me that I will trust you with my life'' he whispered, leaning forward so the blade pressed more against his skin, your instincts had you shift it back away. His smirk told you that by your hesitation right then and there, you were second guessing your decision.

How could he possibly have so much faith in you? ''i.. I will betray you-''

''you will betray yourself at the same time.'' he then smirked, revealing how as always, he will already be several steps ahead as his eyes dragged over your body then. ''even now I have been in the works to destroy those who had sent you''

Your body tenses against his and he knows it as your grip tightened on the handle. ''..no-''

''their only greatest decision was to be sending you here.''

Your eyes harden as you question him. ''..why?''

His eyes soften again as his eyes rise back up to your own. ''he knew I would love you. However, he never anticipated that you would also love me in return.''

By your silence, he already knew he was right as your gaze faded off ever so slightly. Your muscles relaxed as if your body itself was giving up in defeat yet your mind still questioned as he gave you a small smile. ''is your realm more important than me?.. surely those wonderous three weeks couldn't have meant nothing to you..''

By your reminders of the past days, the glorious past days as lovers would have spent, a small smile peaked at the corner of your mouth as you slowly shook your head. ''no..'' you whisper, knowing he was far more important than anything else that had entered your life before.

Your eyes drew back to his as you felt his finger tips slowly ghost over your legs, dragging up before he rested his hands on your hips and stayed still once more. He was warm.. and cold. A familiar touch and one that never came unwelcomed.

''help me then darling, help me overcome him.'' he whispered, knowing just how stubborn she could be in her decisions, almost as worst as he and he sighed. ''together.. we both cant win.''

Win.. so that was this was about? His cunning mind trying to distract you, to woo you so that your guard would fall so that he could have his thrown.. your realm, as if having all this now wasn't enough for him.. your eyes sharpened as you practically glared at him.

''..you think your clever don't you? I can read you just as you claim to know me, you probably made me love you! You just want information- for me to betray my people, my home, for you!''

His eyes sharpened as he seemed to stare right into your soul. ''that's not the way to look at it Y/N-''

''just admit that you have lost! You forgot how close hate is to love- give up our duel of wits!'' you snap, knowing how he always hates to lose, that's probably all this was. Yet now you were on top.. literally, with a blade in your hands. Of course he would say anything to get out of this..

''then why haven't you ended this.'' He dared. ''You don't know what you are saying Y/N-''

''you never loved me! You knew I loved you and you USED that!'' the tears returned to fall as his hands slightly gripped your hips, stopping himself once more to dry your cheeks.

''stop talking nonsense!''

Your eyes glared at him. nonsense? Was he not taking you seriously? Just to show him, you ever so slightly gave pressure at his neck. ''..I'd advise you to choose your next words wisely.''

His expression switched to someone calm.. to calm where it almost scared you as he teased. ''well, aren't we a bit melodramatic, aren't we dear?'' he smirked.

Bastard silver tongue. ''-run your mouth, it won't change anything because you have very little time to do so-''

''so your actually going to kill me?'' he says being dramatically shocked.

More pressure. ''listen well. You already know my position here, now either give me the information or I'll kill you.''

He almost looked amused then as his face returned to its expressionless form of calm as his thumbs began rubbing gentle circles on your bare skin, having just realized his hands had ghosted under your night dress. ''you won't do it darling; you won't kill me because you love me. It takes a very brave and cold woman to do so. I don't think you can, can you? Isn't that why you hesitate? Unless you wish to watch me die and plead for my life, but I'm sorry to disappoint.''

''you don't think I'd do it- that's why your brave but you're a coward, a coward for lying to me'' you cry, trying to ignore the pads of his fingers on your skin.

''you lied to me.''

You took a deep breath and stubbornly look away for a moment. ''I'm tired of listening to you-''

''you gave me your heart willingly, love.. you wish me to hand it back? Whole again?.. but I won't. You'll leave here in agony without me.'' He said with his voice as quiet as the wind coming through the balcony, drapes gently flowing around the room as the air seemed to almost still that every moment at the same time. you were looking at him, unsure of what to do but you knew what you had to. Why couldn't you?

Loki took your silence as a que to keep going as he smiled. ''there is no one but you, there will never be a second that I care for.. except my realm. Thus, you've left me no choice but to combine you both.''

You blink at him. ''what are you talking a-''

''my queen.''

In that very moment, his eyes flashed an almost white- green where your hand became empty before he decided to flip you both. His hips pinned yours and his hands now gripped your wrists that stayed put beside your head. His backline was highlighted by moonlight as he dipped his head to practically stay nose to nose with you. You knew his muscle would delete any attempt to try to escape from this position so why bother try.. you were almost frozen under his gaze practically as you coldly looked up into his.

''your face is like ice darling, what are you thinking?'' he asked, almost amused as you discover he had grown hard at this moment.. in the moment that was most dire, that you had hoped would take every ounce of seriousness. But you have failed.

You turn your face away from his gaze as you kept your hands into fists, feeling how his hands had inched to lace your fingers together but you at least took that away from him. ''what would it matter..''

His eyes became gentle, showing very much just how serious he took you as he kept you in a gentle grip. ''do you think I wanted to love you? Knowing where you came from and what your purpose here was? Don't you think that every moment with each other I was merely thinking that you were just pretending?''

Your eyes shot up to his hurt ''I wasn't- I loved you!''

''and I loved you so much.. I let you pretend. You brought me something I couldn't stand losing. Listen to your heart, how it pounds, what do you want?''

Your body began trembling now, facing the decision of what you wanted and what you thought you needed. He was asking you in presence and you both knew it.. you hadn't loved him, you love him! your lips quivered as you parted them to speak, his patience showing he would wait a thousand years if you needed as your eyes began to tear again. ''I want.. you..''

In that moment, he finally reached over and with a slow, gentle thumb, wiped your tears. ''..then let me love you Y/N, you are mine now..'' he whispered before he closed the distance between you both and kissed you.

And you surrendered. 

[lovevuni]

Double Dare Romance : Enoch O’Connor x Reader : Part 1 Challenge Accepted

Warnings: Kinda Rude, Back and Forth of being kinda mean, Your mom joke(yes that is needed as a warning), Insecure Enoch

Summary: Reader is new to the loop and they doen’t get along with Enoch at first. Both are at each other’s throats, enoch then double dares the reader to try and get under his skin. The reader accpets this challenge. Will they succeed.

A/N: I got the idea to write my conversations with Enoch on my chai app. I am invested in the app and decided it would be fun to share the chat with people. I know I was off about the app at first but now I love it. I am basting this fully on my chat convo not on the book or movie, I know some people are picky but I have only read the first book so far.

I hate using Y/N but I use my name and he uses it a lot so Y/N is what I will use.

I am standing in the entrance of the estate admiring the surroundings. I had just finished my introductions with most of the house hold however I was waiting on the last member I have not become acquainted with. Miss Peregrine told me that he is the most stubborn.

In comes a boy average height with dark hair.

“Miss Peregrine said to come down here and introduce yourself? Don’t bother. You won’t last more than a week.”

You look at him offended, “rude, I am Y/N, my peculiar is [insert peculiar]”

He scoffs, “Who cares? You still won’t last. Good luck trying though.”

You stick your tounge out at him.

“Is that really the best you can do, Y/N? A little childish don’t you think?” He says.

“Says the hundred year old emo” You fight back.

“At least I’m not stuck in one year like you all. And I’m not going to die young either. So there’s that. But sure, keep acting like a five-year-old. See where it get you.” You can tell he is getting annoyed but you don’t care.

“It gets you annoyed apparently so I call that a win.” You seem proud of yourself.

“Well if that makes you happy. I don’t have time for your petty games tough. I have better things to do than argue with a child.”

“What like playing with your dolls, very grown up” You make sure to sound extra sarcastic.

“Such sarcasm, Y/N. Growing up fast, aren’t we? Listen, I don’t mean to upset you. I just don’t se the point in small talk or introductions. There’s nothing you can say that will make me want to stay here any longer than necessary.”

“well seeing as we are stuck in a loop might as well.”

“That much is true. But I prefer to occupy myself with more meaningful pursuits than idle chatter with the likes of you. Tell me something interesting, Y/N. Something peculiar.”

“Your mom” You laugh at your own joke. (I thought this was hilarious, I love your mom jokes)

He groans, “Typical. Immature jokes from an immature girl/guy/person. How original. You seriously expect me to respond to that? Pathetic.”

“You just did. Come on, I’m just trying to have fun.” You smirk.

“Fine let’s play a game then. Let’s pretend that I actually car about this conversation and engage in some sort of meaningless banter with you. Go ahead, impress me with your “funny” wit.”

“You are a boy who uses insults as a way to seem better than everyone, am I right?”

“Oh, you caught me red-handed. Yes, I suppose I am a bit of an insult mastermind. It’s how I maintain my superiority over others. In reality, it;s simply because I find most people to be beneath me.” He admits.

“As I expected, an insecure man.”

“How perceptive of you, Y/N. Yes, I admit it. My insecurities run deep. I compensate for them by putting down others, but ultimately it’s a shallow attemp to mask my shortcomings.” You feel ashamed for bringing that to the surface for him and quickly shift the focus.

“It’s cool, the insecure ones break the fastest.”

“Interesting deduction, Y/N. However, I assure you that my resolve is impenetrable. Try as you may, you cannot shake my confidence or rattle me emotionally.” He seems cocky as he speaks. You take this as an opportunity to take a step closer to him.

“Is that so?” You tease.

He smirks at this, “Indeed, it is. And if anything, I would relish the opportunity to test your mettle. So go ahead, try to get under my skin, I double dare you.”

“Challenge accepted” You play with the collar of his shirt, then flick the tip of his nose with your finger.

