#lit pont

[reecewykes]

Wallpaper Bedroom in Lyon An illustration of a small, modern master bedroom with wallpaper, a light wood floor, black walls, and no fireplace.

[woolgatheringandmiscellany]

Wallpaper Lyon Bedroom - small contemporary master bedroom idea with a light wood floor, a beige floor, and wallpaper, black walls, and no fireplace

[astreiants]

You are not you without me. And everything we are, together, is what we're meant to be.

— The Air You Breathe Frances de Pontes Peebles

[takingstockofwhatmattersmost]

i admire her parted lips as they start a melody struggling to comprehend her beautiful song

my bits of vanity...vanish in the dim-lit room filled with murmurs of vowels dancing

a tongue's graceful twirl holds no meaning now as I just listen while another seeks their supper

in the night...her words spark wide-eyed wonder longing for a bridge to comprehension

i borrow whispers from gestures, touch and mold words into a tender embrace

Calista's warning lingers in the air heed this tongue, for it bears muffled echoes

i ponder the languages on the Pont d'Avignon and which story will I unravel tonight

english fills my dreams, unfamiliar no traces of those who came before

it cradles my children...shapes tomorrow demands my all in exchange for life

i see my mother’s lips move in prayer exhortant notre langue maternelle à s'éveiller

yet, my tongue falters, struggles to revive those neglected words left to wither

[theywantedplayer]

Hi! Could you write something with these prompts for Auston Matthews “I wouldn’t do that to you” and “i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name”

NSFW

Auston has been silent since you both got back from a bar that the team went to, he's been giving you the cold shoulder. You could tell he was angry at you for something but you tried to rack your brain but couldn't find a reason. You both were still in the Clothes you wore to the bar, Autson in Navy blue tux and a white undershirt, you wearing a dress the same color as Austons suit. Because you wanted to match you walked into the living room seeing Auston laying on the coach.

“You gonna talk or what?” you asked standing in the middle of the living room 

“There’s not a lot to say” Auston just shrugged, sinking deeper into the cushions, he was full on man spreading at this point.

“Clearly you want to say something, otherwise you won't be acting like a brat right now” you spat at him starting to get annoyed at his attitude

A laugh left Austons lips at your words, as he got up from the couch

“I'm acting like a brat?!” he yelled 

You were Surprised at Austen's tone of voice and how quick he seemed to get angry

“Your the brat” he spat ponting at you “ignoring me all night and chatting it up with the bartender”

You were taken back by his words, sure you talked to the bartender tonight but nothing harmful. Auston left you by yourself most of the night. What were you supposed to do?

“Auston that's not true” you tried to say 

“We both know its true, he was basically eye fucking you, I saw the whole this” He Argued 

“I wouldn't do that to you and you know it!” you yelled back

Auston walked towards you, now towering over you. You felt butterflies in your stomach at how hot he looked when he was mad, his chest heaving from yelling and his eye’s looking into your like he’s eating you alive.

“You left me alone all night Auston” you spoke just barely above a whisper looking up at him

“What's his name” he asked

“What?” you asked, trying to look away from his piercing eyes. But a hand firmly grabbed your jaw to turn you back.

“Come on Y/n don't play dumb,I know you got his name” He spoke 

You paused Debating if you should actually tell him, you talked with the guy for almost an hour Of course you got his name but Auston didn't need to know that. But no matter what you said he would have known you were lying.

“Mark…” You whispered hoping he barely heard you, but you knew he did from the way his eyes lit up.

Auston took a step forward pushing you into the island counter.

“Mark huh?” he spoke grabbing your waist quite harshly, making a soft whimper leave your lips at his Sudden roughness 

“It's been almost two hours and you still remembered his name?” He whispered in your ear

You felt your knees get weak at his tone.

“Is that gonna be a problem?” he asked

You shook your head as an answer, you bit your lip as you felt Austons hand grab at the inside of your Thigh slowly starting to move up to your core and at the same time you felt him leave open mouth kisses on your neck. You couldn't stop some moans from escaping your mouth. You held onto Austons Shoulders, nails digging into his back. As much as you companted that his teammates tease him about the scratches you leave when he takes off his shirt in the change room, you both knew he loved it.

You lightly gasped when you felt Austons hand pinch your clothed clit, squeezing your legs together in response.

“Open them legs up baby come on” he told patting your thigh, you listened  

He Continued his actions, till he could tell you were about to break.

“Auston” you drew out clearly needy 

He moved to look you in the eyes, smirking at what he saw 

“What's his name again?” he asked rubbing the bottom of your lip with his thumb

“Mark” you swallowed 

“i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name”

 was the last thing you heard before you were lifted in the cold counter, a gasp leaving your lips at the cold. Everything happened so fast Austin bunched up your dress at your waist leaving you in your black panties which were quickly thrown across the room.

Your face headed up when you looked at Auston. He was still fully clothed, which you thought was a little unfair.

“Auston please” you cried

You yelped as you felt a hard slap against your pussy you quickly closed your legs.

“What did I say?” he spat

You whimpered as you opened your legs again and Auston started to run his fingers down your slit but from time to time he pinched your clit making you whine. His other hand began to play with your tits, moving your dress out of the way and pulling it down. Auston leaned over you and began to leave hickeys over your chest.

Auston unexpectedly pushed two fingers into your pussy, you bucked your hips in response. Your back began to arch at his rough finger going at a godly speed. Your moans and the filthy sound you made as Auston pleasured you filled the room. Your back arched forward pushing your chest farther into Austons mouth, him now sucking on your nipples and his other free hand came to squeeze and play with the other one. You felt your release coming close.

“Aust-mhm gonna cum” you cried

Whining and moaning for your release, Auston moves his hand to come and latch onto your throat making you look him in the eye. Your legs began to shake so close to your release but you whined when you felt Auston pull his fingers out and leave a harsh slap against your sore pussy.

“If you thought you were gonna cum your wrong” Auston spoke

 standing in between your legs taking in the view, your swollen pussy the inside of your thighs wet with your own arousal. The way he left red marks across your chest some now Bruising into hickeys. You gasped when you felt him grab you by your waist and flip you over, A shiver going through your body when the cold tile met your tits.

“I'm just getting started”

[copperbadge]

It wouldn't be accurate to say that I took this trip with the Shivadh novels in mind -- there were a lot of motivations for it, including entirely separate parallel obsessions. But while I could have afforded the trip without the royalties, there's no denying that the first three novels are heavily subsidizing the travel, and one of my goals was to get to visit Ponte San Ludovico, which is located in reality where Askazer-Shivadlakia borders the sea in the books.

In any case it's been fun and inspirational for the books; I've been snagging ideas here and there, conceptualizing stories. I saw a couple of things in the British Museum I'd like to incorporate into the books in one way or another, and I'm sure I'll see more as I move through France and Italy. It only occurred to me just now, in fact, that when I take the train from Paris to Nice on Thursday, I'll basically be re-creating Michaelis's trip home from Paris at the start of Infinite Jes. Sadly I don't think there are any beautiful synagogues you can see from the train, but I will be touring the Grand Synagogue of Rome when I'm there a few days later, so there's that.

I'm on the Eurostar another two hours or so, and I've spent some time looking out the window at France and now Belgium rolling past, but while it's beautiful it's also very uniform, in terms of being Flat, Green, and Pretty. There's only so much beautiful greenery I can look at, so I'm alternating that with work on Royals/Ramblers. Georgie is introducing Monday to her friends, which include a bunch of recurring background characters -- makes sense Georgie would know Esta and Darien from her work in the palace, and I thought I'd bring back Ava and Ben -- Ava collects fellow lesbians so she probably pulled Georgie into her circle pretty quickly. Buck, who is a pushy asshole, also keeps showing up in stories that don't belong to him, but while he's not my favorite he is a real joy to write.

The Dychev came into view in the harbor, then, white sails brilliant against the blue of the sea, and people drifted to the railing to watch. Monday joined Georgie there, and found Buck at her elbow; when the ship finally docked, he bounced on his toes and pointed.

