#inkd writes

[inkdheart17]

Vegebul angst:

It was that look of his that had her frowning. Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. He looked like the lonesome prince he was. There was no trace of his usual arrogance and abrasive personality. It was just him. Stripped bare as rare, heartbreaking tears managed to stream down his cheeks.

That look of his had her wanting to pull him into her arms. She wanted to reassure him that not all was lost, that he still had her and their son, and that even their friends were still with them, but she was prideful as well. Many fights had come from their clashing personalities, but none so heartbreaking than the one they were in now. She had long ago decided to forgive him for his actions while possessed by the dead sorcerer, but she found it was easier said than done.

Try as she might, she was never able to understand why the possession happened. Her childhood friend had told her it was a lost battle, and then warned her that her husband was definitely a victim, but his actions under that 'M' on his forehead were far too familiar. It was him, back in his prime, back when they first met. The merciless conquerer that never hesitated to have it reason blood. The insatiable warrior with a thirst to prove his strength. The offended prince that had to put a stray "low rank warrior" in his place. Her husband had gone back to his days as a monster, and she found it hard to believe that there was not some part of him that was happy about it. Glad to have found his heritage again, which he had complained was erased due to his prolonged exposure to humans. To her.

She had changed him. She knew she had. The main reason she even dared to invite the genocidal prince to live in her home was due to her confidence in being able to change him, but she failed to keep in mind what that would do to him. She imagined that losing yourself, even to love, was terrifying when you were the sole survivor of your race.

Sure, he had a brother and hey childhood friend had been uncovered to be like her husband, but neither of them had grown up in the same conditions. She had no way of knowing what her husband's brother had gone through, but she knew her childhood friend, at least, had grown up like a human. Perhaps the other prince had grown up to be like the inhabitants of the planet he was sent to. Perhaps he was a kind man. A stark contrast to her husband.

Her thoughts stopped as she found herself caught. Her husband wide-eyed as he noticed that someone had witnessed his vulnerable side. It was strange to see him line a deer in headlights. Much more akin to those he used to hunt rather than the hunter get used to be. She wished to believe only she had that effect on him. Who else did he tolerate, after all? No one. Just her, and was that not just the damnedest thing? He was all alone again, because she found it hard to believe he was a victim.

The prince resumed his stride. Briskly moving past her. Careful not to touch. She found it ironic. She was the one who was angry, betrayed, and confused, but it was he who kept away. He never dared to approach her after he was freed from the sorcerer's control. Perhaps if he had not taken such drastic measures to kill the creature he helped free, perhaps then he might have had more courage to face her. To talk about what he experienced, but he had. He had gone as far as erasing his own existence in a brilliant light in order to right his mistakes, and he had failed. Brought back only because of a miracle secret only to them. Them and their friends, and now a few more enemies as well. A miracle she found herself habitually collecting after having to revive her first dead friends.

Her husband was a victim. The prideful, arrogant man that knew he belonged in a throne, now a helpless victim. It was such a fall from grace. She wondered if it was denial, then, that kept her from believing the truth. Her husband was a strong man, after all. Along with her childhood friend, the man had saved her home countless times. Had professed his adoration for her a million times more behind closed doors. A secret veneration he refused to share with anyone else. She was his, and he was hers, and he would be damned if he allowed anyone else into what they had.

So, it was painful to think of such a man as a victim. Her pillar, her protection, her love. She had dreamt of a prince of her own as a child, but she had never been prepared for what that entailed. She figured a prince would let her live a pampered life where she never had to lift a finger. Surrounded by luxuries and all the strawberries she could ever wish for, but she was wrong. Her price came with no throne, and his cape was red not because of expensive silk, but because of endless bloodshed, and he was always close to leaving her. She had to work hard to keep up with him. Invent new gadgets that would help them win the day, but in the end he still left her side. Was that it, then? Was she angry at herself for failing to protect him?

No, how could she expect to do so? She was only human. Not some warrior alien race genetically coded for war. Even so, she was a fighter. Not like he was, but she knew even hell would be unable to separate them if she so desired. They had survived so much together, after all, and she had put in quite the amount of effort to keep up.

