#and he sent me an email apologizing because he found it in the void

[amadaans]

hello i am not back but you should all know that the author of the book series kest is in has confirmed to me personally that kest is, in fact, asexual and also in love with falcio. confirmed! CONFIRMED!

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

Grumpy Christmas

Title: Grumpy Christmas Summary: You are dating the person who breathes Christmas. You’ll have to get used to it. Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Prompt: #17 S/O hates Christmas but after a lot of convincing it works. Warnings: Fluff, Chris is a sweetheart, Reader is the Grinch, holiday season, bad grammar (I wrote it half asleep) This was written for the 25 Days of Chris-Fics of @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho A/N: I’m sorry this is short but I’ve started to work more hours and I end up working late and I’m way too tired. So, please forgive me if my future fics are this length

^

You started dating Chris a little bit over a year ago and it was the first Christmas together. He was really excited, you weren't. Something he didn't know was that you hated Christmas but still you were dating the man who loves Christmas. When Chris found out you hated it, he turned it into his personal mission to make you love Christmas as well.

At first, he wanted to decorate the house together, of course, you helped him, you wanted to see his beautiful smile. You would do anything to just seeing him smiling. Then, he took you to get a tree and decorate it together. He asked you to bake some treats, you did his Favourites, anything to see that beautiful man excited and happy. Over the weekend, he would play Christmas movies that you loved and you would enjoy and he would play others were there weren’t funny at all and he would’ve laughed so hard that you were scared he might pass out because of the lack of oxygen. He bought some matching PJs for the two of you and for Dodger as well.  He even hired a photographer to get a family picture so you could send a Christmas card to your closest friends and family. Anything that was Christmas related, Chris did it. He was determined to turn the Grinch of a girlfriend he had into a Christmas obsessed, but he was running out of ideas. He didn’t know how would you still hate Christmas when every idea he got you did it without complaint.

A few days before Christmas, you could see that Chris was in a weird mood, and you didn’t know why. -Babe, is everything alright? — you asked him -Yeah, why? -Because you’re different today. I don’t know — you told him getting closer to him -Nah, I’m fine — he said and kissed you — Don’t worry — he said and left you alone

After that little conversation, you noticed how his behavior changed, you knew it was because you hated Christmas. But it wasn’t your fault. You just didn’t like it and you couldn’t understand why he was so affected by it. That same evening, you were checking the mails, and you noticed that the photographer had sent you some samples of the pictures for the Christmas card. You loved them, something in you clicked and made you realize all the effort Chris has done to make you understand how amazing Christmas was for him. An idea popped up in her head, he was going to love it.

The day before Christmas, Chris stayed the whole day in his office getting some work was done that was due after the holidays. That’s was the cue that you needed. Chris had mentioned the day before that the photographer hadn’t sent him the Christmas card, so you prepared the living room for another Christmas movie marathon with some of the treats you’d made, some hot chocolate, the matching PJs, and a gift already wrapped When Chris left his office he found a little note stuck on the door “go get showered, I left your clothes ready in bed. Meet me in the living room when you’re ready”. Some minutes later Chris showed up -What’s all this babe? — Chris asked confused -Merry Christmas Eve babe — you said pecking his lips —  I know you’ve been so happy with this, celebrating Christmas together, and I gave you a hard time, and I want to apologize for it — you explained with a sad smile -Don’t worry about it, love — he kissed your forehead -Yes, it’s important, because you put so much effort into it and I didn’t appreciate it. You worked so hard in showing me how important is Christmas for you and I didn’t care. So, I want to compensate you — you explained -How? — Chris asked with a smirk -Merry Christmas honey —  you handed him the gift When Chris opened it, inside the box was a picture frame with the picture of the Christmas Card you picked -This is perfect sweetheart, I love it — he chuckled -What? — you asked him with a confused face -Now, I understand what I didn’t receive the mail from the photographer -Well, he emailed the two of us the first time, but you never answered it, I did it. And, don’t worry, I’ve already sent them to our family and closest friends -I love you so much, darling -I love you too babe — you said and kissed him After a lot of hard work, Chris was able to turn you into a Christmas Lover.

Tag List (if you want to be added, let me know)

@iguessweallcrazyithinktho | @void-hoechlin | @mrspeacem1nusone | @thevelvetseries | @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem | @caplanbuckybarnes | @just-one-ordinary-fangirl | @stargazingfangirl18

[bodybymegatech]

Strangers when we meet

One partly sunny day in Long Beach, California…

I was sightseeing with my family near the Queen Anne. My brother had just proposed to the woman who would become my sister in law and during a boat ride I did something that I am historically not very good at: I introduced myself to an attractive young lady from Seoul. I’ll call her “Heather” “Belle” for reference.

I said hello, made a little small talk and asked her where she was from. When she said she was Korean, I replied “Annyong haseyo” - the only Korean I knew at the time. She was genuinely surprised and the ice was officially broken. Belle asked me who the girl I was with was. “Oh that’s just my sister”, I said dismissively. My sister rolled her eyes and said “I’m outta here”.

We exchanged email addresses and parted ways. She had been visiting her grandparents and as I said goodbye, her grandfather gave me the side eye, which I still think is funny.

We would spend the next few years writing each other via snail mail and during that time maybe feelings got stronger. Being a part of her life is one of my fondest memories. One year, I sent her a snow globe of my hometown and a Norah Jones CD (the first one with “Come Away With Me”) and maybe the second one too. I don’t know if she ever got it because I never heard back from her.

I wrote back a couple of times. Nothing desperate sounding or long missives like this post. Just a “hey, I sent you something for Christmas. Let me know if you got it. I hope you like it. Missing you.”