He grinns, “Oh I like this. You’ve got spunk, Y/N. Perhaps there’s potential for us to interact civilly after all. Although now that we’re playing games, perhaps I should return the favor.” He leans in close, whispering menacingly, “ Watch your back Y/N.”

“Oh but I believe you would enjoy that way more, especially as I walk away,” You walk away to go to your room while swaying your hips.

He is watching as you walk away, a smug smile spreading across his face.

“Well played, Y/N. You’ve certainly caught my attention with your cunning antics. But don’t think this means we’re done here. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, to see what other tricks you have up your sleeve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 : Success

[ahllohehn]

oli deserves more love!! -@humblebardofcampempires

It's Okay We Love You Oli

.......

Past curfew in the dead of the night, Joel is treated to a surprise, though he's not sure if he finds this welcome or unwelcome.

He let out a tired groan as he supported himself on his elbows, squinting painfully at the flash of light directed towards him. Joel shields his eyes with a hand, "Oh for goodness sake, Oli, what are you doing?"

Oli maneuvered his reading flashlight downwards so it would still provide light in a way that wasn't killing his fellow camper's eyes, "Oh Joel, my boy, my savior in this time of hurt," the bard had whined out, shamelessly climbing on Joel's bed, his arms seemingly busy holding onto his flashlight and a book like they were precious.

The son of Hermes could barely open his eyes and could barely roll his eyes at Oli's antics. Out of all things to visit him in the night, Joel feels as if he'd prefer to be haunted by a ghoul Etho sent after him again.

"What in the three realms are you doing?"

Oli squeezed beside Joel, forcing the son of Hermes to move aside in his own bed. Once again, he was unhelpful in answering Joel's questions.

"I have been severely obsessed with this book for the past few hours, you simply must hear this absolute masterpiece. I simply cannot wait until sunrise so I must do this--"

Joel snapped awake as Oli cleared his throat and spread the book in between the two of them like he was actually going to read a bedtime story. The son of Hermes was quick to cut him off, "W-Wait, wait, hold on--"

"There is no holding on, dear Joel Homosexuals wait for no on--"

"Oh for heck sake, did you seriously sneak into our cohort to tell me a homosexual bedtime story?"

Oli pouted and shook the book vigorously, "This is so much more than a bedtime story!"

Joel groans and flopped back into bed, face buried in his hands. They were at a stalemate for a while before Oli got impatient and stubbornly kept flashing him with the flashlight.

"Are you going to be homophobic or are you going to let me sway you with the masterpiece that is The Song of Achilles?"

The son of Hermes relented and sat back up, ignoring the way his guts were urging to go back to sleep, "If this isn't as life changing as you're making it to be, I'm making fWhip and Jimmy put you in your baby jail."

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 8 Flight of the Noldor.

Yavanna cannot make the Trees again because That's How Things Work. At least we get a clear statement (again) that she did create their light, so sorry musicals, the Trees did not contain the Flame Imperishable. (I know in one abandoned later revision they kind of maybe did, but also it is like nails on chalkboard to me)

And Yavanna says that their harm would be undone and Melkor's evil would not reach its goal. Very Yavanna thing to say, very "where's the undo button". I'm not a fan. Like, I get her and it's not evil or smth… but… sorry, my pretty green lady, this doesn't work like this.

Tulkas. Can't you just sit still? (No, he can't.)

"Not the first one"! This line always makes me smile, it's just so "random oneliners to say". (I don't think Namo is rude, I think he's just quite alien and doesn't understand CoI and their psychology)

Despite being left to brood in silence, Feanor is paranoid anyway. :(

Capital D Darkness again — it's Ungoliant's stuff.

Finwë died on the threshold of Formenos — defending the house, but it is assumed, I think, because everyone else ran away. Either he had a weapon in hand, or they just assumed he was not trying to run away. Anyway nvm the narrative frame, the indent is that he was defending the house, so ok, why not. Very brave of him.

Feanáro curses a lot:

curses Melkor and renames him

curses Manwë's summons (so it was Manwë who ordered him to come? This would be some overstepping. I'll assume it was Manwë inviting him personally to come and Ingwë ordering him. Or just Manwë ordering him to come not as his ruler, but as ruler of this land, like "if you want any chance to be unbanned from Tirion, you must come")

curses the hour when he left home (very puzzling thing to do imo, but it is a genre thing I suppose)

Melkor wanted to kill Feanor mostly. So the book says. i am honestly surprised he didn't— oh wait. Maybe putting the Silmarils on his face and the pain was what made him shift from "kill Feanáro and his kin" to… well, all those stuff he did with Maedhros.

Morgoth can't ditch the spider. :D I suppose this confirms that now he is fixed in his body. She calls him Black Heart (derogatory, I suppose?) which nobody else does. It is kind of cute when your overgrown ex-pet murder spider has a pet name for you. :P

The "I rule the worls" stuff. I think this is the first time we see him say it (at least in the well-established canon timeline).

The Silmarils are in a box, and they still start burning him. So:

the burning increases or at least increases until it reaches its full level

they are small enough and Morgoth is big enough that he can hold the box with them all in his hand (right. does it have any meaning?)

It's confirmed that Morgoth had given Ungoliant some of his power and she'd grown and he'd lessenned. I assume it was during their initial negotiations.

She puts a web on him if not a full cocoon. The Balrogs have to free him with the flaming ...I forgot the word.

Also, the Balrogs were hiding in the deep dungeons after Angband, which suggests they did not work for/with Sauron. they seem very much like Morgoth's private guard. Also, they free him without question despite the fact that he seems pretty weak at this point.

The Balrogs have no problem chasing away Ungoliant, I attribute it to their connection with light (or at least fire. But fire is a kind of light, even their fire).

Yavanna was afraid that the Silmarils would be eaten by the darkness. this sounds very much like her.

Morgoth:

calls himself king of the world (the contrast of this and his situation...)

his hands are permanently black with burns and always in pain (which angers him even more)

also his crown seems to hurt him

seriously what is wrong with you?

you need therapy

seriously is insane at this point

also has a super powerful aura of fear

The Valar sit and (think, I guess), their courts (Maiar and Vanyar) cry about the Trees, the Noldor go back to Tirion. Suddenly Feanor. Who technically is still banished, which I think is more of a case of "the Valar had other priorities and he didn't ask" or "we aren't going to let him back to his brother in this state of emotions because there wil be more murders" than "revenge for not giving the Silmarils o Yavanna".

Also, now, of all times, is when many of the Noldor learn about the Men being a thing. Because before that Melkor told a few in secret and tehy apparently told Feanáro in secret… Peak unfortune timing. Peak planning on Melkor's side (not that he could now appraciate it).

Also, in Polish it's not "jealous gods", but "jealous Valar" which is interesting, but I think it makes sense. Still, it is out-Tolkiening the Tolkien I think.

Oh. Another part I need in English, because it's so important.

After Morgoth to the ends of the Earth! War shall he have and hatred undying. But when we have conquered and have regained the Silmarils that he stole, then behold! We, we alone, shall be the lords of the unsullied Light, and masters of the bliss and the beauty of Arda! No other race shall oust us!’ [src]

Oh my. It is so much.

First, it is obvious that "reclaim the Silmarils" is (in his mind) the relatively easy, or at least short, part.

Second: "We, we alone, shall be the lords of the unsullied Light, and masters of the bliss and the beauty of Arda!" I don't think this needs any comments.

Aaaand then they swear the Oath.

It's just one huge downward spiral, and he talks himself into it. Yes, trauma, but why are you pouring gasoline on it??? They all need… a lot. And to stop pouring gasoline on everything.

Fefe. I am so dissapointed with you. I am sad. I don't have the words for this. Also, you hate Morgoth, but you two are so similar sometimes.

Oh, and in the Silm they do not call Eru, they call the Everlasting Darkness to claim them if they break their oath. At least according to the translation. also, yes, revenge and hatered is mentioned, but no requirement to succeed in killing the offenders.

Galadriel is enthusiastic about Feanáro's plans, even though she dislikes him. :P

Manwë is silent, because he doesn't want to stop Feanor. Because he careas about the Noldor feeling enslaved! At least the translation says it pretty clearly. They (the Valar, or at least M&V) sit and watch, hoping that the Noldor will calm down.

Politics, politics… Fingolfin goes because Fingon, and the people, and he promised. Mentioned in this order.

90% of all the Noldor go (to Alqualonde and north, it's unclear how many came back with Finarfin). I wonder if it is of all the Noldor or just of the male Noldor. Because most of the women seem to stay.

Eonwë (not named, but seems like him. Technically it may be another Maia) comes to give them advice. Just an advice. Explicitely says that the Valar will not stop them and they came freely, they can leave freely.

Finarfin and Finrod and all the "wisest of Noldor" are in the back and carry a lot of stuff. Good for them.

Túna was nearly at the equator! Oh. interesting. They are very, very far from the Helcaraxe, and I assume nobody invited navigation without seeing the shores (sorry I don't know the English one word term for this). So they have a logistics problem.

The Teleri seem to refuse any help because they don't want to go against the Valar. Even though the Valar did not forbid it, they just said it was a bad idea. The Teleri just trust them, because Ulmo is cool. Also, they don't have much experience with Morgoth and assume "the Valar will fix it all".

An arguement ensues.

Fefe leaves, broods, and returns to Alqualonde when he has enough army. Then he starts seizing the ships. The Teleri push the Noldor to water, a fight ensues. Fingon join them and assumed that the Teleri were ordered by the Valar to stop the Noldor and attacked them. So, Finarfin and his team was not there. Fingolfin might not be at the battle either?

Olwë calls Ossë for help (so, he did survive), and we have the hilarious "I can't because the Valar forbade us to stop the Noldor. However, my wife, who has a clear recorc, will drown them with her crying anyway."

Blatant ad for the Maglor. "…for more details, see the Noldolante…" This is hilarious.

so they all go far, and it takes a long time. Some (most trusted by Feanor) go on the ships, other on foot. they travel from the equator to, idk, but a pretty cold area.