"There he is," he said. "Caleb! HEY CANTO!" he bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth. Monday didn't think anyone could have heard him at that distance, but after a few seconds one of the little figures swarming the boat did turn to face them, more or less, noticeable because he was wearing dark clothing amongst the others in white nautical uniforms. Monday watched, amused and a little touched, as Buck's face lit up with genuine, unadulterated, deeply uncool joy. He jumped when the phone in his pocket buzzed. 

"He says he's on his way," Buck announced. "Brilliant. I'm going to go get him some food," he added, and disappeared behind the crowd at the railing. 

"Infatuated," Georgie said drily. 

Poor Buck, you fall in love and all your cool just evaporates.

[empirearchives]

Fête pour la Paix Générale donnée à Paris le 18 Brumaire. Pont Royal & Pont et Place de la Concorde.

Artists: Francesco Piranesi, François Jean Sablet

1801-2

Source: The Met (1) (2)

Two fête prints showing the illuminations of the Tuileries bridges for the celebration of the ‘Paix Générale’ at Paris, November 9, 1801’. This was the second commemoration of Napoleon’s coup d’état of 18 Brumaire 1799.

1. This print shows a night time view from the Rive Gauche looking across the river Seine at the Pont Royal and the Louvre. The bridge and waterside have been decorated with artificial lights and fireworks light up the sky. On the river in the foreground on the left, two small boats have been depicted.

2. This print shows a night time view from the Rive Gauche looking across the river Seine along the Pont de la Concorde towards the north-east. The bridge and waterside are decorated with artificial lights. On the river in the foreground to the right, a group of small boats is depicted. The sky over the bridge is characterized by a large cumulus cloud that’s lit up by the fireworks.

[im-robins-bitch]

Paris is beautiful, but seeing Robin prance around Paris with a beret on her head and a cheesy smile on her face? Now that is a religious experience. 

Robin Buckley had a bucket list of things she wanted to do while she was in the city of love and as her dutiful girlfriend you planned on crossing off every single one while you were here.  

Taking photos of her posing bashfully next to the seine. 

Holding hands as you walk through various markets. 

Admiring the stained glass of Notre Dame and wondering if you could afford to have stained glass windows in your home or even some gargoyles.  

Feeding each other macaroons and trying to guess each flavour. 

Suggesting you put a love lock on the Pont Des Arts Bridge, but Robin spends 10 minutes explaining why it’s bad for the bridge. She also doesn’t want someone to cut off her lock and possibly jinx your relationship, but she keeps that reason to herself. 

You’ll walk around the Louvre Museum and every so often you’ll turn from a painting to ask her something and find her already looking at you adoringly. Every time she directs you to a painting she likes in particular she’ll always whisper in your ear after that it still isn’t as beautiful as you. 

After a whirlwind of sightseeing, you’ll both settle down for a picnic in one of the less busy parks, giving your feet some time to recover. Chocolate strawberries, fluffy pastries and some ice-cream helps you both recover your strength. 

Imagine Robins's face, warm from the sun, staring down at you while you rest your head in her lap, playing with her fingers while she tries to lick the melted chocolate from her lips. 

That night you’d walk around the town, seeing Paris lit up in the night. 

The day before you’d have to head home you’d go to the Eiffel Tower, kissing your girlfriend at the top like you’re in a movie. 

It was the last thing on Robin’s bucket list and the only thing that was on yours. There was one thing you wanted to do in Paris, and that was propose to your girlfriend on top of that tower. 

You’d turn around. You claim you want a proper look at the view, but really you're looking for the ring you’ve hidden in your pocket. It was a hard time smuggling that through security without Robin noticing, but it was all going to be worth it when you proposed to her in the city of her dreams. 

The speech is on the tip of your tongue as you go over the words in your head again and again. 

“Robin,” You would mumble, trying to work up the courage, but when you spin around to see her Robin is already on her knees, a velvet box held open to you with a ring between the cushions. 

“There was one more thing on my Paris bucket list”

Masterlist

[a-room-of-my-own]

Encore un déséquilibré victime d’islamophobie lors d’une *lit ses fiches* bagarre de bal sur un pont, tout ça va faire le jeu de la thundermegazord droite

[non-conventionnel]

Excerpt from the historical novel, Memories of Recurrent Echoes by Anton Sammut

…On arrival at Orly Airport, Fritz and his sister Magda hired a taxi which drove them to the City of Paris. The first Parisian landmark that caught their eye was the majestic Eiffel Tower and in the background, on a distant hill, the white Church of Montmartre. They immediately opted that their hotel could wait and asked the driver to take them around the city, though they knew that this would cost them a whole day’s budget.

The River Seine fascinated them, too, with boatloads of tourists all eager to see as much as they could. They also admired a number of bridges amongst which the flamboyant Pont Alexandre III. The driver, a friendly, balding man of about fifty, with moustaches à la Clemenceau, informed them that quite nearby there’s the famous Pont Neuf which, ironically, was the first to be built way back in 1607. With very broken English, he explained that Paris was divided into twenty Arrondissements: from the Louvre, to the last one which contained the famous Père Lachaise Cemetery. On their way to the fifteenth quarter of Montparnasse, where they were to lodge, the driver affably explained which were the most interesting quarters, particularly the seventh one that hosted the Eiffel Tower and the Hôtel des Invalides, which guards Napoleon’s tomb. The eighth one was notorious, the seat of the haute couture as well as the area of the Champs Elysées. The ninth and tenth quarters were famous for the nightlife with countless cabarets, erotic clubs and bordellos concentrated mostly in Pigalle. The eighteenth quarter could be deemed as the tourists’ paradise, the notorious Montmartre, famous for its refined bistros and for what once was the Mecca of the great artists…

…In the meantime, Fritz and Magda arrived at their three-star hotel, appositely chosen for economical reasons. Once inside, Fritz rushed to the bathroom for a well-earned shower, knowing too well that were his sister to precede him he would have to wait ages before she came out.

At about seven in the evening, the twins took the metro, their destination the Champ de Mars, in the vicinity of the Eiffel Tower; dropped in at a bistro, and enjoyed a delightful meal à la Parisienne. At about nine, the Eiffel Tower was illuminated to vie with the silvery stars seemingly multicoloured light-bulbs lit on earth. Here they strolled for another two hours, at times stopping to light a cigarette, and then they headed for Pigalle, moved on to the Moulin Rouge, booked two tickets for the cabaret show on the following Saturday, and went to another nightclub where they spent the rest of the night in lascivious abandon. Magda hooked up with a pretty tourist-girl and when Fritz saw his sister revelling in that Dionysian oasis conveniently agreed to go his way and meet her later…

…They entered the hotel at almost dawn, physically exhausted, and woke up at four the next afternoon. In the evening they toured the Montparnasse area, then headed for Montmartre and visited other locations which had once hosted celebrated cabarets full of erotic dancers, some of whom were immortalised in paintings by Toulouse-Lautrec. That evening they hit it off with a group of friendly French bon vivants including a number of girls. Fritz was not going to miss his chance and he was soon making overtures to one of them called Colette. “…Vous êtes ravissante. Je voudrais faire votre connaissance. Voulez-vous venir avec moi pour un café?” Fritz didn’t seem to understand, but he was sure that she was all set to conquer him…

[scottsbifh]

Evening view of Paris.