She knew what she had to do next.

The bedroom door creaked as she poked her head in. Not surprised to find it empty. No matter. What she had planned required a bit of alone time. Though, she still glanced down out the window. Watching the empty space that once held the unstable training room her husband had repeatedly collapsed onto himself. She remembered how terrified she had been the first time. How her desperation to prove he was still with her led them down an irreversible path. How it had sparked their dependence on each other, and later on their love.

She sighed as she finished preparing herself to talk with him. His lack of communication skills was something she was already accustomed to thanks to her childhood friend. Still, it never hurt to take extra precautions with her husband since all their arguments escalated to shouting matches. She took in a breath of courage and made her way to the much more stable gravity room.

As expected, the door was locked. Indicating that her husband was inside with the gravity set to a critical level. She chewed on her lip again. Should she just leave him be? In a honesty, she had no idea how to deal with the situation. He had to hate her, right? She had ignored him for so long. Ignored the hurt and guilt that plagued him. Had the roles been reversed, she would have left him. That depressing thought was enough to move her hand and press the intercom.

"Vegeta."

There was silence. She waited for a few minutes, but no response came. Resigned, she turned to leave. Only for the door to unlock. It never opened, but that was just like him. She found herself smiling softly as she walked in.

Standing a few feet in front of the door was her husband. Usually he would either stand with his arms crossed over his chest, annoyed she was interrupting his training, or he was quick to shut the door behind her. Hungry lips claiming hers as he all but devoured her whole. Neither of those reactions greeted her this time. Instead, he stood before her breathing heavy. Body exhausted no doubt by the intense workout he had just been torturing himself with. He was punishing himself again.

Before she could do anything about it, a single sound fell from his lips: "Bulma."

Her name. It sounded so delicate and fragile on his trembling voice, and yet it sounded like it was the one thing that was keeping him together.

Like a reenactment of their beginning, Bulma found herself running over to catch her prince. Cradling his head on her lap as his body gave into the gravity she knew was far too weak to truly keep him down. The only difference now being the soft sobs she had never heard before.

It was heartbreaking to see her love like this. A sobbing mess that clung to her like a child. Repeating apologies like a mantra. He was careful not to hurt her, but his grip on her hand was unbreakable. He wanted her with him. Wanted to make sure she stayed.

Bulma gave her husband a saddened smile. "I'm here, Vegeta."

And she was. For the first time since he released hell on Earth, she was there with him. Brushing his hair with her hands as she consoled him. Listening to his pain and loving him all the same.

[inkdheart17]

"Love?" The priest's face twists in confusion. "Love doesn't make humans dangerous."

"What? But, they cause so many wars in the name of love!"

It was then that Ezekiel noticed the book in the witch's hand. A history book of her people. Which talked about the unfair war that came about due to a doomed romance. At least, that was what the humans told, and only the victors were heard in history. "No. No, no. Love is predictable, Medi. There are rules and a natural progression. It's why so many call it 'cliched'."

"That's only in fiction." Andromeda huffed.

Ezekiel laughed. "And often times the truth is stranger than fiction." He paused before deciding to take a seat next to her. "No, what you're thinking of is 'spite'. Now that has caused war."

"'Spite'?" Andromeda tested the word. Another human word foreign to her. Another emotion she was unfamiliar with.

A part of him wished to keep her ignorant. To tell her that life was beautiful and kind and keep her hidden from the truth, but he had learned it was a futile attempt. If anything, he would only cause her more pain when she inevitably learned the truth.

Ezekiel sighed under that ruby gaze of hers. "It's an illogical emotion. Something created from pain and anger, and it creates options in the human mind that should have never existed to begin with." He reached over and picked up the book on her lap. Flipping through a few pages and doing his best to hide his disgust. "Take this war against witches, for example. Everyone will tell you it's about a man who only wanted to be with the woman he loved, but it's all a lie."

"But, it's an official text." Andromeda furrowed her brow. "They can't lie in those."