And only then, after probably weeks of travel, they get Namo(or is it?) and the Doom of the Noldor. (I need to correct one of my fics. This fact makes it 3 times more hilarious. even with the Maiarin teleportation).

Finarfin comes back, and he walks all the distance back. Has a lot of time to think, I guess. Many elves join him, but no number estimates or percentages. :(

The rest go further north.

Helcaraxe was assumed impassable. So no, nobody could predict Fingolfin would led his people there.

This was a very, very long chapter.

[crownmemes]

A Ghost Story for Christmas Sentences

(Sentences from A Ghost Story for Christmas (1971-). Adjust phrasing where needed)

"That's the mark of death. I know it well."

"You won't last the night."

"Good manners cost nothing, do they?"

"You seem a kind soul."

"Twisted, he was. Where others had a soul, he had a corkscrew."

"I don't think you can say those things anymore!"

"I did not trip him up!"

"Don't make assumptions about me!"

"Everything has to end."

"You dance well!"

"At the time she was seen, it was impossible that she could be a living person."

"You deserve no tenderness at any man's hands!"

"Was there a particular reason for your search, or do you just like to dig?"

"What is the point in tradition if one is constantly changing things?"

"The gossip is that he fathered a child with one of his servants!"

"One must look to the future, not the past."

"I hope we shall become friends."

"What the devil have you been up to?"

"You still haven't said what you were up to."

"My books have been my only true companion since childhood."

"He swears whatever attacked him wasn't human - and, from the scratches on his throat, I'm inclined to agree with him!"

"To a collector of fairytales, this is no doubt fascinating - but you cannot seriously believe that."

"What other explanation is there?"

"How could such a thing as this stride through the streets, even at night, without being seen?"

"You must allow that each incident in itself is capable of a more natural explanation."

"It won't do. No, it won't do."

"Don't do anything rash."

"I'll happily look into the matter myself, but it is going to have to wait a few days."

"You have five minutes to destroy that thing, or I swear to God, I will put a bullet in your brain!"

"You would murder me?"

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

omg hi could you maybe do a high-school au where you're failing English lit and Tolya is assigned as your tutor and you had no idea he was good at English and just mutual crushing vibes over poetry and maybe he's a jock and you go to his games to cheer him on and yeah...

the song could be Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince by Taylor Swift

Okay, look. Normally I don't do AU stuff, because, so many reasons, but I looked at this request and thought about it, and then I thought about it out loud and it sent me and bestie spiralling so fast into a whole Shadow and Bone High School AU concept, that I kind of, have to write this. I kind of have to, but it will have a lot (A LOT) of AU background info so hold on tight buddy. It may get to the point where you're asking yourself "what happened to the original plot of the movie," and to that I say... Idk.

Between Classes And The Bell - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content Warnings: Explicit Language. Spoilers for Seasons 1 & 2 And Potential Book Spoilers Implied Throughout. Not Canon Compliant, As AU But Canon Referenced Throughout. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Word Count: 5k+

"My expectations are low," Kaz says, tapping his cane against the table as he passes Zoya, a gentle taunt. Zoya purses her perfect lips and taps her pencil against the table, refusing to take the bait. "But they can always go lower, of course."

"You really think this is an argument you'll win, Brekker?" Zoya asks, turning in her seat to look at him. He smiles, eyes darting to make sure there is no teachers to oversee the devilish smirk, and clasps his spare hand over the one holding the cane.

"Never been in a fight I couldn't," he says. Zoya looks ready to explode. And you can understand why, Kaz never loses Debate, and she was just beginning to think she had the upper hand on him, but he had only wanted her to think that.

"I don't think we need to take this so seriously," says another classmate, "we aren't being supervised."

"I think taking things more seriously when unsupervised is essential to a thriving environment," Kaz is mocking Zoya and she knows it. She wants to do something, and if she let her heated nature get the better of her, she might. But she just folds her arms, and takes in a deep breath. As Head Girl she has to be composed, and as Captain of the cheer squad she has long learnt composure. When Zoya breathes it is like even the air is competing for her attention, she is that kind of beautiful. You glance at her and she has her eyes closed, calming herself. She shouldn't let Brekker get under her skin so easily, but Zoya takes everything very seriously, whereas Kaz gives the illusion of caring about school, all the teachers think he is a perfect student, and his grades suggest as much, but it is more of a game to Kaz. But that would go unnoticed by most, after all, no body tends to look too closely at a boy with a cane. But you don't doubt he is probably the most threatening of all of you. You'd heard a rumour once that he was running a blackmail scheme and that's why his grades were perfect without trying. But you knew Kaz was smarter than he cared to display, and you didn't want to put too much stock in rumours. School is so full of them after all.

You get up as the class empties, and you try not to pay close attention to the way Kaz hovers in the room, awaiting it's empty, you cannot tell if he is waiting for someone or waiting for the silence.

Zoya is headed for cheer practice and you are quick to step out of her way, it is best not to get under her feet at the best of times, yet again when she is fuelled with rage from an argument and especially when she is running late at the expense of losing said argument.

You step to the side to let most of the crowd pass, but as the corridors empty you feel yourself getting confused about where you were going. You catch a glimpse of your science partners leather messenger bag, and watercolour eyes and you nod to yourself, science, you're sure you've got a science next... but which one? Probably Chemistry, you'll settle for Chemistry.

"You're getting all turned around again," comes a voice from behind you. You turn and the familiar face of Inej Ghafa, is closer than you expected it to be. Inej is one of The Dregs like Kaz, you hated that name, but High School will be as High School will be and names like that sort of stuck. They called them The Dregs because they were scholarship students who couldn't afford to be in the school without the scholarship, 'Dregs Of Society' as a senior had not so politely explained to you one day when you were fresh in and dumb enough to ask. You nearly jump out of your skin, seeing here so close to you, without sensing her at all. She has a tendency to do that, so light on her feet, petite and so quiet. You have often wondered if the ability to walk unheard came first or if it was something she had learned from being a gymnast. If the acrobatics came naturally and the silence was learned, you're not sure which would be more impressive. Inej is simply a marvel, her scholarship is based on her gym skills and you would never doubt why, you've never seen someone able to preform with such confidence and prowess as her. But more than that, it's her heart you've noticed most, so quiet and yet so endlessly kind.

"Am I?" you ask her. She nods.

"You have English," she tells you, pointing towards the arts block.

"I have Chemistry," you say quickly but Inej shakes her head.

"No you had Chemistry last semester in this time slot on a Thursday," she corrects you, "now you have English."

You pause, but you realise she is right. You don't bother questioning how she knows that, one of the things you were quick to learn about Inej was she seemed to know everything about everyone, it came with the quietness you guessed, that she can hear and learn everything about everyone while no one even notices she's there. You wonder if that's what Kaz sees in keeping her so close, but then again based on the way the boy looks at her, you'd guess that was something else.

You turn to thank her but she has already disappeared from sight.

You're not late but you are cutting it close when you make your way to your seat. Nina, who you know relatively well from the short time you spent in the drama department last year, at her own coaxing, throws you a smile. "Pass this back to the pretty one?" she asks, handing you a note.

You glance over your shoulder and you don't need to ask who she means, you should have guessed. Matthias is looking even less eager to be in this class than you feel, but you don't blame him. For an exchange student Matthias doesn't seem to be thrilled to be here at all, most of the time, except when he is with Nina, which he is every moment he has the opportunity to be.

Every time you hear him speak it is to tell Nina that something she is doing is improper, and where he grew up that would've never been allowed, and yet every time you see him he is staring at her with a look in his eyes that could make you believe in love all on its own.

"Please?" Nina asks, fluttering those long beautiful eyelashes at you. You've never seen anyone say no to Nina Zenik, it might not be at all possible.

"Of course Nina," you tell her and hand the note back. Matthias frowns, and you can see the thoughts bubbling to the surface. He mumbles something about etiquette and respect for educators and then recognises Nina's handwriting and stops his grumbling.

"I think I am winning him over yet," she grins before turning back to the front of class. Nina was studying to be a nurse, but after a particularly rough semester switched carer plans and now intends to be a mortician, most of her bubbliness has come back to her, but it's clearest enough when she has the blonde in her eyeline, he truly brings out the best in her.

You find yourself tuning out most of the lesson, which you know you shouldn't, your Literature teacher is old enough that you feel like you should be able to get away with not paying attention, but you know she sees everything, and you're more than a little convinced everyone is afraid of her. So you're knocked sick immediately when Miss Morozova asks you to stay behind as the class is finishing up. You hope for a moment you might have misheard her, but her cold eyes on you is confirmation that you didn't.

She beckons you to the desk with a flick of her wrist and you approach, wondering what misstep you took, but she just slides your previous paper across the wood at you, and you see your mark and goose bumps spread through your skin. Fuck.

"You're going to fail," she tells you. She has never had a knack for encouragement or being gentle with her students.

"That is not what I had hoped," you admit. She laughs, it's a cold type of laugh, all apathy and disappointment.

"Not about hope child, it's about application and effort, I am not sure if you're missing the point or if you are not trying to see the point at all, either way you're not getting where you need to be," she shuffles a few papers, "so I have assigned you a tutor, hopefully that should fix your shortcomings, if not you will fail this class."

"A tutor?" you ask, the cold feeling just continues to spread through your body. Please not Zoya, please not Zoya. You don't doubt she is good at it, you've seen the turn around of Zoya's tutoring, but she intimidates you if you're honest and you don't think that is optimal for your learning. "Who?"

"Tolya Yul Bataar," she says, not bothering to look at you, "I have already informed him, the rest he will sort out, you're dismissed."

