#this is our only place to be in the city at all

[peachesofteal]

Ghoap x female reader / 18+

Everything was fine.

Your phone was quiet, but that didn’t mean anything. You would wait. You’ve waited before.

Sometimes it took a while for them to ring. They had a life together, a home, things to take care of. They had lives to rebuild every time they touched down, got home, got out of their work clothes. Pieces to patch, blood to wash clean.

You weren’t their girlfriend. They aren’t beholden to you, there’s no sacred vow tethering the three of you, no promises or pledges. You don’t know Johnny’s middle name, or Simon’s, anything about their families, their private lives. You barely knew about their jobs, only holding the scraps tossed to questions lobbed back and forth across pillows. They leave little marks across your mind, little spots of scars, knowledge scratched into your skin, sunk into your body, but never too much.

You weren’t a part of their life, really.

You were a part of the dark hours. The soft ones. You were in the orange rays of sunlight cresting over the city, and the emerald abyss of pitch black night. You were the flickering yellow street light, the grey blue smoke of Simon’s cigarette. The in between. Here in the moment, gone with morning.

For months, you had spent their time home pressed between them, folded beneath them, balanced above them. They made you sing. Made you scream, made you cry.

But most of all, they made sure-

you understood the status quo.

“Say it.” Simon cradled your jaw, thumb and finger full of steel, like he was oblivious to Johnny beneath you, his cock sliding in and out of your body, his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, your back to his chest, eyes wide and mouth agape, Simon did not flinch.

“I- I’m not-“ a gasp, a groan, words bitten off when Johnny strokes faster, curved deep against the spot that makes you see stars. Sweat builds across your skin, slicking down your spine, and Johnny chases it, tongue sweeping salt clean. You swallow to try again. “I’m not- not yours.”

“Not ours.” Simon’s fingers wrapped around the engorged length of his cock, stroking leisurely, eyes half lidded. “You’re not ours, sweet girl. But we’ll take care of you, when you’re here.”

So, you fell into it. Fell into them. Got comfortable waiting for the phone to ring, going weeks or months at a time- holding your breath. You got into a rhythm, syncopated behind the swell of their voices, their bodies, their souls. Along for the ride. A passenger.

It was fine. You weren’t looking for anything serious anyway. Maybe someone to hang out with here and there, grab a drink, have some fun. All of these things, they gave you. All of these things were provided. Granted, you only went out with them to a dive around the corner, a dark, bottomless place with tar licked floors and worn away wooden bar. The kind with dusty stained glass pendants swinging over pool tables that have seen better days, wrought iron back patio furniture that squeaked when Simon would pull you onto his lap and hook the hem of your panties to the side to stare at your pussy, hungry and desperate glint in his gaze under the silver glow of moonlight. He’d flip up your dress and stroke you with the back of his knuckles, just the down the seam, cooing, telling you how lovely you look, asking how much you missed them.

They never took you out for meals, or dates, or anything like that. They kept you in bed, buried beneath them, wrung out, drained dry. They took and took and took until you had nothing left to give. They’d feed you, make you come, fill you up and put you to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

And it was all… fine.

Even tonight was fine. Johnny had emailed, said they were back in service range and they’d be around soon, if you weren’t busy. Typically, a phone call came later. Late, in small hours, when half the city slept.

So when you fell asleep to nothing, you weren’t surprised. They’d catch up with you.

They always did.

You didn’t hear from them the next day. You forced it away easily, didn’t let the unease nag at you, pasted a smile on your face for your friends when you agreed to meet them for dinner.

No strings. You’re not their girlfriend, you’re not theirs. You’re cool. It’s cool. You’re fine.

Besides, your friend had gotten a reservation at a very nice restaurant in one of those shiny new hotels that just went up.

You shoved the boys from your mind.

You were the cool girl. You were unaffected.

You’re fine.

“So how’s work?”

“Oh, it’s fine. You know, same shit different day.” You roll your eyes, touch light on the thin stem of a wine glass. The red is a shade darker than your nails, and your lips, and it tastes like sweet cherries soaked in acid. Stringent. Sweet. You’re about to reciprocate the question when the bulk of a man catches your eye, handsome width of a shoulder you’d know from a mile away.

Interest in your friend’s conversation evaporates, and your tongue turns tarnished, sticking in the back of your throat like an overgrown thorn.

It’s Simon. Your heart pounds, and you drink in the sight greedily, elated to see him outside of their flat, or in the bar. Thrilled to get a glimpse of him in the real world, in a restaurant, a real, tangible place, in a real, tangible moment.

“I’ll… be right back.” You manage, slipping from the both to the wall, openly gaping across a room full of diners. As he moves, you mirror it, coming closer and closer to a hallway, a lead off down to the bathrooms.

“Simon.” His name slips from your lips without permission, a build up of excitement and anxiety, all twisted into one heap that darts out in front of your intentions, your resolve. Not cool.

You expect him to be surprised, certainly. You expect to see that small spark, the little fire burning behind his irises, expect him sweep the length of your body.

You don’t expect the surprise to be blanketed with the white fog of indifference. The grey slab of a stone wall.

It confuses you. Startles you. And when you take a step-

Johnny turns the corner, an arm slung around the waist of a pretty, thin, blonde.

His lips part, brows knitting together in slow motion. The girl, their date, it seems, is oblivious. She only bats her eyelashes at Simon and then gazes up at Johnny, sweet and hopeful.

You turn cold. Your fingers go frigid, ice cracking through your veins and attacking your heart, slowing your pulse.

The room spins.

And you’re alone in it. Dining room chatter falls away, drowned out by the thrumming between your ears.

You’re alone. Alone, staring at them, trying to piece it all together, trying to breathe, trying to be-

Cool.

“I uh…” You teeter, precarious in your shoes that now feel like a mistake, like your dress is a mistake, being here is a mistake, getting up from the table-

You’re not their girlfriend. You’re not theirs.

“I’m just gonna… go.” You begin to backpedal. Johnny says your name, says it quietly, and takes a step, lurching forward, an animated corpse seeking its last meal.

“Bonnie, ye-“

“I’ll see you around.” You blurt, stepping back out of reach. Johnny’s fist clenches, and he casts a dubious glance towards Simon, who’s tense and focused on you. “See ya.” You croak, and then spin on your heel, trembling all the way out the door and into the cold, crisp air.

Very uncool.

[flowerandblood]

Refinement (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x little sister • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, oral sex, smut, angst, sexual tension, obsession, mention of arranged engagement ]

[ description: During her Name Day, his younger sister wants to run away to the city. Things don't go according to plan, however, and he, as her older brother, wants to comfort her. Anon request. ]

Part 3 of the Appearances, can be read as standalone story.

My other works: Masterlist

_____

To his delight, the months before their nuptials he and his younger sister spent in each other's constant company, growing closer to each other. At first she would shyly visit the places he usually frequented, the library or the courtyard, and he was content to interrupt his own affairs by having at least a short conversation with her.

Although he resented discussions about nothing, usually tired of them, with her he could have a light conversation all the time − her questions and answers were always thoughtful and balanced, sometimes filled with a sweet naivety or curiosity from which he felt the heat in his lower abdomen.

"Today is my Name Day, lēkia (big brother)." She cooed sweetly, grasping his fingers in hers − his hand against hers seemed rough and large to him, hers, on the other hand, smooth and delicate as silk.

He murmured under his breath, looking at their intertwined fingers thinking back to the evening the day before, when he had guided her hand under the material of his breeches again, as usual demanding relief, which he then reciprocated with his characteristic devotion.

He wanted her to be convinced that he would make a good husband.

"I know, dōna hāedar (sweet little sister)." He replied calmly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, thinking of the gift he had prepared for her, a beautiful necklace created especially at his command. A girlish, happy smile appeared on her face, a kind of excitement and anticipation emanating from her that intrigued him.

Something was going through her mind.

"There's one thing I've been dreaming about." She whispered, and he leaned back, stretching comfortably in his chair; they sat together under a beautiful, ancient arbour surrounded by a garden, opposite them only the view of the sea, spreading low beneath the walls of the keep, the sound of wind and leaves all around them.

"What is it?" He asked lowly, fiddling with the small ring on her finger which he had given her just after their father had officially confirmed their betrothal.

A symbol that she was meant only for him, the sapphire eye surrounded by a frame of intertwined golden stems and leaves shone brightly in the sunlight.

He heard her twist in her seat, delighted apparently that he had asked the question. She grunted quietly.

"I wish to escape to the town tonight." She said lightly. He looked at her with a smirk full of amusement and indulgence, convinced that she was teasing him.

"On the dragon?" He asked mockingly and pressed his lips into a thin line, swallowing hard when he felt her take her hand from his grasp, her gaze clouded, her brow arched in pain of humiliation and disbelief.

She stood up from her seat and, shocked, he watched her silhouette disappear between the tall shrubs with his lips slightly parted, wondering what had happened. He moved behind her immediately, sighing impatiently − as he got closer he grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. She looked him straight in the eye, tears of rage in her eyes.

"− forgive me, I didn't wish to −"

"You can leave the keep whenever you desire. You can fly on Vhagar whenever you desire. But I can't. I am a prisoner of these walls, our mother does not allow me to travel anywhere. Is that what amuses you so much? Is that what you mock?" She asked in a shaky, embittered voice, wiping the tears from her red cheeks with her free hand, her lower lip quivering with nerves.

He touched his fingers to her cheek, but she rejected his hand, making him put more strength into pulling her close − she hissed in discomfort when his fingers tightened on her waist covered only by the thin material of her soft gown.

"I would never mock you, sister. However, you know it is not a matter of our mother's bad will, but of your safety." He replied slowly, trying to say each word with reason so as to explain to her that he did not intend to offend her.

He understood what she desired, but he would have gone mad at the thought of her leaving the keep only in the company of the guards.

"What danger would I be in if my betrothed accompanied me?" She muttered with a bitterness from which he felt his throat squeeze, only now understanding what she was trying to convey to him.

She wasn't complaining to him.

He swallowed loudly and hummed under his breath.

"Is this what my future wife desires?" He asked quietly. She looked at him with a pained expression and nodded, looking into his eyes with hope.

Having no other choice, albeit reluctantly, he agreed.

They made arrangements to meet at one of the side passages that were rarely patrolled by guards − both of them sneaked down the narrow stone steps clad in grey robes and cloaks under the cover of darkness, the sky above them cloudless and full of stars.

"You are to stay close to me. Understood?" He asked warningly, and she nodded quickly, looking up at him happily, her plump cheeks red with excitement and joy.

He murmured low, delighted when her warm, soft lips clung to his in a tender, sticky kiss − he locked her in the strong embrace of his arms, cupping one of her cheeks in his palm, her fingers stroking his neck and jaw making his manhood throb hard in his breeches. He pulled away from her and sighed heavily, tense.

"Let's go."

It seemed to him that as they stepped out into the main courtyard of the town, lit only by torches and bonfires kindled by night merchants and bards, she was intrigued by everything that was happening around her − his fingers entwined with hers as they walked arm in arm around the crowds of shouting, noisy people. She looked up at him with a wide smile and hugged her cheek to his shoulder when she noticed his anxious, grave face.

"− I am grateful to you for your dedication, my love −" She said softly and he sighed heavily, kissing the top of her head.

He wanted to return to the keep as quickly as possible, fearing for her safety, but she insisted that they move towards the various stalls, watching intently as the men roasted meat over large fires, which they then sold. They stopped hearing a theatrical play from a distance, men dressed as women pretending to be his mother and their stepsister, Rhaenyra.

"You will not take the crown! My son the drunkard will sit on the Iron Throne!" Thundered one of the men in a too-tight green gown, his voice pretending to be high and feminine − a third actor appeared on stage, a blond-haired young man who was apparently supposed to be Aegon.

When the man began to pretend to vomit while clutching their mother's breasts, loud, mocking laughter echoed all around them. He saw that his sister looked away, her lips pressed together, her eyebrows arched in confusion and embarrassment.

"Let's go." He said lowly, regretting that she had seen this, but believing on the other hand that even if he had wanted to, he could not keep her unconscious forever.

The kingdom had no love for them, and their safety was apparent.

"I regret asking you to do this. Forgive me." She muttered as he escorted her to her chamber, the joy and contentment gone from her face, replaced by sadness and disappointment. He lifted her chin with his finger for her to look at him, recognising that he should better prepare her for what awaited them.

"The kingdom is divided. The only thing that unites our family now is the person of the King. Nothing else." He said lowly, and she blinked, thinking about his words, swallowing hard after a moment.

"And our blood? Our heritage?" She asked uncertainly, and he involuntarily snorted at her words, shaking his head.

"If our sister had our heritage, dignity and the future of our lineage in mind, she would not have made her bastard son her heir to the throne." He hissed coldly, looking her straight in the eye − he knew something had changed in his face, from which she twitched all over, in her expression something he recognised well.

She was afraid of him.

"− sister −" He whispered softly, stroking her soft cheek with his thumb, wanting her to understand that although filled with anger, he would never harm her.

"Against good customs, will you stay by my side? Will you let me fall asleep in your arms?" She asked quietly, and he swallowed loudly, feeling his manhood momentarily swell and pulse in his breeches, betraying an overwhelming desire to comply with her request.

He hesitated, wondering what their mother would say, but seeing her pleading gaze and her need for closeness, he decided that he could not deny her his presence when she articulated that she needed him.

He was to be her husband and she was to be his wife.

His place was with her, always.

That was why he agreed and followed her into her quarters, looking around beforehand to make sure no one would disturb them. They both pulled off their cloaks − his sister turned her back to him, startling him completely when she untied her breeches and the simple grey tunic he had brought her earlier, staying only in her snow-white nightgown.

He looked away, embarrassed, feeling his heart pounding like mad, not knowing what to do with himself.

He had never seen her in such a negligee before, and although his whole body screamed to look at her and admire her beauty, he wasn't sure it was appropriate and worthy of her honour before their nuptials.

"Come, brother." He heard her soft, warm voice once she had laid down on the bed, extending her hand to him.

He moved towards her, pulling his boots off his feet, laying down beside her with his heart in his throat, involuntarily noticing the outline of her sweet breasts under the thin, translucent material of her shirt.

He sighed quietly as her whole body snuggled into him instantly, seeking protection and comfort − unwittingly his arms locked around her waist, his hands sinking into her hair and buttocks, his lips placing a warm, lazy kiss on the top of her head.

It was her Name Day, and she was distressed and frightened, to which he had unwittingly contributed.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling involuntarily guilty, not knowing what he could do to comfort her, to turn her thoughts again from what the future might have brought.

He, her husband, was supposed to protect her and their future children − it was his role to worry about what fate would bring, not hers.

He shuddered when he heard her quiet voice, combing through her soft dark hair with the tips of his fingers.

"If I am to become your wife, why do you treat me like a little child?" She asked regretfully, and he felt his hand stop in mid-motion, the air stuck in his lungs.

"I do not follow." He replied lowly, feeling discomfort in his chest hearing her words.

She raised herself up on her elbow, looking up at his face − her eyebrows were arched in sadness and uncertainty, her full, shiny lips clenched into a thin line. He dared to touch his thumb to her cheek, wanting to soften whatever was about to leave her mouth.

"If war is coming, you may need me and Saraxes. Just because bloodshed is not my desire does not mean I am blind. Do you think I'm not a true dragon because I don't have your white hair and violet eyes?" She asked in a trembling voice with a reproach and pain from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

The thought that she had felt rejected and left out by everyone all this time like himself made him quickly lift himself up on his arm, pressing his nose against her soft face, her hot, trembling breath enveloping his face.