"They can. Humans don't have spells that force the truth out, Medi." Using his fang to cut his thumb, the priest began to draw the sigil of truth over the book. Watching how Andromeda's eyes widened at the changes. The words twisted and stretched, disappeared and were replaced, and the truth emerged. He could have let her read the book on her own, discover the truth by herself, but he was still worried. "This is a war of a spiteful man who wanted to punish the witch that refused him. Believing he was entitled to her affections."

For a moment, Andromeda glued her eyes to the pages. Either not believing or not wanting to believe what it said. Then again, Ezekiel knew it made more sense than whatever the humans lied. It was real, natural, but it was unpredictably cruel and unreasonable.

A few tears fell from her eyes. Slipping under her glasses and dripping onto the pages. "All because he wanted her?"

"No. All because he wanted to punish her. Wars are always about punishment."

It is not love that makes humans dangerous.

Love is predictable. Love has rules of engagement.

Spite, however, makes the illogical logical to humans. It creates options in the human brain that should never have been considered.

[tambertales]

The announcement for one of the anthologies I'm in this year is out!

Go check it out!

[dei2dei]

UpDeites

AUgust turned into a mess. My CageBlade Regency spy-thriller thing now wants to be 5+ chapters and I just...c'mon brain, REALLY?

I have a new sideblog, @deiwrites, for some of my other writing stuff. Feel free to jump over there, that'll be more of the "writeblr" stuff and my original work as I get around to posting more of it.

I have another short story in an anthology on Kickstarter! If you like explicit sapphic short stories, "Improvisation" will be in the Impulse anthology by Inkd Press. If you think of it as a sapphic CageBlade fantasy story, you wouldn't be off base at all.

I have almost an entire month's worth of plans for Kinktober, but that's likely not going to happen. Y'all might get 4-5 CageBlade stories, a couple Apothecary Diaries, and that may be it, because of... well, that whole original writing and publishing thing.

[kpgresham]

A New Story Coming Soon and Updates

By N.M. Cedeño I have a couple stories pending publication right now. One of the publishers revealed an author list and book cover this month. My story “The Ghostly Lady’s Curse” is scheduled to be published in an anthology entitled Detectives, Sleuths, and Nosy Neighbors from Inkd Publishing. The publisher announced the author line-up for the anthology this month. You can see the announcement…

[inkdheart17]

~~this is a crossover scene with Hero's Code and MHA~~

"So, you don't have a quir—I mean, ability?" The green haired boy asked as he sat on a beach nearby chair. Keeping a comfortable distance from Carmen. Though, she still felt that her workspace was being violated by his curious fidgeting.

Trying her best to ignore him, she opted to give the least amount of response possible. "That's right."

The kid hummed. Carmen hoped he was smart enough to catch on, but, of course, nothing was ever that easy for her. "And you're a hero? Without an ability?"

'Hero'. There was that word again. She had heard the kids with him say it, over and over, and she was starting to get annoyed. She turned to the freckled kid and huffed. "What is that?"

"A-A hero?"

"No, the ability I don't have. Yes, that! You kids keep saying that word, but none of you explain it. What's a 'hero' and what's it got to do with abilities?"

The boy seemed completely out of his element. As though he never expected the question. "W-Well, heroes are the good guys that save the day. They put everything on the line to make sure everyone is safe and happy and—"

"Everyone?" The boy went mute at that and looked down in shame. Carmen grit her teeth. Of course, not 'everyone'. The kid was talking about Agents, and Agents never cared for Rule Breakers like herself. Worst yet, he was assuming she could never be an agent due to her lack of ability. The nerve of this brat. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the boy. "Let me ask you something; would you still be a 'hero' if you lost your ability? Would you still jump in the way and protect people, even if you knew you would die trying?"

"O-Of course! That doesn't—"

"Then my ability, or lack thereof, decides nothing. Why are you so amazed that I'm able to do what 'heroes' do?"

"I-It's just, you can't be a real hero here without a quirk. I-I tried."

