#The Spice-Box of Earth

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“I Have Not Lingered in European Monasteries”, Leonard Cohen

from The Spice-Box of Earth (Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1961)

[manwalksintobar]

I Wonder How Many People In This City  // Leonard Cohen

I wonder how many people in this city live in furnished rooms. Late at night when I look out at the buildings I swear I see a face in every window looking back at me and when I turn away I wonder how many go back to their desks and write this down.

[gendzl]

like the long snake from Moses' arm; how he must have screamed to see a snake come out of him; no wonder he never felt holy

—Leonard Cohen, from It Swings, Jocko

[tills-poetry-wednesday]

Poetry Wednesday - Episode 7

Leonard Cohen - I Have Not Lingered in European Monasteries

[pursuitseternal]

“Virgin Blood:” Spawn Astarion x F!Reader, nsfw Loss of Innocence Spice for you, darlings…

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.6K Loss of virginity

Summary: You’re eager to meet your rogue in the woods, and you can think of no better person to take your innocence than your Vampire Rogue… And doesn’t he just cherish the idea… eager to taste your virgin blood.

Act 1 Romance Retold…

CW: loss of virginity, first time, Praise kink, Astarion takes his time, virginity kink, gentle sex, Astarion more than happy to make you feel all the more beholding to him…

For you, Anonymous sweet thing in my ask box 💞

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Master List

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“I just hope we don’t have to wait too long…”

Gods, you hope so too. Your body is on fire, and not just from the battlelust of saving lives.

It is because of him.

His little flirtations that have eroded you, his sweet words and greetings that fill your ear each day. The way his crimson eyes already devour you, as if he can’t get his full of your looks.

And then he bit you.

So intimate and foreign.

And new.

Each time now, your body sings when he feeds, and not just because you can feel your blood dripping down his throat and making him stronger.

You feel seen. Desired. Wanted. He hungers for you and seeks you out. Gods, as if you hadn’t been looking for one to do that for you since you came of age.

Something stirs in your body when you are near him, something wild and untamed. Waiting to be released. Your kind never told you what it was between two lovers, only the lessons you found in nature, the rutting seasons of the earth. That was all you knew of… sex.

But to hear him beckoning you, offering you passion like none other, somewhere quiet for just you and him.

Your body aches… burning. Singing. The blood in your veins pumping wildly. You want so badly to be touched and tasted. But mostly, wanting to be seen.

Wanting him to see more of you. All of you.

So, as the party begins to quiet, you watch your Rogue snatch up some blankets and wine, throwing you a knowing glance that makes your stomach twist and leap.

Gods, he thinks of everything doesn’t he?

Others begin to make their way to sleep, but you step into the woods. Your mind firmly set to give him another gift, and this time, you’re humming in your veins, your nerves crying to be touched. Because you want him to receive this, knowing just how much you will undoubtedly receive in return.

Your footsteps rustle softly in the leaves along the path. You follow that pull in your belly, knowing this is the way he wandered. Knowing that he is close…

That Astarion waits for you.

You pass through the trees, drawing to a stop the moment you see him. Gods, already his pale chest on display. Your mouth waters, your skin grows hot, even though you don’t completely know why.

“There you are,” he purrs, striding to close the distance between you. That handsome face is bright with his own intention. “I’ve been waiting…”

He draws still, a breath away from your body, “…waiting since the moment I saw you, waiting to have you…”

You look into that face, the way he just wants you, pouring his desire out over you, and you are ready to drown in it. “And I want you to have me,” you murmur, a coy, nervous smile dancing on your lips. Hells, you probably look like some innocent little thing. “I want you to have me as no one else has; Astarion…”

“Oh, you sweet little pet,” he croons, his face broadening into a smirk so soft, your stomach quivers. “Do you mean…”

“Yes,” you feel your cheeks hot under that lurid, crimson gaze. “I have never been…”

“Taken?” He offers. “Deflowered?” he adds, a deepening to his grin. “Fucked?”

Oh, it’s not that he’s a vampire spawn that makes him gaze at you with a voracious look in his eyes. It only makes you blush bright red and hot in reply.

“I am… touched to be offered such a gift,” he continues in that thick, honeyed voice, clasping your hands both in his. As he raises them to his lips, you are pulled even closer. Your body tingling to feel his frame, his magnificent form, just barely brushing you. “I am a bit surprised, given how forward you are… how wayward…”

“Perhaps it’s just a good fit, you and I…” you force your voice to lilt, keeping your eyes soft as you meet that insatiable stare. Your heart leaps as he licks his lips, making your hand reach to trace over his chest.

“Mmm, I will make certain it is. This gift, to be the first to know your body… it is one I will cherish… and I’ll make absolute certain you will cherish it too, darling,” his smile is breathtaking, almost as much as the way his own fingers wrap tenderly around your cheek, drawing your face into his so closely, his breath becomes your own.

Slowly he bears his teeth, his gaze raking down your neck into the v cut of your tunic. “Tell me, darling, how long have you been dreaming of this with me, fantasizing our time together as you pleasure yourself…”

Your brow quirks as you struggle to find the meaning of such a sensuous phrase.

“Oh…” he croons, the caressing touch of his hands cresting over your shoulders and drawing down your back. Your confusion ignites a new level of anticipation in him, you can see it twisting over those immaculate, pale features. Then he pulls you flush against him. “You will enjoy tonight, I am sure of it. I will too, there is nothing sweeter, I’m sure, than your first blood, your virgin blood…”

You melt at his words, trembling even before his kiss falls to consume your lips. His fingers are so deft, dexterous and featherlight as they tug the rough linen of your shirt up your body. Bunching it. Letting the night air kiss your skin little by little.

And all the while, his lips work smoothly on yours. Nothing so fast and quick as his bites. No, this is deliberate, controlled. A rhythmic dance that traps you against him and draws you closer.

Before you know it, he breaks from that caress to pull your shirt off completely. You gasp, cheeks hot as he looks you over, the gleam in his eye predacious as he scans your breasts, your skin, drawing his gaze to the band of your breeches.

Those eager lips begin to stray from your mouth, allowing you to finally gasp in the free air. But it’s still a fight, the way your body trembles as he kisses the lingering bite marks on your neck from the other night… drifting even lower to the edge of your collarbone, his breath so cool on your hot and flushed skin.

A moan escapes you, a noise you had never made before. And it makes the vampire chuckle, his lips creeping even lower as he cranes his head. His hands catching your breasts, one in each persistent palm. He massages them, fingertips sweeping over your straining nipples.

Those lips and that tongue replace one set of dexterous fingers, making the same sounds issue from your throat again. Louder. Your body wriggling as it catches on fire, like magma seeping from the earth, it boils in your veins and pools between your thighs.

He’s suckling on you, your hands shaking as you long for them to touch him too, running them into his hair. With a sharp breath, he releases one breast only to rub his tongue through the valley of your chest to trap the other one. Worshiping it with equal zeal.

Gods, you feel strange beneath your navel. Full and hot and swollen. And then, another sensation hits you as you shift on your toes.

You’re… wet. Your breeches are soaked. And it makes you shift again, more uncertain.

“You feel it, can’t you?” he raps as he lifts his head, raising to his full height to look down at you. “The way your body has awoken. You stir, and crave something.” The corner of his mouth quirks just once. “Poor little sweet thing, I promise you, you’ll like what’s coming. It’ll make it all feel better.”

Those fingers, so quick and light, pull the laces of your breeches apart before you even know what’s happening. “May I?” he whispers, running two fingers up the inside of your thigh. “You’ll need these removed, you know…”

You nod vigorously, a giggle in your throat as he grins, that glint of his teeth just peeking from his lips. But he doesn’t pull the fabric from your skin. No, he slides those fingers harder into the soft buckskin over your thighs. Then, he steals their pressure between your legs. His brows canting to feel you where you’re soaked. “My, my…” he purrs, “this will be most enjoyable. Your body already knows just what to do,” his lips twitch as he presses them against your lips again, “and so do I.”