Photo taken from above the Left Bank (possibly/probably from the Tour Zamansky of the Sorbonne Université). The bridge that is lit up in the center of the photo is the Pont Saint-Louis, which is a pedestrian bridge linking the Île de la Cité with the Île Saint Louis. Behind you can see the Hôtel de Ville and of course, the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur in the upper right corner.

posted to FB group World Beautiful Places & City's

[swedesinstockholm]

30 juillet

en rentrant on s'est assises sur le trottoir de la admiralbrücke toujours aussi surpeuplée. on discutait des relations amoureuses et je lui ai parlé de mes envies de vie de vieux couple. elle a dit but the beginnings are the sweetest part! mais tout ce que je vois c'est qu'un couple installé ça a l'air confortable et rassurant et moi c'est ça que j'aime dans la vie. elle m'a demandé si je préfèrerais être en couple avec un mec ou une fille et j'ai dit je m'en fous, de toute façon je choisis pas, ça arrive et puis c'est tout. elle a dit qu'elle pensait que j'étais plus attirée par les filles et j'ai dit ça c'est parce que je me voilais la face. en vérité je crois que j'atteins l'équilibre parfait entre les deux 50/50 bisexuelle + tout ce qui se trouve entre les deux. elle a dit au moins ça te laisse beaucoup de choix, mais ça me laisse surtout beaucoup d'occasions de souffrir le martyre. pendant qu'on discutait de comment je pourrais rencontrer quelqu'un et que je lui disais que je resterais très probablement seule (et vierge) toute ma vie je faisais du eye contact avec un mec un peu chou assis sur un pilier de l'autre côté et je me disais ce serait pas trop drôle que je sois en train de faire du eye contact avec mon futur là sur ce pont tout en discutant de l'improbabilité que je rencontre quelqu'un ?

à part ça j'ai bien travaillé sur mon livre aujourd'hui, j'ai fait un pain de seigle magnifique et excellent beaucoup plus réussi que tous ceux que j'ai fait à la maison depuis dix ans, et ce matin en préparant mon petit-déjeuner dans la cuisine je discutais de couettes d'hiver/couettes d'été avec d. (quand il fait ni trop chaud ni trop froid il met la couette d'été sur le bas et la couette d'hiver sur le haut du corps, ou le contraire, je sais plus) et je me suis dit que j'avais de la chance d'avoir des colocs avec des sujets de conversation d'aussi bonne qualité.

2 août

il a suffi que je dise à maman que je dormais comme un bébé ici pour que je fasse la plus grosse insomnie de tous les temps battant tous les records de cauchemardesque. quand n. est rentrée avec son ami italien vers trois heures je dormais pas encore. j'ai pris mon kindle pour me distraire d'éventuels bruits de sexe et j'ai commencé the death of nature de carolyn merchant parce que je savais pas quoi lire. j'ai commencé à les entendre pendant que je lisais la timeline historique des découvertes scientifiques de la renaissance aux lumières. je trouvais ça un peu drôle aussi qu'elle finisse de nouveau au lit avec le mec avec qui j'avais le plus parlé de la soirée. mais c'est aussi celui qui parlait le mieux anglais. ou qui parlait anglais tout court. il jouait de la batterie dans un groupe de cumbia et on a parlé de garageband et de synthé et de tenir un journal. ils ont tous les deux continué la soirée dans un bar/club près de la spree et moi je suis rentrée à minuit avec les deux argentins. j'étais toute fière de leur ouvrir la porte avec ma clé et de leur montrer où étaient les serviettes dans la salle de bain. eux aussi ils jouaient dans le groupe de cumbia. ils devaient repartir jouer à copenhague le lendemain. le temps que je me remette de mes émotions les voisins du haut ont entrepris de détruire leur appartement, j'avais l'impression que personne dormait ni dans l'appart ni dans l'immeuble tout entier. j'ai vu le jour se lever, j'ai entendu les amis de n. partir, puis les enfants du haut piquer une crise monumentale qui n'en finissait pas, donc j'ai abandonné et je me suis levée.

ils m'ont changé mon banc de place, j'y crois pas. j'avais besoin du calme du cimetière, j'arrivais pas à avoir les idées claires avec le boucan au dessus de ma chambre. en chemin je pensais à ma nouvelle idée de show de cette nuit, au moins cette insomnie de l'enfer m'aura servi à quelque chose. je vais tout simplement raconter mon déménagement à berlin. ce sera une comédie musicale à une seule personne avec des chansons sur ma peur du sexe et du fun et de la fête, de l'alcool, de la drogue et des gens et de just enjoy your funemployment in berlin. hier au téléphone m. m'a dit que je devais me trouver des activités que j'aime. ça m'a fait du bien de la voir avec maman, même si j'avais envie d'y être. je leur ai demandé de me montrer la rue et la canapé mon bébé et je me suis dit et si j'arrivais jamais à vivre autre part qu'à la maison avec maman? et si cette maison était ma destinée? le seul endroit où j'ai pas envie de rentrer à la maison c'est le grau d'agde. même à new york j'avais envie d'être au grau d'agde. m. m'a dit que ça faisait pas longtemps qu'elle commençait à vraiment se sentir chez elle à bruxelles, alors que ça fait quatre ans qu'elle y est. au début elle regardait religieusement les infos aussi, vivant dans l'angoisse que son vpn atteigne la limite gratuite (je croise les doigts pour le mien qui pour le moment remplit parfaitement son job de médiateur entre moi et la france). je lui disais qu'on avait le cerveau bien lessivé quand même. mais c'est aussi une histoire de béquille. trente ans de vie commune avec maman, ça laisse des traces.

hier je les ai regardés en replay parce que j'étais chez dm pour acheter du coton et un savon en revenant de la piscine. j'avais regardé la natation aux jo la veille et comme à chaque fois que je vois des compet de natation à la télé ça me met le feu aux poudres le lendemain je me suis levée à neuf heures et je suis partie en périple à la piscine olympique des jeux de berlin de 1936 à l'autre bout de la ville (une heure de trajet). y avait deux immenses tours avec les anneaux olympiques devant le stade, c'était très impressionnant, en grande partie à cause de l'histoire nazie. j'ai du montrer ma carte d'identité et marcher trois kilomètres jusqu'à la piscine, les vestiaires le long d'un couloir lugubre et décrépi avaient l'air d'époque limite abandonnés, évidemment y avait pas de cabines individuelles et il fallait apporter son propre cadenas pour fermer son casier mais une fille m'a dit que je pouvais prendre mon sac au bord du bassin. et puis j'ai ouvert mon sac et je me suis rendu compte que j'avais oublié mon maillot qui séchait sur l'étendoir dans la salle de bain. je me suis sentie vraiment, vraiment nulle. je suis quand même allée voir la piscine puisque c'était dehors et ça va j'ai pas trop regretté, c'était farci de monde et d'enfants et ça me donnait pas trop envie. en plus les gradins historiques étaient recouverts d'échafaudages. alors pour rentabiliser mes 5,50 euros je suis allée m'assoir sur la pelouse avec la vue sur le vieux stade olympique et je regardais un corbeau en train de saccager un paquet de chips sur la serviette de gens partis se baigner. au début je le faisais fuir mais j'ai abandonné parce qu'il revenait tout le temps et peut être que je préférais le corbeau que les gens en fait. il m'a regardée droit dans les yeux avec le bec ouvert, comme pour me dire tu me fais pas peur, mais moi j'avais un peu peur de lui. dans le métro un garçon adolescent assis en face de moi avec les jambes écartées m'a regardée droit dans les yeux aussi par dessus ses lunettes de playboy de 2002. c'était un regard d'affront presque, sans gêne, masculiniste en herbe. j'avais envie de le gifler. j'en peux tellement plus de voir des mecs dégueus tous les jours. je crois que c'est ça qui me fait le plus chier ici. les hommes sans gêne.

j'ai fait le tour des lieux pour prendre des photos et j'arrêtais pas de croiser les deux mêmes agents de sécurité. j'avais peur qu'ils pensent que je fomentais un coup, j'ai toujours peur que des personnes d'autorité pensent que je suis en train de fomenter quelque chose d'illégal. un des deux a fini par me demander si j'avais besoin d'aide parce qu'il me voyait errer avec l'air confus depuis tout à l'heure (sie laufen da verwirrt hier rum) et je me suis demandé si c'était ça l'image que je renvoyais aux gens: une personne confuse. une fille confuse qui traverse la ville pour aller à la piscine et qui oublie son maillot. je me demande aussi si n. me situe quelque part sur le spectre de l'autisme. n. et j. et d. et toutes les autres personnes que j'ai rencontrées jusqu'à maintenant. un potentiel symptôme que j'ai remarqué hier matin en déjeunant avec elle dans la cuisine: j'étais tellement concentrée sur moi-même et mon périple à la piscine que je lui ai même pas demandé ce qu'elle avait prévu pour sa journée elle.