Interesting. Carmen arched a brow at him and felt her anxiety spike. "But, you have a 'quirk', right?"

The boy gave a small nod before a pathetic laugh fell out of his lips. He sat up and scratched at his cheek. Unable to look her in the eye. "Yeah, but, uh, I didn't always have a quirk. I didn't have one until UA, actua-WAH!" He stumbled back. Eyes wide as he stared up at the fuming woman before him. Hand on his sore cheek where her fist connected with it.

Blazing brown eyes glared down at him with nothing but contempt. "You sold yourself, for what?"

"I-I wanted to be a hero!"

"I thought we established that a 'hero' was more than just an ability." She seethed before grabing a fistful of his hair and dragging him up to meet her. "You sold yourself, idiot. Did you ever stop to think what sort of message that sends to others like me?! What message that sends to the organizations that control you like a fucking puppet?"

The boy quivered in her hold. He could easily break out of it, Carmen knew that much. Still, she was angry enough to ignore any possible reason as to why he let her abuse him. "T-They're not controling us! They're there to help organize efforts!"

"Bullshit!" She cut him off before tossing him back down. "Why can't you just jump in and help? Do you really have to wait until you're given permission to assist?! Maybe you'll stand by and wait for some other 'hero' to arrive from the other side of the fucking city!" She growled as she loomed over him. "Just stand there doing nothing as people die."

"N-No! Obviously, I would help!"

"You." Carmen emphasized. "You would help, but what about the others? The smaller 'heroes' who can't afford to affend their agencies? The obedient ones who understand what their roles are?" Seeing as how his green eyes began to swim with doubt, Carmen bared her fangs. "Let me ask you something, little hero. Did you ever consider that you might just be your 'quirk', now? Not the analytical genius I've seen you be, not the strategy mastermind you've shown me, but a 'hero'. A boy with an amazing enough 'quirk' that he can play the 'good guy' whenever he wants." She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "No. Not even a boy. Just a tool."

Rage filled those jade orbs before he stood up and left without another word.

Was it cruel? Undoubtedly, but Carmen had never been a kind person. Still, she knew what organizations like UA could do to kids like him. Rule Breakers. What were they called in this world? 'Villains', was it? What would the green kid say if he found out that was what she was? Would that one word make her his enemy in an instant? Obviously. She huffed and sat back down in her chair. Barely even looking at her disassembled project on the desk. That was all she was.

Heroes and villains. Agents and Rule Breakers. They were all just pawns to keep the people in their lane, and have them place blind trust in the organizations that pulled the strings.

Prompt #3422

“Have you ever considered that you’re just a set of powers? Not a person. Barely even a hero. Just a tool.”

[veronicaleighauthor]

Impulse Anthology

Long time, no see! I’ve meant to update in the last eleven days and just haven’t. Sharing stolen writing memes doesn't count. I even have blog post ideas. LOL! Anyway, I’ve had a story published, in Inkd Publishing’s spicy romance anthology, Impulse!

My story is called “Dog Days,” and if you’re interested in buying a copy of the anthology, you can do so here. I want to thank Inkd Publishing for including another one of my stories in their anthologies. I love working with you guys!

Yes, this is an explicit romance anthology. I realize that might not be some of my audience’s cup of tea, and I understand. If is your cup of tea, I hope you enjoy it.

Until next time!

[peterchase633]

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[inkdheart17]

This would be a great thing for Santiago to find and switch back to protecting Karina 🥲 it would be more like a journal with drawings and entries but still

Aftermath

Caretaker is asked to search for some photo in Whumpee's phone.

They try not to peek in other folders, but there's one called "Reasons I'm happy I survived".

One photo per day.

And at least 2/3 of them are photoes of Caretaker.

[inkdheart17]

Gochi angst:

Oh you thought it was just Vegebul? Lol no I'm here to make everyone cry

He had always been hard to understand. Perhaps it was because he was never human to begin with, or maybe perhaps due to his isolation as a child. She prayed it had nothing to do with his head injury from childhood. Regardless, it was safe to say her husband was an odd one. Even so, she understood most of his actions. Most.