The next one was a “hope you’re doing okay. Things are fine here. Write back soon…” type of letter.

Nothing.

Strange, considering the last thing she sent was a large greeting card that declared in big cartoony letters “Sarang-he” — I Love You.

The package I sent included a letter that reciprocated her feelings but the silence was crushing.

Over time, I came to accept the possibility that she lost interest and moved on with someone in the same city. Maybe she focused on her career or maybe she was pressured into stopping the relationship. Maybe her heart broke because she never received my messages and she thought I ghosted her. I don’t know. I didn’t push the issue because I didn’t want to make it awkward by harassing her for a response. Or maybe something happened to her? Like an accident? The thought terrified me. Her email address had long since been abandoned.

I moved on. I met someone new. She filled a void. She was nice but she had a habit of pushing me away. This is a habit I would pick up and is still something I’m trying to undo.

Every now and then I would try looking for her in various social networks over the next couple of years and came up with nothing. Although I’d taught myself Korean, I was nowhere near the level of skill needed for any kind of deep dive.

I let it go. There was just no point.

Time passed and things take a turn for the surreal.

I would have a recurring dream where I would be at school, or at work. Maybe while out shopping or out doing something. I would talk to someone in this dream and this person I don’t recognize would say, “Do you remember Heather Belle? She was just here.”

Any further responses to my questions were met with vague and conflicting information and I’d spend the rest of the dream looking for her.

I would have these dreams maybe once or twice a year.

Sometimes this would prompt me to look for her again and I would wonder why, after all this time I would still be haunted by her ghost.

The last time I had this dream was nearly two weeks ago just after New Year’s Day and it was the same as all the others except this time I was at a convention.

I decided to try again. I found one of her postcards and plugged it into google maps. I wasn’t expecting her to live in the same house but I can get an idea of what to expect in street view. The address showed me an apartment building and I knew there was no way she’s still there. But there was no indication the old address was a condo, apartment or even a multi-family home.

There was a button to show what this corner looked like in 2009 and it showed a single family home.

Like a hole in the water, her trail was gone.

I’ll try Facebook again, I thought. Instagram, too. Belle is a very common name so I’ll probably run into the same dead ends. After narrowing down a list of candidates in Instagram, I sent a query to two users.

I turned to Facebook and did the same. I had a short list of leads but one stood out. It had no selfies or personal pictures. It was scarcely updated and the last post was back in august 2020. The earliest post was 2016 which by that time I had long since abandoned Facebook (Instagram would follow three years later.) However, it said she worked at a news agency. She had told me in one of her letters that she was studying journalism.

I have nothing to lose. The worst that would happen is I’d run into another dead end and keep having these dreams in perpetuity. After a few drafts, I sent a message through messenger.

We had a brief conversation - we both needed to go to work but I think the overall tone was a happy one. I hope…

This happened Thursday, January 7, 2021.

To be fair, I know she has a busy job with hard deadlines and odd schedules. Add to that all the duties that married life brings and a 7-year old girl.

I get it. And I didn’t have any illusions that no one would put a ring on her finger. It’s fine and I’m very happy for her. I’m just glad that she’s okay and doing well for herself and told her as much. A couple days later I had a good cry out of sheer relief and that I was finally able to find her.

But I don’t know how to proceed now.

I haven’t heard back as of this post (nearly a week later).

She did say she wanted to meet again after the pandemic but I’m concerned that maybe she was being insincere. Or I may have opened a wound. Or perhaps I introduced an unwanted complication in her personal life. Maybe she is having second thoughts and thinks I have some kind of an ulterior motive. I don’t know.

I’m tempted to write back to apologize for any problems I might have caused and say that it’s not my intent to do so. I don’t know why I felt compelled to keep looking. Actually, I do know but I’ll get to that later.

I do know this: I want her to know that regardless of how we may have felt about each other in the past, we were friends first. She was my friend when we kept in touch, and I had always considered her to be my friend after we lost contact. I would not hesitate to call her friend for the rest of my life.

Even though we’re on opposite sides of the world, I would always want to be there for her with the good and the bad, because that’s what friends do.

Now, how do I say that without sounding creepy? Should I send another message?

How I found her was very difficult. But why I kept looking, even after we both moved on…

The why is easy. I would say,

“Because you’re worth it.”

[fridayfirefly]

Quarantine Chapter Two: Nightmares

Written for the Maribat April Angst Apocalypse

Quarantine Masterlist | AO3

[Monday October 19]

In her nightmares, the fight against Exterminator went differently. In her nightmares, Marinette never even got the chance to fight him, she only experienced the aftermath of the fight. In her nightmares, bodies littered the streets of Paris. Blood dripped down car windshields. Fires burned, spreading ash through the air. The streets were silent, void of any life whatsoever. Marinette passed by a whimpering dog, who sniffed the cold, dead hand of its owner. In her nightmares, Marinette couldn't fix the damage that Hawkmoth created.

During the real fight, it had been easy to tune the outside world out. Nothing mattered except beating Exterminator. Ladybug didn't have time to pay attention to the blood and the bodies. Once the battle was over, the Miraculous Cure took care of the aftermath. Paris went back to normal, and Marinette could put it all behind her.

In her nightmares, Marinette couldn't avoid the devastation. There was no fight, nothing else for her to focus on except the bloodshed.

Marinette didn't remember a lot about the real fight against Exterminator. Her mind tended to block out the memories of the worst akumas. What Marinette did know was that in the end, Exterminator was just a man. His name was Frank and he was a fifty-seven-year-old Parisian. He was an exterminator who had been employed by the city for thirty-five years until budget cuts had led to him being fired. When he learned that he was losing his job, his anger led to his akumatization.