[mich-bois]

DANS LE LIT DE L’AVEN.

Pont-Aven.

[demigodsanswer]

Twice Upon a Ponte: 3/13 Pas de Deux

Pas de Duex - A dance of two

When Percy stepped into the coffee shop closest to Lincoln Center, he spotted a familiar mess of blonde curls carrying a black dance bag with the initials AEC monogrammed on the side. He smiled and listened carefully, confirming that she was still ordering. He slipped up next to her. 

“Hers is on me,” he said, handing the barista his card. He started to order his own coffee, as Annabeth tried and failed to put her own card forward. The poor barista looked confused at how to proceed, but thankfully, Annabeth gave in, accepting the free coffee. 

“You didn’t need to do that,” she said as they stepped back out into the cold New York winter, now with hot coffees to keep their hands warm. 

“What kind of prince charming would I be if I didn’t buy you a coffee every once and a while?” Percy asked as they climbed the stairs to the studios. 

“I don’t remember the ‘buying coffees’ part of the ballet. Or any fairy-tale for that matter,” Annabeth. 

“Slaying a dragon, buying a coffee, it’s all the same thing really,” he said. 

“Well, next time I see a dragon, I’ll be sure to throw a Starbucks gift card his way.”  

Percy smiled and pulled the door open, stepping aside to hold it for her. “After you,” he said. 

“Charming indeed.” 

~

Percy wasn’t quite sure where he stood with Annabeth. The two of them plus Piper were enjoying their lunch break together, small talking and complaining about sore muscles and sewing pointe shoes. He was good at making her laugh, and she was able to keep up with his wit. They worked well together, but when they left the building for the day, well, that was the end of whatever new friendship they were building. 

Percy laid on his bed, trying to decide if he should send Annabeth the link he’d found. It was a personality quiz: Which classic Barbie Movie Barbie are you? He didn’t know if she’d ever seen the comparisons of her to the animations. He didn’t even know if she’d ever played with Barbies. Annabeth was so intense sometimes she might have been the girl cutting their hair and pulling off their limbs. 

He’d spent all day dancing with her, kissing her, and looking lovingly into her eyes, and now he didn’t even have the courage to send her a text message. 

He texted Grover “ I think I forgot how to talk to women” 

His best friend had met a girl his first week of college, and now they were married and living in some sustainable cabin near Lake George. Percy had always thought of himself as the suave-er of the two, but now here they were. Percy could spend all day surrounded by beautiful men and women and not have a date in over a year, and Grover could be happily married by 25. 

Grover texted back soon after: “ have you tried ‘hey’” 

He had not. 

He went back to his texts to Annabeth. All their other messages were confirming rehearsal times or choreography. “ Hey ” he tried. 

“ Hey” she texted back less than a minute later. 

He smiled. 

~

Percy was sore all over. It was a good kind of sore, the kind he only achieved six hours into an eight hour day, the kind that reminded him with every agonizing step up subway stairs that he got to work his dream job. It was also the kind that made him long for his bed, an ice bucket, and any music that wasn’t classical. With two hours to go, he was in fantasy land, imagining his couch, a Nina Simone record spinning on his mom’s old record player, and giving Estelle ten dollars to bring him whatever he wanted for the rest of the night so he never needed to stand up. 

Outside, the sun had already set, meaning that the light of their rehearsal studio was pouring out into the city now. They were a few flights up, giving Percy a view of other buildings with their windows lit up. It would be cold when he stepped outside finally, freezing even. But in the studio, the air was hot. He was able to keep his breathing steady after so many long years of dancing, but the athletic component of dance never really let up. His skin was sweaty, and the air around him seemed to almost cling to his skin. There was a long V of sweat down the front side of Annabet’s rosy colored leotard. She’d cut her tights off at the knee, so the lower half of her legs were bare. He was sure tey both wanted to double over and take a long, deep, heaving breath. But they had fish dives to do.  

When he and Annabeth parted from their final pose at the end of the act two pas de deux, Chiron concluded rehearsal with a single, solid clap. 

Rehearsals had been going on for a month, and Percy felt he knew every step, every movement of the Prince deep in his bones. He hadn’t needed to think for a moment during the pas just then. Annabeth’s weight and balance was as familiar to him as his own. His muscles knew what to do, how to step and when. His body took over for his mind in those long minutes. And for as much as his muscles and lungs screamed for a break, they somehow found the will to carry on. His mind was empty of anything but pure joy as he danced. He felt excited to share it. 

“Good work you two,” Chiron said first before going into some notes, some missed steps, moments where one of them wasn’t square or turned out properly, little things to keep working on. Annabeth smiled wide at him as they turned to leave the studio for the day. He could tell she was just as happy as he was. It was going to be great. “Get some rest,” Chiron told him. “Dress rehearsal starts next week.” 

Dress rehearsals. They moved to the theater in a week, which meant the show went up in two weeks. Percy’s heart began to race as he realized how little time there was left with Annabeth. 

Before Percy got the chance to tell Annabeth how great she had done that day, Piper ran up between the two of them, throwing one arm over either of their shoulders.

“You guys looked so good up there!” She said. “Have you gotten to try on your costumes yet? Because I tried mine on yesterday and it is gaudy, and borderline camp, and everything I’d want in a fairy,"

Annabeth snuck her way out from under Piper’s arm. “I tried on my act one costume yesterday. It’s the big pink tutu with roses on it,” Annabeth smiled fondly. “I looked like what every little girl imagines when they think ballerina.”  

As opposed to all the other days, Percy thought, when you’re just a regular beautiful woman in a tutu.

~

Piper spotted him by the door on her way out. “You leaving Jackson?” 

Percy shook his head. “In a minute. I’m walking to the subway with Annabeth,” he said. 

“You two have prince and princess stuff to work out?” 

“No, it’s just dark. Don’t want her walking alone.” 

Piper tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Oh sure, and just let me die!” She said dramatically. 

She was about to offer to walk her as well -- no reason it needed to be just him and Annabeth -- but Jason swooped out from some dark shadow and said “I can walk you, if you’re heading out now?”  

Charming, Percy thought, as Piper graciously accepted her hand. Maybe he was developing some pathological aversion to blond men. Maybe he just didn’t like that Jason was a year younger and already more accomplished than he was. It had to be the blond thing. 

Annabeth walked up to him a few minutes later. “You ready?” She asked as if he had been the one to take extra long to change. 

“Always,” he said, holding the door open for her again. 

The station nearest Lincoln center only ran the 1 and the 2, so most dancers rode it, even if it was only for a stop or two. Percy’s train went uptown, though, to 104th street, while hers went downtown to just fourth street. This meant that they could never wait for the trains together, and always had to say goodbye just beyond the turnstiles. 

Despite the bitter cold air, and the way that New York streets became violent wind tunnels in the winter, Percy walked slowly, trying to blame his pace on their long rehearsal. Which wasn’t a lie. He couldn’t take off into a dead sprint right now if there had been a gun to his head, but still, he could have walked a little faster. But Annabeth seemed to be keeping pace. 

“What a day,” she said. “Can’t believe it’s almost over.” 

“I know,” it feels like we just started. Which, in many ways they had. The company had a set repertory, so  they usually worked in condensed timelines, learning choreography quickly, and doing only a handful of performances before it was all over. Most ballets only got two or three weeks of rehearsal, if it was something the company did often. The length and intensity of a work like Sleeping Beauty meant the company needed more time.  But despite the added weeks of rehearsal, their time together seemed to be flying by. 