Nothing could prepare her for the news that he would never come back. Not because the miracle wish orbs had failed, but because he himself had refused. Refused. As though returning to her was worthless. Even their son was of little importance, and yet she understood. It was a horrid twist of irony. The first time she understood her husband perfectly was the last time she would hear from him.

There would be no celebration for their second child.

Keeping that last bit of information to herself, thoughts of whether bringing a second child to a fatherless home plagued her mind. Was it a good idea? She still had her father, and everyone knew that her husband had done little in their son's academic life. She had practically raised the boy herself, but she could see her husband's influence in him. His kindness reflected in their son's ebony eyes. The man's overwhelming drive to protect those he loves had their son disobeying her orders every now and again. Even her husband's handsome features were starting to pop out over the years as their son grew. It was painful.

The thought of another boy popped in her head. A tiny version of her husband. Perhaps their child would have her eyes this time, or maybe even look more like her than her husband, but she knew. Deep down she knew that this second child would look like him. Just like their eldest, this child would be a constant reminder of her deceased husband, and oh how that hurt. How painful it was for her to imagine another reminder. Another child just like the man she would never see again.

She hated it.

Not the child. No, she could never hate anything that resembled that man, but the resemblance itself. Perhaps if she had a girl, one that looked like her and had no traces of her husband, perhaps then she could look at her child without an upset stomach. Perhaps only then could she avoid hearing the child ask if she hated them, because the answer would be no. She did not hate her child, their child, but she was deeply wounded by the man they looked like. The man she loved. The man who left her.

She figured she had little room to complain. Had she been faced with the same decision, she knew she would also choose her family's safety over their love. She would rather them hate her than expose them to another monster. Conjured only because she existed. So, he did. He left them to avoid putting them in danger once again. Whether it be due to his insatiable desire for combat, or his mere existence, it was safer for him to leave...and yet she disagreed.

The green alien that was now washing dishes in her kitchen next to her son, smiling as he heard the boy praddle on about his dragon friend, and the alien like her husband, currently living with her best friend who was now a father as well, were proof enough of her husband's influence. Only he could accomplish transforming two of their greatest enemies into family. As a matter of fact, her husband's best friend had been hostile to him when they first met. Most everyone he interacted with had attacked him in one way or another, and yet they had all attended his funeral. Heartbroken to know that the man that changed them would never come back. The glue that had united them was now gone.

A small movement in her stomach caused her to frown. Their second child would never get the chance to meet such a great man. They would hear stories, but it would be the same as hearing stories of a great superhero. Their father would just be some character from the past. Even if time travel was possible, it was a reality far into the future that her best friend was still incapable of achieving. Would their second child be an adult the first time they got to meet their father? Would they even get the chance?

She pressed her palms to her eyes and let out a shuddering breath. She had never agreed with the idea, had abhorred it, but it was so tempting now that she was alone. She had no desire to kill, but she also held no desire for another child. Not without him. Still, as she looked around, she knew she was incapable of destroying anything that came from him. She would hate herself if she ever did, and so she kept her pregnancy. It would be a secret, though, just until she was no longer able to hide it. Just until then, she wanted to forget. She wanted to pretend he had not abandoned her. Just until then.

-----

Her dilema was resolved quickly, and she was appalled at herself for having once thought to end her pregnancy. Seeing the second wave of shocked expressions at the full set of hair that came with the newborn, she could only laugh. Reaching for her child with shaking arms, she held the boy close. Tears of heartbreak and pure bliss burning her eyes as she glanced down at her second boy. An exact replica of her husband. Having lost most of her energy to the labor, she could only sob as she kissed her child. Whispering how much he looked like his father, and how his father would have a silly face if he were to be there. She was sure he would call his son a "little me", and it bubbled another laugh out of her, because he would be right. Their little Goten was a little him, and she would raise him to be just as kind. She would allow him to explore the martial arts his father loved so much, and she would make sure the boy grew up with the extended family his father had collected since he was a child himself. Even that grumpy prince that refused to call her husband by his human name.