Boldness sweeps through you, assured that you have chosen well. He will make this blissful. Make you feel like the sweet treasure you are to him.

Agonizingly slow, he strokes you there, those fingers so eager for action in the field turn all their talents now to teasing your body. You turn away, unsure as he caresses where you’re wet.

“Don’t be shy with me, darling,” he whispers, “you’re doing so wonderfully, you know.” Those hands pull your breeches down, letting them settle at your ankles. “Here,” he breathes as he grabs your hand where it still presses on the smooth coolness of his chest. “You’ll let me show you, won’t you?”

With how silken, how assured and pleased he sounds, you can’t manage a breath in reply. Only a nod and a moan as those damp fingers take your hand. He molds you to his grasp, guiding your fingers into your own arousal. It’s slippery, hot… and then your hands now slip between your folds…

You moan so loudly, your thighs shaking as he presses your fingers deeper into you.

“There now,” he purrs, lips caressing against the curve of your ear. “So wet and slick, you’re a wonder, my sweet little virgin. Your body’s already eager for me, and you don’t even know it yet.”

“Please,” you raps, pulling your hands back towards the apex of your thighs. “Show me.”

“I’ll do so much more than that, darling…”

It’s so quick, the way he’s picked you up in his arms to lay you down in the soft grass. In an instant, he’s shuffled off your breeches, the air wafting over your body, completely bared and entirely hot despite the little breezes of night.

Astarion draws his body to cover yours, so slowly, controlled, as if he plans every little graze of his skin across yours. “Sweet little thing,” he croons as he traps your lips in a quick, gentle kiss. “You’re all mine aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, the feeling of his body lowering all its weight on you, sending shivers down your spine and sparks over your vision. “All yours…” you moan between his full and twitching lips.

“I do so love the sound of that, darling…” With one last little peck on your lips, he begins caressing your body, kissing and sucking your breasts once more before trailing down over your belly. It rises and falls with every heaving, nervous breath you take. “Don’t you worry,” he whispers, “the more you give in to how I’ll make you feel, the more delicious this will be.” He catches your hand again in his to slink it back where you are on absolute fire. That slick between your legs. “Now, close your eyes, and just touch…”

He brings your hands to your folds, dipping your fingertips within. So wet and soft and hot, swollen you can tell, as he draws your fingers at the crest of your folds. “There,” he presses, the little nub beneath your touch so hard, the contact instantly making your muscles clench and burn. “Should the need arise as you think of me, as you remember tonight, as you wait eagerly for the next time you come to my bed… you can touch yourself here for your own pleasure, darling…”

Your body takes over, the rhythmic tracing of his fingers guiding yours… it’s sorcery. Magic. Like fire and ice in your veins as he circles your fingers and his over that little hard bud. You flutter your eyes open, watching as he stares at you, his gaze catching yours with all the hunger and pride and desire you could wish to see. Then, those perfect lips twitch in a mischievous smirk. Already crouching between your legs, he’s licking his lips, lowering his head towards your body as his fingers still tug at you unrelentingly.

So cool and wet, you feel his tongue lapping along with your fingers. Your hips buck out of your control, muscles clenching as one possessed, but it is not in pain. It is flame and ruin and ecstasy that flood along your muscles. Spurred on by his kissing and sucking and lapping between your thighs.

That feeling crashes through you, blinding you as your back arches, your scream tearing from your throat as you writhe and spasm. Your hand goes limp between your legs as you pant.

With a laugh, he places a kiss on your soaking palm before resting it tenderly on your panting belly. His tongue laps up your seam, you can feel the flush of that slick cooling in the breeze and drying on your skin. “Oh my sweet,” he rasps, glancing from between your thighs. “You are doing so well, such pleasure for your first time,” he giggles, “don’t let it go to your head. The best is yet to come…”

You mewl, his two dexterous fingers finding their way inside you now, playing in and out. Instantly, that need reignites, consuming your flesh. Your hands reach for him… for any part of him. You find his arm, his own muscles bunched and bulging as you feel him working inside you. You feel him shifting lower, kissing the sticky skin of your inner thigh, his hand slipping another long finger inside your walls, making your muscles burn as they stretch. “Shhh,” he soothes as you groan and pant and squirm at the pressure. “You’re such a good girl, so wet and eager, this will be delicious. I doubt you will even bleed once I’m inside you…”

He chuckles, watching your body, your eyes wide and wild as that wave begins to wash over you again… the heat, the throes of pleasure you now realize come from his touch. And then he slips his thumb back over that aching little nub again.

“Gods, Astarion,” you keen, your voice rough as you tear apart. Those fingers inside you… your whole body clenches on them, the pressure, the fullness sending you careening into your climax even harder this time. Breathless, you can only make little incoherent sounds, a little louder as he insists on still pumping his touch inside you even as you come.

“Breathe, my sweet,” he smiles, “you’re going to do wonderfully.”

The chill of his touch, his whole body leaves you for a moment. But you can’t look, can’t even open your eyes as you still drift down from your pleasure.

You feel stretched and limp and warm… the gentle embrace of bliss and pleasure you had heard ballads about. You rise up on your arms, and for a moment, that warm comfort runs cold in your veins.

You see him. Naked. Breeches removed as he strokes his cock in his hand. Looking down at you where he stands. Those crimson eyes almost glow in the moonlight. But you barely glance into his face, knowing it’s hungry and needy and salacious.

No, your eyes are mesmerized by his length, so much longer than you had thought, erect and pale. You watch it twitch as he rubs himself slowly. “Shhh,” he soothes from above you, “come here, my darling. I promise you it will only hurt a bit…”

You sweep your legs beneath you, kneeling before him. His fingers caress your face. He takes a deep breath, his belly filling as his cock twitches to see you so close. “Touch me,” he whispers the instruction, your hands joining his as you feel him. So hard, smooth skin stretched over something so unyielding. Etched with pale veins that darken slightly beneath his already pale skin… you run your fingers over it as his own hand stills near its base.

Sweeping your thumb over that thick, blunted head, you make him groan. “Good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with lust in his throat. “Soon, my pet, I’ll teach you to pleasure me in return, but tonight…” he breathes heavily, dropping to his knees with you, “tonight is about your pleasure, your deflowering as I claim your innocence my sweet.” His lips twitch, “which I am most eager to do… a gift I am forever thankful for…”

His eyes glint with intent, possession and pride, his mouth descending to capture yours again. Those powerful arms hug you tightly to his chest, that hardened cock prodding into your belly, twitching each time your mouth moves with the rhythm of his kiss.

Slowly, he lays you back into the grass, those arms that have snapped your enemies in half cradling you gently against his body. One hand slides between you, ghosting that chilling touch between your thighs, the other presses your cheek in his palm, keeping your lips trapped against his.

Then, you feel it, something thicker and harder pressing into that still molten slick between your legs. Inch by inch, he enters you, the roll of his hips against yours almost imperceptible. “Shh,” he hushes you, another caress of those full lips against yours. “You’re so good, darling…”

A bit more, your muscles burn as he slides, that slick coating him, letting his cock inside you little by little. You groan, your muscles clenching at the thickness. And he only laughs and shushes you again. “Easy now, darling, I promise. Those stories of virgins bleeding are only with bad lovers, but I will only ever make you bleed in other ways, other… more delicious ways….” He catches your lower lip in his fangs and bites down, a little nip as pain shoots through you. You groan… hardly noticing that in that moment, he’s sheathed himself between your thighs completely.