“How’d you end up all the way downtown?” Percy asked as he spotted the subway entrance across the street. They waited for the crossing signal, disputing the lack of cars. Percy fought his instincts to jay walk, staying glued on the sidewalk to soak in every stray moment he got. 

The yellow of the street lights made her hair look even more golden, and the cold had turned her cheeks bright red. She turned towards him to answer his question, her gray eyes reflecting the lights. She pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to lick them to temporarily alleviate the chappedness. Percy’s lips were dry and chapped too, he knew. It didn’t stop him from wanting, more than anything, from leaning down in that moment and kissing her, forgetting his own question, and letting train after train leave the station before they even thought to move. 

They’d kissed earlier that day. Six times in fact, running the awakening scene over and over. There was no way to fake a stage kiss. He knew, technically, what it felt like to kiss her, the same way he knew, technically, what it felt like to hold her waist, to have her body pressed close to his. But that wasn’t intimacy. It wasn’t real. It was his job. His mind and own sense of professionalism didn’t let him forget it or conflate the two. He knew what it felt like to put his lips against hers, the same way he knew what it felt like to hold onto her for a lift. He didn’t know what it felt like to kiss Annabeth. He suddenly felt desperate to know. 

But she started to answer his question before he could find his courage. 

“I liked the area,” she said, “and … Luke wanted to get out of midtown.” 

“You're still in the same place, then?” Percy asked. 

“Yeah, my name was on the lease. I didn’t really see a point in moving, once he left. It’s a good space,” she said, like she had something to prove to him. “He’s never tried to come back and bother me.” 

“Would he?” Percy asked. He still didn’t know what happened between them, but despite all the fallout company-side he never assumed Luke would be the kind of man to show up at his ex’s house unannounced and unwelcomed. 

But he saw a flicker of fear in Annnabeth’s eyes under the streetlights. The walk sign clicked on and she took off into the crosswalk. 

“No,” she said, her voice wavering. “Anyway, I kicked him out. It would be pathetic for him to come back now.” She tried to smile, but Percy sensed her uncertainty. She fumbled in her wallet for her metrocard. He knew that false confidence that barely hid fear more than most did. 

Percy took her hands in his, stopping them where they walked for a moment. She looked up at him, gray eyes wide. They’d never really touched outside of rehearsal. It seemed silly, Percy thought, to be so nervous about some hand-holding when they’d kissed six times today for rehearsal. But this was different, he knew it. He could feel it. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice gentle. He knew what it was like to live with a cruel man, the embarrassment and shame of it, even after he was gone. In the years since Gabe died, he hadn’t heard his mother mention his name even once. But Gabe was ashes now; Luke wasn't. “It’s okay.” 

“He’s in Portland,” she said, as if she was reminding herself more than telling him. 

“And if he does show up again --” he stated. 

Annabeth smiled and started down the stairs. “Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it, Twinkle Toes?” 

“Oh big words from Ballerina Barbie,” Percy said. 

Annabeth scoffed. “If I had a nickel for every time I heard that one, I could get Mattel to craft a Barbie in my own image.” 

“Pretty sure they already do,” he said. It was meant to be jab, an insult. Instead, he’s pretty sure he just called her beautiful. 

They went through the turnstiles, and were about to part ways when Percy found a little bit of courage. “Well, if you ever get tired of being alone and want a good home-cooked meal, my door is always open.” 

“You cook?” She asked. 

“A little, but really it’s my mom --” 

“You live with your mom?” She asked suddenly. He couldn’t tell if there was judgment in her words. Most people usually did judge him, and he’d gotten used to rattling off defenses. 

Percy blushed. “Not in a weird Greek tragedy way,” he said, before realizing that made it worse. “Yes, I do. I help pay for my sister’s school tuition in exchange,” he said. “Plus my mom makes the best chocolate chip cookies in the entire world, so …”

“Text me the details,” Annabeth said. “I’d love to join you guys.” 

“I’ll save you some cookies,” Percy said. 

“Alright, but remember, you’re the one who has to lift me.” 

Percy was about to say something clever when the downtown train rolled in. “Shit!” Annabeth said taking off towards the train without so much as a goodbye. 

Percy smiled. He’d just text her instead. 

~

“So for your date tonight –“ his mom started.

“It’s not a date,” Percy protested. “It’s just Annabeth.”

“She’s coming all the way from downtown to meet you.”

“Well, yeah.”

“She’s staying for dinner.”

“Yeah.”

“You two are dancing together.”

“Mom!”

She held up her hands in surrender, before she asked him to pass him some spices.

“Seriously, though,” he said, “it’s not a date. If I had asked her out, our first date wouldn’t be in our apartment with you, Paul, and Stella around.” He stood at the counter, his back to her as he chopped the vegetables. “Besides, I don’t think she wants to be dating.”

“Well, I’ll still try not to embarrass you just in case,” she said.

“You know, it’d be great if you tried not to embarrass me at all ever,” he said.

She walked over and ruffled his hair. “I gave birth to you; I can embarrass you when and how I want. That’s the arrangement.”

“To be clear,” Percy said, “I did not ask to be born.”

~

Annabeth arrived half an hour before dinner started, and when Percy opened the door he watched her try to carefully stamp down a nervous expression. It was the Sunday before dress rehearsal, but he figured that wasn’t what was eating her. 

“Hey!” He said, ushering her inside. “Glad you made it. Dinner should be ready soon.” 

“Can I do anything to help?” She asked as Percy took her coat. 

“No, my mom’s got a handle on it.” 

She reached into her tote bag and pulled out a bottle of wine with a bow tied around it. “For you,” she said. “I um …” she stammered, “I didn’t know what else to bring.” 

Percy took it graciously. He didn’t drink much at all, and never this close to shows. But his parents would probably enjoy it. “Thanks!” He said, trying to hide his excitement that Annabeth Chase was in his house. “Can I introduce you?” He asked, gesturing down the hallway towards the living room and kitchen. 

He saw her try to hide a nervous swallow behind a taut smile. “Yeah, of course.” 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

“Oh, I just haven’t met parents in a while. And they tend not to like me,” she said, wiping her palms on her jeans. 

“Who wouldn’t like you?” Percy asked, trying to pack his words with sincerity. 

“Ha, I think if it were up to Luke’s father, I’d be laboring in a penal colony right about now,” she said. 

Percy had a hard time imagining any of had gone down with her and Luke was Annabeth’s fault in the end. Luke had always seemed rude and unkind to him -- charming when he needed to be, but in that obvious facade kind of way. 

“Apple doesn’t fall far, then, does it?” 

“Don’t get me started,” Annabeth said, her tone joking, but her eyes a serious shade of dark gray. 

“Well, lucky for you, my parents are great,” he said, starting them down the hall. 

“It smells like they cook great,” she said. 

“It’s the day before dress rehearsal. My mom’s gotta make sure we’re fed,” he said. 

~

The introductions had gone just about as well as they could have. Annabeth graciously offered to help, but Sally politely shooed her away, insisting she had it under control. Percy had texted a warning to Annabeth about Estelle a few days ago. 

PERCY : She’s ten & a dancer. She’s desperate to go on pointe Expect a lot of fangirling and questions.  

ANNABETH: she sounds sweet <3 

Annabeth happily joined Percy and Stella, where she kindly took the time to explain when a girl could go on pointe, and what it felt like to dance in pointe shoes. She even answered all of Stella’s follow up questions about how long it took to learn certain steps, or how she broke in her shoes now. These were the burning questions Percy had either never been able to answer himself, or that, when he did answer, Stella didn’t believe simply because he’d never worn pointe shoes himself. 

Estelle rattled off details of her own training, offering Annabeth anecdotes about what kinds of pre-pointe training they were doing, and what her dance teacher was telling her about her development. Annabeth smiled, really listening to the girl, and offering input when she had it. 