The Exterminator was created with two goals in mind: exterminate the ungrateful people of France and acquire the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir. He used his first goal to achieve his second. He would kill anyone he laid his eyes on until Ladybug and Chat Noir willingly gave up their Miraculous to him. It took eight hours to defeat him. Almost half of a million people died in the fight, a quarter of the population of Paris. Their lives were all restored when Ladybug used her Miraculous Cure, but that didn't stop Ladybug's fear. Exterminator was the strongest akuma she and Chat Noir had ever fought before. What would happen when Hawkmoth finally made an akuma that they couldn't beat?

After the fight was won, Exterminator's name wasn't released to the press. His face was blurred out in newspapers, and Ladybug urged the people of France not to go searching for his identity. She told the people of France that he had suffered enough already, but her words were hollow and all of Paris knew it. Exterminator didn't suffer. Akuma victims never suffered. They had the luxury of not remembering anything after their possession. The people who died in the attack, they had to live with the memory of being killed. Ladybug and Chat Noir had to live with the memories of every death they couldn't prevent.

Marinette woke up sobbing, the night after The Wall went up. It was another nightmare, her fourth nightmare since Exterminator's attack. This one was worse, and even though the fact that Marinette knew that the nightmare was over, she still couldn't stop crying.

Marinette stumbled out of bed and grabbed her laptop off her desk. The harsh light of the laptop screen burned her eyes, but Marinette simply blinked the pain away. She quickly typed out and sent a message.

[4:04 AM] Marinette: Are you awake right now?

Damian: I'm awake. Is something wrong?

Marinette met Damian back when she was in collège and he was in middle school, when they were assigned to be each other's penpal. They weren't friends at first. Neither of them wanted to be penpals in the first place. Marinette was barely proficient in writing in English, and Damian found the concept of penpals to be immature and unnecessary to his education. However, their friendship grew over their year of writing letters to each other. Marinette's English improved enough that she felt comfortable expressing herself through her letters and Damian grew fond of Marinette's optimistic take on life. The penpal program ended, but Marinette and Damian continued to stay in touch over email, and eventually through video chatting and texting. Now, having been friends with Damian for almost six years, Marinette could confidently say that Damian was one of her favorite people in the world.

Marinette: I had a nightmare and I don't want to be alone. I just need someone to talk to.

Damian: Do you want to video chat?

Marinette: Sure.

Marinette's laptop screen lit up with Damian's video chat request notification. In the top corner of her laptop screen, Marinette's own face was shown to her. There was no sugarcoating it - Marinette looked terrible. Her hair was a frizzy mess, her eyes were red and puffy, and there were tear-tracks of mascara running down her cheeks because she forgot to take her makeup off before bed.

Then, Damian's face appeared. Marinette knew intellectually that Damian was attractive. His hair was dark and shiny, long enough to run your hands through but not so long that it looked shaggy. His eyes were onyx green and reminded Marinette of marble. His tan skin was flawless, not a blemish marred his perfect face. He was, without a doubt, the most attractive boy that Marinette had ever met. In her disheveled state, Marinette couldn't help but compare herself to Damian's perfectly put together appearance. It only served to make her more upset. Marinette wasn't usually the type to obsess over her appearance, but around Damian, she couldn't help but nitpick over the tiniest things. Even though she knew that he would care about her no matter what she looked like, she still worried about the way she looked, the way she talked, the way she dressed. Marinette always assumed that her crush on Damian would fade, just like her crush on Adrien, but it never went away. It lingered in the background of every interaction she had with him, a twinge of admiration and adoration that she felt every time she saw him.

"Are you okay?" asked Damian, his concern evident in the worried look on his face. "You've never complained about nightmares before."

"It's no big deal." Marinette tried to brush off his concern. She was beginning to feel embarrassed that she called him over something as trivial as a nightmare. "Sorry that I look like a mess right now." Marinette gestured to her face. "I've had a rough night."

"You don't have to apologize, Marinette. I think you look fine."

Marinette gave him a tired glare. "I definitely don't look fine, but you can keep lying to me if you want to."

Damian somehow managed to look even more concerned, which made Marinette feel even worse for snapping at him. He was trying to be a nice person. He offered to help her through her nightmares, and instead of thanking him, she managed to screw everything up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take all of my anger out on you. I should've waited until tomorrow morning to text you."

"You don't have to apologize for being upset. Why don't you tell me what's wrong? It might make you feel better."

"I'm sure you've seen what's happening in Paris on the news. It's worrying me. The entire city is on edge and the authorities don't plan on taking down The Wall and ending the Quarantine until Hawkmoth is caught, which could potentially take years. I saw on the news that Ladybug and Chat Noir tried to negotiate with the new Paris Council, but they weren't able to do anything to help. Paris is my home, and I'm scared that something terrible is going to happen to it."

"Don't worry, Marinette. Things will get better with time. I'm sure that the Quarantine will end soon. There's no way they would leave it up for years."

"You promise?" Marinette hated herself for the vulnerability in her voice. Ladybug was supposed to be the stoic defender of Paris, not a scared little girl, begging for comfort from a boy thousands of miles away and thousands of miles out of her league.

"I promise."

Marinette gave Damian a weak smile. "Thanks for talking to me. I should go to bed. I still have school tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight, Marinette."

"Goodnight, Damian."

Marinette ended the video chat and turned off her laptop. She stumbled to the bathroom to take off her makeup. The mascara came off with a simple makeup wipe, but the bags under her eyes were much more persistent. "I look like a raccoon," Marinette sighed, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

"Go back to bed, Marinette. You'll feel better after a few more hours of sleep," Tikki advised.

"I'll just have another nightmare. What use are three extra hours of sleep if I feel worse when I wake up?"