"No. No, my love. You must understand that it is my weakness towards you, it is my fear that makes me wish not to endanger you." He muttered, horrified at how she perceived the whole affair and his actions, that he, gods take pity, thought her foolish or incapable of understanding such complicated, male matters.

She read the same books as he did, spoke to him as an equal on subjects from which he would never have expected a woman to have extensive rhetoric, not because he thought them incapable of it, but because they rarely delved into it.

Yet here she was, well aware of the importance he attached to sword-fighting, knowing as much about his history of the various weapons, their parts and how they were used as she knew about poetry or philosophy.

She swallowed quietly, her eyes shining in trust, in hope, as his mouth brushed hers encouragingly, her lips parted invitingly, allowing his tongue to slide deep into her throat.

She moaned sweetly, innocently as the tips of their tongues licked each other tentatively with a quiet clicks again and again − she sighed as he gently pushed her to lie on her back, trailing his fingers over her soft face, the wonderful scent of her oils filling his entire lungs, her lips fleshy as sweet fruit.

"− brother −" She murmured between their loud, tender kisses, her fingers entwined in his hair, one of her hands removing his eye patch from his face with an impatient, confident motion.

He looked at her, at her pretty face without fear or shame, sure for several moons now that the sight of his scar, his sapphire eye did not frighten her, that she loved him whole.

His sweet, tender, devoted sister.

She pulled him to her by the neck, her lips, impatient that he had pulled away from her for so long demanded another warm caress, his slick tongue ran over her palate making him, though he tried to control himself, completely hard.

"− take me −" She whispered and he felt the air stuck in his throat − he broke the kiss, looking at her with eye wide open in shock, panting heavily, her cheeks flushed with shame, her gaze pleading, full of desire. "− please −"

"− I − gods, you know, you know how much I crave you − but we can't, not before our nuptials −" He muttered wearily, once again seeing on her face that cruel expression of embittered disappointment that was breaking his heart.

He suddenly remembered what Aegon had once told him about, how a man's tongue was capable of giving a woman wonderful pleasure, and though he was ashamed to ask him for details, he decided in an act of desperation that perhaps it would help.

His gift to her, proof of how much he cherished her.

"− let me do something else − do you trust me? −" He asked in a trembling voice − something in her gaze changed and she nodded quickly, her fingertips ran over his cheek in a gesture so tender he felt his throat clench with emotion.

She was perfect.

"− spread your thighs − do not fret −" He added quickly, seeing that her whole body had gone breathless and tensed at his words, uncertainty in her eyes. He heard her swallow hard as she obediently followed his command, she drew in a loud breath as his hands lifted the material of her nightgown higher, above her hips.

"− ah −" She mumbled, in some subconscious, innocent gesture trying to cover herself back up, horrified that he wanted to expose the most intimate part of her body − his hands stopped her, his gaze fixed on her face flushed with emotion.

"− let me, my sweetest − let me take care of you − I won't hurt you −" He whispered, and she pulled her hand back, placing it beside her face, her puffy lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

She trusted him.

She trusted that, as her future husband, he knew perfectly well what she needed.

He let out a loud breath through his mouth, trying to hide his own nervousness, his trembling hands gently exposing her swollen, leaking womanhood that he had caressed so often with his fingers.

He involuntarily licked his lips at the thought that her folds looked like the flesh of a fruit and indeed when he ran his thumb over them, they were as usual wonderfully moist and warm to the touch.

Her body arched backwards as he began to gently tease her puffy bud with circular, slow motions of his thumb, in some subconscious involuntary reflex her thighs spread wider in front of him, making his aching cock pulse hard in his breeches.

Gods, how much he wanted to take her now, to sink deep inside her, to feel how tight she was.

"− close your eyes −" He commanded, knowing that if she looked at him he would never do what he wanted out of shame − he heard her swallow loudly before closing her eyelids a moment later, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

She trembled when she felt him lean in, his warm breath enveloping her now swollen folds, glistening in the starlight from her own wetness − something about the sight, the smell of her made him run the tip of his tongue over her slit, her hands clenched in his hair, her body arched back, wanting to escape, a loud, surprised moan escaped her lips.

"− g-gods − brother − what are you −" She whimpered and cried out as the fingers of his free hand tightened warningly on her plushy hip, pushing her back to him, his thumb squeezed and rubbed her pearl making her squirm before him in pleasure and disbelief.

"− be quiet −" He ordered impatiently, sinking his face into her soft, warm womanhood, his tongue ran over her folds again, invading between them for a try, teasing her swollen bud with his finger.

He sighed loudly as he felt how hard her legs trembled in his embrace, heard her tighten her lips and stifle the moans that wanted to escape her throat, felt his cock twitch hard as her fingers pressed him closer to her bare flesh.

She wanted more.

"− brother −" She mumbled, spreading her thighs wider, wanting to feel him deeper − encouraged, he forced his tongue inside her, invading the very tip of her upper wall and the spot where he usually dug his fingers in, teasing her pearl with strokes of his thumb. He felt her fleshy, hot, tight core begin to throb, the wonderful taste of her moisture spreading across his palate, making him gasp in delight.

He could already understand why Aegon had spoken of it with such enthusiasm.

She tasted wonderful, like the flesh of a ripe fruit, ready to sink in and bite into it.

His sweet sister.

"− mmm −" He gasped out, pushing his tongue all the way into her, feeling her hips begin to respond to his movements with rocking of her hips, reaching out to meet him. He licked and sucked her pearl, rubbing it with the tip of his nose, still pressing it with his thumb, a quiet, lewd sound of slurping and clicking of her wetness all around them.

At last she fell apart, a long, intense fulfilment shook her lovely body, sweet, girlish, innocent whimpers erupted from her lips − she begged him, babbled his name, calling him, pressing his face against her leaking cunt, delighted that he was licking devotedly everything that spilled out of her.

"− my sister's sweet nectar −" He gasped with devotion and delight, again and again rubbing her opening with his rough tongue. His hand slipped down to his breeches, sliding under them, grasping his swollen, aching cock, squeezing it at the base, not stopping his caresses, intending to pet her like this all night and come on his own hand.

"− brother − no more −" She mumbled out, terrified that he wasn't stopping, her over-stimulated, sore insides clenching greedily around nothing, her hands trying to gently push him away but to no avail − he only hummed under his breath, stunned by the warmth of her flesh, her closeness and her scent.

She smelled like sin.

"− I'm afraid I intend to fall asleep tonight with my face between your soft thighs, my love −"

[matan4il]

On Friday, during Passover, a terrorist attack took place in Israel. The terrorist attacked an 18 years old girl on the streets of Ramla, stabbed her in the back, leaving her seriously wounded, as he ran away. The girl was in the city visiting a friend, whose father and brother heard the girl's screams and chased the terrorist. The dad, a civilian with a personal weapon, neutralized the attacker. The girl's state has since improved, but she's still hospitalized.

There is footage of the terrorist chasing the young girl down the street, stabbing her in the back without even stopping, causing her to collapse to the ground, as he continues, and flees the scene.

The anti-Israel protests on college campuses in the west are horrifying to watch. They were bad enough when they started on Oct 8, while Israel wasn't even counting its dead yet, because we were still fighting terrorists invading our country and endangering our civilians, so Israel's army was still not free to do anything in Gaza, but these protests have somehow gotten so much worse. They've become more openly antisemitic (we've seen more and more people doing the Nazi salute, and using signs calling for a "final solution," the whitewashed Nazi term for their intended annihilation of all Jews):

They are now more openly calling for blood (in the past week or so, we've seen no calls for a ceasefire, instead we've heard chants to kill Zionists, to burn Tel Aviv, for Iran to fire rockets at Israel, meaning at its civilian population, and to globalize the intifada, a wave of anti-Israel terrorist attacks. During the second intifada alone, over 1,200 people in Israel were murdered). They've also become more physically violent, with more and more Jewish and pro-Israel people being assaulted, and even requiring medical care:

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I've been seeing so much, and it's being talked about on the news here more than you can imagine. The presidents of Israeli universities even did something unprecedented, that they've never done during any of Israel's former conflicts, no matter how bad those got. After publishing repeated calls for foreign universities to fight antisemitism and protect their Jewish students, the presidents of Israeli universities have now published an open letter, lamenting that the problem might be beyond the capacity of university presidents abroad to solve, and addressing Jewish students, stating they have a safe space here, offering them any assistance with pursuing it.

The worst protests are in the US, at Ivy League universities of all places, but I've heard horrifying things about universities in Canada, France, Australia as well... I feel like I can't really do this subject justice in just one post, so if I only share with you one last thing about it, this following vid would be it, because it's bigger than just the protests, and at the same time, partly explains how so many people have been recruited into them. It's a typical example of how in this complex conflict, real facts (such as vids filmed on the ground) are often taken out of context and manipulated to present a simplistic narrative, in which Zionists (i.e the overwhelming majority of Jews) are presented as intrinsically violent and evil, while ignoring and even lying about the anti-Jewish violence at play:

Jews and Jewish allies abroad, please take care of yourselves! And don't let all the hate get to you... Just because there's a lot of them, doesn't mean they're right. Or even that they're the majority. They just give that impression by being more vocal than anyone else, and taking over public spaces, pushing everyone else out.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[ironvy]

Vestiges Of You.

Aventurine x fem! reader; not proofread, this was supposed to be a 300 words drabble lmao?? wordcount; 804.

everything i feel returns to you somehow, consuming me to the core, i'll be gone by midnight; goodbye.

There is a bit of you at the beach.

Aventurine gazes whilst the sun gradually inches down, orange in hue, it mildly kisses the horizon; two souls intertwined. Standing on top of a building in the city, a March spring breeze wafts past him, and the smell of oleanders trails it.

The scene is familiar, to a distant one on the beach. The solitude, the oleanders you used to grow, the sun cozily inching down your wall, the ripples of the waves against the shore, the medley accompanying it, as you pluck the strings with a plectrum, pressing strings against frets with your opposite hand simultaneously.

Your black cat leaps on his lap, it purrs against his stomach, and he strokes it.

‘remember when we first met?’ you pause. ‘we had plenty to discuss. Now, only silence remains…’

‘you know,’ you continue. ‘I guess, the moral of time, is that… you never became jaded by my presence; our meaningless conversations, or this comfortable silence.’

Aventurine does not reply. He merely grabs your hand, and squeezes it reassuringly, pulls it towards his lips as he plants a kiss.

There is a bit of you in April.

Your window flung open, the breeze emerging in carries a scent of peach, a warm sun beams at your back, at your oil paint-stained white shirt. The neighbourhood is extremely quiet, everyone’s inside their home, with fans nudging the cool air at their faces.

‘don’t you feel like going back inside yet? It’s hot,’ Aventurine starts. He anticipates a response from an instance, but you appeared rather too resolute on your painting—it was of an orchard of apricot trees, the leaves and branches shimmering with heat-haze.

‘I don’t think so, I’ll finish this one first,’ you mutter, cautiously painting a cloud. ‘I love April. In it, my ideas are always inventive, sharp, and tender. Do you get it?’

Aventurine hums as he nods. His gaze wanders off toward the market nearby—a mother with brown sunglasses on exits with her young child, who’s wailing. ‘Icecream?’

‘Yeah, vanilla flavour please.’

There is a bit of you in black polished heels.

‘I’ve always loved the sound of heels against the flooring,’ you mutter, bending over as you tie the ankle straps of the heels—black, polished leather; a gift from Aventurine. When you’re done, you tap continually on the floor, and it sounds akin to an exaggerated film soundtrack. ‘it sounds like learning to walk away, from what was never mine to ever have…’

Aventurine raises a brow, ‘did you have a tough past?’

‘Partially, though what am I if not a little hardship? Which reminds me, you never told me much about your past…?’

He offers a half-hearted smile, as he averts his gaze. ‘…The heels suit you, are you sure they are your size?’ ( I apologize; I don’t want to bring it up, I don’t want you to pity me. )

‘Yeah…’ you half-heartedly mutter, removing the heels. ( do you not trust me? )

There is a bit of you in his muddy teacup.

‘Regrets,’ you mumble over the counter. Aventurine stares as you fiddle with your teaspoon—like lifting the world’s edge, like unravelling its threads, apathetically, perfunctorily. His teacup simply lies before him, long cold, and muddy-looking. ‘I have many… so do you.’

A train passes over the railings nearby, quick against the steel, unlike your stagnant manoeuvres, followed by a mysterious silence of what hangs in the atmosphere, and remains unspoken. ‘are you not exhausted of lying?’

‘I never lied to you about a single thing,’ he replies.

‘But you don’t trust me, with anything, at all— regardless of who is in your life, you still seem to have the same disgusting thoughts about yourself; it never stops, it never goes away. I wish I could…’ You place the teaspoon down, the tone of your voice gradually creaking. ‘Take away your blues. I have.. many selfless wishes for you. I wish you would take care of yourself, I wish you would cherish every instant of this ephemeral lifetime, I wish you would relinquish the past; that was then, this is now. Yet you’ve always been a bitter man, and it makes me bitter, too. I hope you will understand, that is all I have to say…’

Reality begins to melt away, in the darkness, akin to a candle’s wax, in the heat of a flame. Everything feels as if it occurred a long time ago, in a far-off world, out of reach. Or, is it occurring in the future, in an alternative far-off world?

( have you seen my lover? The one that owned the beach, April’s beauty, the black leather heels I purchased, my muddy teacup, my dreams, my heart? )

There is a bit of you in all he is.

ironvy, 2024. do not copy, share, repost, or re-upload my work on any website without prior consent.

[loriannbowman]

Honkai Star Rail X Arknights | Yandere!Sunday X Sankta!Reader | Part Three

Sunday sits you down in a room that you can only compare to a conference space. You had walked through a long corridors littered with sparkling windows, golden statues. There was a room with a mini city in the centre. You didn't get a chance to look around though, Sunday was insistent that you follow close to him.

The room was round with an evenly round table, place eerily perfect in the center. Tall bookshelves that reach the ceiling cover the walls, some having library ladders next to them.

"Make yourself comfortable," Sunday says casually, running his finger tips across the top of the table as he makes his way to his seat, "We might be here for a while."

You uncomfortably shift within your seat, the cushion beneath you not as comfortable as you'd expect. Your poor ass.

"Now," Sunday interlaces his fingers, "Where should we begin, hmm? We already had polite introductions, what should we do next?"

You can't help but feel a bit uneasy; his casual demeaner is so off putting. You leg begins to bounce rapidly, a nervous tick you picked up.

You attempt to clear your throat.

"Well... let's go over what we already know," you say, trying to regain control over yourself.

You scoot a little in your chair, straightening your back and folding your hands.

"I am (Y/n), codename: Lamplight. I am a combat specialist and medical researcher in Oripathy. Uh... I'm from the region of Laterano, species: Sankta. I currently work under the association 'Rhodes Island' under the direction of Doctor Kal'tsit, Doctor Loriann, and Amiya. Uh... there's nothing really else that comes to mind... Oh! I am also highly dangerous as I am infected with Oripathy."

Sunday sits quietly, his lips lightly pursed, eyes closed as he takes in all this sudden information. All of these things... he's never heard of a single one of them. Sunday takes a deep breath before letting it go through his nose.

"Alright. Thank you for your introduction. Let us first go deeper into these statements. In return, I will explain as much and equally about me and the world around you. Does that seem fair, Lamplight?"

You nod your head, eyes slightly wide at him referring to you by your codename.

"Good. Then let's start with this 'Oripathy' you speak of. You say you're a researcher in this field while also being... infected?"

Your hands fiddle with one another, once again shifting uncomfortably in your seat. You clear your throat again.

"You just had to start there, huh...?" you say with a somber tone, "Alright, I'll tell you everything I know."