Buried deep in your throbbing channel.

“Hells below…” you groan, a wriggle of your hips as you feel the pressure easing. Burning and not in pain. That same sort that consumed you already, only now… all the stronger. “Astarion,” you look into his eyes, how they smile at you, narrowed and delighting.

“I told you darling,” he purrs, a slight movement of his hips, dragging that cock a bit out, a bit in as your mouth hangs open, “I told you I would make certain we are a good fit…”

You groan, not at his words, at the way he begins to thrust into you. Slowly, consistently, letting your body open to accept him. His mouth still hovers over yours, his breath filling your mouth, the taste of your blood still on your tongue and his as he catches it in his kiss.

“Gods,” he groans as your body begins that journey higher, driven by every thrust inside you, the heat multiplying, the clenching of your every muscle catching all the more on him inside you. “You tight, little, innocent thing…” he pants, “you’re going to be the ruin of me.” You feel his lips twisting, smirking against you, his breath coming heavily now too. His arms on either side of you shake, those hips, his body, driving into you faster. You wrap your legs around his waist, your own instincts taking hold, wanting him deeper, wanting more of him thrusting inside.

He groans as he slides to fill you completely, “Good girl,” he purrs his praises again into your mouth. Groans and thrusts consume you, the slide of his body on yours transports you… until you feel nothing that is not him.

It takes you, that press of his hips, that drag of his cock between your walls, you spill into that climax, the oblivion of twitching heat. Your mouth hanging open to keen. His cock pulls all the harder as your body clenches. Hitching, fucking, slamming with everything he’s got inside you, until he’s groaning too, gasping and whsipering in silken tones just how good you are… how tight and perfect….

You feel him inside you, gripped so hard, pulsing as that slick drips from inside. His hands cradle your cheek again, the full weight of his body lowering, blanketing you, pressing you into the earth. “See… wonderful…” he pants, another kiss against your lips, longer, tender. “Something to cherish between us forever…”

He slips from inside you, making you arch and groan at the release. Your thighs shake, even as he lowers to lay beside you, rolling you to lay in his arms. To rest your head in the crook of his shoulder.

A single finger traces your neck, his head lifting to look down your body beside him. “You see, sweet thing, not a drop of blood… well,” he chuckles, “not yet anyway.” Those smirking lips caress over the throbbing vein in your neck. “I would so love a drink of your not-so-virgin blood now…”

“Yes,” you tilt your head, your voice is sultry, heavy in your throat as you keep your eyes meeting his heavy-lidded gaze. “And then, can we… again?”

His brows raise, delighted, genuine surprise lifting those sharp features of his handsome face. “I would love nothing more,” he croons. “So addicted to me already are you?” A single laugh punctuates his words. “Perhaps this worked out better than I could have imagined,” he speaks, almost to himself, that devious, desirous smirk on his lips for a moment before his fangs bite into your skin.

Drawing that first, no-longer- virgin blood.

[hoonven]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

2.1K ⸺ a moment of clarity brings you back to your fiancé, flour-dusted and waiting, and somehow, amid the remnants of your champagne problems, you find hope stirring in the winter air

‎PAIRING! fiancé!park sunghoon x female reader

GENRES! fluff, angst, established relationship, hurt/comfort

WARNINGS! mentions of emotionally absent parents, brief mention of food, the reader struggles with overcoming childhood fears, i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything

Park Sunghoon was like snow, a silent beauty in the unforgiving frigid season of winter. He was the joy of building snowmen, the thrill of snowball fights, and the wonder of making snow angels. He was the delicate touch of snowflakes melting on your skin, the serene hush of snowfall blanketing the world. He was the sweetness of gingerbread cookies and the warmth of hot cocoa brimming with marshmallows. He was the comfort of a flickering fireplace, the softness of a fuzzy blanket wrapped tightly around you, the subtle perfume of winter spices from a burning candle.

Park Sunghoon was like snow—pure, ethereal, and timeless. He shone like the star atop a Christmas tree, his presence brought the excitement of a gift waiting to be unwrapped. He was the nostalgia of holiday movies you’ve seen a hundred times, yet never grew tired of.

Park Sunghoon was winter’s magic, a special spirit that blessed the earth in all its glory.

So why did you feel the biting cold?

It was exactly a year ago on Christmas Eve, and his proposal was perfect. The snow-covered gazebo twinkled with string lights, the crisp air carried the scent of pine, and a soft melody of carolers drifted from the town square. His hand, trembling but steady, had pulled a blue velvet box from his coat pocket. He smiled, warm and sure, as if he already knew your answer.

“Will you marry me?” he’d asked. The four simple words spoken in the kind of voice that could thaw an endless winter.

Your heart swelled, your hands shook, and you whispered a quiet “yes.” But later that night, as you laid in bed staring at the ceiling while the world outside froze over, doubt crept in like frost spreading across a windowpane.

Your mother’s voice rang in your ears, in weary resignation. You remembered how she used to sit by the window in the afternoons, staring out at a world she never felt part of anymore. “I gave up everything,” she had said once. “For my kids. For my husband. And look where it got me.”

The memory tightened around your chest like a vice. Sunghoon wasn’t like your father—he wasn’t distant, distracted, or cold. He was attentive, affectionate, and endlessly patient. But still, what if? What if marrying him meant losing yourself, too? What if everything started out great and then slowly got worse just like it did for your parents?

“Talk to me,” he said one evening, his voice soft but firm as he pulled you from the kitchen where you’d been stirring a pot of soup you didn't intend to eat. The engagement ring on your finger catches the light, a reminder of the promise you made but aren’t sure you can keep.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You’re lying.” His hands gently rest on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing reassuring circles. “You’ve been somewhere else since last Christmas Eve.”

You paused for a moment, caught off guard. You had almost forgotten how good he was at psychologizing you in the midst of your internal battle. But you lie again—because it's what comes most naturally to you when someone asks if you're okay.

“It’s nothing. I’m just stressed.”

“It’s not nothing. I can see it on your face. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

His persistence feels like sunlight breaking through clouds, but you’re not ready to let the warmth in. You pull away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if shielding your heart from his. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this. What if I end up like my mom? What if I lose myself in this, Sunghoon?”

The words hang in the air like smoke, and for a moment, his expression cracks—hurt flickering across his features like a candle about to go out. But then he steps closer, his voice steady, gentle. “You’re not your mom. And I’m not your dad. Your mom had dreams, ambitions—things she was passionate about just like you. But the difference is you found someone who loves that about you. I would never ask you to give any of that up.”

“But what if I do anyway?” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “What if I forget who I am because I love you too much?”

“Then I’ll remind you,” he said simply. “Every day, if I have to.”

His words chipped away at the icy wall you had built around yourself, but fear is a stubborn thing, clinging even as warmth seeps in.

You suppose that's why you're sitting on a couch, staring at the framed watercolor painting on the wall—something abstract, meant to be calming, but to you, it’s just a swirl of indistinct shapes. Your hands fidget with the hem of your knit sweater as the snow-laden world outside the window reflects your mood: quiet, heavy, and cold.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name pulls you back. Your therapist, Dr. Hart, leans forward slightly, her pen poised over her notepad. Her voice is soft, patient. “What’s on your mind?”

You blink, feeling the heat of her steady gaze. “Oh, um…” You hesitate, glancing down at your hands. “Nothing, really. Just lost in thought.”

Dr. Hart tilts her head, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Nothing’s rarely ever nothing. Take your time.”

For a moment, the room feels too small, too quiet, but you exhale and decide to speak. “Sunghoon,” you admit softly.

“Your fiancé?”

You nod, feeling a pang in your chest as the word settles between you. Fiancé. It’s supposed to feel joyful, exciting, but lately, it’s felt complicated.