"You need those three extra hours of sleep to keep your strength up. I don't know what tomorrow will bring. You need to be prepared for anything."

"Okay." Marinette didn't have enough energy to argue with Tikki. She stumbled back to bed, already anticipated the pain that would haunt her dreams.

Marinette had nightmares. The worst part was that when she woke up, the nightmare was never over.

Taglist: @april-angst-apocalypse @justarandomtumblerblog @thestressmademedoit @ii-fox-demon @amayakans @bluefyoto94 @silvia7272 @rebecarojas07 @the-fair-maiden-of-fandom @justafanwarrior @mystery-5-5 @abrx2002 @queenmj10

[yoontothemoon]

not just sunday,

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader (f) words: 1790. genre: somewhat fluffy, somewhat smut. warning: cursing, cockwarming, unprotected sex, over-stimulation. summary: sundays were a sacred day, well sort of. the two of you had made a joke of it. one day out of the week where you’d make time for each other despite how busy either of you might have been. you didn’t really count on soonyoung being so dumb. yoon's notes: uhhh i really don't know what i'm doing. this was supposed to be a drabble but that didn’t quite happen, did it? it was a little rushed at the end. i’m sorry, i will try better next time. i'm going to come right out and say it, i blame @kingyeoms for this one. ☽ probably best viewed on desktop.

the thing was, you hoped for a casual sunday between the two of you. you hoped that it would be one without work or distractions. that was the first rule of your relationship: you would make time for each other. early on, the two of you had made sundays a thing, though you really weren’t sure why it was sunday—it was a sunday even if it wasn’t sunday. it was pretty confusing, but it became a joke between the two of you.

just not this sunday.

while you could never fault soonyoung for forgetting about your sundays, you were mildly upset by the fact. part of you had really been looking forward to the end of the week just to spend time with him. so you made the time, a conscious decision to try even if it was just sitting beside him.

in truth, both of you were such workaholics so any time that you spent together seemed good. the two of you had taken to the couch, melting into it as you quietly scrolled through your phones.

that was until soonyoung had looked at you. he watched your expressions and the small pout that exaggerated when you thought he hadn’t been paying attention. he watched as you slouched back, curling further into your sorrow. a sorrow that he pulled you out of rather quickly.

you were sure that he had whispered a quiet “i miss you”, which made you giggle. you couldn’t imagine why he missed you when you were sitting right next to him. he was baiting you, of course, quickly working up the courage to ask you for what he really wanted.

at his suggestion, you reluctantly moved from your comfortable corner on the couch to straddle his thighs. he hummed happily when you did, planting small kisses on your head. you buried your face in the crook of his neck—suddenly shy at the way he babied you.

you huffed at him in irritation because he had made you move from your spot on the couch when you had been reading on your phone. your sloth-like behaviour was comparable to various members of the group but soonyoung never seemed to mind. it wasn’t without reason, considering he had coaxed you from the spot. soonyoung had always been one for physical intimacy. the closer you were, the happier he generally was, and even happier still when you didn’t pout in sadness.

that being said, it took about another five minutes until your squirming had lead him to another suggestion. ( you might have done it on purpose, not that you’d ever tell him. ) you pulled back to look at him, curiously gauging the pained expression on his face. "really?" it wasn’t as if you were skeptical, it was more the fact that you wanted him to explain his reasoning. you were definitely not soft for the way the curve of his lip quirked up when he whined.

like you were going to say no to him.

you couldn’t help but sigh as soonyoung settled you back his lap once more, resting your chin on his shoulder. he groaned in response, mirroring your behaviour. it was strange how he could so easily take away your irritation, preening at the praise he whispered in your ear. you snuggled into him happily as his hand squeezed the soft skin of your thighs. all was well in the world, at least you thought.

within the next five minutes the both of you went back to your own devices. both of you had a bit of work to do. you had given up on reading and had been sent straight your emails, idly replying to work and school inquiries, despite yourself. while he had been sent in the other direction.

falling into the void of music.

it was almost devastating for you at first. it was just like him to forget that he had ever slipped into you when his mind had wandered out of the realm. soonyoung had a single-minded focus, slowly turning from his own needs and desires to the other part of his life. it was like his gears had quickly switched in his head, zoning out entirely as he started to piece movement and music together like a puzzle.

it was mild at first, at the slow bounce of one leg. he kept in time with the beat—lazily. at first, you really hadn’t noticed as you shifted to accommodate for the movement without much thought. but within minutes you felt flushed, feeling the heat rise from the depth of your very being.

you bit your lower lip wanting so dearly to let out a moan—you could feel it rising but you buried it, desperate to shake off the feeling. you knew he couldn’t be serious. you could felt the vibration against your chest, the way he hummed to the music without another thought. he was barely paying attention.

it didn’t take long for you to have lost your focus, abandoning your phone entirely as he started to bounce his legs in triplets. it was about the only time you’d curse soonyoung talent—moving to the beat so easily and intricately. he found new angles without even trying, brushing against new spots you could barely comprehend.

a moan ripped from your throat followed by a whimper as his movement ceased. by this time, you could barely discern his words though you pick up on the irritation.

he had the audacity to shush you, as if you were the problem. it was a quiet, “shhhh, i can’t hear the song,” before he rewinded slightly to pick up where he had left off. he was painfully oblivious, even as you clenched around him.

it took all of your willpower to quell the rising sounds. steadily you worked your hips down—too stubborn not to chase the familiar high that built a second time. it came suddenly, small and floating at the edge of ecstasy. expletives rolled off your tongue, words switch soonie had all but dismissed as they blurred into the rhythm of the song.