You begin to explain your home, how a powerful and dangerous material, 'Originium.' You explain the usages it has... and the horrible, deadly effects it has on the human body. You even roll up the pant sleeve to show a small collection of black crystals forming on the side of your shin. You even told him how you became infected.

"I was on a mission with Doctor Loriann when I got pierced by a Originium lump. Luckily, The Doctor was right there and was able to immediately slow and contain the growth of the Oripathy. I'm glad that I don't use Arts, or the growth would be a lot faster. You don't know just how lucky I am to have my Oripathy growth so slow. Other infected would kill to have theirs infection be so well maintained. I just hope it gives me enough time to live a somewhat fulfilling life."

Sunday's gaze during the whole time never left your form, and once you showed your leg, his eyes never stayed from the crystallin chunks that speckle your skin. He attempted at one point to touch, but you quickly grabbed his hand.

"I wouldn't, not unless you want to be infected too."

It was more of a warning than anything, of course, but you could never be too sure. You would never forgive yourself if you got an innocent person infected.

"I see... Well, let's continue our conversation, shall we?"

[eretzyisrael]

by Seth Mandel

ITEM: In Oakland, California, a Jewish woman walks into her son’s seventh-grade classroom on back-to-school night to see a poster that says, “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.”

ITEM: In New York City, on the anniversary of Kristallnacht, angry pro-Palestinian crowds surround a Jewish man and bloody his head with a chair.

ITEM: In Philadelphia, hundreds mob a Jewish-owned restaurant, chanting, “Goldie, Goldie, you can’t hide; we charge you with genocide.” The restaurant is named Goldie.

ITEM: In Berkeley, California, the only Jewish teacher at an elementary school returns to find her door covered in Post-it notes that say, “Stop bombing babies!”

ITEM: In Chicago, home to the third-largest Jewish population in America, unions organize a high- school walkout in which students call for the destruction of Israel. “I’m incredibly proud of our students for exercising their constitutional rights to be able to speak out and speak up for righteousness,” said Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnson.

ITEM: In Washington, D.C., attendees arriving at a concert by the American-Jewish singer Matisyahu are greeted by a pro-Hamas demonstration.

At school, at work, and at play, American Jews find themselves increasingly ostracized by their peers. On college campuses, the quiet reestablishment of unofficial quotas has, over the course of a generation or two, halved the Jewish enrollment at a selection of elite universities. These days, stories of higher education’s turn against the Jews are ubiquitous. But as the above examples demonstrate, the attempt to cast Jews and Judaism out from the public square—or make Jews extremely uncomfortable inside the public square—has spread far beyond the college quad. And the statistics unambiguously say the same.

In the American Jewish Committee’s comprehensive survey of anti-Semitism in 2023, respondents were asked: “In the past 12 months, have you avoided certain places, events, or situations out of concern for your safety or comfort as a Jew out of fear of antisemitism?” Twenty-six percent—a quarter of U.S. Jews—responded in the affirmative. That is a 10-point increase over last year. In the poll, the number of those who admitted to avoiding “wearing, carrying, or displaying things that might help people identify you as a Jew,” as well as those who said they “avoided posting content online that would identify you as a Jew or reveal your views on Jewish issues,” increased as well.

All of this reflects the modern reality across the country. FBI reports show Jews are the target of more than half of all religiously motivated crimes. According to the Anti-Defamation League, over the course of the three months after October 7, there were more than 600 reported anti-Semitic incidents against Jewish institutions. And the ADL found a nearly 50 percent increase in security costs for Jewish schools in New York, New Jersey, and Florida.

[fyonahmacnally]

Eight Years Ago, Cambridge, MA…

Stormy blue meets turbulent green. Palpable tension crackles in the air as things escalate faster than usual. Pent up anger and resentment boil over like a volcanic eruption of past transgressions never spoken. They hurl sharpened words at one another, daggers cutting through the fragile skin of the relationship they’ve forged for four years. It’s been building, both of them know it has, each stewing in the silent hurricane of thoughts swirling inside them. It was an inevitable train wreck set on course six months ago when Lena decided to stay in Cambridge instead moving to National City with Kara as planned. 

Four years at MIT together, two as best friends, two as lovers and living together. They talk about everything. At least that’s what Kara thought until that moment six months ago when Lena dropped her bombshell. Now, they’re standing in the middle of their apartment screaming at one another like they’re sworn enemies instead of longtime lovers. Each of them tossing insults and barbs at one another with complete abandon. Sharing spiteful disdain in the way they used to share I love you’s. 

Neither of them stop to think about what they are saying or the damage they are causing. It’s heated. It’s cruel. Everything is going down in flames and neither of them seem to care. Kara yells about Lena’s horrendous family and how she’s behaving just like them. Lena screams about Kara’s naivete and obliviousness. They cut one another to the bone with words neither of them ever thought they’d speak to each other. It’s an emotional bloodbath drowning the remnants of their relationship in the dripping, viscous venom spewing from their lips.

Eventually, the room is silent. The only sound is the heaving breath of the two women glaring at one another, tears falling. It’s a moment frozen in time, one that neither of them will ever forget. 

It’s Kara who finally storms out. Since she’s finished packing all her things for the move anyway, she reasons that getting an early start on her drive will get her to National City faster. Plus, she desperately needs to get away from the demise of her relationship. Her once homey and warm apartment feels cold and foreign. The woman in front of her is suddenly a stranger. Her heart is decimated, shattered into a million pieces. She thought for sure Lena was it for her. Her other half, her person. Apparently not. Everything they’ve built lies broken and dead at her feet as she grabs her final piece of luggage. 

Dragging the bag behind her, she pauses at the door. Hanging her head as tears glide across her skin, she whispers, “I will always love you. I just thought you felt the same.” Taking a deep breath, she straightens her back and opens the door. She keeps her eyes forward and her jaw set. If she looks back now, she’ll change her mind and it’s too late for that.

Lena stares at the closed door, her mouth hanging open, arms wrapped tightly around herself, and tears streaming from her eyes. She has no doubt she just made the biggest mistake of her life, but she’s frozen in place. Everything happened so fast, it’s a blur. She’s utterly confused as to how she has managed to destroy the longest, healthiest relationship she’s ever had. She’s staying at MIT to get her doctorate, but had no intention of breaking things off with Kara. In her mind, they’d make it work. They always said they were stronger together and could tackle anything as long as they had each other. Sure, she probably should have spoken to her girlfriend when she applied to the PhD program, but her anxiety got the best of her and she waited until everything was in place. 

Now, here she stands watching the love of her life walk away. She’s paralyzed, stuck in the spot where her life fell apart. Her eyes seem to suddenly refocus and time speeds back up. Unsure of how much time has passed, she is suddenly hit with the reality of what just happened and bolts out the door. Kara. She has to catch Kara. Just as she rushes out the front of the building and onto the sidewalk, she can see the taillights fading from sight. Her whole world just drove away in a moving truck. Without her. Her body acts before her mind does, she runs back up the stairs. Swinging the door to the apartment open, she snatches her phone up to call Kara. Voicemail. She calls again. Same thing. 

And so it goes for hours, then days, then weeks. Lena even tries to call Alex, to no avail. It’s the same silence. Eventually, she resigns herself to the fact she fucked up and she has to live with it. When three months turns to six and six into twelve, she finally puts the pictures away. She lost her chance at happiness and love. Now she needs to put all of her focus and energy into school. It’s the only thing that gets her through the rest of her masters and PhD programs. 

Present Day, New York City…

Six more years in school and two degrees later, Lena has moved forward in her life. Well, as much as she can. She hasn’t had any real relationship to speak of since she and Kara split up. A few flings and one night stands, but nothing serious. It’s hard when she hasn’t stopped loving the bubbly blonde that stole her heart all those years ago. Deep down, she knows she’ll never love anyone the way she did…does Kara. 

Her Kara. Or she used to be.

It’s been two years since she began working for Spheerical Tech & Pharmaceuticals as their head of research and development. It’s grueling and exhausting. Not that it matters because she doesn’t have a life outside of work. She spends half her time in New York in her lab and the other half split between Cambridge and National City with occasional trips to London. She visits each of their lab sites at least once a year, sometimes more. Most of the time she volunteers for the trips. Besides, no one is at home to miss her. Not even a pet. No one is around to call before she goes to bed. It’s pretty sad when she really thinks about it. 

When her boss and longtime friend, Jack, first mentioned needing her to manage the National City lab, she was hesitant. She didn’t want to risk running into Kara at all. Sure, it’s a large, populated city and the odds are slim, but Kara doesn’t need her showing up and ruining the life she has now. She knows her ex-girlfriend made a name for herself and became a well-respected investigative and scientific tech journalist. The woman is absolutely one of the best and most accomplished journalists of their generation. In fact, Lena has every article the blonde has ever published. Further, unbeknownst to Kara, Lena was there when she won her first Pulitzer three years ago. She stayed in the back of the crowd and left before anyone knew she was ever there. 

Even now, eight years later, Kara is never far from her mind. Of course, she stopped calling Kara years ago, she has no idea if she even has the same number anymore. Lena kept hers, the same number all these years. Kara will probably never use it. She hasn’t yet, but at least it’s there if she ever tries. 

She has always genuinely wanted Kara to be happy. No matter what it looks like, that’s what she wants for her. Even after all this time, the one thing Lena held onto, the one thing she does every year, is send an email on the anniversary of their first date. She has no idea if Kara reads them since she has never responded, but she still sends them. Never any words. Always just a simple heart emoji. Nothing else.

It’s why she’s thinking about their fight and the demise of their relationship right now. There’s roughly three months until the anniversary of their first date. Ten years ago, they went on their first date. A long, wistful sigh escapes her lips. They met at the station across from campus in Cambridge and took the train to Boston to spend the day. She remembers when their eyes met across the terminal, there was an eruption of butterflies in her belly. It was as if she could finally breathe. What she wouldn’t give to see those cerulean eyes again. 

That’s when she gets an idea. Probably the worst one she’s had since she let Kara walk out the apartment door. It’s probably fruitless. She’s pretty sure Kara has long since forgotten her, especially after the hurt she caused. But, what if, after all this time, Kara still feels the same? 

One more time and then she’ll give up. For good.

Present Day, National City…

Kara is having a shit day. She spilled coffee on her favorite shirt, broke her favorite pen, and missed her first deadline in years. Then, Alex canceled sister’s night because of some emergency at the hospital. And fine, she gets it, Alex is a doctor, blah blah blah. Still doesn’t mean she has to be okay with it. Needless to say, she’s ready to go home to curl up with her favorite show and some ice cream. If she could leave right now she’d pack up and be gone in an instant. Unfortunately, she still has three more hours left. She sighs an exasperated sigh and drops her forehead onto her desk. 

It’s moments like this when she thinks about Lena. Her ex-girlfriend had a way with brightening the worst of her days. Their nights together, the fun they had, the uninhibited comfort her presence provided. She hasn’t found that comfort in anyone since. The closeness and trust the two of them had was something she’s sure she’ll never have again. She’s tried, she really has. Several times over the years, with men and women alike. No one ever compares to the woman she reluctantly admits she still loves. 

There are so many things about their last fight she wishes she could take back. So many things she regrets. It still makes her cringe when she thinks about the spiteful things she said to Lena and the hurt she saw in her favorite green eyes. The biggest regret from that day is walking away without talking things out. She knows neither of them behaved very rationally the last six months of their relationship. It eventually culminated in their massive blow-up followed by their sudden break-up. Unfortunately, it isn’t something she can take back or undo.

Actually, scratch that, her biggest regret from back then is ignoring Lena’s calls and letting Alex talk her into blocking her number. There have been so many times over the years when she wanted to reach out, to hear that smooth, saccharine voice again. It seems there’s a little voice in her head always preventing her from doing it. The nagging little voice repeats things like ‘you deserve better than her’ and ‘she doesn’t care or think about you anymore’. The voice sounds an awful lot like Alex. As much as she loves her sister, her overprotective actions probably cost her any chance at reconciliation. Given how long it’s been, she’s almost certain of it. 

She puffs out a frustrated breath. This happens every single time she thinks about Lena. She remembers the chance she could have taken, the window of time in which she might have been able to fix things. Now, there’s no way, it’s too late. Her eyes close briefly before she lifts her head up from her desk. Blue eyes settle on the phone sitting next to her keyboard and her lips twitch upward in a wistful smile. 

Pulling the device toward her, she navigates to the one file she keeps locked and protected. It’s an obscure folder with a few pictures of her and Lena. Her finger swipes through the pictures and her eyes tear up before she quickly closes it. She navigates to her contacts where her weepy eyes scan over the place where Lena’s phone number still sits. Seven numbers and her favorite name casually staring up at her. A combination of letters and numbers she could never get rid of. 

A shaky hand makes its way to her glasses, pulling them off to wipe away the errant tears that managed to escape. Her mind wanders again. Would the number still work if she tried to call? Probably not. Surely Lena changed her number and moved on, right? She’s intelligent, successful, and a goddess of a woman. The amount of people likely knocking on her door for dates is innumerable. Certainly more options than Kara has.

She leans back in her chair with her head tilted toward the ceiling and runs her hands down her face. Silently chastising herself for letting her mind drift, it doesn’t do any good to think about it. Not anymore. She doesn’t even know where Lena lives or what she’s doing. Last she heard, Lena is an executive with Spheerical. Possibly one of the chief executives? One thing she’s sure of, Lena gets photographed in New York and London several times a year. So, she could live in either place for all Kara knows.

Kara is very aware there’s a branch of the company here in National City as well. It’s a building she passes almost every day. She’s fairly certain she would know if the beautiful genius was living in her city. There’s no way they wouldn’t have at least been in the same places. Given her work in science and technology for CatCo and Lena’s involvement in research and development, Kara would know. RIght? In fact, she’s interviewed a few of the staff scientists at the National City branch. If Lena was working there, she’d know. Wouldn’t she? 

Another deep sigh forces itself out of her throat as she shakes her head. It’s a motion made in a futile attempt to remove any thoughts of her lost love from her mind. At this rate, it won’t ever happen. She’s doomed to carry her love for Lena to her grave. It’s been eight years and her heart still skips a beat when she sees a raven-haired woman resembling her ex-girlfriend. Her chest still aches when she looks at pictures or sifts through her memories. Her brain still runs what if scenarios for any possible conversation they might have should they ever meet again.

While she knows it’s unlikely, she can’t help but think about the possibility Lena might still love her too. She’s sure it’s a false hope, but what if? It’s crossed her mind countless times. Honestly, she’s surprised Lena didn’t reach out via email when her calls didn’t go through. It’s one of the reasons she’s so sure her ex has moved on. The Lena she knew would have exhausted all avenues. Maybe she should try to text her old number. If it’s someone else’s number, then at least she’d know. 

She really needs to talk to Alex. Her sister is the only one that can talk her out of doing something rash.

--

Lena glares at the blinking cursor in front of her. She spent the better part of two months convincing Jack she needs to be in National City for the month of October. He was skeptical at first, but she managed to backlog enough work to justify it. Instincts tell her Jack still doesn’t believe her, but she’s here and got her way. That’s what matters at this point. 

Now, here she sits inside her office at Spheerical, a few scant blocks from CatCo. The thought makes her stomach do somersaults, knowing how close she currently is to Kara. A long sigh presses between her lips as she continues to stare at her screen. The email in front of her has been written and rewritten so many times she lost count. Her anxiety is at peak levels and she still isn’t sure this is a good idea. But really, what does she have to lose at this point? Her dignity and pride walked out the apartment door with Kara eight years ago. 

