or the ninth one

2

SF’s First ‘Protected Intersection’ Breaks Ground at 9th & Division This Week.

“Ninth and Division is one of the intersections in the city’s “high-injury network,” the 12% of streets where severe and fatal crashes are most likely to occur. 

The new intersection will install concrete islands at two corners to promote slower turns, and raised crosswalks also intended to slow down cars. A new bikeway design to separate cyclists and pedestrians is also planned. 

As part of the project, Ninth Street will become two-way from Division to Brannan, with a new sidewalk and angled parking on the south side to narrow the roadway. The parking-protected bikeway on Division (13th Street underneath the freeway), installed between Bryant and Folsom last year, will also be extended between Ninth Street and Potrero Avenue in both directions.” 

read more: hoodline, 25.08.16.

anonymous asked:

Drabble! The Doctor meets Thor?

Haha, wow. Right so! I basically just did a random number generator to see which Doctor to use and I ended up with Nine, which I think will work very well! Okay then! Rest under the read more!

——————–

“…No, seriously though. You are pullin’ my leg, aren’t you?”

The figure standing before him looked mildly perplexed; as perplexed as a giant of a human carrying a great hammer could be.

“I am pulling no legs, mortal! Such is a coward’s way of fighting!”

The Doctor supposed he should have seen that one coming…no, actually. Not at all. That was ridiculous. When the TARDIS had landed on this cold, icy backwater planet and reported immense energy readings consistent with advanced lifeforms very nearby, he had been nothing but eager to find out what they were. He hadn’t been expecting this.

His expression was one of confusion and the sentiment was echoed in his voice when he spoke again.

“So…Thor.”

“Aye! The mighty!”

“Yeah, yeah. The mighty Thor. Er…right. Honestly, I’ve no clue where to even start on this one. You’re…well, you claim to be Thor. The Norse god, Thor. That one. Big hammer. Lightning. All that, yes?”

Keep reading

rc9gn twitter account!

i took @rc9gn on twitter and turned it into a fan account! sadly, it’s been quite inactive and hasn’t got many followers. it would be appreciated if anyone submitted things to the account or followed to help it get started up properly!

en.f1i.com
Arrivabene refuses to blame Vettel for Raikkonen clash - F1i.com
Ferrari team principal Maurizio Arrivabene refused to blame Sebastian Vettel for the first corner collision with Kimi Raikkonen in the Belgian Grand Prix

Ferrari team principal Maurizio Arrivabene refused to blame Sebastian Vettel for the first corner collision with team-mate Kimi Raikkonen in the Belgian Grand Prix.

Vettel turned in from the outside of La Source and hit Raikkonen, who had Max Verstappen on his inside. While Vettel blamed Verstappen for triggering the incident, he also conceded he should have left his team-mate more room. Raikkonen himself didn’t point the finger at the Dutchman but was fiercely critical of his driving later in the race.

When asked for his view of who to blame for the collision which damaged both Ferraris and limited them to sixth and ninth in the race, Arrivabene would not single out one driver.

“I don’t want to be involved in this kind of fight, accusing one or the other,“ Arrivabene said. "The reality is that we had a very good start and an accident at the first corner and we were damaged for the rest of the race. This is the reality and if we have to talk we will talk in the proper place.”

Asked what the proper place is, Arrivabene replied: “The drivers have the driver briefing, Charlie Whiting is there and we have another way to talk with the proper people if necessary.”

Arrivabene’s comments suggested he apportions some blame to Verstappen, and when asked if the Red Bull youngster was driving dangerously or racing fairly, the Ferrari team principal said: “You saw the race right? You hear the comment of Kimi right? OK, that’s it.”