Soon enough, food started arriving at the table. Percy jumped up to help, while gesturing to Annabeth to stay seated. “You’re the guest,” he said. 

They piled plates with lasagna and vegetables, and Annabet shot Percy a glance that read: remember, you have to lift me tomorrow. He tried to communicate back, I’m pretty strong, I can handle it. 

“So, Annabeth,” Sally asked. “Where are you from?” 

She hesitated. “The whole Chase family is from Boston. Most of my cousins are up there, but I was born in Virginia. I moved to New York for SAB at 14, though, and I’ve been here ever since. And my dad and his family now live out in San Francisco. So, all over the place, really.” 

“Over ten years in the city, I think we can call you a New Yorker at this point,” Paul said. 

“Eh,” Percy teased. “Still sounds a bit southern to me.” 

“Only when I’m angry,” Annabeth fought back. 

“I hope you’re not angry at Percy too often,” Sally said. 

Percy shrugged as if to say I’ve always earned it. Admittedly, he’d never actually been on the receiving end of Annabeth’s rage. He’d seen it sometimes, most recently frustration at Leo, the young dancer who’d been put into the Rose Adagio. “Pay attention!” She’d snapped, a slight Virginia accent on her vowels, after another disaster of a run through. Mr. D, the ballet master for that rehearsal simply said, “She’s right. Do it again.” 

Any fights between him and her had been little more than playful bickering, far away from rehearsal space. There, they were good at working together. Even in bickering fights, though, he sometimes caught the tail end of something not-very-Yankee in her speech. 

“At Percy? Never,” she said. 

Sally smiled at Percy. He could read her face loud and clear: Not a date? 

“They took you into the company pretty young, didn’t they?” Sally said, turning back to Annabeth. 

She nodded. “I was sixteen.”

“One of the youngest in the company,” Percy boasted for her. 

Annabeth nodded. 

“Was that hard?” Paul asked. “I teach high schoolers, and I couldn’t imagine any of them being professional anythings right about now.” 

“Yeah, it was … grueling. I was pretty mature at that point. I’d been living away from home for two years already, but balancing company life with trying to finish high school …” she trailed off. “I’m glad most dancers are taken into the company later. I guess everything worked out for me, but it wasn’t easy.” 

“Have you ever fallen down?” Estelle blurted. Percy shot Annabeth a sympathetic glance, silently apologizing for his family’s prodding. 

Annabeth just smiled. “On stage? Oh yeah.” Estelle just stared at her, waiting for her to tell the stories. “I’ve fallen a few times, I collided with a dancer once, I once tripped my way off stage. I was even dropped once.” 

“Did Percy drop you?” Estelle asked. 

“No,” Annabeth said. 

“She specifically told me not to,” Percy said. 

“You need to be told not to drop people?” Estelle asked, an obvious dig. He loved his sister, but she was not immune to middle school girl meanness. Percy made an immature face right back at her, and she stuck out her tongue mocking him. When he looked back up, Annabeth was smiling behind her hand at him. 

“I was dropped at the end of Romeo and Juliet,” she said. 

Percy remembered the story. It was one of his first big ballets in the corps, no longer an apprentice. Annabeth was twenty and a newly minted soloist, also in her first big role since promotion. Although where Percy was an unnamed party guest, she was thee Juliet. Beckendorf was her Romeo, and they had been doing a fantastic job. They were a few ballets in of the run at that point, and the one night: 

“It was at the end, and Romeo has just found Juliet’s dead body,” Annabet explained. “He’s supposed to lift me and carry me down a few stairs, then dance with my lifeless body.” Estelle was listening closely, far more interested in Romeo and Juliet than Paul had ever gotten her to be. “And all of the sudden, I was falling down the stairs. But I was supposed to be dead, so I couldn’t open my eyes to see what had happened. But the music was still playing, so I just laid there and waited. Soon enough, I was being lifted and the dance started.” 

 Beck had slipped going down the stairs and sent both of them to the floor. Somehow, neither of them got seriously hurt in the process, and the dance was able to go on. 

“But after that, Romeo and Juliet don’t leave the stage at all,” Annabeth said. “So we were just stuck on stage, not sure if we were going to be yelled at or fired, for twenty minutes. I still didn’t even really know what had happened.” 

“Did you get fired?” Estelle asked. 

“No,” Annabeth said, laughing a little, “Chiron loved it. He just said ‘I like it, keep it in.’ I guess from the audience it just looked like Romeo was so full of grief he couldn’t stand it.” She paused. “One of the ballet masters explained that he couldn’t just have dancers dropped every night. Someone would get hurt. So we never did it again.” 

Only Annabeth and Beckendorf could fall so gracefully Chiron would consider changing the choreography, Percy thought. He hoped some of her grace might finally rub off on him. 

Estelle took in the details of the story, before turning to Percy. “So how many times have you fallen?” She asked. Percy knew the answer was three, he remembered every one and thought about them all in the small hours of the morning when he was reliving his greatest mortifications. 

“Well, I’ve fallen so much I’ve lost count,” he told her. 

“Yeah, you would,” she said. 

“Give your brother a little more credit,” Annabeth said. “He’s one of the best.” 

“Then City Ballet must be in really bad shape,” she said. 

~

“Could you make my hair look like yours?” Estelle asked as dessert wrapped up. 

Annabeth touched her blonde curls, before looking at Estelle’s straight black hair. “Like mine?” 

“The twist you do! I’ve seen rehearsal pictures. My mom only knows how to do the bun.” 

Annabeth looked a little relieved and smiled. “Sure, we’ll need some bobby pins and a hair brush,” she said. 

Estelle bolted from the table, and Annabeth took that as her cue to follow. A moment later, Percy heard them in the bathroom, calling his name. 

“You ask him, he’ll do what you tell him,” he heard Estelle say to Annabeth, trying and failing to keep her voice low. 

“Could you help us with something?” Annabeth asked. 

Estelle was right though, and he stood from the table. “Not sure how I could help with a hair problem.” 

A moment later, he was standing behind his sister, holding a hand mirror, so she could see the  back of her head as Annabeth worked. Annabeth walked her through how she twisted her hair, gathering it at the nape of her neck, before looping it around two of her fingers, and simply twisting up. 

“Alright,” Annabeth said, dropping the hair. “You try.” 

It took her a few tries to really get a hang of the movements, and Annabeth offered feedback where she could -- “Pull tighter,” “twist slower.” 

Soon enough though, Stella had a pretty good twist. “That looks great!” Annabeth said. She tucked the loose ends of Stella’s hair into the twist, before she started to pin it. “Pin it until you’re pretty sure it’s not going anywhere.” 

“It’s just pins?” Stella asked. 

Annabeth nodded. “That’s why I like it. It’s classic, elegant. But super easy. Next time I’m here, I’ll show you how we do the Balanchine buns for performances.” 

“You have special buns?” She asked. Annabeth made an mmhum noise as she hair sprayed their hard work in place. “Percy never tells me anything.” 

~

After a cumulative few hours of charming Sally and entertaining Estelle with ballet stories,  Estelle was finally sent to her room (with a fair few complaints about it), and Sally and Paul retired as well. 

“It was so lovely to meet you Annabeth,” Sally said. “Come over whenever you want, and make sure Percy sends you home with some leftovers.” 

She and Percy sat down on the couch, finally alone. “I’ll head out soon,” she said, “I wouldn’t want to keep you up for too long.” 

Percy looked at the TV clock. It was only nine. Estelle had been sent to her room conspicuously to give Percy some time with Annabeth alone, and his parents had done the same. He could hear Estelle loudly watching YouTube videos on her iPad in protest. “Hang out as long as you want,” he said. 

“Your little sister is --” 

-- a bit much?” Percy said. 

“She’s sweet. I never get to tell old ballet stories, it was nice.” Annabeth broke off a part of a blue cookie. “Can I ask about the color?”