A shaky breath billows from her mouth as she drops her head into her hands. She’s been working on this email for two weeks. Well, longer if she counts the amount of time she spent drafting it in her head. In truth, it began to form almost three months ago when she was thinking about the blonde goddess living rent free in her mind. Again, it’s probably the worst idea she’s had since that fateful day. The day Lena turned her entire world upside down. 

She chuckles and shakes her head, resting her hands back on her desk. “Come on, Lena. It’s no big deal. You’re just asking the woman you haven’t spoken to in eight years to meet you at a park.” Another humorless laugh leaves her throat as she realizes she’s talking to herself. “I’ve resorted to giving myself verbal pep talks now. I mean, I guess that goes along with the insanity of trying to convince my ex-girlfriend to meet with me seemingly out of the blue. On the anniversary of our first date, no less. What have I become?”

Her finger lands on the backspace key as she starts the email again for the umpteenth time. It’s her final hail mary. Her last attempt at connecting with the woman that still owns her heart. Some part of her desperately hopes Kara will show up and they can, at the very least, talk things out and get the closure they never had. Her heart wants Kara to feel the same way she does. She wants a second chance, but she’s a realist. The odds of that are slim to none. Her rational side and the little voice in her head sounding eerily similar to Lillian’s, says her chance has passed and there isn’t anything she can do to change it. 

But, there’s a tiny little kernel of hope holding out. That’s what she’s holding onto. 

“Alright, Luthor. You have to get your shit together. Tomorrow is the day so it’s now or never.” She reads over the email one final time before scheduling it to send at midnight or 12:01 a.m to be exact. October 16th - the anniversary of their first date. She sighs and hopes for the best. Nothing about this goes beyond her usual one email per year. This one just has words attached to it. A simple request really. She’s not anxious about it at all. 

Not. One. Bit.

Her office suddenly feels too small and too quiet. With her thoughts racing at jet speed inside her skull, she bolts from her desk and makes her way down to the labs. Her brain needs a distraction or she’s going to have a panic attack and change her mind. Changing her mind is the last thing she wants. She’s loved Kara for ten years. The woman owns her heart, something that will likely never change.

So, she needs to distract herself for the next two days and hope the blonde shows up tomorrow evening. What could go wrong?

--

October 16th - the day Kara dreads every year. The anniversary of their first date. One would think after all these years, she wouldn’t remember it or care, but she does. She remembers everything and always has. The first three years were hard. She took off work and shut the world out. After those rough years, it kind of got better. Now, she does the best she can. Sometimes, she leaves early and spends the day with her favorite movie and ice cream. This year is shaping up to be one of those years. She has to take care of a few things this morning, but there is a pint of Ben & Jerry’s calling her name. She’ll be on her couch and stuffing her face with some Moose Tracks by 3:00 p.m. 

Most of her day is uneventful. She even manages to get through it without scrolling through her folder of old pictures. Well, more than a few times. It counts. It was less than last year, give her a break. Lena is beautiful, amazing, and a goddess on Earth. No one can blame her for reminiscing on how it felt to hold her and just bask in her presence. The feeling of soft pale skin against her own…

A long, frustrated sigh followed by a growl of irritation crawls from her throat. Now is certainly not the time to be thinking about Lena’s skin against hers. Not to mention all the other very vivid and inconvenient images running rampant in her mind. Kara wearily shakes her head in an futile attempt at erasing the memories flashing across her mind’s eye. This happens every year on this day. She combs through the memories of the two years they spent as lovers, even the two years they were friends beforehand are filled with moments imprinted on her skin.

Another glance at the clock on the wall across the bullpen tells her she still has another hour before she can safely leave without causing any eyebrows to raise. She decides to plunge herself into some research she has to do for an upcoming piece on Spheerical. Fortunately, she gets lost in the details and the next time she looks up, it’s time to head out to lunch and then to her couch. 

Just as she’s walking out of the building, her phone vibrates. A big smile stretches across her face when she sees Alex calling. “Hey, Alex!” She hurries across the sidewalk and across the road, dodging people as she goes. “Perfect timing. I’m just heading to Noonan’s to grab lunch. Are you still coming over later for sister’s night?”

“Yes, dork. Don’t we always spend this night together?” Alex huffs, rolling her eyes at her sister. “I’m leaving the hospital now, but I have to go by my apartment first. Do you need me to bring anything?”

Kara hums in thought, pausing outside the entrance to Noonan’s before shaking her head. “Nah. I have ice cream and snacks already. Just bring whatever alcohol you want if you plan to drink. You know I only have the fruity stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you in an hour or so.” Alex says, a smile evident in her voice. “Love you, dork.”

Chuckling, Kara shakes her head and smiles. “Be careful. Love you, too.” She ends the call and steps inside, still laughing at her sister’s antics. 

After deciding to eat her lunch on a park bench, she catches the bus home. Happy to finally be away from CatCo and the stresses of work, her mind drifts to Lena again. The last couple of years, her mind has conjured images of what their lives would be like if they were still together. Marriage, a house, and sometimes a baby. It’s not always the same, but they’re always married. Something Kara always thought would happen once they graduated and got settled in National City. 

She’s shaken out of her daydreams by the subtle stop of the bus and people around her standing. A sorrowful sigh releases as she stands to exit as well. Her mind seems to enjoy torturing her with things she can’t have, made worse this day every year. As she steps off the bus, she spots her sister standing in front of her building and a smile replaces the frown she’s sure was there.

The two sisters make their way up the stairs and into Kara’s loft. They settle in to watch the movie they always watch on this day, Hocus Pocus. By the time they finish watching the movie and polish off their ice cream, it’s nearing dinner time. Alex orders pizza and potstickers and they snuggle back into the couch to wait, a random show playing in the background. 

Alex eyes Kara carefully, brown eyes scanning her sister’s face. She can see the pain and sadness in the normally sparkling sapphire eyes. Instead of pushing the blonde to talk, she watches and waits, knowing Kara will eventually open up to her. It usually takes a few minutes, but she knows her sister will start spilling her feelings.

“I really miss her, Alex.” Kara says, tears welling in her stormy blue eyes. “Some days it feels like everything just happened. It feels so raw and so fresh. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop loving her. My heart won’t let me. No matter how much convincing my mind does, my heart won’t let her go.” Two glittering tears slither between her eyelids and drip onto her shirt.

The redhead sighs, slides her arms around her younger sister, and pulls her close. “I know, kiddo. I wish there was something I could say or do to make it easier for you.” She rests her head on top of Kara’s as they sit in silence for a few minutes. Their bubble bursts when there is a knock on the door. “That’s probably the food, I’ll get it.”

Alex bounds over to the door while Kara leans back on the couch, head resting against the cushion and face pointed to the ceiling. She wipes away the now drying tears, willing the rest to stop their descent down her cheeks. Her body remains still even after Alex drops the food onto the table. When she finally looks down, it’s to check the time on her watch. 6:43 p.m. 

“We’d been on our date for about an hour by now. It was one of the best nights of my life, Alex. We walked through the park, the leaves changing all around us, and the sun going down. Each of us had a cup of hot chocolate in one hand while holding hands with the other.” Kara wistfully smiles as she remembers how she felt. “It was almost magical, we talked just like we always did, but it was…more. It was like we connected on a new level, like something clicked into place. Like…coming home.”

She looks up at Alex, tears streaming down her face, bottom lip trembling. “Why does it still hurt so much? I’ve spent the last eight years feeling like part of me is missing. Why won’t it stop?” An anguished look twists Alex’s face as she pulls her baby sister back into her arms. They sit and silently rock, waiting for Kara’s tears to subside.

--

Lena takes a deep breath as she sits on the park bench just inside the park. She twists the key and keychain in her hand with a smile. It’s the only thing she still has that was Kara’s. It’s a dorky keychain she bought the blonde on their first date. A pewter medallion with her name engraved across the front and the Boston skyline behind it. It’s not worth anything, but it’s one of her most prized possessions. Kara’s apartment key is still attached to it along with a woven bracelet. After the blonde walked out that day, Lena saw it laying on the counter and hasn’t parted with it since. She keeps it in her pocket and has it on her everyday. 

Glancing at her watch, she starts to feel a sense of dread bubble in the bottom of her stomach. It’s pushing 7:30 now and she asked Kara to meet her here at 7:00. She told herself she wouldn’t wait longer than an hour. Knowing the reporter for four years and living with her for two, she knows her ex-girlfriend can lose track of time. Lena’s hands continue to fidget with the keychain, running the pad of her fingers across the raised letters. Verdant eyes watch countless couples and kids pass by, but none of them are the figure she so desperately wants to see. 

A trembling sigh rushes across her now chapped lips, she can feel the stinging of tears in her eyes so she bites her cheek to stop them from falling. A glance at her phone shows she’s been here for much longer than the self-allotted time frame. Her watch face mocks her with a time of 8:07 p.m. Still no sign of Kara. Lena glances around one more time to make sure she didn’t overlook anything as she checks her phone to make sure she did say 7:00 p.m. in her email. Knots continue to tie themselves together in her stomach. 

She decides she can wait just a little longer.

So she does. She sits stoically on the bench, fidgeting with a relic from a relationship that ended almost a decade ago. A relationship that will officially be dead and buried after tonight. Unless a miracle happens and Kara appears in front of her, it’s pretty evident that her hope was for naught. The woman that holds her heart released it long ago. She’s doomed to love someone who doesn’t love her back.

At 8:32 p.m. on October 16th, Kara Danvers broke her heart for the first and last time. She broke her own heart eight years ago, it only seems fitting that it’s irreparably shattered by the woman that will own it for eternity. 

Gathering the strength to stand from the bench is a lot harder than she anticipates. Lena ends up having to pause before she can finally stand to walk back to her car. She does manage to keep the tears at bay until she reaches the car and is safely inside. That’s when she releases the sob that has been building in her gut for hours. The sounds and tears coming from her body are louder and heavier than anything she’s experienced in her life. With the trauma she’s been through, that is saying a lot. 

When she finally manages to stifle the tears enough to drive back to her hotel, she makes her way back to her room as discreetly and quietly as she can. She refuses to break down completely until she is in the privacy of her own room. By some saving grace, she steps into her room, closes the door, and immediately collapses on the floor. She must have eventually cried herself to sleep because she woke up in the same place two hours later. 

Peeling herself off the floor, she stripped off her clothes and fell into bed, makeup and all. The rest of the world would have to wait.

--

“I can’t answer that, kiddo. It hurts because you still love her and never got closure.” Alex says, watching her sister’s face contort from an invisible pain. “Come on, Kara. At least eat something. Please.” 

“How the hell am I supposed to eat right now, Alex? How?!” Kara screeches, her voice rough from tears and emotion. “I shouldn’t have blocked her number. I should have just called her, Alex. Why didn’t she email me or write me a letter? Something!”

Another gut-wrenching sob rips from her chest, her body heaving with each one as it wracks from her lungs. Alex’s gut twists with guilt as she wrestles with the words sitting like ash on her tongue. Watching her sister writhe in the pain of heartache that she might have contributed to is eating her alive. When her baby sister’s distraught blue eyes land on hers, the decision is made. She has to confess.

“Umm, K-Kara. D-Do you have your laptop close by?” Alex asks, looking around the living room, but not seeing the device. “Can you tell me where it is?” Her eyes settle on the heartbroken blonde and take in the stretched out arm pointing across the room to the dining table. She gently squeezes her sister’s shoulder and makes her way over to grab it. Taking a brief moment to steel herself for what she’s about to do, she takes a deep breath and turns to face the truth.

Kara tracks her sister’s movement, a little confused by her actions, and curious to know why she’s behaving like a scared dog. She sniffles, wiping her nose with the tissue her sister hands her. “What’s going on? Why are you acting so strange, Alex?” Her eyes scan the laptop now sitting on the couch between them. “Why are you opening my laptop? What’s going on?”

An audible gulp can be heard coming from the redhead’s throat. Brown eyes bounce between teary cerulean. “Eight years ago, when you called me crying hysterically about what happened, I got you to block Lena’s number. I knew she wouldn’t give up trying to contact you so…” Another hard swallow and a shaky inhale are the only two sounds Alex can hear at that moment. Everything else is drowned by the sudden ringing in her ears. 

“What, Alex? So, what?” Kara says, a wave of nausea and anxiety builds in the pit of her stomach. “Alex. Please finish what you were saying.” Blue eyes filled with turmoil scan the redhead’s face, searching for something, a clue. There’s nothing, but fear and guilt resting on her usually stoic sister’s face. The look does nothing to ease the feeling gathering in Kara’s gut.

Alex opens the browser and pulls up Kara’s email. She clicks around a few times and Kara watches as her face falls. Her sister’s face goes white and tears gather in her eyes. A panicked and grief-stricken look settles on her sister’s face before she opens and closes her mouth a few times. Another deep breath. She sits the device in Kara’s lap before clearing her throat and dropping her hands into her own. “I knew Lena wouldn’t give up trying to contact you and I was so pissed at how much she hurt you, Kara. While you were driving to National City, I, umm…” A shaky breath, another hard swallow. “I blocked Lena’s email address so you wouldn’t get anything she sent to you.” The last part of her sentence is so quiet Kara almost doesn’t hear it. 

Almost.

When Alex finally looks up, she can see her sister clicking through emails with tears streaming down her face. “Alex…” It’s a broken whisper, barely audible. As blue eyes finally look up, there is an anger unlike anything the redhead has seen before. “Get out. I want you out of my apartment right now. Do not talk to me right now, Alex. Just get the fuck out of my apartment. Now.”

It’s not loud. It’s not harsh. It’s broken and it rips Alex’s heart in two. She silently stands, gathers her jacket and keys before briefly pausing at the door. “I’m really sorry, Kara. I love you and I’m really, really sorry.”

There’s nothing but silence before the door softly closes. Once Kara is alone, she sifts through the emails. All of the things she missed over the last eight years. Lena tried. She tried to reach out, to fix things and Kara didn’t know. There were at least ten emails from the first few months after the breakup. A few more scattered across the first year and then one per year with a simple heart on the anniversary of their first date. Lena probably thinks…

Then, she sees the last email received. Dated today, sent early that morning. 

To: KMDanvers922@wiremail.com

From: LKLuthor94@wiremail.com

Date: October 16, 2023, 12:01 a.m.

Subject: One Last Time

Hi Kara,

I remember everything. Your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes sparkle when you get excited. Every October 16th after you left Cambridge, I went to our park and retraced our steps. It was never the same without you. Of course it wasn’t, but it always made me feel closer to you. 

You made me so happy, Darling. Being with you felt like being home, like I was finally whole and where I was meant to be. Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. Even now, I feel like part of me is missing. You took part of me with you that day, Kara. I haven’t been the same since.

I know it’s been eight years and I know it’s a shot in the dark, but I have to try one last time to reach you. I’m in National City. If you want to and are available, I’d like to see you again. Meet me inside Centennial Park at 7:00 p.m. tonight. There’s a bench about one hundred feet from the gate to the left next to the footpath. I’ll be there until 8:00 p.m.

If you don’t show, I’ll understand. Just know I remember everything and I’ll always remember you.

All my love,

Lena 

Kara’s eyes go wide. She scrambles up from her couch, looking down at her watch and almost dropping her laptop. Shoving the laptop onto the coffee table, she steps into her shoes, snatches her keys and jacket, and bolts down the stairs. She doesn’t have a car and the park is at least a thirty minute walk, but the bus would be just as long. Without another option, she starts running.

It was nearly 8:17 p.m. when she left her apartment so the odds of Lena still being there were slim, but she had to try. Her legs moved before her brain caught up, she ran as fast as she could. She’s in pretty good shape, she runs almost every morning and does a lot of walking around the city, but tonight it feels like she’s running through sludge. Kara rounds the corner into the park at 8:43. While she managed to make the run in twenty-six minutes, she can already tell she’s too late. 