Did I mention how much I like Maurizio. No? Well, I really do.

anonymous asked:

gilbert and colin should fight to the DEATH (laptop can be the referee or something)

colins glasses went screwy cos finger gun is gonna touchy him

Colin: no touchie

Gilbert: Yes touchie

Laptop: *cheering in the background*

Human M!A: 8/10 (only one more human related question can be asked now, as my ninth one is already being drawn)

Watching Movies With Sound Off

Growing up, one of my dreams was to become a producer or composer. I dedicated a large portion of my time to understanding some technicalities around the study of music out of excessive love for it; like learning to read sheet music, learning how to use certain equipment, understanding why producers and artists chose certain melodies and a very special form of therapy for me – zoning out in front of a piano.

I was particularly drawn to Beethoven. As most are aware, arguably one of the greatest composers of all time was actually deaf during his latter years. This was so fascinating to me and also a testament to the true power of music. Most importantly, he was not completely deaf from the beginning, his condition worsened over a period of time.

“I am feeling stronger and better, except that my ears sing and buzz constantly, day and night”

—     Ludwig van Beethoven

One of his most popular compositions, The Ninth Symphony has such a moving story attached to it. Supposedly, he began this composition in 1822 although it was first performed in 1824. During this performance, the story goes - Beethoven continued to perform long after the orchestra had finished because he could not actually hear that the music had stopped nor could he hear the applause of the crowd; meaning he was composing based off previously attained levels of skill, imagination and feeling allowing the music to move him even while deaf. This convinces me of a sentiment I often share surrounding the healing powers that live in music.

For the purpose of illustrating this point, I now draw attention to a seemingly recent but profound album for me; Mac Miller’s Watching Movies with the Sound Off.

In this moment I’m instinctively thinking of the keys in the intro on a personal favorite on the album, Objects in the Mirror and then the magic that is the song as a whole.

I remember once opening up to someone about a time in my life when I abused my prescribed medication for my depression by mixing it with extreme amounts of alcohol and getting lost on that high while locked in a bedroom with the person I was in love with. I then went on to explain to him that the song is so powerful to me for that reason. We would play the album (while zoning out in that room) and I was then convinced that Mac Miller was in fact not referencing a specific woman or relationship at all on track, but rather referencing an experience or feeling of both being in love and being on a drug induced high and the euphoria that comes when those situations collide during such a dark period.

“Go through the worst to reach the ecstasy,
When your imagination’s on pretend"
, he sings.

In an interview, he went on to mention that that is exactly what inspired the beautiful jazzy tune. And so, it made sense that the music was gripping me in that way.

The song, off his June 18 release Watching Movies With the Sound Off, is all about love, and while Mac says he didn’t write it about a specific female, he did draw from real-life experiences. “What I like to do when I’m writing a song like this is something in my life that happens. I take the emotion… I’m a little bit weird with saying exactly what is going on in my life, so you take that emotion and you create a situation in your head, and you come up with something. Then, you apply that emotion into that situation and build characters,” Mac explained. “You gotta go through the really bad to appreciate that ecstasy — that actual feeling of ecstasy.”

Much like that song, the bulk of the album follows a very similar theme where we witness Mac evidently going through the darkness and then escaping through the music leaving room for the experience to either overtake or empower him into becoming the childlike and goofy version of himself that his fans once knew. The flawless production (with names such as Diplo, Earl Sweatshirt, Flying Lotus and Mac himself) and the way in which the songs transition into one another is a great example of this. Let’s consider Red Dot Music (feat. Action Bronson).

“I said it must be the drugs that got us thinking crazy shit
Looking up into the clouds where the angels sit
They looking down, keeping watch ‘til I’m dead
So how’d I get this red dot on my head?”

Here we see Mac questioning the universe and the heavens while on a literal high and searching for a sign from the angels as he feels like a target. As the song comes to an end, we transition from the very gloomy beat into a skit by Loaded Lux where he cleverly attacks Mac’s current persona/raps.

“I liked you better when you was Easy Mac with the cheesy raps – who the fuck is Mac Miller?”