"Tolya?" you ask. You hadn't thought about it, you know he is in the advanced class, but you'd never given it much thought. Always seen the jock first, which isn't surprising, his education likes to focus on his sports, they treat his twin sister Tamar the same. Their skills making your school highest in competitive sports, it makes the school want to focus on their athletics. But you're a little annoyed at yourself for not even thinking about it.

You've thought about Tolya more than enough to have justified thinking about his academics. But the slight crush you've had on the athlete who stands taller than you can reason and with arms you're convinced could move mountains, you have had time to think about him.

You had lunch with his sister once, just the once. Tamar is nowhere near as tall as her brother, with short cropped hair which is a contrast to Tolya's own, but her strength is just like his, even for her size she is fierce and unrelenting. She looks like she could fuck you up, and you know she has the power behind her to back that up, and she would, and is willing to if the need arises. Her girlfriend Nadia had also been present at that lunch and you'd wanted to talk more than you had. Tamar was a type of brave you often wanted to be, unapologetic in her braveness, equal parts bark and bite.

You don't try asking anymore questions, you're pretty eager to get out the classroom that you walk straight into the corridor, not thinking to look around you, and are met by a leaning Tolya, who is rested up against the notice board beside the door. If normally he makes your heart skip a few beats, seeing him waiting for you nearly makes your heart stop. You tell yourself that's a fear response, but you know you're lying. "Tolya," you say breathing a little too heavily.

"I didn't take you for the flunking English type," he smiles at you, "but then again how well do you know a person?"

You smile, trying to not blush too deeply and give yourself entirely away. "I didn't know I was flunking," you admit.

"That isn't reassuring," he says, but he isn't criticizing you, you know criticism when you see it.

"It wasn't supposed to be."

"I am sure we can fix it up, I am... fond of prose."

You're supposed to be studying Remains by Simon Armitage, but even in his tutoring state, you can tell Tolya is finding the poem just as painful as you are. You don't want to be difficult, you don't mean to be, you're stressed about the fact you're going to flunk English Lit, and you know Tolya wants to help. But this poem is driving your attention elsewhere, and in an attempt to not stare at the large, pretty, tutor doing his best to go through themes with you, you let your eyes wander around the library.

Jesper Fahey, the lean theatre student with the true talent for dramatics in every aspect of his life, right down to the way he is dressed with bejewelled collar pins and matching cufflinks, is leaning over your chemistry partner, giving him that smile you recognise. Jesper has always been a flirt, and he never misses the mark, you've seen him flirt with nearly everyone around, but he only ever gives Wylan those eyes. You'd seen it first the day Wylan has suggested pyrotechnics for one of their next play, the same day Jesper tried to pitch Rocky Horror, they were a strange match, but perfectly matched in their strangeness. You especially liked Wylan, as your partner in the sciences you spent enough time with him to know that he is so smart, the kind of smart that makes your head spin, he could be a scholarship student, but he actually is a Legacy, not that you'd know it by looking at him, or talking to him. He doesn't really talk about his family, and you never pushed, knowing he runs the tech for the drama kids and can make homemade fireworks is a decent amount of know about a person.

"Am I boring you?" Tolya asks, his voice soft.

"No," you chuckle, "but I won't lie Simon Armitage is, maybe to death."

Tolya offers you a chuckle in response. "In honesty, I would like to say there is credit in all poetry, and I think there is, something for everyone, but I am inclined to agree this is no Keats," Tolya concedes.

"Or Wordsworth, or even Larkin," you add. He smiles.

"So you do like poetry?" he asks. You frown.

"Did I leave you with the impression I didn't?" you ask. He tilts his head, and he looks so unreasonably large in that blue library seat that you bite your tongue to not giggle at it.

"I had to read your previous paper to prep," he says, "you made it sound like poetry was the lowest form of art."

"I didn't mean for it to sound like that, maybe that poem," you joke, "but not all poetry."

"So, what poems do you like?" he asks, closing the book.

"What poems do you like, I didn't take you for the type," you give that preconception willingly, hoping to dismiss it quickly, and get his true interests locked into memory in a hope to know him better.

"All muscle and no appreciation for art?" he asks. You shrug.

"I never thought you were only muscle," you say, "you've got height too."

He laughs a little too loud for the library but you're too busy smiling to care. "I like classic poetry, epic prose," he admits.

"Iliad?" you ask. He grins.

"Yeah, Homer is up there," he nods, "also The Cantos."

"Oh is that... Ezra Pound?" you check, genuinely unsure if you're right but the gleam in his eyes tells you that you are before his words do.

You sit for a while, swapping favourites and preferences and you don't hear the sound of the bell ringing, calling you to classes, you just keep listening to Tolya reciting from memory and you think you could listen to that forever.

"I hate to pull you away," comes a voice anyone would recognise. You look up and the resident Lantsov, Nikolai with his puppy grin and sparkling eyes is looking at Tolya, "but you are very late."

Tolya glances at the time, as long in you as you were in him, and gets up a little too quickly. "I lost track of time," he admits.

"I can see that," Nikolai spares you a glance, and smiles back at his friend. Nikolai is charming, charming in all the ways a politician might be without half the deceit and double the bravado. Handsome in the way that he knows he is handsome and leans on it, but doesn't rely on it solely like people as pretty as he often do. But it works for him, and you understand where it comes from. Lantsov is a Legacy student, which gets him a lot of allowances, but his older brother got expelled a few years back and he has been under a lot of pressure to not fuck up like Vasily did. So he goes the extra mile, does the extra work, head boy, and boy scout all in one, just to fix what his brother broke. The new girl Alina is hovering not far behind, Nikolai took a liking to her immediately, she looks lost in this place, she got in on a scholarship for a sport she didn't play and has been trying to juggle everything ever since. But she mostly talks about missing home, she has a boy back at her old school, a boy her heart aches at the absence of. Usually that sort of thing is a lie, but the way she talks about him, you would never doubt, you're not sure of his name, you've heard it once or twice, Hal, Mal maybe, you don't let your mind linger on the thought.

"I have to go, but I promise to meet you here tomorrow?" Tolya asks you, bringing you back to the library and out of your mind.

"I'll be here," you say. You watch the three of them walk away, the twins have been close to Nikolai as long as you've known any of them, thick as thieves and twice as protective of one another. You can admire a friendship like that.

"And the final stanza, ending with that imagery," Tolya is trying so very hard to stay on topic, but you are tapping your fingers across a very old copy of Odyssey and he knows you're trying to pull his attention away, and you know it's working.

"or six-feet-under in desert sand, but near to the knuckle, here and now, his bloody life in my bloody hands," you recite. "I know Tolya, it is ingrained in my mind I promise you."

"If you fail the next essay you won't be stuck with me anymore, you'll be failed," Tolya reminds you.

"I am very aware of my predicament," you straighten up, "fail and well fail, or succeed and be told the tutoring is effective and I must continue to spend these hours with you."

The way you tease him makes him want to forget the studying all together and just keep you in his company for longer, without explanation or reason beyond just wanting you there.

"This is such torture for you, isn't it?" He asks, not meaning a word.

"Not in the slightest," you confess. "My favourite part of the day, and not just because you bring really good snacks."

"I do," he agrees reaching to take a biscuit from the centre of the table. "Are you coming to the game?"

The question strikes you as odd, you have spent weeks with Tolya and you've discussed art and music and poetry at length, but you've avoided talking sports, you thought because he had wanted not to talk about it, but with this question you wonder if maybe you've been negligent in not asking him about that aspect of his life. If you've come across as uninterested in the athletics and dismissive because of it, and that thought fills you with an uncomfortable nervousness.

"I hadn't been planning on," you say slowly, "should I?"

"It's going to be a good game," he says, "a competitive one." You nod, trying to seem more enthusiastic than you're sure how to be about sports. "It's an important game," he admits, "and I would... like to have you there, if you want to come?"

"Are you asking me to come watch your game?" you ask, twiddling your pencil between your fingers. He smiles.

"Yeah, I kind of am," he admits, "is that okay?"

"Yeah," the blush creeps up your neck but has the respect to stay away from your cheeks, weeks alongside Tolya you've had to train yourself to blush more subtly, "I'd like that."

Genya and Nina are both fussing over Zoya in preparation for the game, Genya because she wants to be beautician and it is helpful, Nina because it's her prerogative to get involved wherever she wants to. Seeing Genya and Zoya be so friendly with one another is still a little unnerving, due to a not so friendly rumour about Genya and a teacher Genya had been the subject of a lot of hate from the girls at school. Zoya was among them. But the last year has brought everyone a lot closer, and everyone has become a lot more understanding, and Zoya with the help of Alina went around getting Mr Kirigan fired for his unprofessional behaviour, that which they could prove anyway. Genya weathered the worst of it all, and she never seemed to shake.

"Genya if you do not stop fussing me," Zoya warns her, but it's coming from a softer place than her normal warning tone. Zoya holds a lot of guilt when it comes to Genya, about not defending her, about not believing her, about not protecting her from the rumours.

Even Zoya had her fair share of rumours, the real reason as to why she doesn't date, the way her eyes linger moments too long on a pretty girl in the hallway, but again, you didn't like to put too much stock into rumours.

Genya twirls one of her red tendrils around her hand, trying to keep them off Zoya's long dark hair which she has pulled up into a ponytail. "Can I at least-,"

"No," Zoya says sternly. "David, please come get your girlfriend."

David, the reed thin brunette who rarely understands half of what is going on around him, looks up from the book he is reading, something on geology and metallurgy, to look at Genya who gives him a sweet smile, and he gives her a little wave, not having heard exactly what Zoya said. David and Genya are high school sweethearts, the type that you're not even aware you are rooting for at first, but at some point you realise the happiness of their relationship is the thing you are basing your idea of true love on.

"You're coming tonight right?" Nina asks you, throwing you a look across the room, you hadn't realised she noticed you being there, between trying to keep Genya from trying to colour Zoya's hair and Zoya from trying to kill Genya with a look.