The bench is vacant and Kara’s heart falls. She plops herself onto the metal and huffs in frustration. As her hand settles on the bench beside her, she feels something under her palm. Her fingers wrap around it and she brings it closer. It’s some sort of woven bracelet. Upon closer inspection, she immediately recognizes it. It’s one of the silly bracelets she made for her and Lena when they first became friends. They each had one. Lena wore hers, but Kara kept hers on the keychain Lena bought her on their first date alongside her apartment key. She pulls out her phone to shine a light on it. Sure enough, it’s the one she kept on her keychain. Right there in the middle of the bracelet are their initials. 

Lena really had been here and Kara missed her chance. She sat there for a while. She’s not sure how long, but eventually she walks back toward her apartment. Without a care for the time of night or for how long it would take, she dejectedly makes her way home. Another chance stolen, her second chance lost.

--

Lena didn’t go into the office the following day. She couldn’t bring herself to face anyone. Her eyes were certainly swollen and her mind was in no condition to function properly. She sighs and rolls over in bed, her hand automatically reaching for the keychain she plays with every morning. As her hand settles on it, she pauses, something is missing.

Her body bolts upright, feet swinging to the side of the bed and hitting the floor with a thud. She snatches the prized item up and stares at it in disbelief. The bracelet that has been on the keychain for close to a decade is missing. It has to be at the park, she thinks. It must have fallen off when she was toying with it on the bench last night. She blows out a harsh breath. “Of course.” She mumbles to herself. “That would fit with the rest of my evening. Why not top it off with losing the bracelet?”

With that, she heads to the shower to remove yesterday’s makeup and grime. Maybe it will make her feel a little more human. Maybe it won’t. Either way, she has to get up and get cleaned up.

Across the city, Kara is suffering a similar fate. She wakes up feeling hungover. Emotionally, physically, and mentally, she is exhausted. After a phone call to her boss, she plans to work from home for the day. She’s not sure how much work she’ll get done, but at least she doesn’t have to face any people. At the very least, she can finish up the research for her upcoming interview with one of the lead scientists at Spheerical. The interview isn’t until Friday, so she still has plenty of time. 

The thought stops her in her tracks. She knows Lena is in National City, so the chance of her seeing the beautiful genius is higher than it’s ever been. While she wants to see the woman, she also doesn’t know if she’s truly prepared for it. With this in mind, she pulls up the email from her boss to double-check the name of the scientist she’s scheduled to interview. It’s the same woman she interviewed previously, Felicity Smoak. The knowledge puts her at ease and she gets back to her research and preparation. 

Both women spend the rest of the week trudging through the remainder of their daily grind with the enthusiasm of a doorknob. Neither of them have recovered from their experience on Monday and neither are really in the headspace to figure out how to move on from it. Lena is still in an immense amount of pain knowing the last spark of hope she had is well and truly doused. Kara is so angry with her sister and herself that she can’t think of anything else. It hasn’t yet occurred to her that she knows Lena’s email address is active and she could respond to the email and explain her absence. 

It seems even after eight years, they still haven’t gotten their heads out of their asses. 

--

After arriving at her office as usual, Lena spends her Friday morning reviewing budgets, new project proposals, and current project status reports. It’s the mundane part of her job as head of R & D that makes her want to pluck her eyeballs out. She’s just about to move on to the next proposal when her phone intercom buzzes to life.

“Miss Luthor…” The smooth voice of her assistant, Jess, echoes through the speaker.

“Yes, Jess. Go ahead.” Lena says, casually closing the proposal and grabbing the next one. 

“Sorry to disturb you, Miss Luthor. Your lunch is here. Also, Miss Smoak asked if you can cover a meeting for her this afternoon.” Jess says, the sound of typing evident in the background. 

Lena shifts in her chair. Felicity is the R & D manager for the National City branch and typically doesn’t ask her to handle anything unless it’s absolutely necessary. “What type of meeting and what time, Jess? I already have a meeting at 2:00.”

Jess sighs, she knows Lena’s schedule inside out so she is aware of the meeting, but keeps that information to herself. “She said It’s an interview for a science journal or magazine about the upcoming tech and prosthetic release. Miss Smoak had an emergency and won’t be here to cover it.” More sounds of muffled typing sound over the line. “The scheduled interview isn’t until 3:30 so it won’t impact your schedule in any way.”

“Thanks, Jess. Can you bring my lunch in? I’ll just have it at my desk.” She rubs the back of her neck, all of the tension and emotion from the week seems to have settled there. “Let me know when my two o’clock arrives.”

She spends the next two hours reviewing the rest of the documents and doing her best not to think about Kara and the sting of knowing all hope is lost. Her chest has been filled with a dull ache since the moment she realized the woman wasn’t coming. To say she’s used to it would be a lie, but she’s adjusting.

Across town, Kara leans back in her chair and reviews her list of questions, cross-referencing her research notes one last time before she packs everything into her messenger bag to head out. Her walk to Spheerical won’t take long, but she doesn’t want to risk being late so she gives herself plenty of time for any delays. She’s definitely a lot more nervous for this interview than the last one with Miss Smoak. This prosthetic is supposed to be cutting edge and is set to change the game for amputees. In short, it’s an article that could put her on the short list for another award, but her nerves aren’t related to any award. No. Her stomach is twisted into knots at the idea of possibly seeing Lena. 

As much as she wants to push the idea from her head, the more she tries, the more green eyes seem to float across her thoughts. She huffs in frustration at herself and sets her jaw in determination to overcome her traitorous mind. By the time she enters the glass doors of Spheerical, she feels like she has more control and is ready to get to work. A widest, most charming smile gets plastered across her face as she approaches the reception desk.

“Hi! I’m here for an interview with Felicity Smoak.” Kara says as she hands over her I.D. and CatCo badge. “It should be under Kara Danvers for CatCo Worldwide Media.”

The young gentleman at the desk returns her smile and takes her information. A few minutes later, she is handed a visitor's pass and moved along to the elevator. Stepping into the elevator seems to increase the gymnastics inside her stomach so she leans back against the cool metal of the wall and takes a few deep breaths. By the time she has opened her eyes again, the doors are opening to drop her on the tenth floor. It’s the same place she met with Felicity the last time and it settles her nerves a bit. It’s familiar scenery and the same smiling receptionist.

“Miss Danvers, it’s good to see you again.” The receptionist smiles, standing to show her into the conference room across the hallway. “Go ahead and have a seat, she’ll be with you shortly. Help yourself to the refreshments.” 

Kara grabs a bottle of water, deciding she doesn’t need anything that will make her any more jittery than she already is. She sits down and pulls her things out of her bag, getting everything settled for the interview. Her eyes and mind are so focused on her task that she doesn’t notice the door opening and closing.

The sound of footsteps breaks the reporter out of her focus. When Kara looks up, it is into all too familiar eyes, her favorite shade of green. Their eyes meet across the room, wide and shocked. Both of them momentarily freeze. It’s been 8 years since they last spoke or were remotely close to one another. Almost a decade since they went from the center of each other’s world to mere strangers in a quiet conference room. Hurt green eyes meet surprised blue across the large room. They stare at one another inside a building full of people oblivious to the world-stopping moment happening around them. 

Amid the silence, Kara can see Lena’s face has gone ashen and her throat keeps bobbing with harsh swallows. Before they realize what’s happening, both of them are talking at the same time. Kara is out of her chair and speaking before Lena is even halfway to the table. The shocked scientist heads toward the table and does her best to keep her tone professional. 

Once Kara realizes Lena is sitting in the chair with a no-nonsense look on her face, she plops herself back into her own and looks up. Azure eyes comb over pale features, finally settling on pain-stricken viridian eyes. They hold the stare for a brief moment before Lena straightens her back. Kara can see when the Luthor mask emerges from the pained features of the woman she loves. 

“I apologize, Miss Danvers. Miss Smoak had to leave for a personal matter so she asked me to fill in.” Lena states with a matter of fact tone, no emotion and strictly professional. “I understand you’re here to talk about the new prosthetic line and the tech we’re releasing next month. It seems Miss Smoak allotted an hour and a half. If you have your questions ready, we can get started.”

Kara’s shoulders drop. She feels her eyes stinging with tears and isn’t sure if she can stop them from flowing. Lena is being crystal clear that she’s keeping this professional and has no intention of veering into anything personal. The reporter closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to center herself. She clears her throat, opens her eyes, and gets to work. “Of course, Miss Luthor. I’ll do my best to make this as painless and efficient as possible.”

The interview starts and things are a bit stilted. It isn’t until Kara makes one of her signature terrible puns that they both laugh and things settle into a more natural rhythm. Kara asks her questions and Lena provides the most detailed and honest answers she can without revealing too much. The reporter smiles and sits her head in her hand as she watches the love of her life gesture passionately about one of her newest inventions. It reminds her of all the nights they spent on their couch in their apartment sharing stories about classes and just life in general. She must have missed something the scientist said because she is broken from her thoughts when a hand lands on her forearm.

“”Hey, everything okay?” Lena asks, brow furrowed in concern. “I called your name several times and you didn’t respond.”

Kara nods her head, clearing her throat in embarrassment. “Y-Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. Just got lost in my head for a bit. I’m sorry.” She flashes a half-hearted smile and sits back to flip through her notebook. Scanning to make sure she didn’t skip any questions and counting the remaining ones, she looks back up. “Seems like we only have five more questions left.”

Lena watches her for a few more seconds, biting her lip as if to hold back from saying something. Whatever it is dies on her tongue as she shakes her head and gestures for the reporter to continue. They get through the remaining questions in record time. Kara gives a polite thank you and starts stuffing all of her items back into her bag. Once everything is packed away, she glances around to make sure nothing was missed and stands. Pushing her chair back under the table, she turns to walk away. For the second time in eight years, she’s walking away from the woman she loves. Just as her hand lands on the handle of the door, she stops and turns.

“I showed up.” Kara mumbles quietly as she fidgets with the strap of her bag, eyes fixed on her feet. “I was too late, but I was there. Just wanted you to know.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the bracelet she found sitting on the bench. When she looks up and her eyes find Lena’s, she can see the surprise on her face. A broken smile barely lifts the corners of her mouth as she turns to leave the room. Before she can wrap her hand completely around the handle again, a cold hand settles on her warm skin. She freezes.

“You were there.” It’s quietly whispered. Like a leaf rustling in the breeze, it’s barely audible. Lena isn’t sure she can speak any louder, there’s a lump of emotion in her throat she’s been begging to stay put all week. “I waited and waited. Almost two hours. You never came.”

Kara spins around, her eyes wide with fear. She’s desperate to explain, panicked that things will spiral and she won’t get another chance. “Lena, I promise I would have been there sooner if I had known. Alex, she did this thing…I wasn’t getting your emails. Then she undid the thing…then I got the emails and I kicked her out, but I didn’t see the…” 

She takes a breath and starts again. “Once I saw the email, I took off running. Lena, I ran as fast as I could and it should’ve taken thirty minutes, but I did it in twenty-six. And I was still too late.” Her face drops and tears sting her eyes again. This time she doesn’t stop them, she just lets them fall. If this is the last time she gets to be in the same room with Lena, at least it will be honest.

Green eyes observe with interest, she’s not really sure what Kara’s rambling about, but she has deduced that Alex did something. Blocked her email address, she thinks? Then she unblocked it and Kara got the messages. It’s still not really clear. A humorless laugh pushes through her lips, why doesn’t she just ask?

“Kara, I’m not really sure what you are trying to tell me. Can you slow down for a second and explain?” Lena asks, her hands involuntarily raising to wipe the blonde’s tears. When she realizes what she’s doing, she pulls her hands away and steps back. “Why don’t we sit back down? Sounds like this is going to take a while.”

So they sit. They talk about what happened on Monday and why Kara never responded to any of her messages over the years. It doesn’t fix things. It doesn’t make everything better. They still have a lot to talk about and a million things to sort out, but they’re talking. It’s more than either of them could have anticipated a few days ago. They make plans for dinner the following day and discover they both kept the same numbers just in case the other ever tried to call. 

As they stand outside the elevator, getting ready to part ways, Kara lifts the bracelet up again, offering it to Lena. “I can’t believe you still have this. It was always attached to my keychain. It was the one you bought me on our first date, I always kept my apartment key on it.” She grinned down at the brilliant woman as long fingers plucked the bracelet out of her hand. Her eyes trace the movement of her other hand lifting something from her jacket pocket.

Kara’s jaw drops in disbelief. It’s the keychain.

“I’ve kept it with me everyday since you left. I’m not sure why. I think maybe it was my way of staying connected to you. Holding it always takes me back to places we went and things we did.” Lena shrugs, running her fingers across the ridges of the metal. “For a really long time I wished I didn’t, but I remember everything, Kara. Now, I’m glad I do.”

A teary smile spreads across Kara’s face. “How do you feel about starting over?”

Lena lets out a wet laugh. “Mmm, I’m not sure that’s really what I want.” She pauses to hold her hand to her chin, staring at the reporter. “Hear me out. Starting over feels like forgetting everything and starting new. I don’t want that. Our history and our past are what built us. What if we just talk things out and start again?”

“Yeah, I like that.” Kara smiles, tears slowly drying on her cheeks.” Let’s start again.”

“I told you, I remember everything. I want to keep it that way.” Lena smiles and presses a kiss to her cheek. They share one more smile. Kara disappears into one elevator and Lena into the other. 

Things aren’t perfect and it’s not going to be easy, but they’re starting again. What more could they ask for?

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

saying goodbye

(cw: age gap 25/41; mndi, slight nsfw; angst, brief discussion of loss and fear of death)

the part before: comforting him

I wanted to do something nice for König before he goes on his next mission, before he has to leave. Which is quite the challenge to make it a surprise from him when you’re living together. Well, staying together, but it doesn’t change the fact that we spend most of our time with each other.

Another reason, why this doesn't feel like dating anymore. It doesn't feel like just being exclusive. It doesn't feel like a living arrangement because he broke my bed. Also, he seems to be doing better again, after the little downward spiral that plagued him at the end of last week. At the same time… I can't shake the feeling that he's a bit more closed off than he was before.

I sigh. He’ll leave in only two days and we agreed that I would go home tomorrow because, well… it can’t be postponed any longer.

I already knew he has to sort out some stuff today before being deployed, driving into the city, getting a medical check-up and also arranging the details for my new bed to finally be delivered. But this gives me the chance to pack up most of my stuff and prepare what I wanted to surprise him with while he is away for a few hours.

I went grocery shopping after work, got everything that the recipe called for, and started as soon I was back at his place. I cut so many onions for this, I’m all cried out, but I still can’t help the little lump sitting in the back of my throat, closing it up, which has nothing to do with the cut vegetables

He comes back earlier than I anticipated, mumbling something about an incompetent doctor and how he doesn’t like to have his blood drawn. But I shoo him out of his own kitchen with a few comforting words, tell him to sit in the living room and read something. And not disturb me.

“Aye-aye, Ma’am.”, he says, an amused smirk on his face as he jokingly salutes. I roll my eyes and laugh a little, patting his butt, to make him hurry along.

I still need to prepare the sidedish and let the stew cook for a little longer to make sure the meat is tender and the sauce is thick enough. At least that’s what the recipe said. And I need to make sure I do everything right.

When it’s finally done, the kitchen looks like somebody threw around food, although I did my best to clean up as I go.

I fill one of the soup dishes with the stew, putting the Nockerl in there as well, the dough already soaking up some of the sauce. I compare the dish in front of me with the picture from the recipe and I’m actually content with how it came out.