“I love him,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “I really do. He’s kind, supportive, and everything I could ever ask for in a man. But ever since he proposed, I’ve been… scared?”

Dr. Hart doesn’t interrupt, her expression open and encouraging.

“I keep thinking about my parents,” you continue. “My mom gave up everything to be with my dad. She stopped working, stayed home to raise me and my siblings, and over time, she just… lost herself. She used to love winning lawsuits for her clients, but eventually, all she did was clean and cook and wait for him to come home. She became so bitter, and my dad barely noticed. I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t want to lose myself like she did.”

“And you’re afraid marrying Sunghoon will put you on the same path,” Dr. Hart says, her voice gentle.

You nod, your throat tightening. “I know Sunghoon isn’t my dad. He’s nothing like him. But what if I am like my mom? What if, without meaning to, I give up who I am because I love him too much?”

Dr. Hart lets the silence linger for a moment before speaking. “It sounds like you’ve built a wall around yourself, trying to protect your identity and your independence. And that’s not a bad thing—those parts of you are important. But Y/N, have you ever asked yourself this: is Sunghoon asking you to give those parts up?”

You blink, her question catching you off guard, and you're reminded of your conversation with him a few days ago when he pulled you out of the kitchen. “No,” you admit quietly. “He’s always encouraging me to do what I love. And reminding me to take breaks when I get too wrapped up in work.”

Dr. Hart nods thoughtfully. “It seems to me that the fear you’re holding onto doesn’t come from Sunghoon. It comes from your past—from what you saw in your parents’ relationship. You’ve taken that fear and made it your own, but it doesn’t have to be. You are not your mother, and Sunghoon is not your father. Their story is not yours.”

Her words land like a stone sinking into water, rippling through your thoughts.

“But what if I still mess it up?” you ask, your voice small. “What if I get it wrong?”

Dr. Hart smiles gently. “Every relationship takes work, compromise, and communication. But the fact that you’re here, reflecting on your fears, tells me you care deeply about doing this right. Sunghoon sounds like someone who sees you for who you are and loves you as you are. Maybe the question isn’t about whether you’ll lose yourself but whether you’ll allow yourself to trust you—and him.”

The knot in your chest loosens, her words settling like fresh snow over the chaos in your mind.

“Trust him,” you echo softly, more to yourself than to her.

Dr. Hart nods. “And trust yourself. You are not defined by your parents’ choices. You have the power to create the future you desire.”

For the first time in a year, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter. You leave the session feeling like the frost in your heart is starting to melt, warmed by the realization that maybe, just maybe, you can be brave enough to trust in the love you’ve found—and the person you’ve grown to be.

The smell hits you first—something warm and sweet, mingling with the faintest hint of something burning. You push open the front door, stepping into the glow of the tiny Christmas tree you and Sunghoon had decorated last week. Lights twinkle softly, casting shadows that dance on the walls, but it’s the sound of soft muttering coming from the kitchen that makes you smile.

When you round the corner, you stop in your tracks.

Sunghoon is standing by the counter, dusted in flour from his hair to his slippers, poking at a tray of slightly misshapen cookies. He’s wearing the most outrageously festive apron you’ve ever seen—bright red with cartoon reindeer and candy canes, a pair of oven mittens that look like Santa’s hands resting on the counter. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he lifts one cookie with a spatula, only for it to crumble in half.

“Oh, come on,” he grumbles under his breath, shaking his head.

You press a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh, but the sound escapes anyway, and his head snaps up.

“You’re home,” he says, his eyes lighting up despite the flour smudged on his cheek. “Uh, surprise?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, stepping closer.

He shrugs sheepishly, glancing at the mess on the counter. “I thought I’d try making your favorite holiday cookies. You know, the ones your mom always made? I figured it might cheer you up.” He winces as he looks at the tray. “But, uh, they didn’t turn out as planned. I think I overdid the ginger or… probably everything.”

Your chest tightens, but not with anxiety this time. It’s the kind of warmth that spreads slowly, filling the cracks you’ve been carrying.

You see it then, as clear as the frost on the windowpane: you are not your mother, and Sunghoon is not your father.

Your mother gave up everything, but you won’t. You’ve built a life filled with love, with purpose, with someone who sees you for who you are and encourages you to be more. Sunghoon doesn’t take from you—he gives.

The thought warms you like a fire on a cold winter night.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, your voice catching.

He frowns, stepping toward you. “What’s wrong? Did something happen at therapy?”

You shake your head, and before he can say anything else, you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He freezes for a moment, surprised, then melts into the hug, his arms slipping around your waist.

“I love you,” you murmur into his shoulder. “And I'm sorry for being so distant, for letting my fears get in the way. You’ve been so patient with me, and I should’ve trusted you more. Trusted myself more. I should’ve trusted us more.”

“I love you, Sunghoon, and I want to marry you.” You say, the words spilling out like a confession. “I just needed time to remember that I’m not her. And you’re not him.”

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, his touch gentle. “Hey, it’s okay,” he says softly. “I know you’ve been through a lot. I just wanted to remind you that I’m here, no matter what.”

You pull back slightly to look at him, tears pricking your eyes. “We’re gonna be okay, right?” you ask, your voice trembling.

His gaze is steady, warm, as he cups your cheek with his flour-dusted hand. “We’re gonna be more than okay. You’re not her, Y/N. You’re you—stubborn in all the best ways.” His lips quirk into a small smile. “And you’re stuck with me, reindeer apron and all.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, light and free. “You look ridiculous by the way,” you say, brushing a smudge of flour from his cheek.

“Ridiculously handsome,” he counters with a grin.

You roll your eyes but lean in to kiss him, a silent promise in the way your lips meet. Outside, snow falls softly, blanketing the world in a quiet peace. And in his arms, you finally feel warm.

© 2024 hoonven, all rights reserved. i do not give permission to modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize my works on any platform. NETWORK! @kstrucknet

[mioritic]

“I Have Not Lingered in European Monasteries”, Leonard Cohen

from The Spice-Box of Earth (Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1961)

[kathaynesart]

Bit of a random question, but as a teen I'm curious, what would you want to say to kids of today? Any advice?

Hm... every person's life journey is different, but I don't mind giving a few tips based on my personal experiences! If they can help in anyway then I am glad for it!

Ted Talk below the cut.

Life will always change. YOU will change. You may feel stuck or trapped in some aspect of your life right now and are worried that things will never get better. But they do... it will take time, but you will get there so long as you keep moving forward.

Try not to stress too much. All those things that seem like such a big deal right now... most of them will be forgotten within a few years. So it helps when you feel overwhelmed to step back and not let these little (or even big) missteps take control of your life.

No really, go touch grass. I can not express how important it is to disconnect from social media and just be present in the moment. Going out to a cafe or a park to help you unwind and ground yourself. If life allows, try traveling! Even if it's just a road trip. Get out and see and experience different things because those will be the memories that will stick with you!

Change things up. Even if that's just taking a different path to school or trying a different snack. I find that stepping away from the mundane daily schedule helps bring so much more variety to my life and helps me be more present in the moment.

Be flexible. Especially in your goals and expectations. We're expected at such a young age to choose our destination in life, when it's the journey itself that we should be seeking. So while it's great to have goals, do not make them so rigid that you will deem yourself a failure should they not come to pass. Often times it's the things that surprise us in life that help lead us to opportunities we had never even considered.

Your worth does not come from what you produce, or how many milestones you hit, or how much money you make. It is something you give yourself as you relearn time and time again to love yourself.

Your health is important! It is something we often take for granted when we’re younger but it will mean so much as you age. Also should you feel that you’re ever in pain or unwell, speak up. There are so many instances of people coming to greater harm because they only listened to the first doctor who brushed them off. Seek a second opinion. Know that your body is worth proper care!