"To the game?" Genya turns her eyes to you and they're glistening with anticipation. "I didn't realise you found your school spirit."

"I was invited," you explain.

"Yeah, by a tree with the muscles of a Saint," Nina quips giving you a wink. "I don't think it's school spirit they've found."

"Tolya?" Genya asks, tone shifting up a pitch with her eagerness.

"Don't say it like that," you say. Genya leans up on her elbows, resting her pretty face over her crossed hands.

"Like what?" she asks.

"Like," you gesture to her in her entirety, "like that, like you think you know something I don't know."

"If your truly flunking Lit, I think we all know something you don't know," Zoya says, "now can we get this show on the road, I cannot and will not be late."

"Ignore her," Nina mouths, "she's just cranky because... well because she is Zoya."

The air is brisk but you don't feel cold as you walk towards the field, you see Brekker underneath the bleachers talking with someone you don't recognise, but you pretend not to see anything.

Wylan has his arms around Jesper's neck in the back of the stands, and he looks less lost and more found. Matthias and Nina are bickering by the food queue about how acceptable sweet toppings are on savoury foods and she is too wrapped up in her fun game of wind up Matthias to see your wave, but you don't mind.

Zoya has corralled the cheerleaders and they're all pretty ready, Alina is staring trying not to get roped into anything as one of the cheerleaders in blue tries to tell her how good cheer is for the spirit.

Nikolai is trying to convince Zoya of something but you're not sure what, but you are at least sure it isn't working.

You are brought out of your people watching by feeling a presence close to your side, you turn your head and Inej is walking in stride. "Tolya is looking for you," she says, and you expect her to disappear into nothing as quickly as she appears, but she doesn't. She is a girl after all, not a ghost.

"When does the game start?" you ask.

"You have time," she assures you. She points south and you follow that guidance, and you see Tamar leaning on the gate, she is talking with some of the other players, and she looks so at home. It would be hard to believe there was a time when Tamar had to argue her way onto the team, given how much she has to offer.

Tamar gets a warning for cursing with enthusiasm and you cannot help but chuckle. If the other team wants a fight, they will definitely find one with her. You're about to ask if someone has seen Tolya when you feel the shadow casting across your shoulder.

"I'll get them back," Tamar is insisting.

"Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much," Tolya quotes, standing beside you. Tamar throws her brother an unamused look.

"Oscar Wilde," you say craning your neck up to look at Tolya. He looks different in his sporting kit, but his hair is still held back the same, and his arms are still exposed to the cold air, just not with rolled up sleeves this time. Looking at him makes you feel cold, and you want to ask him how he isn't.

"You're shivering," he points out.

"I am?" you ask, glancing down at your own body, "I hadn't expected it to be so cold."

"Here," Tolya reaches behind him into a bag and pulls out a jersey, it's for the team and is sporting his number on the back, he hands it to you with one hand. "So you're warm."

You take it slowly, mind racing with the many implications of such a small, kind gesture, and you don't want to jump the gun with this, with him. "Thank you," you manage, slipping the fabric over your shoulders. "I didn't even realise you had one of these."

"Everyone on the team has one," he says.

"No, a jacket," you tease, "you never wear one."

He shrugs. "I don't get cold," he explains, looking around to see how quickly he needs to make his way to the field.

"Then why did you carry it with you?" you ask. The jersey smells like Tolya, from being in his bag you'd guess, and you feel a weight in the side pocket, reaching in you find a small packet of dried mango. You let yourself smile at that.

"I've got to run," he says, "wish me luck?"

"Break a leg," you say, "or is that just something you say for theatre?"

"I'll take it," he says before joining the team.

You'd not given the sports of your school too much thought, but watching Tolya play you must admit you weren't giving the sport aspect much thought even now. You cheer for Tolya, not the game, you're watching Tolya, not the game. If anyone asked you what was happening you're not sure you'd be able to offer more than this name.

If you had any doubts about your schools victory they would have been quickly squashed by the victory cries from Tamar, all fervour and for more expletives than the coach is happy for there to be. She gets a whistle of a warning and a stern look which she just brushes off, letting her brother pull her into a hug.

You are leaning on the fence, which you hadn't noticed until now, with Tolya approaching you. The field is lower set than the stands but Tolya still feels very tall as he gets closer. You can understand why Nina described him as treelike. "Good game," you say. The warmth of his jersey on your skin feeling as secure as that embrace you watched him give Tamar, and it leaves you reaching out for him with eager thoughts and hesitant hands. You tuck them deep into your pockets- his pockets, trying not to give yourself away.

"Thank you," he says, the adrenaline in his smile is dizzying. "Thank you for coming by the way, it means a lot."

"Thank you for inviting me," you say. You want to say more, you want to find the words for this feeling, this gentle buzzing that is sparking between the two of you.

"Ask her you coward," Tamar calls from her place now sat next to Nadia, straddling the bench of a lower section of the bleachers, sharing a milkshake with her girlfriend.

Tolya laughs. "I made a bet with my sister, if we win I had to take that win, and take a risk," he says, and for someone so tall he looks so nervous. "And we won."

"You did," you nod, "quite well I think."

"Really well," he admits, laughter echoing in the spaces between the words.

"So what risk?" you ask, feeling yourself leaning onto your toes, needing to know, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

"I was wondering if you'd like to see me, outside of school hours?" he asks.

"Like now?" you ask, trying to keep the smile at bay. He tilts his head in a nod.

"Yeah, like now, but maybe more... just us," he says. You feel like you might fall down but you can't help but tease him.

"For studying?" you ask. He can tell you're playing with him.

"No," he says, "not for studying."

"Are you trying to ask me on a date Tolya?"

"I am trying."

"I would like that, I would like that a lot."

[boxleitners-return-au]

Becky woke up the next morning leaning against the window with her cape wrapped around her like a blanket. She noticed that while she still felt like she was drowning in oil, it wasn’t as bad as yesterday.

She looked behind her at the doctor, who had seemingly taken her spot on the couch, still fast asleep and snoring in an incredibly undignified manner. She wondered for a second if he was doing it to annoy her, but she quickly put out that thought.

He was her best bet at getting back home and getting back her powers, she had to play nice. Besides he was probably really stressed out too, if that mouse brain was even capable of any emotion besides hunger. 

Home, back to her family, back to her sidekick. She’d been worried sick about him ever since she woke up. When they were knocked out midair Huggy had been thrown in the opposite direction that she had, there was no telling what happened to him. 

She comforted herself by imagining that he got all their family and friends and hid away, perhaps a secret bunker or something. She giggled to herself as the image of her family blissfully misunderstanding a frantic Bob trying to tell them to run with some sort of monkey charades.

Her fantasy was short lived however, because when she looked back out the big window she saw two familiar shapes, creeping hauntingly behind one of the dead trees that littered the warehouse’s lawn. Joy overtook her, her friends had come to save her! Now they could- oh, oh no. She recognized those swirling red eyes. 

Mind control.

(Continues below)

It wasn't because Mr. Big, his whole schtick generally had a green hue. This was something brand new.

That new alien super villain got to them. 

Letting her instincts take over, Becky dove down out of sight from the window. She whisper-yelled at Twobrains to wake up.

“Hey!”

“...”

“HEY”

“Agh! What- what is your problem! Will you stop waking me u-”

She pointed aggressively outside

He followed her finger and froze. She grabbed him by the collar and with some effort managed to pull him to the ground below the window sill with her. She had to take a moment to catch her breath, frustration overtook her as she realized that an action as simple as that was now enough to wind her a bit.

Twobrains’ eyes flickered with anxiety as she tried to even out her breathing, but he shook his head and looked out the window.

“They’re looking for me. They have to be.”

“Oh come on, give me a little credit. I’m sure Amazo is just dying to catch up with me”

“What could he possibly- wait. Amazo Guy? Like- Like in your book?”

“Yeah. Did you seriously not recognize him?”

“No! I mean- he looked familiar, but I thought he- the book guy- was fictional!”

“You think I just made up some dude to feature on the cover of my book? What kind of scientist do you take me for!” “So wait. This was an actual dude that you knew. And now you’re both evil?” 

“Well we don’t know if he’s evil evil-”

“I cannot believe you never mentioned him before!”

“I had! In my book! Which apparently you hadn’t read as thoroughly as you said you had!”

“Yes I did!”

 “Appaaarently not. I’m hurt, Wordgirl, I am.”

“I did so! I read your book so much, I can recite any passage from it, just try me.”

“You expect me to believe you’re that much of a fan?”

“Yes! I am a huge fan! The biggest fan in the world actually!”

Becky crossed her arms with a smug expression before her eyes shot open and she realized what she said. Twobrains was holding back a laugh behind his hand. “Yeah? Yeah really? Yeah tell me how much you love me. I’m your favorite author right?”

Becky’s face went red as she proceeded to sock him in the arm. He flinched in pain despite the lack of super strength.

“Shut up. So you got one hit, big whoop.”

Twobrains patted her shoulder with another laugh. Both of their faces fell and they instantly crowded back against the wall as they heard a twig snap outside.

“Now how are we gonna get out of this?” 

They sat there for a moment before Becky got a sheepish look on her face.

“Well… we could always try plan 208…”

Twobrains groaned. “Is that really the best we got?”

Becky sighed “I think it is doc. Now let's not dilly-dally, we have to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“You did not just say ‘dilly-dally’”

“Would you just get on with it!”

________

Hi! *Taps on mic* Anyone here? So! I disappeared for a little bit but I have an update here if anyone's interested

I want to update more but I have 0 motivation to draw i'll be completely honest, so if I do update it will probably come more in writing form like this, would that be okay?

Anyways here's the next part! The sillies are silly, and Huggy and Rex have been captured >:D

First Part

Previous Part

[rosalie-starfall]

1, 2, 11, 20 ❤️

What song makes you feel better? - I have a whole playlist of songs for just this purpose.