it built until a cry burst from your chest, loud and unabashed. you unraveled, holding onto your boyfriend’s broad shoulders for purchase. all you could manage to do was bury your face into his neck, a mess of breathy moans once he had finally noticed. there was a quiet, “oh” that was followed by a kind hand soothing the heat that radiates off your thigh.

in the haze, you thought he might have stopped but instead you felt that mischievous grin against your neck. he continued to shake his leg at an uneven pace, dragging your orgasm out as long as possible—never quite letting you settle.

he laughed, the sound dripped through your veins like you were swimming in the thick of his honeyed words. the vibration in his chest made you shudder, clenching around him again without your permission. he cooed at you, “babe, why are you shaking so much.” soonyoung didn’t phrase it like a question. it was a statement, quietly playing dumb.

what a little shit.

pulling back in your daze, you came to rest your forehead against his—annoying slick with sweat. “i h-hate you,” you huffed weakly. at that moment you could have hated him with every fibre of your being, every second as he built you to the next high—so brutally.

you could feel fluttering rhythm of his heart, hands pressed against his chest. all you could truly do was whine—begging for him to stop. you shook, trembling from the over-stimulation but the most you could do was choke down your cries—babbling nonsense until he slowed.

all you could see or feel was the modicum of stars, bursting and blistering into you very soul—a galaxy of them slowly dying until only one remained.

“sorry,” he started once you had relaxed against him. soonyoung cupped your face, brushing away the tears that pricked at the corner of your eyes. he followed the sentiment with a “don’t hate me” though he knew you hadn’t meant it. he whispered his apologizes, fluttering kisses across your face—connecting them like constellations until you giggled in response. he treasured it because it was better than the alternative. honestly, he treasured you—cradling you in his arms.

snuggling into him you decided you could never really hate him. you couldn’t hate him regardless of how breathless he made you feel. your hate was a mismatched feeling, one that came after the work week that made you feel small and frustrated. it was a feeling you never associated with him.

you watched the grin that blossomed on his lips, one that told you that he knew. one that told you that he wanted you to say it but you didn’t, opting to shake your head instead. “that’s mean,” was all he said, barely capable of shaking the grin from his face. “you’re mean,” you counter, rolling your hips to punctuate the point.

there was a point where you regretted the action, whether it was because you were too sensitive or maybe the fact that soonyoung hand swiftly snaked his hand down between the two of you. “am i though?” he quipped, brushing a finger against your neglect bud. your lurched forward, chasing the friction in frustration considering it was the first contact besides his sweatshirt. “am i?”

you flick your gaze up to meet his, “yes,” you breathe against his lips, swallowing any protest he might have had with a kiss. it was slow at first, painfully as you sucked his bottom lip between your teeth and tugged. you were happy he was finally paying attention, though you could have done without the enthusiasm he displayed.

no longer passive in his regard. he could barely hold himself back as he twitched inside of you. his eyes fluttered closed, brushing his nose against yours. he loved you, despite how dumb he could be. he loved you in every iteration, every stubborn phase and moment of irritation. he loved you in the softest ways with his hands on your hips.

he pushed, setting such a punishing rhythm so contrary to the ways he loved you, to the softness he had for you. you had his full attention, thumb rubbing circles into you, other hand holding you steady. it served to draw another whine from your lips, tiny and defeated, as he sent you into another wave of bliss. it was a bliss he chased, almost sloppily until he stuttered, quivering against you. coming with a force that makes him gasp for breath.

“i hate you,” you panted stubbornly against his lips, hands gently massaging his scalp. all he did was chuckle because your i hate yous were always the opposite and never ceased to make him smile.

[damnitdyna-blog]

My Break Up Pt. II

I’ve stayed quiet and never addressed the issues that came directly after my initial Tumblr post back in November. I didn’t have the mental capacity for it, and needed time to let everything sink in. I slowly started writing this post at the beginning of the year. Unexpectedly, the world hits us with a pandemic and I became hesitant on sharing. Though I do acknowledge there are larger issues going on in the world and we’re in a place of uncertainty. The quest to continue the truth, my truth, is still the goal.

I live in a world where women are taught to use their voice and speak even if their voice cracks. When I finally found courage in doing so, I’m told some things I shared were lies by my ex-boyfriend. The same man who went radio silent on social media for a whole month soon after I shared my story but managed to send me a “cease and desist” letter via email demanding I take my post down or there will be legal consequences. To force a woman to remove her survival story is a scared tactic and a form of bullying. 

I don’t need to prove anyone wrong for accusing me of lying. However, I’d like to clear the air on some claims he's made about me.

1.) It was brought to my attention that there are claims I knew about the nude photograph he took of me and that I immediately shared the image to the internet and Snapchat.

 I’d like to elaborate on details I failed to mention in my initial post from November because I only highlighted the main points. I understand small details are just as important. But here's the full truth....

• I did NOT know nor asked him to take a photograph of me while I was showering. 

 • He did surprise me with the image after I finished showering. I laughed and called him a pervert for being sneaky.

 • I shared a CENSORED version of the photograph to my friends via Snapchat to poke fun at him for being a “perverted boyfriend.” Censored as in, it was edited with a censored mark covering my body.

 • Sharing a censored version on Snapchat does NOT give him permission to share the full raw image to a woman soon after it was taken.

 • I do NOT know this woman and didn’t realize she’s been following and interacting with me through social media this entire time.

 2.) I have legal documents signed by a judge of the Superior Court highlighting some of his response to my petition for a restraining order. "He was trying to set up a sexual tryst and seriously misread Petitioner's willingness to participate.” Claiming he “seriously misread” would indicate that a conversation such as was brought up at one point in time or place between the both of us. To my understanding, we were in a monogamous relationship. I was unaware he was having sexual relations with other people let alone exchanging nude images of me with strangers to initiate sex.

