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“He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into another kiss, and she melted into him, pressing as close as she could, and still he wanted to be closer. Her fingers threading into his hair, his around her waist, moving, exploring. Calculations had no room here, probability and chances washed away to a deeper longing. His tongue traced the contour of her lips, memorizing her taste, her motion, her method. The kiss lit a million suns in between his zeroes and ones, and made him infinite. He did not want to let go. He did not want to leave--he WOULD not. It was that voice that cried this, deep inside him, growing louder and louder. It was selfish. It was damning. But he did not want to forget the taste of her, her warmth, her curves, her smell. It was selfish and it was human. And for a moment he allowed himself to be. Until finally, she slid away, coming up for air. "You, too?" she whispered, her breath hot against his lips, hopeful, her eyes blazing like suns rising for him. He pressed his forehead against hers. "On iron and stars," he promised.”

“He set his chin on her head. "I am sorry, I am so sorry," he repeated, feeling her tears dampening his uniform shoulder. "Why are YOU sorry? I was the one who wanted to sneak onto that ship. I was the one who led you into danger. I KILLED you--" He pushed her away from him. "No," he said, looking into her eyes so she would understand. "I went because I wanted to." "You went because you ALWAYS go," she argued, "and I always lead you into trouble." "Because I will follow you anywhere," he insisted. "To the ends of the galaxy, if I have to. I want to exist where you exist, and that is enough.”

“A kiss. One-point-three seconds--and gone. He touched his metal mouth even though he could not feel--neither physical touch nor emotional. Ana had never kissed him on the mouth before. One the cheek, yes, when she'd drunk too much of Wick's Cercian ale. But never on the mouth. Her words echoed through his processors like a virus. I'll always come back for you. I promise on iron and stars. It was more than a promise--it was an oath. Unbreakable. Strong like iron and steady like stars. It was said that such promises could never be broken; the Goddess would not allow it. The probability of a supernatural binding was less than one percent, but the vow stuck with him all the same. Because Ana had never promised on iron and stars before.”

“Pardons for his friends on the Dossier. FRIENDS. A few days ago, he would've scoffed at the idea, because Robb Valerio didn't have FRIENDS. Or if he did, he had a use for them. But Ana was unlike anyone he'd ever met. She was kind, but kind in a way most people called BRASH. She was reckless, she followed her heart like it was a guiding star. She was insufferable, and yet she had suffered so much and it had never defined her. Ana was different from anyone else in the entire cosmos, and a part of him wanted to be different, too.”

“But then jJax said, "Yet don't we always go looking for danger?" "And we have a Metal to save," Robb added. Talle shook her head. "Who is now a brainwashed murdering robot who wants to KILL us." "But he didn't," Ana argued, painfully aware of the wound in her stomach. If he had wanted to kill her, he could have. He knew how. She didn't tell them what Di had whispered before he plunged the blade into her, wishing to have let her burn. That was not Di. So, she kept it to herself, a secret between her and her new scars. And that means the HIVE didn't take everything. The HIVE WON'T take everything. The Iron Kingdom isn't mine--it's ours. We're the outcasts, the rebels, the refugees--" "And the royalty," said Jax. "And the royalty," she agreed. "We're part of the Iron Kingdom. We're the parts no one remembers, so they'll never see us coming. Who's with me?" Jax and Robb raised their hands without hesitation, and then Lenda, and Talle. The captain pursed her lips, blinking the stray tears out of her eyes, and then she nodded because Ana knew she just wanted to keep her safe--but now it was Ana's turn to save people. "To the ends of the universe, darling," Siege finally replied. Ana's heart swelled. She held tightly to Di's memory core, a lifeline glowing with hope in the dark. Once, she had not known who she could be without Di, and once she couldn't have fathomed the thought. But now she knew she carried Di with her, and Barger, and Wick, and Riggs--and Siege, and Talle, and Lenda and Robb and Jax, and Machivalle and Wynn, and Viera, and her late parents and lost brothers, tucked within the steady thrum of her heart. They were the sum of her parts that made her whole. She was Ananke Armorov. She was the heir to the Iron Kingdom. She was a girl born in fire and raised in the stars, and she would burn against the darkness--and drive it away.”

“We find happiness in a kaleidoscope of stories: in books, in comics, in dance, in podcasts, in film and TV shows and video games. We find happiness in cosplaying as our favorite characters, and going to meet-and-greets with our favorite celebrities, and Dimension Door-ing onto the back of an Ancient Black Dragon, and finger-gunning Magic Missiles with our murder-hobo friends in a weekly session of Dungeons and Dragons. We all deserve to be happy, and love what we love, and be unironically enthusiastic about it. There is a magic in fandom that there rarely is anywhere else—where you can raise a TV show from the dead, and un-fridge a favorite character, and write fanfic that becomes canon. It is the kind of magic that brings our far corners of the world together.”