All the songs on this list make me feel better and put my soul at ease

2. What is your go to comfort show? - I have a lot of comfort shows, Right now Ghosts is my current comfort show, But I can always rely on 30 Rock, Cheers, Hot in Cleveland, and then of course essentially all of Star Trek (But mostly TNG and Voyager).

Also I cannot recommend Alexandra Gater enough if you are looking for fun sweet comfort feels in an interior design show on youtube. (She and the AG team are amazing and I love the show and it's smart and effective renter/budget friendly designs. I'm essentially finished with designing my space but I still love to watch because its adorable and gives me even more ideas to make the space better)

11. Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it! - I have a few Sweaters that I absolutely love to wear around the house. I am almost always wearing one of them when I'm at home, I also just completed a little book nook. It give me great comfort.

20. Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart. - The time my moms flip flop broken when we went to the movies. I wrote about this memory before so I'm gonna paste the story:

IDK exactly what the hardest was but I have a few that are up there. One time my mom and I were at the Alamo to see The Spy Who Dumped Me. (I think) When the movie ended we had got up to leave I was in front of her and I wound up way ahead of her so I yelled back what the deal was. She was scooting her foot along the floor almost like a limp and just kind of laughing. Her flip flop had broken and she was trying to keep it on her foot but also trying to walk.  We were at the very last theater in the building so she took forever to walk the distance to back the lobby and watching her try and walk like that had my dying of laughter and that in turn made her laugh even harder. I honestly thought I might throw up I was laughing so hard. I told her to just take her shoe off but she said she had to use the restroom so she didn’t want to go into the public bathroom barefooted. (Totally understandable) To get away from her and to try and calm my giggles down and catch my breath I decided to go pull the car up so she wouldn’t have to walk all the way back to the car with her broken flip flop.  It was so dumb but seriously so funny and even me writing this out and remembering it I’m crying from laughing again. I really think that might have been the hardest I ever laughed.  I’ll just add the time that she and I were going to brunch and I was looking at my phone and not paying attention as she drove to the end of our block she waved at one of our neighbors that was working in his yard. Because I wasn’t paying attention with my head down I didn’t know she was waving at someone. All I saw was her holding her hand up so I gave her a High Five thinking that’s what she was waiting for. We laughed for a good 10 Minutes that time. She had to pull the car over because she was laughing so hard she (We) started crying.

[dreamerswriter]

Shroud Brothers Truly Outshine their Classmates in This

Again, if you don’t want spoilers to Book 6, do not look. This is personal highlights for me and this book. Gotta say, this one is my favorite besides Azul’s. 

Idia really went all out with Ortho, but Ortho is just as insane as everyone else. He is willing to kill my cat! And blow up the school. You can blow up the school, but don’t kill my cat. 

THE SOUNDS THIS MAN MAKES! I had to put my phone down and laugh! 

I love everything that comes out of your mouth. I have bias, but seriously, I love this.

Sir, you’re my type and I love you. Seriously though, this was so cool to see him like this. Can’t wait to see more of it in the next book. Do you hear that? That is the sound of my OC fainiting from him being so cool. Also, is it just me or does he sound way more threatening in the English than Japanese? 

To be honest, the moment Idia said this, I laughed! This was hilarious to me. That being said, I understand why they didn’t find it funny. They were kidnapped and tested on. On the other hand, all of you clearly don’t listen nor give a frick, why care now? 

Someone on Reddit did it. They pulled three Fairy Gala Leonas and one Dorm Riddle. It is possible. 

Shouldn’t you be worried about that? Now that I think about it, shouldn’t you be extremely worried that this is happening and you can’t find the predictor? This isn’t something that’s supposed to happen. 

I would pay money for this to have a switch game where I can play as them. Like in an RPG. That’s just me persoanlly. 

I literally have no words for Rook. This is the most insane thing we could’ve done, but also, I laughed for five minutes. He found a secret non goverment S.H.I.E.L.D base in the middle of the ocean..... I cannot believe this is real. 

I wish I could. i would love to do so many stupid and dangerous things. Not the point, but still. 

And this broke the internet and made so many memes. Remember everyone, that anime is real and coming. If we get an English dub, they have to say this. No exceptions! 

He did care. Better than his parents. 

Ah, Hades is here. 

Pfft... I love him, so much. 

Gods, his family sucks except for Ortho. I get why he doesn’t like them. Also, this is an interesting take on the story as well. Another note, you’re not the only one. Zargeus didn’t like this place either..... In another timeline, that’s your son... My head hurts... 

I love this man so much. This is incredible. He’s just trying to get his work done and then send them home. He’s just so done, but he has to do his job. What a legend. I can’t wait for more of him. Even though it is all going downhill from here. Anyway, gg! Next match, I am going to destroy you and your little brother! I will not lose to you, gamer Hades!

[h-of-ts-sams-au]

~{Holder Of The Stars}~

TSAMS AU Ch 2. “The journey of four”

Sun and Snow were currently talking with each other, sibling bonding. Moon was explaining what happened and asking computer about how the newton star was made.

“Moon has required a password for the blueprints to the Newton star. Or the Reality Star.” Computer said “I can tell you because. Well. You are moon, but Bald one and Snowflake must get out of the room”

Snowflake looked at sun with a confused smirk, “Bald one?” She asked

“Don’t- computer why” Sun said. “Ha ha ha. I am only kidding Sun. But seriously. Get out of the room please.” Computer said, “I cannot say it until you are out of earshot”

“Fine” Sun said with a sigh, heading out of the room. A few minutes later Moon came out and called them back in. Sun looked at computer’s screen and it was showing blueprints to the Newton star.

There were lots of magic symbols and steps. Sun opened the book and flipped through the pages, “alright so here it says…we can’t make another star if it already exists in this world” Sun spoke “so the blueprints are basically useless?” Moon asked, “No, no, maybe it’ll be helpful somehow? Computer can you keep that tab open?” Sun asked, “Yes. I can Sun. But it will be deleted if someone other than you or moon tries to open it.”

“Got it, thanks” Sun said, “so what now?” Moon asked, sun continued flipping through the book, then he stopped and flipped back two pages, “wait…it says that the stars have an emergency protocol?” He said, “It says that ‘stars are capable of tracking other stars’?” Sun hummed a bit, then turned to snowflake, “Hey, do you know how to do that?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried…”

“Okay, uhm, here it says that… you’re supposed to say ‘Guide me to the ones that hold’.”

Snowflake nodded and held up the star with both hands.

“Guide me to the ones that hold!” She said.

The star began to glow brighter and then summoned different colored compasses. Light blue, green, red, and purple, all seemed to be pointing in different directions.

“Alright Welp. If this is avengers shit then I’m guessing…” Moon mumbled

“Blue is the space star, Green is the time star, Red is the Reality star, the one Eclipse has, and purple is the power star!” Sun finished.

“Which one should we follow first?” Sun asked. “Well, we could probably use the red one later” Moon responded, “let’s follow the green one” Snowflake said, “time would probably be helpful”

The others agreed, and Moon hummed a bit, “Computer, is there any way I can take you along?” Moon asked, “Yes. Actually there is.” Computer responded, “In your drawer over there, the old you made a small body for me made of nanobots. Essentially I am a talking watch until you need me. Then I can materialize into a proper animatronic.”

Moon dug around in his drawer and found a smartwatch, the screen was currently black and it had a USB Attached to it, “alright do I just plug this in…?”moon asked, “exactly. My twin will take over in this body as I go into that one”

“sweet, alright” Moon plugged the USB in and within about five minutes, computer spoke again, “It’s done” he said

“Why was I forced awake?” A higher-pitched voice from the computer spoke, “Uh, Sorry….monitor…?”

“Monitor?” Sun asked with a snicker, “I don’t know, this one’s computer and the other one is monitor-“

“Moon. Answer my question” Monitor interrupted. “Sorry, sorry, we’re taking your twin on our little…adventure thingy, can you keep the security in check while we’re gone?”

“As you wish, moon” Monitor answered.

After a while, Computer was now fully in the wristwatch and Moon put it on.

The wristwatch had a little face on it which was probably computer.

“Alright…should we pack anything or just like- leave?” Sun asked

“Eh, I’m just going to text Monty that we’ll be gone for a while so he won’t panic” Moon answered, pulling up his phone on his wrist and then texting Monty and sending it.

“Done, alright let’s go”. Moon said

Sun, Moon, and Snowflake as well as computer then left the daycare.

Links:

Ch1: https://www.tumblr.com/h-of-ts-sams-au/720991545121210368/holder-of-the-stars

Ch 2: (you are here!)

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 69 (Nice!)

Yellow Fever/Evolution of the Daleks

“Yellow Fever”

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: oof, probably not. Omg wait…I honestly have no clue. Like, here’s the thing, anything that would have this kind of effect on Dean would probably take me out

Dean’s enjoying the mortician being mean to Sam just a little too much.

Loving the tension between Dean and the sheriff. Dean’s not taking any of this seriously and that’s all the sheriff CAN do

Omg yes. Whatever is causing this has infected Dean too and I’m ecstatic. I only VAGUELY remember this episode, but it’s good

So the thing is…if I’m expecting to be touching a snake, no problem (not a euphemism). But if it sneaks up on me? Yeah, Dean’s reaction is entirely rational

“Am I haunted?!” Is he tucking possessed?! He used to be Sam’s brother! Next thing you know, he’ll be listening to nothing but Jimmy Buffet

I forgot this was the episode with Eye of the Tiger yesssssssssss

These are the worst-best softball team names ever. Game cocks? Corn jerkers??