Half way into our relationship, I noticed a sudden change in behavior where he would decline sexual intimacy any time I would initiate it. There was always an excuse to avoid it that it began to worry me.  I asked him questions, but he’d reassure me how happy he is to be with me and is excited about building a future together. I would then sweep it under the rug to prevent an argument. To say he “seriously misread my willingness to participate” in a sexual activity perhaps with a third party knowing his constant refusal to have sex with me is a bit of a stretch and a slap in the face.

3.) There's claims that I broke into his apartment after I gave up my apartment key to him. 

It's OUR apartment in case there's any confusion. My name is included on the lease. He agreed to cover my half of rent + utilities February - April 2019. I ended up paying for our utilities each month including additional late fees while he kept our security deposit that we did not agree on.

April 30th, 2019 was the move out date. 

April 7, 2019, I signed the document as stated below:

The apartment key “I gave up” was not a result of me no longer living there. On March 23, 2019, I was heading home to be with family. I specifically left the key with him to give to our guest visiting from Portland, Oregon for access to the apartment building without complications. I would have kept the apartment key if we didn't have a guest. Some of my belongings were still at the apartment so I knew I would return to pick them up. Here’s my DM with our guest dated Mar 23, 2019 soon as I left.

On Saturday, April 6, 2019, I “broke into” OUR apartment to pick up the rest of my belongings out of hurt and frustration when I found out his current girlfriend was continuously at our apartment while I was away with family for emotional support. I no longer had the key to our place, so I went into the property manager’s office to request a spare one. I first contacted his current girlfriend on March 28, 2019, through Instagram, when I learned she came over to our apartment. I was alarmed that my ex-boyfriend invited another woman into our home approximately 5 days after I stepped away to be with family. I believe every woman’s natural reaction would be emotionally distraught upon learning there is another woman in your home. In the message, I respectfully notified her explaining the situation she’s in which she claims she was unaware of. I did not create animosity and didn’t demand she leave my apartment; though I had every right to. I wanted her to make an educated decision on her own whether or not she feels comfortable to be in my home knowing she’s caught in the thick of our breakup. 

4.) He claims I sent my Tumblr post to his associates and family members insinuating I was harassing them. 

I shared it with 3 women whom I’ve already had prior interactions with. The first woman is a close girl friend who marveled over his excitement and happiness since he's been with me. The second woman is his best friend’s wife who gave me motivational advices to help me cope with the break up. The third woman is his ex-girlfriend of several years. 

However, there's legal document that shows a screenshot text conversation between my ex-boyfriend and a gentleman whom I share mutual associates with. I read the gentleman telling my ex-boyfriend that he received my Tumblr post directly from me which is NOT true. It didn't take me long enough to figure out the conversation between the two of them were rehearsed or photoshopped. It's one thing for my ex-boyfriend to lie. But to create or photoshop a fake conversation because he needed an ally is wrong. 

Through my healing journey, I’m learning that the way we respond to specific behaviors is a measurement of our character and the type of individual beings we are. I can only imagine when you’re caught in the heat that you’re bound to create falsified stories to protect your image rather than taking accountability. The fact that we’re even having a dialogue about a man I was in love with whom I trusted violating my privacy is beyond disturbing. Those were personal photos and moments between myself, him, and the four walls we were in. It’s disheartening that someone like him feels entitled enough to share something like that to the world. I have no clue what this woman has done with my photograph and who she might have shared it to. If my ex-boyfriend did something like this, I cannot imagine what else he’s done that I haven't yet discovered. 

I don’t think people understand the magnitude of how traumatizing this is for me and how it’ll affect me in future relationships moving forward. It’s caused me emotional damage where I had to seek therapy. I never received an apology from him till this day other than a cease and desist letter demanding my post to be taken down to keep me quiet. Between finding not only the right lawyer but one I was comfortable with in handling a non-consensual pornography case and juggling both school + work full time, it became extremely complicated and overwhelming. It took a toll on me emotionally, mentally, and physically. I didn’t fully go through with pressing charges. Nothing can make up for the damage that’s been done. I just wanted everything to go away; the pain and heartache. Please understand that just because a case didn’t go in full effect, that doesn’t mean it never happened. 

One may seek a new partner directly after a relationships ends to fill a void if it means to ignore accountability for the suffering of others. But their biggest punishment is that they are who they are. I think back to the conversation we had in our bedroom apartment when he opened up about his estranged older sister who went on his social media leaving a specific comment about him. Going through what I went through and knowing what I know now, I question if her claims are in fact true. If they are, may God be with his new born daughter when she arrives. 

[darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts]

Echo pt1

A very happy birthday to Kat @kthomas325 I hope you enjoy this little Modern/fantasy tale. 

Warning: This is a little dark. There is blood, death, Strong Language and yeah ... please read with caution. **Still not sure what direction this is taking so I should add a warning for Author with no plot **

Masterlist

---

Echo part 1

The move had been hectic. Boxes everywhere stacked high in her office like some sort of interactive Tetris game. When they got the word that they were to relocate and join forces with another team she had hoped for a bit more time. Still, missions to be undertaken at a moment’s notice with frustratingly tight time frames that had required superhuman capabilities to accomplish were nothing new to her. Thank god she could handle high levels of stress in the workplace because otherwise, she was a likely candidate to be sent off to the looney farm.

Pretty much all of her team had already managed to settle in, she was the last. The trouble with being a partly freelance brain for hire was you tended to get sent tasks on the side that took up valuable time. This is exactly what happened the day she received the orders to move.

It had been a normal boring day pouring over the latest data from some tests on the guys that had just come back from overseas and her internal email pinged.