This takes us back to the abovementioned idea that there is a looming fear that his dark style on the album will overpower him but then we suddenly transition into the playful Gees (feat. Schoolboy Q) where the beat seems to catch up with him and give him his childlike energy right back. He does this seamlessly throughout the project. Another consistent thing is that he remains true to whatever version of himself and whatever feeling consumed him in a particular moment or song and trusted the listener to understand what he was communicating in the music.

“The whole idea of the record was to think about it not like, 'Hey, I’m putting together an album. This is what I should do to make a good single.’ It was about making music and letting the journey inform itself.”

-          Mac Miller

Having personally gone through such a tormenting journey and fearing the burden of being judged or attacked for losing it and relying on substances to escape the pain, this album successfully manages to do exactly what music has the power to do. Mac Miller evokes heartfelt and specifically relatable emotions and offers a healing experience where some of us once struggled to communicate and convey exactly what we were going through. Even though they may have liked you better when you was Easy Mac with the cheesy raps, I’m so grateful for the opportunity to have watched this movie with the sound off.

Thank you for sharing your journey with us.

Naledi Sibisi
23/08/2016

Took a stab at that Art Style Challenge all the cool kids are doing. It sat on my desk for a week or two while I tried to think of something for the ninth one. I didn’t. To be fair, I didn’t try too hard to think of one. Don’t be angry with me, I’m a Muppet!

Philosophy of the loves of Iris West

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2bQ6iAd

by VivianDarkbloomD

Iris knew that there were different kinds of love, but seemed simple: brotherly love, romantic love and love between friends. Until she had a philosophy class in ninth grade, so learned that had more than one way to love.

Words: 1926, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English



read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2bQ6iAd
Letters from the Depths of Solitude (The Twenty-Ninth)

One of the devastations, once the world is shattered, the catastrophe un-collapsed itself, and the lightning hit the ground and set a tree on fire, is that the alphabet, the letters, which served you faithfully and obediently, are still letters they were–have not turned to scarlet, did not acquire sharp angles where they had square sides and vice versa, and did not lose their discernibility.

Letters you used so often to record the ordinary and the mundane, do not become anything other for an occasion of standing for what perhaps is better left unthought of.

But life is populated with things numerous and miraculous. I don’t have to say anything. I don’t have to. I don’t.

Suddenly I miss winter. To hide face behind the wall of snow as behind a scarf. Never unveil.

(Written in a pencil on a magazine.)

anonymous asked:

So my partner is in the brotherhood and I'm enrolled at Xavier's but I mean honestly??? I don't even care anymore like if one more ninth grader comes up to me and says that my boyfriend's a terrorist then I'm teleporting my ass to Magneto's basement.

#well

Philosophy of the loves of Iris West

Fanfiction notes: Hey, here I am again! The last type of love exists in two forms, but I just used one. In the future a Grandice version, I hope you like it :3
Beta: @something-that-makes-no-sense Thanks, honey!
Disclamer: Insinuation of sex.
Word counts: 1926.
Chapters: 1/1

Philia.

Iris knew that there were different kinds of love, but seemed simple: brotherly love, romantic love and love between friends. Until she had a philosophy class in ninth grade, so learned that had more than one way to love.

“Barry, we have a philia.” She smiled at him as he put his books in the cabinet. Barry frowned at her, confused. Iris giggled and answered before Barry could ask. “It’s a kind of love.”

Barry blushed and gave a small smile, but Iris, without notice, ran over him before he could utter a word.

“The boring class of philosophy was interesting today, you know that there are several ways to love someone?” Barry nodded, oh, he really knew.

“What kind of love is Philia?” He asked, dripping hope in his voice. But, of course, she hadn’t noticed.

“Friendship, of course.” Iris said in a tone that suggested that it was obvious. Barry’s expression faltered for a second before he smile.

“You are my best friend, Iris.”

“You are mine, too.”

Eros.

Iris was not the kind of sex-without-commitment-with-a-stranger girl, but she was in college, she was still a little irritated with his father and, honestly, she was drunk.