“Once I crossed Charm Bridge, would this town even be here anymore? I wasn't sure, and with mounting certainty, every fiber of my being wanted to just get lost in this book. For a moment. For a few hours. For a night. I grabbed another onion ring, and curled Anders's jacket tighter around me. It smelled like woodsy cedar and chamomile tea and the old, loved pages of a childhood novel. It was the kind of scent I could drown in.”

“Love isn’t like the grand romantic gestures you see in the movie. It isn’t a kiss and happily ever after, no matter how much I’d like it to be. It’s late night texts and tired calls after a long day on location, and heated arguments that end in 3 a.m. Facetimes apologizing to each other. It involves a lot of missing what other couples have-normalcy.”

“And, to be honest, I thought that maybe being around you would help because you just exude happiness. You don't notice it, but you're always smiling when you're in this town. When you're talking to Junie or Ruby or Maya, or walking down the street, or eating honey taffy--- you're just... happy. I want to fell that again, too. So, so badly." I reached over and threaded my fingers through his, and squeezed his hands tightly. "If I could give it to you, I would." "It would taste sweet, I'm sure," he said, dropping his eyes to my mouth. "Like you." My stomach burned. I wanted him to kiss me again, sitting on this park bench, on such a lovely summer night. The fireflies danced around us, the wind winding through the trees, and when he set his eyes on me, I felt like the only story he wanted to read.”

“This is..." I couldn't come up with the words. "My favorite place in town," he replied, and carefully we walked over to the edge of the bell tower. The sun was slowly sinking down between the rolling hills of the Catskills, purples and blues and pinks. "I've never been up here with anyone else." My heart fluttered. "No one?" He shook his head. "But I thought you'd appreciate it." I glanced up at him as the setting sun made the harsh lines of his face softer, the blond of his hair more gold. This was a special place--- meant for a grand romantic gesture. It was a place wasted on me. I was stealing all his heroine's moments, wasn't I? It was a sobering thought.”

“Never give up on your dreams, and never let anyone tell you that what you love is inconsequential or useless or a waste of time. Because if you love it? If that OTP or children's card game or abridged series or YA book or animated series makes you happy? That is never a waste of time. Because in the end we're all just a bunch of weirdos standing in front of other weirdos, asking for their username.”

“The man was handsome, and he taught English in the same department as me--- and the second he showed up at my apartment and saw my bookshelf, he laughed. "You turn them around when guests come over, right?" he asked, motioning to the sanguine embraces and lusty women across the covers. He plucked one off the shelf--- a vintage-looking bodice ripper with Jason Baca on the cover, inches away from dragging his tongue across the woman's neck. "This Fabio's not exactly a Chuck Palahniuk." "That's not Fabio." "My mistake, they all look the same." I sighed. "Well, that's a pity." "Why?" "Because you have to leave. The door's there, if you've forgotten." He chuckled nervously. "I didn't... You're kidding." "No. I didn't judge you when you said you collected swords. You don't put them away when company comes over, do you? Besides, romance outsells every other genre--- by a lot, and it's still growing even when sales in every other genre are declining. In the US alone, romance sells about nineteen billion units a year." I plucked the paperback from his hand. "You can take that to your next fight club. Now there's the door.”

“Di glanced around to see if anyone was coming to stop this, but the Messiers stood calmly at their posts, and the people outside the mob simply looked away. As though if they did not see the violence, they would not be a part of it. But he saw them. He saw all the people who averted their eyes and walked past, and all the ones crowded into the circle, spitting and hissing at a Metal who could not defend itself.”

“It was a short walk from the bridge to the waterfall, and I heard it long before I actually saw it, a loud, roaring sound that reverberated like rolling thunder. We passed under an outcropping of rock, and then there it was on the other side. Quixotic Falls. It took my breath away. The waterfall was so tall, I had to crane my neck to see the top of it. Shimmers of a rainbow reflected in the mist and sunlight, and the air was cool and damp. It felt good in the humidity of the afternoon. I closed my eyes, and enjoyed the mist that clung to my skin, coagulating into droplets. We walked along the underside of it, and the sunlight hit the falling water like it was glimmers of glass. The tunnel between the rock face and the waterfall was smooth and rounded from thousands of years of erosion. Vines crawled across the rocks--- morning glories and four o'clocks and honeysuckles. The waterfall poured down into a small watering hole that then slowly wormed its way into a larger river down the mountain. I knew this place would feel whimsical. Surrounding the swimming hole, the bright pink heather and stark white yarrow mixed with coneflowers and black-eyed Susans.”