Notice for the attention of Dr K response required ASAP

If she hadn’t been bored out of her proverbial tree, she might have groaned a little more when she saw the familiar sender’s address. It wouldn’t be the first time her friend in the Met had abused his powers of friendship in calling for her help, but these little cases of his had a way of snowballing.

Clicking the attachment on the email her eyes scanned the words like a barcode. It was meticulous and read exactly as she was expecting it too, except for one little detail.

Undetectable traces of blood.

She reread it to make sure she hadn’t missed something before reaching for her Cell phone and searching her contacts. Fingers gliding over the screen she dialled the number for her friend. The line didn’t even manage to ring two times before it was answered a bright voice on the other end speaking.

“That was faster than I thought. Slow news day or were you just that desperate to speak to me?” There was the sound of rustling papers in the background which told her she wasn’t the only one burning the midnight oil.

“Right the first time. You sent me the complete report, right?” She asked in a way that sounded like she was accusing him of trying to pull a bad practical joke on her. Her brow creased as she looked again at the text illuminated on her monitor.

“After the lecture you gave me last time where you chewed me out over lack of information? Course I sent it all.” His adamant reply just seemed to add to the rising tension she felt.

“What does it mean where you wrote the bodies had no traces of blood? You mean at the scene or…”

“Scene and autopsy. I mean there was nothing. Not a damn drop. Bodies were fresh as far as the guys in the coroner’s office could tell. They weren’t marked in any way and yet they were as empty as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.” He chuckled at his own bad joke.

“And that was seriously it? Nothing else?” She clicked at the attachments but they were only the basic preliminary photos the police took of the scene.

“Why are you asking like it’s obvious there should be?”

“Because this is all like a bad dream.” It was strange, she was logical and rational to the point of being accused of being almost robotic at times. And here she was looking at something that probably has a totally scientific explanation for it, feeling like she was being targeted. Something that was lying in the back of her mind dormant was setting off alarms.

“… Hey. Are you ok there? You know I hate it when you go quiet.” She had zoned out and the concern in the man’s voice as he spoke reminded her of the fact he was still on the line.

“Yeah. Let me know the minute you find anything else. And I want to see the full report from the medical examiner, toxicology and photos.” She knew he was making a note on something because she heard him cuss under his breath about how he could never find a pen when he needed one.

“So, you’re taking the case?”

“What do you think?”

Hanging up the phone the silence that was once comforting in her office was suddenly oppressive. The shadows felt like they were cold and creeping, prowling around her. It had been a long time since she had felt this. Getting up from behind her desk she went in search of coffee to try to distract herself with a warm drink.

There was a ringing in her ears that was low like a buzz from a hive. Her head started to pound behind her eyes at the contrast between the soft lighting in her office and the phosphorescent lighting in the building’s corridors that was harsh and bright. She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to acclimatise herself as she walked to the break room.

*

Time had no place here, at least not the kind of time that other realms had. The twin suns had set long ago allowing the triple moons to rise high into the indigo velvet sky. The crimson rock gleamed deep and dark with a foreboding subliminal idea that it was rich with blood. The rocks here always looked fluid; the veins of magical deposits threaded their way through them giving the land underfoot a pulse.

Moving swiftly with soundless ease a single figure clad in a white cloak slipped out of a dense tree line and continued forward to a crossroads. The marker there pointed them in the direction of tonight’s meeting place, a symbol visible only to those who carried the sigil to reveal it. After following its direction for a time, a fracture in the bedrock of the Mesa that ran along the border.

The veins in the deep red rock glowed as the figure entered illuminating their journey into the flat-topped hill better than any lantern. Voices began to bounce around them, the glow becoming brighter before the walls of the narrow pathway disappeared. 

A void in the rock created a natural cathedral. The stone couldn’t have followed a more structured path if it had been carved by hand. The ceiling was vaulted and appeared almost black as it was so far away from them. In the centre of this space sat the heads of some of the largest households in the known lands. With the arrival of the figure in white that made six.

“You kept us waiting.” A strong imperial voice from a black-haired man carried over the group setting a heavy silence in the air. His red-trimmed robes wrapped around his figure as it sat on a rock by the fire in the same way he would perch on his own throne.

“My apologies. It took slightly longer than planned to leave the castle.” The cloaked figure made a theatrical bow after speaking.

“You weren’t followed?” The man sitting to the left of the regal one had a slightly less polished appearance. His sandy brown hair looked a little frazzled, no doubt a result of running their fingers through it in moments of agitation as was their habit.

The cloaked figure was more than aware of the eyes of the gathering being focused on them but they showed no sign of reacting to it.

“Naturally. If I hadn’t, I would have been disappointed. But I was able to give them the slip, otherwise I would not be here at all.”

“What is the news?” A rather impatient man sporting a different style of dress and an eye patch interjected. The loose-fitting clothing was clearly easier to move around in which allowed for a better range of motion in a fight. Something the man was renowned for in the realms. The wild chestnut brown hair on his head seemed to reflect the spark of energy in his singular blue eye.

“The throne remains unchallenged. In fact, it would appear that the dear Queen is in possession of new strength.”

“What?” Their collective outcry reverberated for a moment before falling flat again.

“How could she get that?” One of the younger men gathered grumbled his question. His emerald eyes flashed for a moment with worry.

“I can only think of one way in which she might find such a thing now. With supplies into the land limited from each of ours…” The silver-haired Lord produced a ledger from inside one of his pockets and began talking as he flicked through the pages checking details of something written in an almost indecipherable font.

“She’s found a fault line.” The black-haired Lord leaned back elegantly, an amused wicked smile on his face and his crimson eyes flashed. He looked entertained but the atmosphere around him told a different tale.