Just because you have to grow old does not mean you have to "grow up." Those things you loved that sparked joy in you as a kid? Hold onto them or find new ways to instill them into your life. Keep that passion and remember what fun is! Because you will need it just as much when you're older. It is a major ingredient in the spice of life.

Remember, you ARE special. You may not feel like it... but the fact that you exist is such a mind boggling feat in this vast universe of mostly empty space. While that may be difficult to grasp as we are, stuffed in this tiny jewelry box we call Earth, that does not make any one of us any less special in the grand scheme of things. And in this tiny but overflowing box of treasures, there is no gem that is quite like you. You managed against all odds to come into existence. That is AMAZING. Congratulations! Hard part is already done. Now go shine!

[autisticlenaluthor]

Dress

Kara stays up until nearly three in the morning, listening to the sounds of the city below. She eavesdrops on arguing neighbors and house parties blaring music multiple streets away as she fights back yawns and flips through TV channels. It’s tedious and bordering on painful, but it keeps her from fixating on her bottomless pit of a rumbling stomach and the cramps that make it impossible to sleep.

Okay– so, maybe Kara hadn’t tried to sleep. But sleep hasn’t been coming easy these days and being in a new city in a new state with no plan and no friends other than her sister doesn’t exactly make it easy to calm the mind.

That’s why Kara stays awake and distracted. She tries not to think about how Alex is being forced to give up even more years of her life and even more space in her home to accommodate her sister’s comfort. She tries not to spiral over Lena and how she lives fifteen minutes away now– maybe even less– and how she’s going to have to suck it up and tell her about the move eventually. But most importantly, Kara refuses to think about the fact that she truly feels like she may implode from hunger.

It’s a pointless effort.

At 2:45, she finds herself staring blankly into the fridge as she tries to distinguish between what’s Alex’s and what’s Kelly’s. Her stomach twists into an even tighter knot, causing memories of her first few weeks on Earth to flood her.

Eliza had found the hoards of packaged apple slices from free school lunches and expired Uncrustables stashed in her dresser drawer, led by the trail of ants marching through the second floor. Eliza tried explaining that she didn’t need to worry– they were never going to run out of food, they’d always be able to buy more. But the reassurance just felt like a drop in the bucket of everything else Kara was supposed to be absorbing.

She hadn’t known then, how to explain that the money was never the problem. She knew Eliza had had enough of it– she saw it in the clothes Alex wore and the jewelry around the older woman’s neck. It was just that the moment the yellow sun hit Kara’s skin– it was like a black hole erupted within her. It was aching and screaming– begging to be filled.

Constantly, Kara tried. She doubled up portions on family meals and guzzled protein shakes in between. But it was never enough. Her appetite would always return and with it, the question:

What if this feeling never goes away?

Staring at her big sister’s half-empty fridge, Kara feels thirteen again.

She’s anxious in a way she can’t quite describe with a restlessness she knows will never leave. The only thing Kara can cling to is the notion that she needs to snack on something before she loses her mind and she can’t justify stealing groceries from her new roomies.

So she does the logical thing and goes to the nearest 24-hour mini-mart at 3:07 am– clad in flannel pajama pants and tie-dye crocs.

There, Kara finds herself paralyzed in front of another freezer. Only this time, it’s in the frozen food aisle with a plastic basket in her hand. She’s filled it with all the essentials– pumpkin spice pretzels, a box of pasta shaped like the characters from Arthur, three things of frozen potstickers, and four variations of Hot Pockets.

As Kara stares, she tries to remember what the hell it was she came here to buy. She knows it wasn’t the cartoon mac-and-cheese and it definitely wasn’t the pretzels that Alex is going to bully her for later. But all she can register is how loudly the lights are humming and the fact that every so often, the one on her left will flicker like the bulb is about to die.

Kara blows through closed lips and turns her head. Down one of the aisles, there’s something sparkly and purple. She follows the glimmer with narrow eyes until she finds its source: a long, tight dress. The kind of thing you wear to a gala.

Except the woman who wears it isn’t at a gala– she’s standing in front of a selection of cheap wine, holding one bottle by the neck as she examines the others on the shelves. She has dark hair which cascades down her shoulders and the gown accentuates her curves in all the right places.

Even without seeing her face, Kara knows she’s beautiful.

She can’t help the way that she stares at her, trying to get a better look. It’s something on any other day– she’d never allow herself to do. But she’s only ever known one beautiful brunette with the money for dresses like that one and reasons to wear them. The woman she still hasn’t found a way to be honest with, even after three painstakingly long years apart.

Kara takes a hesitant step forward and watches for just a moment longer, catching the way that she turns and tilts her head, causing raven hair to fall down in front of her. From the angle of their bodies– it’s impossible to get a glimpse of her face, but when the movement is followed by a familiar flipping sound, Kara can’t help it. She freezes.

Because she knows that sound. There’s only two people in the entire world whose heart rates she’s trained herself to notice: Alex and Lena’s.

Lena’s heart rate just piqued which means Lena Luthor is standing less than ten feet away from her.

At the realization, Kara drops her basket. It clatters to the floor and topples over– spilling its contents across the linoleum and Kara nearly goes down with it. Her pulse skyrockets and anxiety fuels her body with enough energy to send a rocket to the moon.

“Fuckfuckfuck.”

She scrambles to pick up the spilled groceries but as soon as she hits the ground– she can see Lena’s head whipping around to find the source of the commotion. Kara drops the boxes again and without a second thought– makes a run for it. She dashes straight into the cereal aisle, in such a panic she forgets about her super speed.

By the time she’s ducked down on the floor, gripping one of the shelves for dear life, she’s knocked over three things of cereal and four jars of peanut butter. Still, she peers her head just past the shelf– now only able to see the outline of Lena’s figure and the slightest sliver of her face.

She can see traces of red lipstick (when did Lena start wearing that?) and the outline of her nose. When Lena turns– Kara catches her face through the wine bottles. Rao, she could collapse again at the sight.

Her pale skin makes her hair glisten and her green eyes glimmer below a thin stroke of eyeliner. Her lips, painted that fierce red, are parted ever so slightly in confusion, and she knits her brow the same way she used to when they were kids.

Somehow, Lena looks exactly the same and completely different and Kara doesn’t know how to process it.

She’s seen the occasional selfie Lena sends when she goes somewhere new– like Paris or the Boston Science Museum and every so often, she’ll appear in one of Sam’s Facebook posts– posted with shot glasses at the bar, or kissing the cheek of an adorably tan toddler. But nothing compares to really seeing her.

Her presence now is a forceful reminder that Lena’s existence is true. It isn’t just an occasional light on Kara’s phone or a status update from a friend of a friend. Lena exists in the same world as her. She lives a life that Kara was once stupid enough to believe she’d always be a part of.

[thefloatingstone]

Puff please tell me about Grunt I just saw a Tumblr post you reblogged that vaguely went into detail and I read a small bit of his wiki page but I want to hear it in your own words because it's like 10x more interesting with that filter. Fill my dash with grunt lore

GRUNT IS SHEPARD'S VERY LARGE SON

I don't know whether the designers originally created him with this thought in mind or not but it's really funny because by the time the DLC came out for ME2 you can see the games just fully embracing what was originally just a joke in the Mass Effect fandom.

I used to not be fully into it as a concept but as I'm busy replaying ME3 and having just played ME2 again... nah people were right. He's our son.