Joe did not let her enter the police academy, it had caused in several fights between the two. So Barry suggested journalism. “The reporters have all the fun,” it was what he said. She was interested in the classes, it was cool.

But this was the first party in college that she was going. Everywhere that Iris looked would have couples kissing, correction: almost having sex in public. But she was alone, her friend, Alison, was leave her for a guy with blue eyes (okay, he was like really hot). So, she had taken a few drinks, but it was not out of control.

A very attractive guy had sat beside her and they had begun to talk. He was cool, she laughed with him. But soon began to feel a tingle down her stomach, Iris crossed her legs and bit her lip.

“And during all this, the professor of philosophy continued sleeping.” He finished and laughed, his laugh made Iris laugh too, or maybe it was the alcohol, since she didn’t know what he was talking, she was too busy crushing her own legs.

“My favorite philosophy class was about the kinds of love.” Iris used the tone she considered provocative, something like a bit more than just flirting, or limete of.

“I think we have a Ludus here.” He gave a similar smile to her. Iris would not know what made her do it, maybe the bright lights, maybe the hectic pace of the music, maybe alcohol.

The fact is that she had tilted and her face was centimeters from the man’s face, their noses almost touching.

“I don’t think it’s Ludus” He put his hand on her bare thigh, her whole body prickled in answer. “I was thinking on Eros.”

“That sounds interesting.” He stroked her thigh. “Remember the definition for me, please?”

She bit his lower lip slightly, conveying her chills to him. That same feeling good, and that she did not know so well, under her stomach.

“Carnal desire.”

Agape.

Sometimes Iris forgot that Barry was in a coma. These times were virtually her most normal and happy moments.

When that happened, it was in the morning. She would get up and battery on Barry’s door because he was always late, usually by oversleep too much, but then she would stop on the second beat.

Barry was sleeping, but Iris could not wake him.

This would make her heart ache in the most literal sense possible, and she would ask herself how it was possible. She would ask it to Barry (as is able to physically hurt when is something sentimental?) and Barry respond, and then start to wander. And Iris would not be bored, she loved listening to Barry talk about his nerdy things.

This was one of those days, Iris could only go to S.T.A.R Labs before even eat something.

Blind hope made her go faster, maybe, just maybe, Barry woke up this time.

Iris always felt it when she woke up thinking about being in the past, but on entering the Barry room, she saw him as he had been in recent months: lying on a bed, skin paler than normal, various devices connected to him.

She just wanted him to open his green eyes and smile at her.

Iris held the tears. It was not fair. She sat in the chair beside him, thinking how unfair it was. Barry had lost his mother, his father was arrested and now he was in a coma from which he might never wake up from.

She knew it was wrong to blame Dr. Wells, but he had not saved Barry’s life, he had just destroyed it. No, Iris rebuked herself, he did not destroy Barry’s life, he only delayed it a little. Barry will wake up. She remembered Barry talking animatedly about all this, she would still laugh at the dark humor: he was in the place of his dreams, but it had become a nightmare. Deep down, she knew it was not Dr Wells’ fault, he also had his share of losses. But Iris had already lost her mother, she could not lose her best friend too.

She held his hand. Barry was a good person, with possibly the purest heart she’d ever known. He could not die like this. Iris held her tears and felt a slight tightness in his hand.

“Barry?!” She exclaimed feeling her heart race as her chest was filled with happiness. She stood up, still holding his hand, and leaned toward him. But he was still there, just lying.

“Reflex.” The voice of Dr. Snow filled the room, she came holding a clipboard. “It is normal for patients in a coma, actually.” Iris looked at her hand holding Barry’s hand, she gave an ironic laugh and dropped her hand, she had been deceived. Caitlin looked at her compassionately. “I understand. I…” Dr.Snow sighed. “I lost my fiancé in the explosion. I loved him. He died trying make sure the explosion doesn’t blow up S.T.A.R Labs, trying make it cause less damage, trying to save me.” The Caitlin’s voice hesitated for a second and her looked at Barry. “He’s still alive and he has a chance to wake up.” Iris could hear a little advice, maybe a plea: Do not give up on him.