-----

It was a bittersweet reality to see her youngest grow up almost identically to his father. Her son was rowdy and kind, and he was surpassing his own barriers with little effort. So young and already he possessed the terrifying ability to go "super". She panicked the first time she saw him transform, but only because she knew what it meant. He was too alike his father when it came to fighting, and she knew he too would one day look for trouble and, with that, would one day find himself in a fight he could not win. However, she decided it was a far away day. With the right preparation and training, perhaps it would be a day where her son would end up badly hurt, yes, but still be alive.

The strangest thing about her youngest, however, was how his relationship with his best friend worked. The two boys were almost mirrors of how their parents interacted. The friendship of their mothers and the rivalry of their fathers. Of course, she and her best friend had a rivalry of their own but, unlike their husbands, they were able to set aside their prides when they had to. Her best friend's husband was notorious for being both unwilling and unable to set aside his pride. Likewise, her son's friend was the last to put aside his pride. Often times her son was the one to cave, but she was happy to know there were still some things he refused to budge on. His morals were high like hers, but his kindness was endless like his father's.

So, to see him now, carried on his father's shoulder, rambling about his latest mischief with his best friend, was a miracle she never expected to witness.

Her husband was laughing as he added his own mischief. Talking about the strange trainings the turtle hermit had him and his best friend doing. Including the time he was denied dinner despite being the real winner of a race. To her embarrassment and absolute joy, the talk had shifted as she saw her husband glance back at her with a soft smile. He was talking about their first date.

It had only been after his miraculous revival. He had learned the hard way that being around his family was far less dangerous than being away from them, and had graciously accepted a second chance to be on Earth. It was the greatest battle to date. One that demanded he unite entirely with the princely warrior that matched him so well. Doubling their strengths and then some. She had been fearful of the whole battle from the beginning, when her sons had to face the magical beast, and even after when she woke up to an empty bed. Her sobs only stopping after her husband had picked her up in his arms after a late night snack. Apologizing and promising he would never choose to leave her again. It was during one of those nights that he spoke to her about his feelings. Unable to do so before he truly understood what he had lost.

She was almost too distracted by his hands, which were rubbing soothing patterns on her back and legs. She had missed his touch terribly, and it was far more than she was accustomed to in the past. It was jarringly obvious that he had missed her as well. He pulled her in close, unwilling to be apart again, and she finally heard a frown in his voice. He never frowned with her. Not in private like this, when it was just them. Not during their intimate sessions did he ever frown, but he did now.

He apologized again for leaving her and their two sons. While she already knew his reasoning, he explained himself again, and then pressed his cheek to her hand. Sighing as he fixed his thoughts. Then, he spoke about their date. About how often he thought back on that day, even as a child. How he had tried to replicate what he felt that day through different sparring matches. Unaware of what had made his match with her that day so different.

At first, he thought it was because she was a girl, but later battles would prove that gender was inconsequential to him. It was also obvious that it had nothing to do with it being a "fresh" battle with someone new, or because he was battling a close friend. He had fought a number of people after. Both strangers and friends alike, but he was never able to feel that same rush of excitement. "Maybe it's because you described it as the most pleasurable thing to do." He had laughed. Still unsure if what he felt was all that different from the rush of adrenaline he always felt with a new challenger, but he was learning. He knew now it was her, and that only she had that effect on him. The prince had once told him about how their people chose their partners, and that was how her husband knew.

She was almost breathless when he admitted the secret to her. What he had seen in her was something she had thought was lost long ago. A strong woman, a fighter capable of raising a family, and a burning spirit he was sure would never give out. His seven year absence definitive proof of that.

By the end of his monologue, they had shifted to where she was in his lap with her back to him. Leaning against him as he played with her hands. His slid down over her stomach and she was surprised to hear a soft growl escape him. He huffed about not being there for her when she really needed him, and apologized for not knowing about the pregnancy, even though he was quick to notice the first time around. She hardly blamed him. He was busy preparing for the fight that would end his life. Although neither of them knew it at the time. He promised he would have preferred to stay with her if he knew, and that gave her solace enough to admit her darkest thoughts from her pregnancy.