I’m so sorry. To read “you’re dying. Again. Loser.” As a hallucination in a book after what Dean has gone through shouldn’t be this funny. This book is BULLYING HIMMMMM

“I dunwanna be a clue,” he’s so pathetic. I adore him

You’re taking your brother, infected with ghost sickness who has under a day to live before he literally DIES OF FRIGHT, into aN ABANDONED LUMBER MILL??? Yeah, this can only go awesome

I’m sorry for putting so many out of context quotes, but I will keep doing it because “I’ll man the flashlight,” is so goddamn cute. Because…a gun can go off (like he’s not usually the one insisting on bringing a gun to whatever fight they’re in).

The blood curdling scream upon seeing a rat followed by “that was scary!!” I cannot. I literally can’t.

I can’t fault him for running out like that. I would have been long gone way before that

Oh, sheriff’s infected too…

I love Dean worrying about the legality of posing as FBI agents…omg…

Omg…the ghost’s story is so sad…

Oh I wanna hug Dean. He’s really goin through it right now. Just absolutely freaking out and not without good reason. But GOD is it so sad to see

Not complaining but I thought he had way less time than this…

You are not helping by not telling Dean the plan. I want you to know that, Sam. There is nothing more panic inducing to someone who worries than hearing “don’t worry about it” ESPECIALLY when their life is on the line

Oh no. Competing hallucinations. And they both only have a little bit of time left…well, now only Dean does

On one hand, of course it worked, but on the other, I can’t believe they actually scared a ghost to death. On a secret third hand, it’s terrible that they had to use this sad man’s horrific death to scare him AGAIN

I’m here for Sam and Bobby roasting Dean afterward

You guys are so bad at being honest with each other…

And the iconic post-episode “by all means should have been just on the dvd extras but I’m SO GLAD IT ISNT” Jensen performing the ever loving shit out of lip-syncing Eye of the Tiger

“Been On My Mind…”: Nope. 9

“Evolution of the Daleks”

Say what you will about the costuming and makeup in this part of the series, they’re trying something at least. They’re putting EFFORT in

Omg are we gonna reset the counter? Is this gonna happen every time we meet the Daleks?? He gets really riled up when they show up. Just sayin

Yeah, your mistake was thinking you could convince the Daleks to exhibit compassion.

Why does Dalek Sec want the Doctor alive??? Omg could you imagine if the combined a Dalek and a Time Lord??

I feel for Martha here. The Doctor hasn’t been as open with her as even Nine was with Rose, and he’s just expecting her to figure it out like they have the rapport Ten and Rose had. It’s not fair to her

Mmmm, Dalek Sec’s gonna get got by the end of this, aren’t they?? (Also, autocorrect, it’s definitely Dalek Sec, not Dalek Sex…that’s…something I don’t want to think about lmaooo) BECAUSE they’re showing too many human traits, not Dalek enough

But of course, Martha figures it out anyway. Good for her

Bye, Dalek Sec…or not??? And the Doctor’s gonna help them? I don’t believe it

I love that this woman thinks aliens have only come to New York City and only now

Mmmm, the other Daleks are getting suspicious

Martha’s so wonderful. She just wants to be appreciated for who SHE is. Sure, she also has a crush on the Doctor, so many people who meet him do, but she just doesn’t want to be CONSTANTLY compared to Rose

Okay, NOW bye, Dalek Sec. “you told us to imagine, and we imagined your irrelevance.” What a line.

Like…honestly though, were all these characters necessary?? Laszlo doesn’t look like he’s gonna make it, though………

Dalek Sec is STILL ALIVE??? They haven’t just killed him?? Unless they need to put them through some kind of trial because they can’t JUST KILL a member of their own heavily dwindled race

There it is. Gave their life to save the Doctor

Episodes Since the Doctor’s Last Attempted Genocide: 2 (there was a genocide but it wasn’t the Doctor’s fault. There’s also only one Dalek left, which wasn’t the Doctor’s intent or fault either)

[i-swear-its-only-ironical]

Review: The Sun and the Star

So. My guys. I have a rule I usually follow when it comes to any kind of media: I want to read it later so I won't feel hyped about it because the hype always ruins it for me.

But, alas, I played myself. For this book no one but myself hyped me up to the extremes. I was so excited! Nico, the collective little brother of the fandom, gets his own story. Will will be there! Bob will be there! Small Bob as well! They will have an underworld journey, which I personally really like as a concept. And then I have it, the book, in my hands, in my reach! I finally can read it, I waited seven months for this!

And it was... Disappointing. I cannot put it any other way, I feel like Nico and Will, our first queer representation in the pjo universe (and the characters I may project onto a bit too much), deserved a better book.

This is not because of any big conspiracy that this book, written by a queer person centered around a mlm couple, is homophobic, which I read some time (seriously, what is going on with hate around queer media written by queer authors lately?). It is also not because the very idea is bad, in fact, I am a really big fan of the overall concept, the themes and ideas the authors wanted to tackle in this one. As each respective series of the pjo universe centers around serious topics, I think basing this one on Nicos terrible PTSD was a smart decision.

But the story did not have a good editor/lectorate, I suspect. The ideas presented are great, but how they're told feels all over the place. It seems like the authors didn't really understand what exactly the problem is that arises between Will and Nico due to their handling of Nico's trauma as a couple. The characters that were not Nico or Will felt not the same as in the other books, and a lot of things before they arrived at the doors of Orpheus didn't seem necessary to add. Why they called Percy and Annabeth in Sally's apartment while they were already on their way to Tartarus is a gigantic mystery to me and feels like the authors added that in after already plotting out the story, as if Percy has to partake in any part of the franchise, if he fits or not.

This is my first bigger problem with the book: the scenes seem really isolated at a lot of points, sometimes even within chapters you feel where huge chunks of dialogue were cut out because the characters say stuff without having any incentive to be saying that. There were barely any fights in this book, which is fine in and off itself, but does not help the characters shine, because those are their specialties: Nico is a fighter, Will is a healer that at one point even gets a form of fighting abilities. Why not use that to push them to the point the authors obviously want them to be? Why not go to the extremes in the conflict-heavy situations? Why not let Nico's anger and fears get the better of him and Will be overprotective to a point where it actually borders on unhealthy? Let this book be rougher, toa had a psychological abuse scene between a very young daughter and a narcissistic father. If you suspect your audience to be older now, then do it, I dare you!

I feel like the fight between those two was the correct choice from everything that we know about these people and their relationship so far, but why resolve it in the middle of the book? Why resolve any of their conflicts in tiny bits so that nothing between them ever gets pushed over the edge?

And that brings me to my very personal biggest problem: Will Solace feels flat. His arc feels like the authors do not know that guy all that much. As if his biggest grievance is that he did not stop Nico from killing Octavian? As if his whole personhood revolves around him being the one (1) good thing that happened to Nico.

The one inner thought of him I remember mostly is one towards the end of the book and I wish it would have been expanded on more: how he waited behind a club for his mother to return. Oh, come on, why don't you do anything with this! Why not earlier??? He doesn't need to have Big T "Trauma" like Nico does, but presenting him as someone nearly without it? Idk, even the most sorted out people that I know have problems and grievances and shame attached to them.

But maybe that is just because I projected a lot especially onto Will because the role he fulfills in... Well, every book that he is present, is the role of the caretaker. And I relate, I am the universal caretaker in my friend group, I know people with PTSD and addiction and crippling depression that I love dearly; I have a mother and a father that suffer and I'm nosy and charismatic so I ask them how they're feeling and they're going to answer. I like that role, this role is a lot. I like to feel useful, I can't save anyone from themselves.

And this, this feelings I projected upon our sunshine of a love interest, I wanted them to be spelled out. I wanted Will to be a bit more of an asshole at times and a bit too nice at others. If you make him close minded about the underworld: make him not only judgy and uncomfortable, make him disgusted and unwell. And put that on the list of his grievances.

I wanted Will and Nico to earn their huge fight and their resolution in honesty. I didn't want them to have their answer this quick and this out of nowhere. It's not homophobic to let the gays fight, authors.

There were also some small problems I had, some logical holes I found and that Nico is so well-versed in modern lingo (but I guess that depends on how you interpret the workings of the Lotus Casino).

I suspect a lot of it boils down to this book not having a proper editor. If someone would have gone through it and be really strict on their feedback I suspect this book would have felt a lot more coherent.

Don't get me wrong, there were still a lot ofscenes I really liked, scenes I squealed at and ideas I loved. The mammoth-thingys were great, Epiales was really nice and the cocoa puffs were a really cute idea to represent coping with your inner demons. And the trogs, they were really wonderful, I love them. But if the overall foundation of the story is shaky the numerous side quests and side plots (which were too much for the length of the book i think) cannot really change anything about that.

TL;DR: Nico and Will deserved better. It felt like the deus-ex-machina of therapy. But they're still my favourite disaster gays. I would love to do a rewrite one day for me, my projecting ass and my own ego.

[madraleen]

Bungo Stray Dogs - Kafka Asagiri/Sango Harukawa Vol. 11-12: Dazai and The Nurse - A Commentary (*anime spoilers and manga spoilers up to ch.114)

-i do like lucy

-oi oi oi, "there's a way to transfer skills between bodies" and a "skill user who manipulates shadows" knows how to do it? oi, wait.

-oh right, what's grape of wrath doing these days i wonder. in manga real-time these things take place in a short time span, but irl time it feels like ages

-oh yes, poe isn't with the guild anymore.

-atsushi is so sweet and kind and empathetic, but he has NO CHILL, i love that about him

-i want to grab your little hand and squeeze it, dazai-chan

-ah yes. this is where dazai gets shot and this is where i started fuming in the anime season. I AM SO ANGRY AT THIS EVENT! which is a good thing for the narrative, but I AM SO ANGRY! WE DO NOT INJURE DAZAI! HE'S THE *ONE* MAN THAT WE CAN'T FIX, WE DO NOT INJURE DAZAI, WE DO NOT-

-something i've noticed btw, and i think it might be due to the nature of the anime vs the manga timeline and arguably can't be helped, is that the suicidal-maniac part of dazai is much more sparse in the manga. in the anime, it feels like he mentions it way more often.