He was created in a lab to be an "ultimate krogan warrior" or whatever, but when Shepard cracked how out of his tube, he had did not have that "burning desire of revenge in the name of his species" the scientist who made him was obsessed by. Physically he was perfect, but psychologically, he just didn't understand why he should care about being a krogan. in ME2 when he's introduced, his story arc is helping him connect with what it means to be a krogan, and to help him find purpose as an individual. You essentially help raise this adolescent fully formed person out of apathy and teach him how to care about things, concepts and people, almost completely through actions and not so much through words.

As ME2 goes on, it becomes clear Grunt very much wants Shepard's approval about things, which is funny because at first he comes across as a cold, uncaring fully formed adult, but as you help him learn how to connect with being a member of his species, he'll sometimes want to talk to Shepard JUST to be like "Hey Shepard!! I thought about something to do with being Krogan I thought you'd approve of! listen to this!!"

In the DLC for ME2, you can read up on his internet search history as well as his online purchase history and I just.... think a lot of it explains SO MUCH about him as a character. So I'm just copy and pasting those here

SEARCH: krogan history SEARCH: great wars SEARCH: genofage / ERASED / krogan victories SEARCH: okeer/ ERASED / great generals SEARCH: toochanka/ ERASED / tuchanka SEARCH: urnot wrex SEARCH: battlemaster shepard/ MODIFIED/ commander shepard/MODIFIED/commander shepard normandy SEARCH: animal fights / MODIFIED / large predators SEARCH: tryrannsauros wrex/ ERASED / earth lizard wrex SEARCH: dinosaurs

SEARCH: battlemaster humans/ ERASED / earth humans SEARCH: human history SEARCH: earth wars // DOWNLOAD 6.1T NEWS FOOTAGE - HUMAN GENERAL HISTORICAL - CONFLICT // SEARCH: warrior humans // DOWNLOAD 2.1T DOCUMENTARY FOOTAGE - HUMAN GENERAL HISTORICAL- MAJOR MILITARY FIGURES // SEARCH: great humans/ MODIFIED / honored humans // DOWNLOAD 0.7T NEWSFOOTAGE [sic] - HUMAN ACHIEVEMENT- AWARDS // SEARCH: great storytellers human SEARCH: war stories // DOWNLOAD 0.67T LITERATURE - HUMAN WRITERS CONFLICT// SEARCH: human homer kipling hemmingway // DOWNLOAD 0.13T LITERATURE - HUMAN WRITERS – EARNEST HEMMINGWAY // // DOWNLOAD 0.06T AUDIO BOOKS // // THE SUN ALSO RISES // 14% COMPLETED // FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS // 100% COMPLETED // A FAREWELL TO ARMS // DELETED // THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA // 100% COMPLETED SEARCH: sharks

CATALOG ORDER: Ultra Black Ops Mega Catalog PURCHASE 2823- UG-652: Case Premium 54/ER Engine Oil VIDEO DOWNLOAD: The Madness of Sacrifice: The Unauthorized Biography of Warlord Okeer PURCHASE 2856- UG-122: Economy Box, Fishdog Food Factory "Tastee Bites" VIDEO DOWNLOAD: When Fauna Attacks! Volumes 1-10 PURCHASE 3254-UG-975: Batax's Hot Fish Spice VIDEO DOWNLOAD: Vaenia (this is a movie) VIDEO DOWNLOAD: Asari Confessions 26: True Blue (this is porn) PURCHASE 9683- UG-662: Fornax Special Spotlight: Krogan Edition (this is a human magazine focusing on interspecies sexual relations) PURCHASE 8856- UG-972: Captain Cosmic Action Figures: "Garr the Krogan Battlemaster" with real smash your enemies action!

By the time ME3 comes around, most of the rest of the squad is referring to Grunt in terms poking fun at the fact that Shepard is his mom. I think it's Joker who at one point comments "Our baby boy's all grown up" or something to that effect. I can't remember the exact dialogue. I think at one point Garrus also jokes about how "they grow up so fast" or something along those lines.

He also loves spicy ramen.

Grunt is a good boy.

[leonardcohenofficial]

i know leonard cohen’s poem “travel” is not about joni mitchell because it was first published in the spice-box of earth which came out in 1961 well before they got together but idk how this man was literally able to write a poem about a relationship he hadn’t even had yet down to the watching her sleep (and wondering who in the world she could be, implied)

[rosiestalez]

Could I possibly request a Jason Todd hurt/comfort fanfic....pls? And ty if you do it

-🖤

Hope this is what you need right now my love 🖤

Resurrected Hearts

Jason Todd x gn!reader

wc:2,000

summary: Jason Todd is back, but how?

Warnings: Language, mentions of cheating…i guess, aged up Jason Todd, mentions of death, alcohol abuse

——————————————————————

It had been exactly one year since Jason passed away, and you still hadn’t fully moved on. At times, it felt like he was right there beside you—sitting, sleeping, or watching over your shoulder as you cooked, ensuring everything was perfect. You tried to get on with your life. You went on dates, moved into a new apartment, and even returned to work at the school. Occasionally, life seemed to regain some sense of normalcy, but then a wave of dread would wash over you, a constant reminder of the piece of you that was missing—a piece no one else could ever fill.

In time, you found ways to cope: a few too many bottles of your favorite alcohol and fleeting, meaningless hookups. Of course, you still visited the Waynes, but without Jason, things felt different. Bruce was different. He barely looked at you, and when he spoke, his words were sharp, almost biting. After a while, you limited your visits. It became too painful. Your life felt like it was unraveling, hanging by a fragile, frayed thread—red and black, barely holding together.

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass jolted you awake. The room was pitch black, and your dog leapt off the bed, barking furiously at the crash in the living room. You cracked open the door, letting her rush after the intruder, whoever or whatever it might be. You hesitated, your hand hovering over your phone. Should you call 911? Something in your gut told you it wasn’t necessary—either your Dutch Shepherd would handle it, or maybe… just maybe… it could be him.

Daisy’s barking quieted, her growls fading. Whoever was in your living room was someone both of you knew. The smell of earth and death filled the air as you cautiously made your way out of bed, flipping on the light.

You screamed. There, sitting comfortably on your couch, was someone you thought you’d never see, holy shit.

“Jason?” you whispered, barely able to recognize him. The moonlight behind him cast shadows over his features. His skin was ghostly pale, his hair longer than the last time you saw him, with streaks of gray threading through it. He looked… dead. “Jason? Is that you?” you asked again, your voice trembling as you called Daisy to your side. Silence hung in the air as the figure remained seated on the couch you and Jason once shared. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Don’t,” the person spoke, his voice low and strained. You stared at him, and he stared back, his piercing gray-blue eyes locking onto yours. “Just don’t call them. I’ll leave. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Wait—Jason? Please, is that you?” you blurted, recognizing his voice, though it sounded different—raspier, older, darker. “Please, it has to be you,” you pleaded, taking a cautious step toward him. Jason nodded, slowly rising from the couch.

“Wait, please… stay,” you urged, holding out your hand. “Can we get you cleaned up?”

“After we cover up the window,” he replied softly. You managed a small smile as he moved toward a pile of cardboard boxes in the corner of the living room. He pulled one out, cutting it to fit over the shattered glass. he duck tapes the cardboard in place before following you into the bathroom. you ran the warm water, helping him strip off his suit before guiding him into the shower. “my shampoo?” he points to the bottle of blue berry old spice on your shower rack.

“No, my body wash—it smelled like you,” you said softly, pointing to the bottle of Head & Shoulders. “This is the shampoo we used.” He nods in quiet acknowledgment.

You grab a washcloth, moving slowly, carefully, as if any sudden motion might scare him away. He seems to shrink beneath your touch, curling in on himself. Gently, you rub soft circles of the body wash onto his back and arms. Dirt and mud swirls down the drain, but you kept your touch feather-light, afraid that if you press too hard, his fragile skin might crumble in your hands.