That was when he cried. Quietly, behind her. Face buried in the crook of her neck. The only indications of his sadness were the tremble that vibrated her own body, and the warmth that came from the tears that spilled onto her. She had expected him to be furious. Disappointed, even, in knowing what she was almost capable of doing, but not heartbroken. All he could do was curl her into him. Wrapping himself entirely around her as he cried out more apologies and promises to never leave her.

She slid a hand into his hair. Petting him for a moment before guiding him forward. His eyes were far too glossy for the amount of light the pale moon offered. "I'm so sorry, Chi." He cried once more before her lips met his. She swallowed whatever sobs fell out of him after. Shifting in his embrace without breaking their kiss. She was now over him, standing on her knees and cradling his face in her hands. She pulled away with a smile and wiped away his tears before drying her own face.

Touching foreheads, she breathed in his pain before a gentle laugh bubbled out of her. "Just stay with us, Goku. From now on."

He smiled again after that. One hand pushing back the raven hair he loved to play with as he pulled her back down for another kiss.

They laid back down in each other's arms. Eyes puffy from their emotional conversation. She had almost fallen asleep when one more word fell from his lips. One last promise: "always."

[deiwrites]

Dei Writes Stuff: Where Do I Find It?

Duck Prints Press hosts many of my short stories on their Patreon, plus two in general on their site. I also have works in their Many Hands: An Anthology of Polyamorous Erotica anthology ("Athanor") and forthcoming in A Truth Universally Acknowledged: A Pride & Prejudice Fanworks Anthology ("Orbital Conjunction").

Inkd Publishing's IMPULSE explicit romance short story anthology (on Kickstarter now) has one of my short stories, "Improvisation".

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[inkdheart17]

Not romantic but here we go!

"Kari."

Karina froze at the sound of her name. Eyes wide in disbelief as she turned around. There, aged a few years, although still younger than expected, stood Luna. Brilliant pink eyes blinked over at Karina with a bright, relieved smile. "I'm back!"

Rage filled Karina as she saw the most recent attempt. The damn clones were getting better every time. She grit her teeth as tears ran down her face. Taking a step back, surprising the copy to a stop. "You're not real."

"What?"

A soft laugh fell from Karina. "You're not real. Did that bitch really think she could get me using this same trick?! Once was enough." Karina pulled out a gun and aimed it at the copy's head. "Three times is just asking for trouble."

The sound ricocheted in the alley. A deafening sound that was only drowned out by the disbelief of what Karina saw.

Huffing, Luna stared at her in wide-eyed horror as she popped out of a portal. Barely missing the bullet aimed at her. While she understood how dangerous her mentor had gotten while she was gone, Luna realized it was all because of MhUB. They must have caught Karina after she portaled out of there, and they were most likely the reason Karina's signature disappeared. Making return impossible for Luna at the time.

"Impossible." Karina's voice wobbled as she all but crumbled. Her knees bruising as she hit the pavement. Vision blurred by tears and all she could do was repeat the same phrase: "you're not real."

She felt warm arms wrap around her. Luna pulled her into a hug as she burried her face in her hair. Kissing the top of her head the way Karina had done to her every time she had a nightmare. She smiled when Karina's final wall collapsed. Releasing a flood of tears and a chorus of sobs as she trembled in Luna's arms. Clinging to her as though Luna might disappear again. The same phrase tumbled out of her lips a final time before Luna tightened her hold. Smiling as her own tears came, she whispered, "I am."

Prompt 183

“You’re not real,” the hero whispered. Their hands caressed the outline of a face that wasn’t really there. That couldn’t be there. “You’re not real.” Their voice cracked.

Their lips brushed. Tentative. Desperate. Fully armed with the knowledge that it had to be some sort of delusion. “You’re not real,” they murmured again, eyes closed, against the lips of a ghost.

The ghost, eyes closed, murmured back. “I am.”

[tambertales]

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