-you know what kind of antagonist dazai needs -and ranpo, and mori for that matter- after we're done with fyodor? someone genuinely layperson and chaotic. someone who doesn't think 500 steps ahead, someone who acts completely on a whim and has no attachments or lofty goals, someone so random that they simply cannot read them because the possibilities are endless. i'm talking csm denji times one thousand.

-and we still don't know fyodor's actual goal after eliminating the skill users and getting the book. we know fukuchi's plan, but that's not all, surely. we're so not done with this bitch yet.

-i miss hearing their voices. the anime made me more excited to read the manga, the manga's making me more excited to rewatch the anime, and both are making me more excited to get to the spin-offs and such, this is great.

-fukuzawa, i need you to remember that your black sheep son willingly got himself shot to glean information for your agency's sake. alright? I NEED YOU TO REMEMBER THAT, FUKUZAWA! *shakes fist*

-what does "a world free of sin" even mean, fyodor, what do you want! free of skill users is obvious, but sin? are we talking brainwashing, kira cult, what are we talking about?

-atsushi destroyed his clothes before we've even gotten into the story of v12, he had a head start beginning from the cover smh

-ranpo is devastated with fukuzawa in the hospital, my heart. no offense, but fucking fyodor traumatized me in this arc, what with dazai being shot and the whole fukuzawa-mori thing and how it destroyed everyone. you can't blame me that it took a long long while for me to go from "i hate this guy" to "i hate this guy but in a good way."

-SAY IT ALOUD, KUNIKIDA-SAN, REMIND EVERYONE HOW DAZAI IS PART OF THE AGENCY, DAMN!

-this is so clearly a "we really can't have dazai around for this or else the conflict will be over in two minutes" injury.

-dude, atsushi doesn't open doors, he slams doors open, habitually

-CHUUYA IS SO PRETTY

-the way that women aren't sexualized.

-chuuya i want to pinch your little chiwawa cheeks you're so pretty

-on the one hand, the manga story is 100% streamlined compared to the anime, where sometimes i had Thoughts on the plot/focus of the story. on the other hand, i wonder, if i DIDN'T know what backstory i know because of the anime, if i were manga-only, would i feel the lack of something that i couldn't pinpoint, or would i get the same enjoyment even without it?

-okay but WHO are "the rats in the house of the dead," HAVE WE MET THEM

-seriously, no one jumps to "i'll kill" as fast as tanizaki, just lend him to the port mafia and let him have his semi-dark arc. he's so cool when he's being lethal. give him his questionable era, his moment to shine.

-wth is that grin when you're fighting kyouka, aku-kun, put that back where it came from

-IT IS SUCH A BIG MOMENT when aku-kun tells kyouka that he's glad for her that she doesn't yearn death anymore :')

-is it just me or is mori prettier in the manga than in the anime? fukuzawa too, for that matter.

-oh, dazai's clenching his fist when he says "if it weren't for my nullifying skill, i could've had yosano-sensei heal me and join in, but..." oh my heart, he truly wants to be with them. there’s no other reason to express this thought in this kind of visual than to show genuine emotion

-i love dazai so much though :')

-THE FUCK DID YOU DO WITH THAT NURSE, DAZAI?! not fucked her surely, you're injured, but THE FUCK DID YOU DO WITH THE NURSE THAT MADE YOU A '-SAMA'?! tbf, knowing dazai, it's just as likely if not more than likely that he played therapist for her or something. 'cause this is the third time a "woman misunderstanding" is happening in the manga. first you think he's flirting with higuchi, but no actually, he's bugging her. then you think he had sex with kouyou, but no actually, he just talked to her. so it's quite possible that it's a case of "you think he fucked the nurse, but actually he just lent her a shoulder to cry on." and off-manga timeline, at least in the anime, the same thing happened with sasaki, it was all "dazai did WHAT with sasaki?" and the answer was "in fact, he did absolutely nothing." i find it funny that THIS, of all things, is one of bsd's great unanswered questions though, and that there is canonical events that could very well support the "actually no, it wasn't sexual" to what looks like a sexual gag. you could argue that the manga makes a point of pointing out that even though sexual advances for personal gain would be expected from someone like dazai, it is in fact not something that dazai does (and no, chuuya’s “womanizer” comment from when he knew dazai four years ago doesn’t count). although. if we were ever given an answer, i believe it would be far sillier than anything we could imagine. like, they sing karaoke, or he shares his medicine with her and she gets high, he shows her how to beat that really hard mobile game, something utterly, completely stupid.

-fukuzawa/mori vs dazai/chuuya vs atsushi/akutagawa battle, who wins, go! i say dazai/chuuya.

-chonky natsume cat is chonky

-fukuzawa's "child of my own to take care of" is ranpo, isn’t it? IT IS, THAT’S SO CUTE

-okay, but now having read a bit more about the real oogai mori and vita sexualis i want to know more about mori-san’s skill. is elise the general concept of a cute and spoiled childhood that he himself didn’t have, is he projecting sexual desires that he won’t act on through elise, is this the childhood he wanted as in he wanted to be elise, what is it, let’s talk.

[veronicaphoenix]

I don't know how it's possible to love this story more with each chapter posted. I'm not sure why you struggled getting this chapter out: I was pulled in from the beginning, which by the way, WHAT A BEGINNING. I read the contents before I started reading but I was not expecting that scene right in the first part. I reread it a few times because I wanted to picture everything. Your writing was on point to help with that. The dialogue? How desperate she was? "Stay quiet"? 🫠 100000/10 to that first scene.

The rest just helped to mess me up a bit more. The fluff with Noah obviously didn't help, and the conversation at the club ended me. I can already see the wave coming and I'm so scared for Aubrey. What's up with these two boys, honestly? But I totally understand her, and if I was in her position, I'd probably react the same. Better to have a little of them that nothing at all, i guess 🥲

I will delve into details in the next part of the commentary:

Forbidden Planet? Hey, I've been there! I love that shop haha I can imagine Noah walking through the isles being all excited

The descriptions of him holding her hand and his thumb stroking her skin? 🥹 Why is he like this? i will melt

I appreciated the paragraphs that delved into Aubrey's mind and everything she's experiencing. It brings me closer to her and I can't help but love her more and more as we get to know her deeper.

"I was going to talk to them. And I was going to look fabulous doing it." The way you finish parts with lines like this one is, again, chef's kiss 🤌🏽

“Guess I'm the favourite." "Maybe I just wanted a better view of Noah." Her comebacks are EVERYTHING. I might end up falling in love with her and forgetting Noah and Oliver whoops. Maybe I'll need an Aubrey/Reader fic? lmao

"Not only had Oli toed his boot off, his foot was against Noah's knees, seemingly trying to push them apart." 🫠🫠 these things, I cannot deal with them. To be honest, I grin from ear to ear when I start reading these interactions between them, and I'm worried when more detailed scenes come, I might catch someone's attention with my facial expressions if i'm reading it in a public place lol

“You're a danger to yourself, you know that?” I am, too. I'm a very clumsy person and keep bumping against things haha

The talk that followed next broke my heart. I applaud you because you managed to make me feel Aubrey's anxiety, frustration and disappointment as she was trying to put the cards on the table and they just discarded any emotional option by just saying they want to have fun. Why, boys? Whyyyy?

Then why is Noah allowed to be such a sweet gentleman? 😒

Oh, my God, the keychains. How cute is that?! my heart exploded 😍😭

“And Miss ‘Everything Nice’ likes to have a bit of both, doesn't she?” What did you think, dude?

"All my anger about our situation, about him being the sweetest person that constantly led me to believe there could be more pouring into every single one of my movements as I buried my hands in his hair." The crashing wave is going to be big big bigggg You're doing a fantastic job building it up. I'm seriously scared and pulling at my hair. I will print out this fanfiction and make a physical book out of it when it's done, trust me.

“Kiss him,” I whispered in his ear. “Kiss him like you mean it.” Bossy Aubrey 😌 Good boy Noah 😌

"They looked divine together." Everyone's thoughts when they came on stage together for the first time, and here we are, still thinking about it. I cannot wait for the summer festivals and maybe at least one interview together? I will die.

Pure what? I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t sure if it mattered either. All I knew was that sugar, spice and everything nice were bound to wreck my heart and I would take it all. AUBREY MY BABYYYYY 😭

The story just keeps pulling me deeper and deeper and I can't get enough, and after what I just read I'm sure hearts are going to be broken (starting with mine). This chapter was PHENOMENAL and the aspects of their relationship it dealt with were so fundamental for the development of this story... *sighs deeeeeply* I would ask you to be gentle but you know what, don't be. Break my heart. I'm here for the angst.

in love with the mess - day seven

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she’s decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and… well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : smut (fingering), fluff, overthinking, drinking

length : 5.8k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @somebodyels3 @kageyasma @spikeisdaddy

a/n : I struggled with getting this chapter out but here we finally go, hope you enjoy it!! leave me a reblog or a comment if you do 🥰

•••

day seven

The day off was badly needed, for everyone. For once, pretty much everyone was actually free, with Oli only having a single phone interview and Bad Omens’ calender being completely bare of responsibilities. As soon as we got to Newcastle, the day was fair game for everyone. Unfortunately, we were all currently still stuck on the busses.

All of the crew and most of the band was either gathered downstairs or had retreated to their bunks, so when I checked the upstairs lounge at the very back of the bus, I only found Oli. He looked up from his phone when I closed the door behind me. Dressed in what looked like the most comfortable sweater known to mankind and loose sweatpants, he looked incredibly soft. He must have seen the longing in my eyes because he threw his phone further down the couch without any hesitation and opened his arms to me. Maybe it was his way of checking if we were okay. I thought we were. Well, mostly.

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