I set the plate down on the island where the seats are and call for König while I get myself a smaller portion. I hear his steps before his huge stature appears in the doorframe.

“Uh, dinner is ready.”, I say wryly smiling at him, with my plate in my hands. I set it down next to his.

“I can see that and I already smelled the cooking in the living room, it smells deli-“ The words gets stuck in his throat as he comes closer, stopping in front of the plate. He drops onto the seat, the furniture aching under his weight. The smile he was still wearing when he came into the kitchen has dissipated, his mouth hanging open, when he looks up from his plate, his eyes finding mine. He looks almost in shock.

I sit down next to him, suddenly very unsure if this whole ordeal even was a good idea.

“You cooked Gulasch?”, he asks, his voice wavering.

I nod. “Yes, I remember how you said that you liked it, so uh, I tried to make it.”

“But you’re vegetarian.”, he adds.

“Yes, but you aren’t. And the original recipe calls for beef.”, I explain, putting the doughy pillows that the Austrians call Nockerl onto my fork, scooping up some of the sauce. I just want to try a bit of, tasting a part of his origins.

He’s still staring as I put the fork into my mouth, and well, he didn’t promise too much when he was talking about his favourite food because that’s really delicious. Though I’m unsure about how authentic it is.

His gaze moves from me to the plate in front of him, finally picking up the fork, and he digs in, taking the biggest bite. I wait to see what his reaction would be like. He shovels two, three forkfuls into his mouth, chewing, tasting. And then suddenly just stops. Goes completely still. And I don’t know what’s going on as his head drops forward, his hair hanging in front of his face.

A small silent sob shakes his chest and a stray tear falls from his face into the stew. My heart drops to my feet. Fuck.

“We don’t need to eat it, if it’s no good.”, I say lightly, trying not to let it affect me. When I go to grab his plate, his head whips in my direction, and I finally get a good look at his face.

“What, no?! I-“ He takes a deep breath, his hand wiping over his eyes quickly, like the tear was never there. “This is the nicest thing somebody has done for me in a long time.”, he finally says. “And it reminds me of my Oma.” A deep sigh shakes his tall frame. “So, thank you, okay? It’s delicious.” He takes my hands, softly pulling them towards him, pressing a kiss on each palm.

The sadness in his eyes isn’t completely gone when I look into them, and I didn’t anticipate that this simple gesture of cooking him his favourite meal would have him in shambles like that. But the smile that turns up the corners of his mouth is a warm one, thankful and happy.

“You’re welcome.”, I simply tell him. “I’m glad you like it.” I press my lips to his, reassuring the big giant that it was okay, without saying it out loud.

When I pull back, he lingers, his hand shooting up to the back of my head, stealing another kiss. Long, deep and oh so soft. Another “thank you”, without saying it out loud.

“What was your Oma like?”, I ask him, taking a forkful of my sauced-up Nockerl. He talked about her before, but it might keep me from tearing up as well.

The smile on his face gets wider and he starts to tell stories about her. Leaving the other people in his family out of it, for the most part.

How she always asked him to get the stuff from the upper shelves because he was already taller than her at age 12. How he sat in the kitchen doing his homework while she cooked. How she stopped pestering him about going to church on Sunday eventually, but still almost smacked him in his head when he turned the cross in the living room upside down as a joke. How she cried when he joined the military because that was the last thing she wished for him. How she still let him go and how he had to promise her to come back – or else. How he helped her in the garden every time he came home and kept doing that well into his 30s. And how he nearly missed her funeral because he almost couldn’t get permission to leave for a few days.

König takes seconds and even thirds, eating almost all of the Gulasch I cooked. I’m already done sitting over my empty plate, listening to him talk, getting us something to drink. When he is done as well, he grabs the plates to wash up, not letting me help in any way, because “Oh no, you already cooked and everything”. He tells me to pick out a movie I’d like to watch, the glint in his eyes telling me that it’s probably going to get cut short again, so I put on Pulp Fiction, a movie we both have watched countless times before.

He laughs as he comes into the living room with a beer in his hand and sees my choice on the flatscreen, taking a seat at the couch and I hop onto his lap when his ass barely touched the cushions. We’re entangled, as close as you can be. And it doesn’t take long for his hands to wander. Squeeze, caress, stroke over my body. Teasing me with soft kisses against my neck until a heavy sigh leaves my lips. He takes that as an invitation to finally take me to the bedroom where he lies me down on the mattress to eat me out, while he kneels on the floor. Messy, sloppy licks and nibbles, his fingers methodically filling me until I cum for him, my thighs pressing together around his head.

He crawls over me, pushing into me with his dick, after teasing my clit some more with his tip, the piercing deliciously pressing into the sensitive nub.

Slow and sweet doesn’t mean less intense, the soft stretch with every sensual roll of his hips sending sensations over my body, making me pant and throw my head back with pleasure.

His hand on my chin compelling me look at him while he is fucking me like this… until it doesn’t feel like just fucking anymore. When I come again, this time around his dick, it feels like a soft wave washing over me, his name on my lips, and he doesn’t stop pushing into me, prolonging my orgasm and chasing his own until he spills inside me.

He presses kisses to my cheek, pulling me into him, and we snuggle up against each other to fall asleep. My back is against his front, the heat of his body warming me, that I don’t even need a blanket. Feeling the comfort of his embrace a little more clearly than usual.

And the realisation hits me that he is going to leave. And I’m gonna go back home, to my apartment. No more König when I come home from work. No shared meals in the kitchen, no sitting in his lap on the couch. No laughing fits in the middle of the night when one of us says something so stupid that the other can’t comprehend. No filthy sex and tender kisses. No calling him “old man” to get a rise out of him. No dirty punishment for my bratty ass. No feeling him inside me, his brows turned up, his eyes rolling back in ecstatic expression as he comes. None of it, at least for some time.

I push those thoughts away, pulling his arms tighter around me as if I could keep him like this. I close my eyes, ignoring the one stray tear that rolls down my cheek, and drift off into sleep.

And with this the day I have been dreading the whole week is finally here. The day when I return to my own apartment after staying with him for weeks. I even took a day off of work for this.

I’m trying not to let it show too much, because it’s a bit stupid. This living arrangement always was meant to be temporary and I always knew he was on leave, needing to go back to his work at some point sooner or later. But now that it’s here… I kinda don’t want it to happen at all.

The coffee tastes a little bitter as I sip it, even though he added just as much milk as usual, with the typical joking disgust while diluting the tasty elixir, that always makes me chuckle and shake my head.

The sunlight streaming through the big windows in the living room blinds me as it reflects off the shiny couch upholstery when I go to collect Mimi from her spot, putting her in the cat carrier.

The book I finished reading on the weekend gets caught when I push it into its place on the shelf, some of the pages creasing. I curse, showing König and apologizing. He takes the book from my grasp, straightening out the crinkles, and puts it back. “Don’t worry, Liebes, it’s just a book.”, he says, his arm coming around me as he pulls me against his warm body and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

I get the rest of my stuff, seeing that one of my yarn balls has tangled into a net of knots, and I curse again. Of course, it did. I put my crochet bag into one of the boxes and carry it outside.

With a sigh I look back over my shoulder one last time and close the door behind me, placing my stuff in the trunk and climbing into the driver’s seat of my own car. Starting it and driving after him, and it’s weird not to sit right next to him in his car.

It’s weird being home again. Letting Mimi out of her carrier, the little kitty running around, brushing against his legs. And he picks her up, carrying her around, just like they always do. The small creature is purring against his chest as he shimmies her around, humming some tune I can't place.

It’s weird standing here in my apartment with him, waiting for the bed to be delivered. I can feel my bubbly yapping coming back, not being able to shut up, and König is listening like he always does. Short, one-worded answers while his hand is petting Mimi, scratching between her ears and under her chin.

The doorbell ringing tears us from our conversation. The delivery guys are handing the packages over, asking if they should help bring them in, but König declines, giving them a tip and sending them their way.

I’m not as easily deterred from trying to help with the packages, although König is carrying most of them, barely breaking a sweat, while I struggle with the smallest one.

Sitting on the bedroom floor, his tall figure still reaching up to my hips before I get down next to him. He’s glancing at the instructions, squeezing his eyes together, but I can tell he’s having a hard time seeing the illustrations of the steps correctly.

And of course he is too stubborn to ask for help. I grin to myself and shake my head. “Forgot your glasses?”, I ask him, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.”, he says wryly, and I extend my hand, suggesting silently he’ll hand over the instructions and he does, with a sigh and a little smile.

While I’m still studying the instructions, he’s laying out the pieces and already putting the first parts together. Of course, he is choosing the hands-on approach, even with stuff like that, figuring it out as he moves along, and I chime in with a few comments here and there, guiding the construction.

His long hair is getting in the way and I lend him a hair tie, and I don’t think I’ll ever manage to get over how meticulous he puts his hair in a ponytail. I mean, he probably has done that same move for years, his hands collecting all the stray strands, the band snapping around them with two quick motions and then it just sits perfectly at the back of his head.

We spent so much time together and I realise that I’ve never seen him do that. The whole time he was always wearing his hair down, some strands hanging in front of his face. Sometimes he put them into a lose bun when he was working out, but never like this.

“What?”, he asks me, a hint of uncertainty on his face.

I shake my head. “Nothing, your hair looks good like that.”, I say, clearing my voice when it dares to break off, but I save it with a smile which gets mirrored by his, and I can’t help but put a kiss onto it while a pang of something spreads in my chest. I feel like I know him so well, and yet I keep learning parts of him I’ve never seen before.

“Come on, Hexe.”, he says when I linger, prolonging the kiss, caught in my thoughts, his hand patting my hip which makes me giggle a bit, but I can't shake the feeling that's settling in my stomach. Fuck, he's gonna leave.

Pretty quickly we construct the bed, it’s easy enough, especially when you’re following the instructions – a sentiment I say out loud after he managed to stick two pieces together who fit, but actually belong like that. He just grins and pulls them apart easily, his muscles flexing for just a moment.

“Show-off.”, I say, sticking my tongue out at him.

Finally, the frame is done, the slats already fitted into it and last but not least, we hoist the mattress onto them.

“You didn’t need to buy me a new one, you know.”

He shoots me a look. A knowing one.

“Really, it was fine. The old one would have sufficed.”

“I have slept on that mattress. You needed a new one.”

“Oh, that's just your old bones.”, I quip, and I know how ridiculous I must sound telling that to a soldier who can probably sleep anytime anywhere.

He pinches my nose. “You're not getting younger yourself, Missy.”, he answers. "Your back will be thankful."

“Yeah, yeah.”, I say grinning and bump my hip against his, rather hitting the burly thigh, before getting some bedsheets.

The fresh sheets match the nice dark wood of the bedframe, the bed now looking so much nicer than the rest of my furniture pieces.

“Thanks. For the new bed.”, I tell him, smiling up at him, getting on my tiptoes.

“No need to thank me, Liebes.”, he answers, leaning down and meeting me halfway for a kiss. “It was my fault you needed a new one in the first place.”, a wry grin accompanying his words.

“Well, this looks much sturdier like the one I had before.” I tap the wooden frame, a hollow knock resounding.

“Well, I needed to make sure that it wouldn’t break that easily again.”, he says, smiling down at me, a twinkle in his eyes. A reminder of how we broke it in the first place.

“Care to test that theory?”, I ask him cheekily, although I’m not really in the mood right now. My heart is way too heavy.

Before I can say anything else, he grabs me by the waist and lifts me up on the bed, the mattress dipping down under my weight. His hands are steadying me when I start to jump up and down, bouncing on it. Damn, it’s really nice. And I don't dare to ask how much he spent on it.

“Sturdy enough, you think?”, he asks me.

I nod. “You wanna come up here too?”, I tease him.

He shakes his head, just grinning, following my movements up and down with his eyes.

“Oh come on!”, I exclaim, not ready to stop this sillyness.

He pulls up his eyebrows. “I don’t think that would be wise, we don’t need to push it.”, he grins, when all of a sudden, there’s a faint cracking sound, and I stop, almost toppling over trying to hold my balance on the wobbling mattress.

“Point and case.”, he remarks as his arms coming around my waist as he lifts me off the bed.

“Okay, okay…”

I hold onto him like a little spider monkey, my legs closing around him, my cheek pressing against his shoulder as I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. Like I could keep him here like that. Or he’ll just take me with him when I stick to him like a limpet. Maybe I’m small enough to fit into his pocket.

My fingers get caught in his hair as I try to run them through it like I always do, and he pulls the hair tie from them, putting it away, letting me play with the long strands, as he goes to sit down.

The couch in my apartment is way smaller than his, his frame fills the cushions easily, so I have nowhere else to sit but his lap. Like I would have sat anywhere else. Trying to be as close to him as possible.

We’re not saying anything, just sitting here. My head rests against his shoulder, his scent all around me. I can hear his heart beat, feel it beneath my fingertips resting on his chest. Steady and strong, but a little too fast.

His hands are gently caressing my thighs and back, and even though I feel the sadness seep into me, the soft touches ground me.

We sit in silence for what seems eternity while at the same time lasting barely more than the blink of an eye. And I wish we could remain in this moment, frozen in time, but well.

He sighs softly, the deep sound pulling me from my thoughts, and I lift my head, to look at him.

“We need to say goodbye.” He slumps back, his shoulders hitting the backrest. “I wish I didn’t need to go.”, he exhales. Saying what I was thinking.

"Don't worry, I'll still be here when you're on leave again.", I tell him, softly kissing his cheek. He turns to me, the expression on his face serious and... a bit sad.

"But you shouldn't be.", he says, calm and steady.

"But-", I want to protest.

He shakes his head. "No, you should be with somebody your age, someone who can give you stability." He sighs. "Someone who can guarantee you that they'll come back to you. Every time they leave."

And the realisation hits me. He isn't saying goodbye for now. He's saying goodbye for good.

“I see.”, is all I manage because my feelings come crashing down over me with a vicious fervor. I thought I was going to have to deal with him leaving for weeks or months. With him being gone for a while. Not with a breakup.

“I’m sorry.”, he apologizes and starts to explain. “I never meant for this to go this far or… this deep.” The admission in his words makes my stomach flip upside down. I actually feel a little nauseous as my hands grip my own thighs, trying to hold onto something. “And I should’ve maybe said something earlier.” He swallows hard.

“The truth is that I had the best time this leave, and that was solely because of you.” He finally looks at me again, the raw emotions in his eyes almost scaring me. But the resolve in them is clear as well. “I couldn’t get myself to break it off. But I can’t make you wait for me either. Because I can’t even promise you that I will return.” His voice is shaking now and seeing him like this makes my lower lip tremble as I just try to breathe.

“And I can’t do that to you. The thought of you waiting for me at home and only a casket coming back… has been killing me inside these past few days.” The words come out choked and I can’t look at him anymore, my head snapping to the side as that image fills my mind. “Fuck, I’m really sorry, okay?”

We sit here like this for a moment longer. His hands stopped caressing my thighs and back, and I want to scream. The cold feeling of loss grips my heart, a viciously clawed hand leaving gaping wounds as it was making its way up my chest. He’s still sitting underneath me, but I feel like he’s already gone.

“I get it.”, I finally say, my voice trembling and hoarse. Still not able to look at him because I wouldn’t have been able to hold back my tears.

“I knew you would.”, he says, the words breaking up as he speaks. And I think back to when he told me that he couldn’t have a partner or family because his job won’t allow it. And I finally get why he thinks like that. At least I guess so. The big house devoid of any life but him, his own little safe haven, and I only now understand how temporary this whole arrangement really had been. I just didn’t see it. Maybe because I didn’t want to.