“Why’d you move?” he asked quietly as you continued massaging shampoo into his hair. It was the second wash—so much dirt was caked into his locks. “Took me s’long to find you,” he mumbled under his breath.

“The lease was up,” you replied softly, knowing it wasn’t the whole truth. “Lean your head back.” He obediently tilted his head, letting the suds cascade from his hair. He hummed, clearly not buying your excuse, but said nothing more.

You gently ran your fingers through his hair, rinsing out the last of the shampoo. Once his hair was clean, you applied a final round of shampoo before adding conditioner, carefully working through the tangled knots.

You tried your best, but the smell of death still clung to him, stubborn and unyielding. After helping him out of the shower, he dried himself off while you handed him some of his old clothes. They didn’t fit anymore—he was taller, broader than you remembered. Even so, you laid him down on your bed, tucking the blankets tightly around him.

“Are you gonna sleep with me?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you replied. He smiled faintly, his eyes drooping as he drifted off to sleep.

But you didn’t join him. Instead, you sank into the armchair across from the bed, a bottle of Jameson gripped tightly in your hand. You watched him sleep. His eyes flickered beneath his lids as if caught in some vivid dream. His body jerked and thrashed under the covers, sweat beading on his brow. Yet, no matter how restless his sleep became, he didn’t wake. you stayed like this for hours not moving unless you had to pee, and eventually the sun began to rise through your window shades. you sigh thankful that it’s saturday and you have all day to sleep whatever this is off.

“Y/N?” he groaned sleepily, his voice raspy.

“Jason… you’re awake!” You leapt from the armchair and rushed to his side. His eyes slowly lifted to meet yours as you sat beside him, and he smiled softly.

“How? What—” you began, your words tumbling out in disbelief.

“It’s a long story,” he chuckled weakly, his gaze distant.

“Jason, please… I need to know. How are you alive?”

He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Ra’s al Ghul… the Lazarus Pit,” he began slowly. “It’s a pool that can heal, even bring people back from the dead. I don’t know all the details, but after I died… someone put me in it. The Pit brought me back, but…” His voice trailed off, and he looked away.

“But what?” you pressed, your heart racing.

“It changes you,” he whispered. “You come back, but you’re not the same. There’s anger, a darkness… it’s hard to control.” He met your eyes again, the weight of what he’d been through evident. “I’ve been fighting that ever since.”

“Jason… why did you smell like death? And why were you covered in mud? if you’ve been back for a while?”

His smile faded as he turned his gaze to the ceiling, as though looking for an answer. “I’ve been staying in places where no one would think to look for me.”

“Mud and death?” you pressed, trying to understand.

He sighed, his voice low. “Graveyards, alleyways… the places no one goes. It’s where I felt like I belonged after I came back. I didn’t know how to face you—or anyone else—like this. I wasn’t sure if I could control… whatever this is inside me.”

Your heart ached at his words. “So you’ve been living like that… all this time?”

Jason nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. “I didn’t think I could come back. The Lazarus Pit changes you, Y/N. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be the same again—or if I even wanted to be.”

You gently reached for his hand. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters”, he looks at you, his eyes fill with sorrow, and you swear you can see tears, but Jason never cries.

“did you sleep?”

“no”, you admit dropping your gaze to your knees. you feel his disapproving stare.

his eyes lift over to the half empty bottle on the floor beside the chair. “have you been drinking?”, you nod, he lets out a sigh, reaching out a hand to your face, “why baby?”

you follow his gaze to the bottle on the floor, you sigh, feeling the weight of your own emotions. “I guess… it was my way of coping,” you admitted quietly. “After you… after you were gone, everything fell apart. It was like nothing could fill that space where you used to be. I tried, but nothing worked. And sometimes… sometimes the drinking made it easier to forget for a little while.”

Jason’s face softened, guilt flashing across his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to leave you like that.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill. “It’s not your fault, Jason. But it hurt. Losing you… it broke something in me. I just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

He reached out and gently took your hand, squeezing it lightly. “I’m here now,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ll make it right. Somehow.”

“i don’t think you can”, you slur softly. he tilts his head.

“why?”, his eyebrow furrows.

“I was lost without you… and drinking wasn’t the only thing.” You paused, trying to steady your breath, feeling the weight of what you were about to say. “I hooked up with people… meaningless, empty hookups, just trying to feel something, anything… something to fill the hole you left.”

Jason’s expression darkened, but not with anger—more with sadness and regret. He stayed silent for a moment, processing your words, before finally meeting your gaze. “I wasn’t there, and I should’ve been,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. But you don’t have to do that anymore… “

You could barely hold back the tears threatening to spill. “I didn’t know how to deal with losing you,” you admitted. “I’m not proud of it.”

Jason reached out, taking your hand gently. “I understand,” he said quietly. “We’ve both been through hell. But we can figure it out together”, his reassurance makes your heart swell, and the tears finally break through. he pulls you on-top of him as you cry onto him.

“how did you find me Jason?”, you continued to cry.

He let out a soft sigh, looking away for a second before meeting your gaze again. “It took me a while,” he admitted. “After I came back… I didn’t want to be found at first. But when I finally felt ready, I started looking for you.”

“But I moved—how did you know where I was?” you pressed, still not quite believing he was sitting in front of you.

Jason leaned back slightly, running a hand through his now-clean hair. “I kept tabs on you. I know it sounds bad, but I had to make sure you were okay… without showing myself. I’ve been watching from a distance, piecing together where you’d gone, tracking little things—like your name on utility bills, credit card activity. Even Bruce’s systems helped, though I didn’t want him to know I was looking.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “You used Bruce’s tech?”

Jason chuckled darkly. “I’m not proud of it. But I needed to know where you were, especially when I saw you’d moved. I just… I couldn’t stay away any longer.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “So, you’ve been watching me this whole time?”

“Not like that,” he said quickly. “Just enough to know you were safe. When I finally decided to come back, I knew where to find you.”

“wow”, you sniffle out between your cries, “Jason i’m so sorry.”

“oh my love, you did nothing wrong bunny, none of this is your fault”, he cops softly stroking your hair, “we are together now and that’s all that matters now, yeah?”

you nod, he sighs kissing the top of your head. you two stay like this for hours, falling asleep together. happiness takes over your mind. you finally feel peace.

[witches-dream]

Destroy yourself, or save me

Soul Jam Eater

Chapter 2

[chapter 1] [you're here!] [chapter 3]

A/N: this chapter is pretty much a setup for what's gonna happen next, i could've posted this together with what's gonna be chapter 3, but i really wanna get this out, lol

***

A group of four left the castle, but a group of five returned. This was certainly an event worth celebrating! As he approached the castle of glitter and gold, which shone like the Sun even in the deepest night, Spice had an irritated look on his face.

"You gotta be one of those spoiled kids, huh."

"Spoiled?" Golden Cheese repeated with a smirk. "Spoiled are the ones who are given everything for doing nothing. I earned everything I have through my hard work and my enormous greed!"

Golden Cheese had servants prepare a feast for them before they came back, and Spice sat there, shoving everything down his mouth like a starving animal, which only served to amuse Goldie, even as Smoked Cheese disapproved of the behavior.

"Being asleep for generations must have made you pretty hungry, huh?" Mozzarella laughed.

Afterwards, Burning Spice got a tour around the castle, including his own private room, spacious and shining.

"No fucking way I'm sleeping in your dollhouse." Spice hissed as he looked over the room. Somehow, being given riches like this felt like an insult to his honor.

"Do you wanna go back to your stupid damp cave then?" Goldie teased. She understood she was poking a lion, and Spice understood she had leverage over him.

"Don't you dare call my temple a goddamn *'damp cave'*."