“I’m sorry” Said Iris, Caitlin gave a small smile. It still hurt to talk or think about Ronnie, she thought she always would hurt. Iris felt her heart hurt a little with empathy. Agape, the mind of Iris blew sneakily, was a kind of love that could be extended to distant strangers, basically empathy. She remembered when she spoke to Barry that they were Philia. She swallowed her tears, Dr. Snow had lost her fiancé, Barry would return. But she had lost a fiancé. “He… He was a hero.”

Ludus.

“I just wanted to thank you for being covering my father’s turn.” Iris gave a small smile to Eddie ‘Detective Pretty Boy’ Thawne.

“You are welcome, Iris. You do not need to thank me every time we leave, would be a lot of excuses.”

’'So you want to leave with me?” Iris arched eyebrow and held her lower lip with her teeth, dropping to leave a smile playing on her lips.

“Yes, maybe to dinner?” He smiled at her. She felt a good feeling, Eddie was good, it was simple. He made her feel good, he supported her, he heard her talk about Barry.

Barry, it was still strange not having him there. And it was always going to be weird. She needed Barry, she needed him awake.

“Iris?” Eddie turned her attention, Iris decided to push thoughts of her best friend in a coma aside for three seconds. She smiled at Eddie, he seemed a little unsure. Lovely, Iris thought. They were taking the turn of her father, even by two months, so she had called him for a coffee, just to thank him. Eddie was now a kind of Ludus for her: she had a fun affection with him, Iris felt it in their mild flirtations.

“Dinner sounds great.” Iris smiled, the kind of smile that she gave when she was flirting. She hit her lashes and leaned under the table.

“I can’t wait, Miss West.”

Philautia.

Iris looked nervously at herself in the mirror, she was beautiful. She knew she was beautiful, but what if she was not? It was her first date.

She sighed and went downstairs, her father and Barry were watching TV. She cleared her throat and they both turned.

“How am I?”

“You look beautiful, dear. But did you take the pepper spray?” Asked Joe.

“Daddy, I will not need pepper spray!”

“Honey, the hormones of the boys at this age…”

“Dad!” Iris interrupted Joe, blushing. He only offered an expression of 'I’m not saying anything too!’ She rolled her eyes.

“Just take the spray.” Iris snorted and nodded. She looked at Barry, her gaze making an obvious question. Barry was the age of his date, he could have a different view of her father.

“You are wonderful, Iris.” She smiled at his sincere tone, your confidence back.

“Yeah, I’m wonderful.” She tossed her hair to the side and smiled, Barry rolled his eyes, but followed her on smile.

“Philautia.” Barry quipped with a smile and Iris laughed.

“You still remember that?”

“Philautia?” Joe interrupted the conversation.

“It means self-love.”

Pragma

“I love you, Barry.” Iris finished her speech, they were standing at the top of the Ferris Wheel. She did not know exactly what expect. After all, Barry had been with Patty, it could mean that he had moved on, right? Maybe she was just going to make things weird between them again and…

“I love you too, Iris.” She looked deep into his green eyes, the noise of the park below them seemed to vanish. Barry was looking at her with so much emotion in a way that only he could look, and Iris felt so good with that look poised over her, her heart quickened and she felt full. “I never stopped loving you.” He smiled and pulled her into a kiss. The kiss started needy and amorous, after exploring the mouth of each other, the kiss received a touch more of desire, soon their tongues were together. That kiss transferred all desire, happiness, relief, and especially love. Barry’s hands were in Iris’s cheeks as her hands were holding in his arms.