While I still try to process everything, he lifts me up and sets me down on the cushions of the couch. Like he did countless times the last few weeks. In his living room. And a sob tears from my chest because the gesture reminds me of so many tender and filthy moments at the same time. I hug my knees, pulling them close to me, already missing the warmth of his body. But that’s the way it is now, I guess.

He crouches down, coming face to face with me, and it just hurts to look at him. The bandshirt he bought for the concert we went to together. The tattoos on his knuckles, straining from the tension in his balled-up fists. The long dark hair, pushed to the side, falling back down his shoulder. I don’t need to touch it, to know how soft it feels. The mouth that smiled at me so often. The lips I have kissed countless times and that have kissed every inch of my body. The furrowed brows. The slack expression on his face concealing the laughlines. And for the first time since I’ve known him looking into his eyes doesn’t give me comfort.

He carefully takes my chin, the pads of his fingertips rough against the skin, softly digging into my jaw, like he likes – liked to do. He leans forward pressing a kiss to my lips which almost makes the tears drop from my eyes. A kiss to say goodbye, gentle and bittersweet.

"Stay safe, okay?", he whispers, his eyes looking intently into mine, but I can only nod. My throat is closed up because I know he won't be safe. Not saying anything because I don't want to cry in front of him. Because that will only make it harder, on both of us.

He straightens back up and leaves. The door falls shut behind him.

And I finally let the waterworks flow, sobs shaking my chest as I throw myself into the couch where he sat just a few moments ago.

Mimi’s meow pulls me from my crying fit when she jumps up onto the couch, her little head bumping into me, and I pull her against my chest, the tears rolling down my cheeks. And the odd thought crosses my mind if the crinkles in the book on his shelf are the only remainders of me in his house. While I have this new bed.

How did we get here? Masterlist

a/n: i have been working on this chapter for months and i knew what was coming and now that it's finished, i can't help but still feel the sadness hitting me 🥲 - and no, this is not the last chapter (in case you were fearing that rn) take this recipe for authentic austrian beef gulasch as a token of my apology

[quitealotofsodapop]

So if Wukong didn't know MK was playing superhero, why was he able to be caught by Spider Queen? The answer is clear. He took the younger cubs down to see the parade. That way, he could be closer to the fireworks, and his kids are entertained. He ended up being caught up in the initial attack and discovered MK playing hero while trying to evacuate the cubs away from the angry spider lady trying to turn people into spider zombies.

Wukong is not happy, but at this point there are far more important things to deal with. He orders MK to get his siblings somewhere safe while he handles Spider Queen. When MK protests, he tells him that MK's arachnophobia would only get in the way, and he is still Sun Wukong, the gods be damned Great Sage Equal To Heaven and the Monkey King. He isn't so far into his retirement that he can't put an upstart little princess in her place.

The plan backfires and Wukong gets captured by LBD and Spider Queen, of course, but hey, the Noodle Crew gets to meet MK's siblings! Sandy babysits them while they're in Heaven trying to get the stuff. All they know of it is that MK's mom was caught by the Spider Queen, they don't know yet exactly who his parent is. Not until much later when Wukong and DBK break out of their bonds and save them.

"Holy shit, is that Sun Wukong!?" ;Probably Tang

"Mom!" :MK

"MOM!?" :Literally eveyone

After all is said and dine Wukong makes good on his promise of a long talk, or rather lecture, and MK is grounded.

"I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU WOULD BE SO RECKLESS! Xiaotian, your father an I taught you better than this! What were you thinking!?"

"But when you were my age you were at war with Heaven, though!"

"And look what that got me! Thrown in a furnace and pinned under a mountain for 500 years! What you did was stupid and reckless. What if you'd gotten hurt!? Your still mortal, MK!"

Referencing.

Yesss. Wukong canonically adores New Years, and I def agree that love extends to the cubs too.

Wukong does a "surprise" visit to Megapolis to show the younger cubs the New Years Parade + check up on his eldest while MK is helping Pigsy with the foodtruck. Likely all in glamours, but MK 100% gets an embarassing visit from his mom at work. The Noodle shop gang tease him endlessly about it.

Then cue the Spider Queen's invasion, and Wukong giving MK the cubs to watch for the moment while he Kings Up. MK doesn't want his mom to go in his condition, but Wukong is still The Monkey King, and has no idea that his son has been superhero-ing for the past couple of months.

The gang all meet up on Sandy's airship, and the kiddos glamours all drop from stress. This is where the gang confirms (they had suspiscions) that MK is a disguised demon - they dont mind since thats sadly common in human-dominated cities. MK specifically being a monkey demon gets Tang asking questions though.

Red Son shows up and has a brain-fart mid-plan when he recognises who "Noodle Boy" actually is;

Red Son: "Xiaotian!? I haven't seen you since we were calves! This explains so much!"

MK, nervous sweating: "Not now dude! My mom got captured by the Spider Queen, and my dad is MIA right now."

Red Son: "Ah but of course. Seems we have the same predicament then. No fear, I have a plan to defeat the Spider Queen and save our respective parents."

Tang, panic-nerding: "MK, how do you know Red Son!?"

MK, flash of SWK-esque anger: "NOT NOW."

The gang get to the Celestial Realm and retrieve what they need to make the antidote - though not without attracting the attention of a certain hound that just realised her fave monkey is here.

MK, petting the dog: "I'm sorry Quan. I can't play right now! I'm saving the city."

Xiaotian Quan: (*sad whine!*)

Meanwhile at the Spider Mech; DBK has finally met his little brother/enemy once again. DBK in his anger, yells about Sun Wukong's "little-thief successor MK" ruining so many of his family's attempts at gaining power, and Wukong just blanks;

Wukong, scary parent voice: "Xiaotian has been doing what!?"

DBK: "The Little Thief is Xiaotian!?"

DBK would also shout at Wukong for putting himself in danger in his condition, but quiets when he learns that Macaque is missing. Tieshan had seemed worried since DBK got back (infact, maybe its why she decided to free him), and everyone knows that the shadow monkey wouldn't leave his mate without reason. When LBD arrives, DBK and Wukong immediate get a chill up their spines. They both know that she's somehow involved with Mac's disappearance... DBK has his super-saiyan moment of worried-anger and frees both himself and his xiandi so that they can find their reckless kids.

The Noodle Shop gang (+ Red Son and the cubs) bust on through with the spider-venom antidote and manage to subdue the Spider Queen with their combined forces.

Tang is about to fanboy at the sight of Sun Wukong in the flesh when MK and the cubs yell something that shatters his preconceptions.

MK & the cubs: "Mom!" "Mama!"

Noodle Shop Gang: "MOM?!?"

Wukong, swarmed by baby monkeys: "Thank Nuwa you're all ok!" (*hugs them all tight*)

Wukong: (*suddenly bonks MK on head with a sandal*)

Wukong: "And you! How dare you not tell me that you've been fighting demons this whole time! You told me you were only getting a job for mortal experience!"

MK: "But mom! I did get a job! I've been using my spare time trying to figure out what happened to dad!"

Wukong: "Which I specifically told you Not to do!! Your father has gotten himself tangled up with a very dangerous witch and I'm not letting you run into one of her traps!"

Noddle Shop Gang + DB fam: (*standing at a safe distance from the yelling*)

Tang, dizzy with excitement: "Anyone else feel like they're in a fantasy right now?"

Mei: "Hm, not really. I knew Xiaotian since we were pups. My grunkle Ao Lie is the same dragon-horse from the stories."

Tang: "Excuse me!?"

Erlang shows up on Earth asking Wukong tf just happened - his third eye showed him the chaos in the Celestial Realm and Lao Tzu is pissed for his missing pills and Furnace. But he immediately leaves when he sees tje carnage of a saved mortal city + Sun Wukong. (Erlang: "Ah. Say no more.")

[cinnasalmon]

Many of you have seen/heard the video but here's the datamined lines from Early Access for Zevlor (I know Guex is the thumbnail but when you press play the video should start at Zevlor. Oh and Holy Rolan Empire: report for duty, your boy is in here too). Keep in mind screams, laughs, snores, grunts, etc. are sprinkled throughout the lines lmao

And if you don't want to listen to all 1000+ audio files here are some of my favorites:

45:22 → "I suppose I could find the courage for a dance. The question is, can you find the courage to watch?"

49:45 → “No matter if this idiot heard me. The others will never believe their reluctant leader Zevlor follows the Absolute.”

55:33 → “If these sheep can buy me a place among the wolves then I will use them as I will.”

1:01:09 → “I don’t know what waits, and I don’t care. These people chose to put their lives in my hands.”

1:03:12 → "Unskilled is the liar who convinces only himself."

1:08:25 → "Poor thing. Touched, aren't you? No matter, you're still welcome to travel with us—we'll look after you."

1:15:56 → "I take comfort knowing your fate is tied to mine, at least."

1:32:12 → "Mm. I do love an audience."

1:36:03 → "Owe? What do I owe these people? I was a turncoat to them. The tiefling who joined the city watch.”

1:41:28 → “Don’t do anything stupid, hm? Remember that our fates are intertwined.”

1:48:32 → "There's an old Infernal saying..." [i'm not even gonna try to type that one out chief]

2:01:13 → “Nevermind, prove yourself useful here and I’ll remember you when I’m a True Soul.”

[sansxfuckyou]

nowhere to hide out in the open

summary: the one good thing about these 'Genre Peace' meetings, it would be that Delta Dawn has an excuse to be next to Queen Essence

warnings: its just fluff

authors note: EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO @ohposhers FOR DRAGGING ME OUT OF RETIREMENT BY MAKING DELTESSENCE REAL INSTEAD OF LETTING IT ROT IN OUR DM'S FROM MARCH, LITERALLY DRAGGED THIS FIC OUT FROM THE BACK AND FINISHED IT UP IN 2 HOURS NOT EVEN. anyways hope ya'll enjoy and if ya do consider dropping a reblog or checkin' the Ao3 port

To be frank, Delta Dawn didn't necessarily enjoy the fact that the genre leaders had to meet up in Funk's spaceship of sorts; they called it Vibe City. The deck may have been solid beneath her hooves and the air perfectly metered in temperature, but it still felt wrong. Just something made her feel off about living up here, especially when they used to inhabit the deserts and oasis's below.

The only plus was the fact that she was allowed a seat next to Queen Essence, Funk's co-ruler. Pale blue fur and glistening silver tinsel littered across her form and like necklaces on her neck. A spattering of glitter on her face and golden adornments in her hair, voice a gentle timbre and comfy pace-

Delta Dawn definitely enjoyed her, and the fact that she was married with children.

"Now, Queen Poppy, are you sure we really need to unite geographically as well?" Trollzart asked, and the annoying sound of his voice snapped Delta out of it. He sounded like a 'woodwind,' as the Classical's called those instruments.

"Yeah, Popseed, I quite like Volcano Rock City. The Rocker's need some heat to keep us going," Barb tacked on, voice sharp as always with a blunt edge that Delta respected. Even if the gal tried to destroy all music, she had good work ethic.

Poppy gave a nervous laugh, "Well we could at least try making a place where the cross-genre's and genrefluid Trolls could exist in peace?"

"A utopia," King Quincy supplies.

"A Trollstopia, if you will," Queen Essence adds on.

"The only problem with that is the Techno's, they can't be out of water for prolonged periods of time," Branch said. He was already splaying out blueprints, "I'll work on a fix."

"I can help manufacture it," Trollex said and his voice also had an annoying sting too it out of water, oddly synthetic but natural to their speciation.

"Dawn," Queen Essence said, and it took Delta a moment to realize she was referring to her.

The sheriff of Country nodded, "Yes, miss Essence?" Country sensibilities sneaking into her speech again, she really hopes that isn't an offence in Funk.

Instead it makes Queen Essence smile, "Do you have any objections to this Trollstopia?" There's a softness to her tone, a calm that Delta doesn't know too well. Everyone's much gruffer in Country, more to the point and strict about it. Working together is loving each other and tussling in a rodeo is a love language.

Funk Trolls are so... Different, in a refreshing way of course. It's confusing too, Delta never took herself for a romantic, but the Queen is doing something to her. And it's just how she exists too, even when they aren't interacting she's just like this. Smooth and calm and with an amount of allure that Delta is sure must be practiced in advance.

"I got no objections to it, I think it's a great idea," Delta said before standing up and pushing aside the cushion she sat upon. At the slightest hint of Poppy going to speak up, she waved it off, "I'm fine, Queen Poppy, I just need to stretch my legs, get some water."

Her hooves clicked uncomfortably against the metal-adjacent platforms below her. She rubbed her temples as she walked, taking long, deep breaths to try and compose herself. How on earth do they expect her to keep it together when they put her beside Queen Essence? She shouldn't be getting this worked up over a married Troll.

"Dawn, you're probably gonna need some help finding the vending machines," Came a gentle voice from behind her and all she could do was freeze up.

"Naw, I'll be fine, Queen Essence," Delta said, turning to give her an affirming smile. It looked kind of forced.

"Please, just call me Essence," She said before leading Delta along and the sheriff followed without questioning her own actions despite her previous defiance.

Delta gives a huffing sort of sound, it earns her a perplexed look before she remembers that the Funk Trolls don't have that in their lexicon, "Then I have ta ask that you call me Delta."

Essence gives a long hum as she pads down the halls, her paws are near silent against the flooring. A stark contrast to the clip-clop of Delta's hooves, "I'll see what I can do for you."

The slight teasing lilt coupled with a small chuckle has Delta going mad. She trots up closer to the queen of Funk and follows her obediently down the halls. The swirled design of Funk architecture matches the consistent beat thrumming below them in the main corridors. It pulses with a faint glow, so subtle it's almost unnoticable unless you really look close- and Delta needs something to stare at that isn't her guide.

When they come to a stop Essence grabs her a bottle of water, gifted in return for a small melody in a genre Delta doesn't know well. It's interesting technology really, maybe Country is outdated after all. Then she remembers that Pop still lives in the woods and hasn't rebuilt after they had their empire swept out from under their feet by the Bergens. Her genre isn't too far behind, and Funk is highly advanced anyways.

"So, Delta, what's got you down?" Essence asked, dropping down to sit with folded legs on a cushion. Delta followed suit, a low table between them, and she didn't quite sit the same way Funk Trolls did but she made it happen.

"Nothin's got me down," Delta said, twisting the cap off the bottle, "Don't know what gave you that idea."

Essence's brows furrowed, but she didn't narrow her gaze much. She just sighed, "I can't be offended that you don't want to tell me, but I can be offended that you think I can't see what's right in front of me."

That shakes Delta down to her core, she didn't expect Essence to have such keen observations as well. She nearly chokes on her water which has a tang too it, a hint of citrus flavouring perhaps? She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, "I suppose I shouldn't treat ya like an idiot cause you're different than me."

"Some signs are universal," Essence said, "And your vibes aren't exactly feeling on point."

Delta gives a low laugh, "You have a point there, Queen Essence. You're mighty smart, mighty tenacious for waiting so long for your son to show up."

Essence smiles a smile that's so warm it contradicts the soothing frosted hue of her form. She tilts her head a bit as she smiles, a small laugh arising and she brings a paw to hide it. "I'm flattered, Dawn."

"Essence, you seem like the loving type," Delta begins, "Happily married and whatnot."

"So it's a romance problem you have."

She nods, "Yeah, that. What would you say is the best action for loving someone whose already set for life?"

That gives Essence pause, and she's more than clever enough to piece it together right then and there, but she still takes a moment. "In Funk we're usually pretty open, most relations are fluid and shifting states frequently."

"They are?" Delta asked a bit too fast.