“Old inside joke with my mom. The stepdad before Paul told my mom there weren’t any blue foods. We decided to prove him wrong whenever we could,” he explained. It was a little act of rebellion for the two of them, something Gabe pretended to not care about or even notice, but those blue cookies and bags of blue candies, for a while, meant everything to Percy. 

“And we like Paul?” She asked. 

“Oh Paul is the best. That dorky dad thing he’s got going on isn’t just an act to charm dinner guests,” Percy said, biting into his own cookie. “He and my mom got married when I was fourteen, right before I started at the school. He paid for most of it. Huge improvement from Gabe who said he wouldn’t pay for any ‘fairy boy bullshit.’” 

Annabeth frowned, her brows knit together. “That was the other stepdad? The no-blue-foods one?”

“Yeah,” Percy said. He didn’t want to think about Gabe too much, but he opened the door himself. “He’s gone now. He died. We used his life insurance to get a better place, and it covered my lessons at a better dance studio than the local YMCA.” 

“How old were you?” Annabeth asked. “When he …” 

“Thirteen, about,” Percy said. “I’d been dancing for less than a year at that point.” 

“I always forget how old you were when you started,” Annabeth said. Percy just shrugged. 

“What about you, are you close with your family?” He asked. He didn’t need her to recount her career. She’d covered enough of it tonight, and what little she hadn’t shared, Percy knew already. 

She laughed at his question. “No, my stepmom was thrilled to pay for my ballet classes because the more I danced, the less time I spent in her house. They couldn’t wait to ship me off to New York at fourteen, and I was happy to go.” She paused. “They moved to San Francisco when I was sixteen. Just sent me an email one day about moving, asking if there was anything I wanted them to ship to me. Told me I had a week before they were out of the house.” She laughed coldly. “I was so spiteful at sixteen I told them that whatever I hadn’t taken with me to New York I didn’t want.” 

“That sucks,” Percy said. Annabeth just shrugged. “Did you have anyone to help you?” 

“Oh yeah, I mean --” she cut herself off. “I … Chiron was understanding. And I had the company girls.” 

Percy doubted that she had the company girls. He remembered that for years girls and women in the company hated Annabeth and her success. Jealousy wasn’t uncommon in companies.

“Well that’s good,” Percy said noncommittally. 

“Yeah, and before long, I mean, Luke was a friend for a little while,” she didn't look at him. “I know it didn’t work out, but he was really important to me for a long time.” 

Percy nodded. His dyslexia wouldn’t let him do the easy math in his head, so he chose to just trust her that he was nothing but a friend until she was older. They were coworkers, after all. 

Annabeth cleared her throat, trying to change the subject quickly. “So how’d you end up doing dance at 12?” She asked. 

“I was kicked out of basketball,” Percy said. “I was a troubled, angry kid a lot of the time.” He didn’t tell her that he’d punched a kid who was bullying his friend Tyson for having down syndrome. His coach had just looked at him, exhausted, and said Just go home Percy, just go home. 

“I needed something to do in the afternoons. Had to avoid my stepdad as long as possible. And dance had a spot.” 

He smiled at the memory of his first few classes as he told her.  “I didn’t have shoes when I started, and it was a week before my mom got paid. The teacher found a spare pair of shoes for me. They were a size too big and pink, but I wore them until they didn’t fit anymore. My mom had to sew up where my big toe had broken through. My teacher was great. She really saw something in me that no one else did. She pushed me to get into a better training program, and helped me get scholarships for it.” 

Really, Percy wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without Miss Hestia. She got through to him, finally offering the encouragement no coach or teacher ever had before. Dance was something he’d never experienced before. When he actually started paying attention and trying his best, he found it quieted all the noise in his head. His ADHD energy was refocused on learning combinations, his anxieties about his home life melted away. For an hour every few days, there was nothing else but dance.  Even at home, he could hide in his room, slip on his shoes, use his dresser as a barre, and play music in his head. 

“Dance kept me out of a lot of trouble. When I got to ballet class, it was this quiet room with piano music, and no one was talking to each other. We all just plie’d in peace, and it was just so nice. I realized that if I put a lot into ballet, I’d get a lot out of it. So, I started to practice every night, and after six months, my teacher told my mom that I had to be in a better program if I wanted to be a better dancer, because she really believed that I could go the distance.”

He still spoke to Miss Hestia, and got her tickets to every ballet he was in. She was there every time. 

Annabeth nodded. “I know how you feel. I mean, not exactly. I know I had a lot of help. A lot of money really. But, even just those nine months away from the company were agony.” 

“Why’d you leave then?” Percy asked. He always assumed she just needed a break. 

“Avoiding the fallout,” she said simply. “Mostly recovering from the breakup and injury.” Percy nodded, still not really clear on what she meant, but not wanting to push it any further. “But I actually spent the last few months back in Virginia at the youth company I grew up in. I did some choreography, led some classes, and kept up with my own training. It was nice to get out of the city for a while.”

“Can’t stay away from dance for too long,” Percy said. 

“No, I hardly know how to take a break. If I’m lucky I sneak away one weekend every summer for a trip to the beach.” 

“Long Island?” Percy asked. 

“Jersey Shore,” she said back. 

“Ew.” 

“It’s nice!” 

“It’s New Jersey!” She rolled his eyes at his indignation. “This summer, I’ll take you to Montauk beach.”

“Well, then I’ll take you to the Jersey Shore,” she said. 

“Deal,” he held out his hand. They shook on it. 

~

They stayed up talking and enjoying a few too many cookies for another hour. When Annabeth caught a flash of the time, 10:15p.m., She gasped.

“I had no idea how late it was getting,” she said, standing up. “I should head home and let you get some rest.”

“Do you want me to come with you on the subway?” Percy offered. “It’s getting late and you’ve got a long train ride.”

Annabeth shook her head and smiled. “Charming as always. I’ll just call an Uber,” she said, taking out her phone.

Percy nodded, picking up the tray of cookies. “Sounds good. I’m sending you home with at least half of these, though, or else my mom will kill me.”

Annabeth smiled. “If I don’t fit into my costume, I’m telling Silena that it’s your fault.”

Percy placed a few cookies in a zip-lock bag and handed it to her. “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he said. “Drop a few of these off at the costume shop, and she's guaranteed to forgive you.” 

She zipped up her coat and forced her hat onto her head. Before she could say goodbye, Percy slipped on his jacket and shoes. “Let me walk you out,” he said.

~

They stood on the curb waiting for her car as snow started to fall. Percy looked up at the sky and smiled, watching the flurries fall in the light of the streetlamps. It was starting to stick to the cars, and by the morning the city would be covered in a pure white blanket, pristine and new. 

“Thank you, again, Percy, for such a great night,” she said.

“Anytime, seriously. My door is always open.” He was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing and how beautiful he thought she was. There were times where he thought his crush on her was maybe just the result of admiration for her dancing. He thought that, maybe if he got to know her, he wouldn’t like her as much outside of the studio. But not after tonight. They were friends. He was sure of it.  

Her Uber pulled up. “Annabeth?” the driver asked. Annabeth double checked the license plate number before confirming. She turned back to Percy to say a final goodbye.

That would have been the perfect moment to kiss her, as she stood under the snow, looking up at him, the yellow light of the streetlamp bouncing off her blonde hair. rehearsal kisses didn’t count. This would be an “I like you” kiss, a “let me take you out to dinner” kiss, it could be a wonderful, earth-shattering, life changing kiss.

But that kiss would ruin everything. Instead, he tried to memorize the way her eyes looked, and the way snow stuck to her eyelashes, and the way she waved goodbye to him from the window of her Uber. 

[marcmarcmomarc]

Miraculous

This is something I’ve been writing since December 2018 when “Chameleon” aired. It went through several drafts, and the first eight chapters have been on my Instagram since October 2020.

Chapter 1: Dilemma

(Now, our view lowers from the star-filled night sky down the brightly lit Eiffel Tower. This is the world of “Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir”. Civilians mill the city. Couples purchase ice cream at the stout ice cream vendor, Andre’s stand on the Pont Des Arts.)