They turned away by the basic need by air, leaning against foreheads as Iris let out a small laugh, her open hand under his chest feeling his heart beat faster than usual pace of Flash, her hair flying and hitting the face of both, it was not perfect. But the feeling was that it was.

She opened her eyes and found with his, so green and expressive.

“What?” He asked confused, even a little insecure, Iris smiled.

“Remember when I said you were my Philia?” Barry nodded. “I think you’re my Pragma, patient, tolerant… You’re always there for me, Barry. You do not make me fall in love, you make me stand on it.”

Yes, there are several ways of love.

And Iris learned the main the best possible ways. But best of all:

She learned to stand in love with Barry Allen.

anonymous asked:

oh my god I've never had any interest in dw but if that's an official comic I may just look into that part of the dw franchise because what the fuck do I even say to this haha

It’s in the official Ninth Doctor comic series. I suggest you watch the Ninth Doctor’s TV run first (he was only in one season, the first season of the new series) first.

Day 93!!!

I was very tired, but sometimes a song will push you right into a good mood. Anyways, I want to thank @thegroovywriter for following me!!! 

Writing Session: 1:00am to 2:25am

Music: LOK soundtrack, colour my world game music, and Emancipator.

Progress: Typed one journal entry and 75% of another one

Goal for tomorrow: Finish typing the journal entry and type the ninth one

Quote of the week: But it’s only logical for the peaceful protests to continue brewing, acting as a buffer for future attacks before we find a way to carefully combat this sidling dare of anarchy.

(I hardly even know what the above quote means. LOL. I have to reach inside Morhan’s mind.)

Originally posted by patternsandportraits

Byee! I’m off to do one tag before I go to sleep :)

Tagged!

@eggsquisite-fenfan tagged me to share 5 facts about my OC that I haven’t expressed before. Her Fenwynn is just adorable <3. 

Of course, my heart has a one and only, Chiyo Lavellan. 

1. She’s never really given much thought to her paternity, and without her mother there to answer the question, it was deemed too unimportant to worry about. 

2. Chiyo will admit to anyone that she was teased relentlessly when she was small, but most never find out about her sly retaliations, many of which would meet Sera’s approval. Don’t eat the green berries, kiddos, else your pants won’t stay up all week.

3. Speaking of being a child, under no circumstances will she bring up the events surrounding her ninth birthday. 

4. On the other hand, her twentieth was one of the most memorable and celebrated to her recollection. Named as First of the Clan Lavellan, having mastered her wayward magic, and finally allowed to wear the vallaslin. It was a year marked with pride and honor.

5. Do not leave a drink unattended near her. Beer, brandy, wine, or spirits, she will sample it out of curiosity and end up hopelessly drunk before the night’s halfway over.  

I’m tagging the following to participate if they wish, but everyone should try this!: @llynnyia , @zaralethallan , @destinyapostasy , @lavella-ella-ellan , @xenianyx , @capricorn-sunny , & @littleblue-eyedbird

Reunited at last

(( Super self-indulgent extreme ChellDOS fluff taking place somewhere in me and @the-dangerous-mute-lunatic‘s Rp verse. ))


Every once and awhile, you’ll meet someone who will tell you that they’re an old soul. Often wise beyond their years, seeing the world through different eyes.

Neither Chell nor Gladys would’ve called themselves an old soul in the past. They simply went about their lives, never thinking of the possibility of one prior.

That was of course, until one day. October ninth to be exact.

A day that started so normally, Gladys would not have expected anything usual. If remembering who you once in a different life, along with the many times you had been reincarnated without a single memory could be considered unusual.

The feeling was alien. Impossible to put into words. Nothing seemed to fit right. But being the woman she was, Gladys still tried.  

It was like a dam, filled with memories. One moment it held strong, holding back every single thought and feeling from lives long gone. Then, without so much as a small crack, a trickle of something escaping, that wall had disappeared. Crashing it’s contents down upon Gladys with the force of tons of rushing water, destroying everything in it’s path.