"Of course they are, Delta. Are they not in other genres?" Essence asked, a genuine curiosity lacing her voice.

Delta shakes her head, "We're rather monogamous in Country."

"Tell me, Delta," Essence begins, a type of smile on her face that makes Delta shiver. Essence leans a little bit closer, "Is it me?"

"What gave it away, your majesty?" Delta asked.

"Country Trolls are very up front, it translates to the way you act," Essence explained before pressing a kiss to Delta's cheek. It left a silvery, snowy mark in its wake and Delta was too stunned to move. It made Essence giggle a bit.

"But, but you're royalty!" Delta managed to get out, "Doesn't royalty have ta keep a closed relationship?"

Essence shrugged and the tinsel shifted and coat the technicolor glow of Vibe City. "Quincy is understanding, I doubt he'd mind if we let you in for a bit."

"Well alright then." She's not in a cohesive enough mindset to get anything else out of her mouth. She's wearing this dumb grin on her face that's quick to fall.

Essence brings a paw to Delta's face, "What's wrong, darling?"

"Nothin' that needs to be worried about now," Delta brings her hand to rest on Essence's wrist, or ankle maybe? Delta isn't too sure of the proper terminology to use.

"You got your legs stretched out enough to head back, Dawn? They can't make much progress without Country," Essence asked.

"I'm ready," Delta said before standing up, she traced a digit across the lipstick mark on her cheek, "Say, won't this be incriminating evidence?"

"Quincy won't mind," Essence assured with a hum.

"The others?"

"They're in our home, we can evict them."

[cypherthesuccubus]

Rekindle Our Spark~

Alastor x reader -Part 3- (NSFW) (MDNI)!!!!!

Warnings: smut, 18+, predator/prey, murder, S&M, bondage, knife play, blood kink, marking, cock worship, pussy worship, body worship, dom/sub, breath play, she/her pronouns, vaginal sex, breeding, creampie, rutting

Other tags: Fluff and Angst

Aftercare always!!!~✨

Part three is here, my darlings!!~ sorry for the wait, but good things always come to those who do, don’t they~ Please do enjoy yourselves~ 😈💕✨

(The song that plays during the dance)

(Y/N’s P.O.V)

I flip through the pages of my book I’m currently invested in. Nothing beats a good mystery novel every now and again. I recline back against the arm rest of the couch when I’m disturbed by a feminine voice “Hey (Y/N)! Vaggie and me are calling it a night, but I wanted to see how you were doing before I did.” I look to Miss Charlie; giving her a genuine smile “Oh I’m doing quite well! About to head to bed myself after I finish this chapter.” She smiles; just very happy to hear that I’m adjusting so well “Well if you need anything, just ask, ok?” I nod as she takes her leave upstairs; joining her girlfriend as they make their way down the hall. Ever since I’ve decided to become part of the Hazbin Hotel; thanks to a certain Radio demon; I’ve been feeling a lot more at ease then I was living in cannibal town. Yes the town is civilized of course, but still they ate human flesh like you would regular food. Which would put me on edge if one day I ended up on someone’s platter on account I made someone mad, or looked at them the wrong way. Could be my paranoia talking, but I honestly still would choose to move anyways; even if Alastor didn’t invite me to be a resident in the hotel. I still laugh about what transpired before he invited me here. He decides to give me a fright in the supply closet; thus jogging my memory of that night. I was thankful he let me go, but unfortunately I was still caught and brought back to meet my fate. I yelled out for him when I did get caught by one of the men, but it was too late. His corpse laid on the ground; soaking in his own blood from the shot wound.

I did manage to escape once they brought me back to their hideout. One of the men didn’t register that I was unbound and left me unsupervised in the lobby. I’d say luck was on my side after all. I had to go into witness protection after that and move to a different city under a new name. It worked for a while, until they found me. Unfortunately they weren’t interested in me anymore; they wanted me dead more than anything after escaping them. I went the same way he did; very petty if you ask me. So I’ve been down here for like what? 70 years now? Yeah, it’s been a shit show to say the least, but things got better since becoming Rosie’s assistants. She was very nice to me; quickly giving me a job that I didn’t think I would get, since every other place wasn’t hiring or didn’t accept me. Now I had a new place to live at along with possible redemption; things were finally looking up. I close my book; putting it back on the shelf as I make my way up the stairs. Slowly walking down the hall, I hear faint music coming from the door near the end of the hall way. I think it was coming from Alastor’s room. I only seen it once from the tour Charlie gave me a month prior to moving into the hotel. Most of Alastor’s stuff was off limits to everyone, but I was finding very difficult to not investigate the music coming from his room. The music would play more clearly the closer I got to the door. It sounded so familiar like a blast from the past; drawing me in by nostalgia.

Before I could knock on the door, it opened on its own as if it knew I would be here. I slowly poke my head in; looking around to see if Alastor was in here. I catch a glance over to a large red velvet chair; sitting in front of the fireplace where I see a pair of familiar black and red shoes. His legs crossed over as he hums along to the tune, whilst reading a book of his own. Before I could make my presence known, he turns his head towards the door; giving me a welcoming smile. “Ahh (Y/N)! What a pleasant surprise! Do what do I owe this lovely visit from you so late at night?” I chuckled nervously; trying to find my words. “Oh it’s just….I overheard some music and wanted to hear it better.” He closes his book as he gets up from the chair; making his way towards me. “Is that all you came here for, my dear? I was hoping we could catch up! Have a little chat and reminisce on the past.” He stops right in front of me; eyes glowing in the dim light while his smile never faltered. “Well…that does sound nice. Why not!” He offers his hand out; taking it hesitantly as he guides me to the part of his room where there was a literal forest like atmosphere there. The grass and trees look and felt so real. It was almost like being back on earth again. He leads me to a cute cafe like table with elegant chairs to match. Pulling out one, he gestured me to sit; gently pushing me in as he goes to sit across from me.

(Alastor’s P.O.V)

“I have so many questions, my dear! For instance, what happened after that night? Did you manage to escape thanks to my help, darling?” I snap my fingers; making a tea set appear on the table as I go to pour myself and her a cup. “Well I did eventually. They caught me a little bit after you let me go, and I saw what happened to you.” I felt my eye twitch; remembering how annoying it was to be taken out by a petty excuse of a criminal no less. “Luckily they weren’t too smart to realize you cut the ropes off when I escaped the second time.” I chuckle as I take a sip of the tea. “Lucky indeed! How did you manage to stay alive this long before now?” She takes a sip of her tea; placing back down as she lets out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t live that long. Witness protection did keep me alive for 20 years, until they found me…..they killed me the same way you died, which was really petty if you ask me.” I nod; taking another sip “They never really did have class, did they? How long have you been down here since then, my dear?” She pauses, placing her fist under her chin as she thinks “I’d say about rather…..70 years now?….yeah that sounds right.” 70 years? And I haven’t ran into her until now? Ironic how things work like this. We continue to reminisce about fond memories we’ve had. Even the moments we’ve had before that night.

My ears perk up during our charming conversation; hearing a song that reminded me of another night we shared due to celebratory reasons. Her family had hit an important milestone that night and wanted to throw a last minute gathering. I think that night we had our first conversation with each other; along with a first dance. I place my tea cup down; getting up from the chair as I stand in front of (Y/N). “Remember that night, my dear? Shall we recreate it?” I offer my hand to her; my smile widens as she timidly takes it. I lead her to the middle of the forest clearing; placing my left hand on her waist as I held her hand with my right. The song was slow; leading us into a waltz as she smiles at me. “Looks like you still know how to dance after all this time.” I chuckle; leading her to twirl in place. “Of course, my dear! Wouldn’t be gentlemen like of me if I didn’t.” She chuckles as we continue to dance a little further into the clearing of the trees. The song was nearing its end; sliding my arm around her waist as I pull her in closer. “You know, my dear, all this reliving the past has got me thinking….this setting we’re in….reminds me of another memory that was never….completed.” She looks at me; arching her brow as she tilts her head “What do you mean by that, Alastor?”

I spin her once more; pulling her close to me as I slowly dip her with a wide smile “If memory serves me right, my dear…..the night before I died…we made a little deal, didn’t we?~” She blushes at the realization; eyes widening as I can feel her heartbeat quicken “Y-yes we did, huh?” I chuckle; running my hand up her thigh as I lift it to rest at my hip; holding it there. “There’s one thing to know about me, darling….when I make a deal….” I run my free hand up the back of her neck; lowering her to lay on the forest floor as I pin her body down. I gently grab her chin; having her look deep into my eyes as she blushes once more. “I always come to collect~.” I lower myself down; capturing her lips with my own. I pry her mouth open just enough to slide my tongue against hers; tasting every inch of her in a feverish vigor. I run my hands up the length of her arms; pinning them by the wrists as I summon my ethereal chains to bound them. She breaks the kiss; completely out of breath as she spoke “W-what are you doing?” She wiggles against the chains; pushing me to hold the restraints down; grinning wildly “I going to take what’s mine, my dear~…..now…let’s continue where we left off all those years ago~.”

[amethystfairy1]

I have a maybe-dumb question about the world in TTBSC, and it may have been already explained in the past. But is the mutant/hybrid population exclusively in that one area?

Or are there other rifts around the world?

Are the other countries where mutants, hybrids and humans all intermingle in society?

If not, why there? Where did these hybrids come from? Did they always live underground? Or was there some kind of mutant/hybrid genocide and those in the undercity were the only survivors?

Sorry if you've already answered any/all of these questions. I just love your AU and my brain won't stop thinking about the logistics.

This has kinda been answered, yes! But I'm happy to answer again!

Basically...I mean, yes, there are other under-city/over-city situations around the world, but we're never going to dive into that. This AU is going to be focused purely on our under-city/over-city and the small towns/countryside areas surrounding it, there's not gonna be any large-scale worldbuilding about other places and other mutants/hybrids. With that in mind, the law banning hybrids and mutants from surfacing holds everywhere. It's not like if someone just left the under-city and then moved away from the over-city they could then live freely above bedrock without concealing themselves.

They just evolved/developed separately! I don't ever really plan to go into the specifics of where hybrids/mutants came from, but they've been living beneath bedrock as long as anyone can remember and as long as history has recorded!

Hopefully this helped! 💖

[bleaksqueak]

While i work I've been listening to an LP of the Telltale Walking Dead Games (the ones with clementine, I do not care about the others lmao). Ages ago when I played these I was well aware/amused that part of season 2 takes place in Parker's Crossroads/Parker's Run because I grew up right next to it and the detail stood out to me. But I never caught the line of "We'll head to parker's run. It's just up the road from here" until just right now. So I had a sort of "wait, where the fuck are they supposed to be right now?" (search)

ARE YOU SHITTING ME LMAO So by process of elimination, since it's the only city with anything even remotely resembling a large home supply store, that would mean they're in my literal hometown. My tiny hometown in the middle of nowhere that's never in anything that barely anyone knows of. How in the fuck lmao

[landwriter]

2!

Hounds of Love by The Futureheads. Oh! What a gem!! I first loved this song when I was a wee bab and rediscovered it this past summer. It, along with all my top songs, was on a summer driving playlist which is why it is so insanely high haha. There's a sort of lovely pastoral wildness to this and I think that suits our lads so well.

An outdoorsy AU with competence kink out the wazoo, where Dream is a bird specialist at a wildlife rehabilitative centre, who becomes a minor TikTok celebrity (much to his enormous apathy) when the centre starts doing interpretive meet-birds events and the internet falls in love with this dour hottie who only smiles when he's talking about birds (Matthew, naturally, runs the account). Hob is a hunter - bow, mostly - who is regrettably very on TikTok, very on all social media - he hates the term but he is unquestionably an 'influencer'. He just likes sharing his knowledge and passion, alright? And the gear sponsorships are nice.

He sees Dream, and sees, mostly, a really great collab opportunity, so he messages him, and Dream (who is Matthew, and just shouted HOB FUCKING GADLING? IN MY DMs? at his phone when he got the message, immediately sets up a meeting at the centre. Then he breaks the news to Dream, specifically when Dream is holding Jessamy, so he can't be murdered.)

Dream, of course, expects Hob to be some like, swaggering font of red-blooded machismo talking points, and suspects Hob is only popular because he looks like an advertisement in Outdoor Living. (Matthew showed him pictures.) He disregards Matthew, who says Hob is actually super cool, because Matthew has terrible taste and would be the first to admit it. But his interest is piqued when Lucienne also knows who Hob is. It turns out Hob is deeply involved in nature and wildlife conservancy. Gives talks at schools. Gets involved with land protection initiatives. Teaches orienteering to youth. But everyone seems to expect him to hate Hob, which he would find faintly insulting except that he also expects himself to hate Hob. He doesn't. Not that much. Even when he shows up in a plaid shirt that is made of 'technical' fabric, because he's smart and excited to talk to Dream about birds, has an encyclopedic knowledge of the history of falconry, and most importantly, Jessamy takes to him immediately.

They run into each other again at a renaissance fair, another thing Dream hates but has been strong-armed into doing, and so they are both dressed in very silly clothes when it happens: the first time Hob watches Dream demonstrate falconry, the first time Dream watches Hob use a longbow made from a yew tree he fell himself, the first time they go from a wary sort of respect for one another to a wanting.

Dream, who has a recurring fantasy about running away from it all, listens to Hob tell tracking stories and thinks, If I went into the woods, you would find me. But he doesn't want to run from Hob - except sometimes, when he sees Hob chew on his lip consideringly before giving a thoughtful answer about the guiding industry, or when Hob grins wildly at the crowd after his archery demonstration, and most of all, when Hob phones him out of the blue one day - he doesn't text, he phones - sounding a little breathless with excitement, and asks Dream if he wants to come with him for a week in the mountains, on "probably a wild goose chase" and promises "all sorts of birds if nothing else." (Hob had meant to only share the news with Dream. Fuck, he thinks. I am so fucked.)

He says yes, for the birds, of course, and tells Matthew the next time he's at the centre.

"So what's the wild goose chase?" asks Matthew.

Dream plumbs his memory of the phone call and says, "Hob told me he received a bighorn sheep tag." Matthew gapes at him.

"Holy shit," says Matthew. "He's in love with you."

"He is certainly not."

"Uh, no, respectfully boss, he 'certainly' is. Lucienne!" he shouts, "Hob invited Dream to come out on his Dall sheep tag. What the fuck, right?"

Lucienne comes in and raises her eyebrows. "Oh dear," she says. She's smiling.

"What," says Dream. "It's a sheep. I don't understand."

Lucienne and Matthew exchange a glance.

"Him. I cannot believe Hob chose him," says Matthew.

"Love works in mysterious ways," says Lucienne.

"I am right here," says Dream.

Matthew turns to him, "Have fun in Alberta," he says.

this would ft. nights of wild stars, rugged terrain, type ii fun, sexual tension around a campfire, homoerotic form checks, tent sharing, dream glassing beautiful birds with hob's $3000 binoculars while hob stares at him in abject adoration, dream watching hob strip off his clothes and jump into an alpine lake, and refusing to join him out of pretended prudishness when it's really because he's suddenly so hard it hurts, camp coffee, confessions about themselves instead of confessions about their feelings for each other, sore muscles for a VARIETY of reasons, and lots of allegories about wildness and taming and running away from things, and SO MUCH COMPETENCE KINK, friends. so much. i would probably write it like - act one them leading their separate lives, their desires and aches etc., act two - meetcute and circling one another, act three - The Trip. this one has a very happy ending i can tell

[lightasthesun]

just wanted to thank everyone that's been encouraging me or offering some kind of support the last few times I talked about getting a cane... because I went and got one today and I didn't think it would make that much of a difference. I underestimated how much it would change for me.

So thank you <33