"You're living here and this is final. And here's the key to your room," Goldie extended her hand, but Spice looked on it like she was offering him dog feces.

"I don't need a key."

"Ok, I'll just leave it here then." Goldie shrugged. "Don't complain if you get unwanted visitors though!"

It was when he was left alone in his room that it dawned on Burning Spice that he was really transported into the future. Evidence was all over the castle, even on the way there, but now when he had time to breathe and take it all in, he couldn't ignore it anymore.

First off, he never could imagine residing in such a fancy room. The bed was way too soft, you could almost drown in it, and the carpet felt like walking on clouds. Secondly, it was all the strange devices scattered around. A big black rectangle on the wall which looked like it could be a painting, but, then again, there were actual paintings in the room, so the rectangle's purpose was unclear. To the sides of the rectangle, big boxes with some sort of net in front. In a drawer Spice found small thin boxes with pearlescent looking discs in them, but they didn't look or feel that precious. On the drawer sat another machine with pressable bumps that sometimes made it move or make strange sounds.

There was a time when Burning Spice thought there was no future for humankind, that all was destined to crumble away and be forgotten. Now, knowing that civilization is not just still around, but has progressed beyond recognizability made him feel... Jealous, sort of. He didn't like that feeling. He had to get rid of it.

He wasn't bothered to go all the way down to the actual exit when there was one right in the room. He jumped off the window and earth shook underneath him as he landed. He found himself in the terrace with neat little flowerbeds and a fountain, so delicate and sweet, just begging to be torn down.

Golden Cheese wasn't asleep yet, but, even if she was, she'd wake up from the noise outside. She looked out the window to see a garden utterly destroyed, and Burning Spice moving on to wrecking the fence surrounding it. She swooped down on her wings and said:

"Got nothing better to do?"

"Oh, you know, felt so bored, and this quaint little garden looked so... *Breakable.*"

Burning Spice turned to her with a grin on his face. He expected her to be angry, furious even, to fight him, or try to punish him, anything. He stood in anticipation of her reaction, but, strangely enough, she didn't seem all that bothered.

"Oh well, I was going to replace this soon anyway," Goldie shrugged and looked at Spice as his grin turned into a disappointed frown. "if you're bored, why not direct your powers onto something more useful?"

"Like what?"

"Like," Goldie said as she descended down onto the rubble, close enough to where he could slice her in half if he wanted to, "I heard a monster appeared right in those mountains. Wanna help me take it down?"

Burning Spice felt excitement return to his soul as he roared, "Hell yeah."

A/N: so yeah, a small chill chapter, nothing much happens, but this serves as a bridge for future events. More things get established here than you'd think :P Lastly i wanna remind you that these are pretty much drafts that I'm posting, but if i don't post them then I'll post nothing and this is better than nothing lmao

P.S. also monsters are like... Instead of the "evil souls" that they catch in Soul Eater. This will be explained when it's more relevant later on.

[gendzl]

—Leonard Cohen, from You All in White

[themonotonysyndrome]

Cutie would like to believe they're a good person.

But they're great when it comes to thinking outside of the box.

"Happy birthday, sweetie! Everyone has been so excited to celebrate when you manifested your magic last month! Your Dad can't wait to teach you his Earth tricks - did... did you just speak in my head?"

"Oh hey! Nah, you're alright; class hasn't start yet. Are you a new student? Cool! I'm a Freelancer. You? ...Oh."

" - so lame, though. All they can do is read the other team's minds. Yeah, but what's good about gathering intel when they need consent before digging into our opponents' brains? I'm not saying they're useless - "

"Unfortunately, the Department isn't looking to hire any new Investigator at this moment with your particular skillset. But don't worry, you'll be the first person I'll call when we have an open position."

Creativity is the spice of life. Or, in Cutie's perspective, an edge that made a mundane Telepath... not so mundane.

A Telepath reads minds, but who says they can't be more?

Who to say a Telepath can't command the heart - an organ that pumps life within the body - to stop beating?

Who says a Telepath can't whisper random words that condition the brain into transforming a person into someone else entirely?

Who to say a Telepath can't plant false memories just like a De(a)mon could?

Who to say a Telepath can't become the government's prized interrogator and something akin to Nick Fury of the Empowered world?

Morality be damned when you're damn good at what you do.

But whenever Cutie was with Geordi, they were never good or great -

They were happy and oh, look at that. It's been so long since Cutie could remember they were genuinely happy ever since they got their magic. Eyes quickly averted and hardly a second glance whenever they're around family and friends after all.

But Geordi is an Unempowered human. Geordi isn't like those the Department threw at them.

Cutie isn't good but they're great.

...

Why isn't that enough anymore?

[little-orange-bastard]

CHAPTER 3: The Fall

@pepperonyscience @authortobenamedlater @thefinaljediknight @p0tat0-g0ddess

@ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask & @helix-enterprises117

The weary survivors, having gathered what meager supplies they can muster, gather about the Black Box. Instead of the avatar shimmering into existence, this image pops up with his voice narrating the projected images.

“It began in 1995 when SETI discovered an unknown object in the orbit of Neptune. This unknown object passed through the outer solar system, passing by and scanning the various outer planets before continuing on its orbital period out of the solar system with a calculated return in approximately 80 years.”

“This information was at the time classified as above Top Secret, but the occasional leaks still got out. You may remember the Heavens Gate suicide cult who thought that there was a UFO hiding in the tail of comet Hale-Bopp in the same year that they thought was there to rapture them to heaven? They weren’t entirely wrong about the presence of alien life. They were wrong about their intentions, and how a rapture works.”

The image shifts to this new one.

“After only 50 years, the alien starship returned in 2045. This time, it visited the inner planets and headed directly for earth. All communication and contact efforts failed as it approached our planet. The militaries across the globe manned their battle stations and prepared for the worst.”

The image changed again.

“As the visitor rocketed past earth, it released approximately one dozen smaller modules that impacted around the globe. In addition, it launched a flak storm into polar and counter-rotation orbits at varying altitudes. This flak and the shredded remains of space debris obliterated most communication and GPS-navigational satellites, crippling our response options. Watch the movie ‘Gravity’ if you want to get the idea of what ‘Kessler Syndrome’ is.”

The image shifts again showing a burned out hellscape.

“As the modules impacted earth, they simultaneously released a variety of biological weapons that eliminated almost the entirety of human life on the surface while discharging hunter-killer robots that laid waste to everything in their path. The remaining militaries of earth fought valiantly to fend off this new enemy, but conventional weaponry was ineffective against the alien tech.”

“We averted total annihilation by launching an overwhelming nuclear strike on the bases. While many missiles were shot down or shredded by the orbital debris cloud during the apogee phase of flight, ultimately the invasion was neutralized but the earth was ravaged. Overall, approximately 3000 megatons of whoop-ass were released.”

“There are a few pockets of survivors around, but by and large the surface is clear of human life. The alien bio weapon was terrifyingly effective but was only virulent for a short period of time before it burned itself out and died due to a lack of hosts…it also allegedly smelled like pumpkin spice by the victims before they perished.”

The avatar gives a sheepish look and crosses his arms before continuing.

“So, uh, I know this is a lot to take in but there’s more. The virus didn’t exactly kill every human it contacted. As turns out…well, the virus killed everyone but it also turned only redheads into zombies.”

“So…yeah. There it is. We got a post nuclear world full of redhead and ginger zombies and radiation mutated monsters while the rest of humanity was more or less eradicated by a pumpkin spice flavored super virus just in time for Halloween. Oh, and the zombies follow pretty much standard zombie rules, bonks to the head only takes them out.”

“Soooooo…questions so far or should we also discuss alleged safe refuge at ‘Candy Mountain’?”