ANDRÉ: (SINGING) My name is André, André, glacier, the sweetheart matchmaker

ZAG Entertainment presents

(More civilians crowd the Louvre. Customers crowd the exquisite restaurant at Le Grand Paris. A line stands before the front desk at the Boulangerie Patisserie. The owners, Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng, attend to the customers. Our view takes us further in. On the third floor, Marinette Dupain-Cheng works on a design.)

(Her ladybug-like kwami, Tikki, watches her. Taking her eyes off her sewing machine, Marinette looks at us.)

MARINETTE: Oh, hello. I didn’t see you there. I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, former student at Françoise Dupont. These earrings? They’re my Miraculous. The Ladybug Miraculous, to be exact.

TIKKI: Ahem!

(Tikki sits, arms crossed, and one brow furrowed.)

MARINETTE: Oh. Her? She’s my kwami, Tikki. Attached to the earrings. She's the reason become Ladybug.

(Now, a glimpse shows Marinette transformed into Ladybug, swinging with her yo-yo across the city.)

MARINETTE (V.O.): She’s a super-heroine with probably the most powers of any Miraculous.

(Back in her room…)

MARINETTE: I’m sure you all know my current friends, who are starting to hate me, all because of Lila Rossi!

(Lila laughs in a flashback.)

MARINETTE: Her lies are turning everyone I know and love to her side and off of mine! And I’ve been expelled from school because of her! (WHISPERS) And I have an plan on how to get out of here.

———————————————————————————-

Trivia

Originally, Marinette was going to be ogling her Adrien screensaver before noticing us. I cut it because Marinette wouldn’t start the story liking Adrien for not standing up for her against Mr. Damocles.

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Vivid Memories

Book: The Royal Romance/Heir Pairing: Liam Rys x MC (Jade) Rating: T Word count: 1198 Reading time: ~5min Summary: Liam and Jade go out to dance and the night will bring back a fond memory to him. Based on the prompt: @kingliamappreciationweek day five: Friendships/Relationships/AU

Author’s note:

Jade Bourbon is a creation of this author. The others characters are owned by Pixelberry Studios;

The dates and places mentioned in this fic are part of a timeline I came up with to guide myself as I write Liam and Jade's story. Please do not assume this is canon.

Once again, thank you @lizzybeth1986 and @sazanes for hosting King Liam Appreciation Week ❤

Paris, July 2018

City lights illuminated the royal motorcade as Liam gazed out the window and toyed with Jade's wedding band while holding her hand. The last time he was here, he kept wondering if he would come back with her again to have another late night stroll. He wondered if he'd ever be as in love as he was then and if things didn't work out, he'd be happy to back. Every stone in the streets, every tree, every bush, every lock attached to the Pont Des Arts railing, even the waters of the Seine were their witnesses. Every part of city knew how he felt that night. Paris would never be the same to him again.

Fortunately, Paris would know now how much their love had grown and how happy they were to spend the last days of their honeymoon.

"We're here!" Jade cheered as the car rolled to a stop in front of a crowded nightclub.

Liam's forehead creased as he glanced outside. "Is this place, Lucas?"

"Yes, sir," the driver replied.

"Of course it is! There are several pictures of The Weeknd when he was was here yesterday!"

"I don't follow..." The king's brows furrowed in confusion. "How is the weekend a person?"

"It's an artistic name, honey. He's an R&B and Soul singer."

"Oh... Is he good?"

"He is. But do you mind waiting until later for us to expand your knowledge on 2010's music? We're here for a very specific reason."

"As you wish, my love."

With a small signal to his guards, the car door opened and Liam climbed out, extending his hand to Jade so she could do the same. Before the paparazzi could recognize the couple, the King's guard ushered them into the nightclub.

A strange scent reached his nose as he found himself in a dimly lit hallway. Smoke, magenta lights, loud EDM music, murmurs and moans in delight as strangers eagerly explored one another's bodies in darker corners surrounded him. Once in a while, Liam made an effort to join his friends in celebrations at nightclubs and dive bars, but he couldn't say he was very fond of places like this.

Just then, Jade smiled at him, pulling him by the hand. She probably didn't know, but that small gesture meant so much to him.

New York, September 2017

When the cab pulled to a stop before the Kismet, Jade thanked the driver and paid for the ride. Liam's brows furrowed. Perhaps he should've paid the cab. It was the least he could've done after she went through all the trouble of arranging a boat ride to the Statue of Liberty in the middle of the night. Yet, all her actions were so fast paced he could barely keep up. Did all New Yorkers seem to be constantly in a hurry or was it just the ones he had crossed paths with?

Before he knew, they were standing on the sidewalk to walk back into the nightclub. It was a pity they had to return. She was right about that place being the most exclusive nightclub, given the long line still formed outside. But a noisy and crowded nightclub was the last place he wanted to be.

For a moment, he wished he hadn't answered his phone when Drake called to ask where he was. He wished he could've taken Maxwell's suggestion to meet them later at the hotel. Why didn't he seize the opportunity and suggested taking a walk around the city with her? He could've seen the city through her eyes, maybe he could've taken her back home. He just met this enigmatic woman and it was no exaggeration to say he'd gladly spent the rest of the trip getting to know her.

A soft and warm hand then reached for his, bringing him back to reality. As their eyes met, she smiled softly. "Come on! I'm in the mood to dance now."

Was she this excited earlier? Perhaps she was, but he didn't notice it while he watched his friends go straight to the dancefloor to be sure they were having fun.

While Jade guided him back inside, he was surprised they didn't bump into anyone on the way, given how dark the entryway was. As the music grew louder, pink lights reflected on her hair and leather jacket. To follow her, even in a dark hallway, was exhilarating. Somehow, he had this feeling that something good was waiting waiting around the corner.

When they finally reached the dancefloor, the music changed to a pop song not entirely unfamiliar to him.

"Oh, I love this song!" Jade beamed at him and immediately pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck as she sang along.

In any other situation, he would've found a way to politely keep a respectful distance between them. After all, they barely knew each other. Yet, he just didn't. Ever since they kissed on the boat, he yearned to be closer to her, to know the smell of her hair, to figure out the base notes of her perfume, to feel how soft her lips were when they get swollen after searing kisses.

His body moved along with hers, following the upbeat rhythm of the song. As he placed a hand on her waist, she turned away, pressed her back against his chest and kept dancing. Anything similar to this in Cordonia could've cause a huge scandal. But here, it didn't matter if she took the lead, if their steps weren't perfectly choreographed, if she was way too close than his security detail would allow any stranger to be. He was free to do as he pleased. And right now, nothing was more pleasant than this.

As his hand slowly roamed across her stomach to keep her closer, a part of him still wondered if he wasn't taking advantage of the situation. The last thing he wanted was to disrespect her limits.

"Is this okay?" He murmured in her ear.

Smiling, she looked back at him, placed her hand over his, intertwining their fingers.

"It's more than okay."

With that, his shoulders relaxed. Somehow, following his own whims had brought him more joy than any other moment he followed his friends suggestions. Perhaps, it wouldn't be so bad to be a little reckless for one night.

Paris, July 2018

The dark and crowded hallway, once again, was no match to Jade's eagerness to dance. A mix of joy and pride rose inside his chest. To see his wife happy was always a pleasure, but to know he made her happy was something else entirely.

As soon as they stepped into the dancefloor, the song changed to Into You. Her smile grew wider.

"Oh, this song!"

"The song of our very first dance at Kismet," he added.

Jade's eyes softened as she looked back at him and pulled him into a tight hug. "You remembered..."

"I do. Quite vividly, I must say," he murmured.

"Mmmm... How vividly are we talking about?" She asked with a mischievous smile.

His arms encircled her waist as they started to dance. "Enough to cause a scandal," he whispered. "Perhaps this is something we can discuss further at our hotel suite?"

"I'll hold you to that, my king."