She had fallen to her knees at let out a cry of agony, clutching her head. Years and years of experiences and memories were forced into her brain, making her mind struggle to place which ones belonged in the present. She had been reincarnated into many bodies, and lived many lives. But that wasn’t who she truly was.  She was Gladys. A woman who was cheated out of life, and offered more chances.

A woman who was to be married.

Her hand instantly went to her ring finger, even though there was obviously nothing there.

Chell.

Her lover. The person that would’ve, and should’ve been her wife. But fate had been cruel, and kept that joy just out of reach. For so many years. Too many.

She didn’t even realize she was crying.

Where was Chell in this life? Who was she? Would she even remember?

Gladys staggered to her feet, not caring about her disheveled appearance.  She stumbled towards the door, and soon was practically running down the street. Every moment felt dream-like. Surreal. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Not until she saw Chell again.

In all her lives, she had met Chell. A version of her anyway. But it had been so long since they truly saw one another. Not since that first life.  It couldn’t end like that. It wouldn’t.

She didn’t care that she likely looked like a madwoman, half running half stumbling through the streets with tears still fresh on her cheeks. Her feet were leading her somewhere, and while she didn’t know where it was, something in her chest told her that she was going in the right direction.

She wasn’t sure if it had been minutes or hours, but suddenly, she came to a dead stop. In front of a college campus. For a moment, she wondered if she really was crazy. Running here for no reason but to stand there like a zombie.  Everything around her felt black and white. She was alive again. Not just a being with her soul but no memories, she was herself, and she was alive.

But her world felt dead. Until she knew Chell was alright.

Then, a figure approached her. A few inches shorter, with dark brown hair tied into a low ponytail, and steel colored eyes.

Silence between them, for a moment. In this life, they had not met. Despite this, they knew. They knew each other as well as they had in their first life. It was as if they had simply went to sleep, and woken up again.

“…Gladys.”

A choked up voice, raspy and quiet, shocked, and on the verge of tears. The slight redness of her eyes indicated that this would not be the first time she had cried today.

In the time it took to blink, they were suddenly on each other. Gladys had moved first, grabbing the shorter woman and pulling her into an impossibly tight embrace.  Chell met that strength and countered it tenfold, as if letting go would mean losing the woman once more.

A sob clawed it’s way out of Gladys’s throat, tears once more leaving trails down her face. But she didn’t care. Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest, but she didn’t care. Chell was here. In her arms. Alive. The world could be falling around their feet and she wouldn’t give a damn.

She wasn’t quite sure how long they stood there, crying in each other’s arms. No words felt right, yet there was so much to say.   Finally, Gladys pulled back, putting one hand on Chell’s shoulder, and the other on her cheek, her movements shaky.

She used her thumb to vainly try and push away some of the woman’s tears.


“…I’ve missed you so much.”

Her own voice trembled, but her heart swelled with an overwhelming love and affection that it hadn’t felt in years. She was home.

Chell didn’t respond with words. Instead, her answer was a kiss. Leaning forward only for Gladys to meet her in the middle, locking the two of them in a passionate gesture. They could both taste the wet, salty tears against the other’s lips, and while certainly not ideal, that was the last thing on their minds.

This was real. They could feel it. Feel the warmth from their mouths, familiar and more than welcome. Feel the other’s hands, running across skin in patterns that came as naturally as breathing.

They knew each other, every inch of skin the same as it had once been. But this wasn’t the same. They had earned this chance, and they wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

It was only when air became a pressing need that they pulled apart, gasping and sputtering for breath, but not moving their faces more than two inches apart.  For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, Gladys smiled.  She smiled and she laughed, a joyous sound, from her chest, warm and soft.  Chell followed.  

They held onto each other, laughing, smiling and crying all at once. This was a lot to take in. And it could take days, weeks, or months to fully adjust to the fact that they were finally back. But what did it matter? Because in this moment, they had each other.

And that was all that they needed.