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by
E.M. Lindsey
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October 7 - October 9, 2020
He was matter and Julian was a black hole, distorting his reality, stopping time, pulling him apart atom by atom until nothing else existed except the places where Julian’s power held him in orbit.
“I wish you could understand how many things had to happen to create you. How many big, bright, terrible things.”
“You’re star dust. Somewhere, probably millions of lightyears away—and millions of years in the past, there was a supernova. And the dust from that star—and from others—eventually helped create the spark that is your life. Right now. Carl Sagan used to call it star stuff, and I always used to find it so fucking romantic.”
“It means that the terrible, beautiful, inevitable death of a star is responsible for the miraculous, beautiful inevitable birth of you.”
“That is how important you are. A star accepted its death to make sure you were standing here. With me. Right now.”
“This is real to me. It’s not nothing. This isn’t a transaction, okay? I have been attracted to you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and it’s…it just keeps getting worse. I can’t escape it. I want to burn this place to the ground because I think it might make you smile.”
“I’m real, I’m here. I want this. And I don’t know if I can let you go when it’s over.”
Come was going to dry between them, and Archer couldn’t give a single, solitary fuck because he had never felt more like he belonged than in that moment just after.
“I would figure out the way to change the orbit of the fucking Earth around the sun if it meant I could have another chance—knowing it would probably end all life on Earth.”