“But there were no fault lines. She searched before and turned up empty it was why she arranged for trade negotiations to start with.” The concerned Lord to his left dragged his hand through his hair leaving it to settle on his neck. He had every right to be worried as they all were but it was his land that bordered closer to the Queen.

“What we gain from our harvesting in our own territory is always greater than what we would gain by trade. We are attuned to the land after all.” The young lord with emerald eyes tossed out his words factually with a sigh.

“Yes, but for her to gain such a noticeable increase that is should be sensed by others…” a crystal tipped quill scratched over a page on the notebook the ink appeared magically on the paper filling the space quickly making it appear almost completely black.

“She isn’t just feeding.”

“Keep a close eye on her. Depending on what you find our plans may change.”

“Of course.” The figure in the white cloak bowed once more before turning on heel and leaving as they had come.

No one said this was going to be easy. They had all known what they were signing up for, but the development of the Queen’s new hunting ground after the loss of the King was not one they could have foreseen.

---

After unlocking her front door, she pushed it open with her hip before entering with a large box in her arms and closed it with her foot. The box made a heavy thud sound on the coffee table the files, documents and other office records had a layer of dust on top of them that she failed to remove before tossing them in and bringing them back with her.

The dates on the files were all from around nearly 30 years ago. It had been a little shocking how many there were given the few cases there had been but that is what happens when several governing bodies investigate at once. Each department has its own methods and documents them eventually you have them accumulated together by one department into a file that could be used in court if you were at a point of prosecution for the offence.

She wasn’t interested in combined facts abbreviated for a jury and judge she wanted complete records, which was how she came to raid the archives on-site before leaving work. Dumping her bag next to the box she went straight into the kitchen and rummaged around in the cupboards there looking for the ground coffee.

The kitchen was a room every house had but here it seemed a little bit of a waste. She wasn’t home enough to cook meals so there was typically next to no food in the place. There was a microwave and coffeemaker on the countertop and that was all. The rest of the property suffered the same neglected fate. There were enough furnishings to be comfortable but it was not what you could call a warm environment.

This was what happens when you spend more time at work than you do at home. She sighed a little as she listened to the water boil in the coffee maker. The buzzing in her head hadn’t gone away and had brought with it a tingling sensation she could feel in her bones.

She glanced up and caught sight of herself in the reflection of the window. Something about it looked different but she couldn’t place it. A nagging feeling of something she had missed was gnawing at the back of her mind. Abandoning the coffee maker, she went over and grabbed a file hoping that the answer she wanted was somewhere in all this mess.

---

[freespiritdani]

"But I didn't mean for this to happen..." Part 2 of 2

NOTE: I teach AP English at a high school in the USA. When I began this class this semester, I gave my class an assignment to write a fan fiction essay based on their favorite story, movie, show, or game. All but one of my students are Choices fans and wrote accordingly, Two of them (my daughter and my daughter-in-law) decided to team up and write one 2-part story. They gave me permission to share it here. You've already read Part 1 (I hope), now...submitted for your approval, here is Part 2.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kaitlyn stepped off the Gulfstream at a little tiny airport just outside Northbridge. Ryan Summers, actor and fellow Hartfeld alum, had let Kaitlyn borrow his jet and pilot when Zack called her and told her about finding Alex dead.

She had slept fitfully during the cross-country flight. Alexandra Day and Kaitlyn Liao had been best of friends from the moment they met on their first day at Hartfeld. They were also lovers for a short time during freshman year. The memories of all the good times they had together was all that was helping Kaitlyn keep it together right at the moment.

Zack was waiting on Kaitlyn when she entered the terminal building. He ran up to her and gave her a bear hug, then he began to cry.

"I'm sorry I called you last night, but I didn't know who else to call," Zack said. "I went over to check on her like you or I have always done ever since she started drinking....and....and...she was lying on the couch, eyes open....not...not breathing...and..." Zack started sobbing.

Kaitlyn had started crying by now. She patted Zack on the back and said, "Don't apologize, Zack. Somebody had to let me know."

"And, Bec--" Zack started, but stopped abruptly when Kaitlyn's phone went off. She pulled it out of her hip pocket and checked it. A puzzled look came across her face.

"What the.....an email from Alex???" Kaitlyn asked, confused. She clicked on it and read it. "Ohhhhhhh myyyyyy god..." she said under her breath. "Alex, you little fool..." She bowed her head and slumped down into a seat in the lobby.

"Are you all right?" Zack asked.

Kaitlyn reached her phone to Zack. "She sent this at seven last night and queued it so I wouldn't get it until this morning after it was too late to do anything about it."

Zack read the email, then plopped down in the chair beside Kaitlyn and sighed. "Well, dear Alexandra," he said with a tone of resignation in his voice, "you're in good company, girlfriend."

"Zack Zilberg, the is the most inconsiderate thing I have ever heard you...." Kaitlyn paused, then it dawned on her that Alex's suicide wasn't the only bad news. "Is there something else you need to tell me?" she asked slowly.

Zack bowed his head. "Yeah," Zack said quietly, "there is. It's what I started to tell you when Alex's suicide note email came in. Becca committed suicide last night, too. Jumped off the eighteenth floor of the Hyatt here last night."

Kaitlyn's mouth dropped open. "Why? Did she leave a note?" she asked.

"No need. Madison was with her when it happened," Zack answered, then he proceeded to tell Kaitlyn what Madison had told him about the events of the night before.

Kaitlyn looked toward the ceiling, then began to cry. Zack silently reached over and held her to comfort her, as much for his own benefit as it was for hers. After a few minutes of this, Kaitlyn composed herself and stood up.

"Zack," Kaitlyn whispered, "I need to see them. Will you take me to them?" Zack opened his mouth to object, but Kaitlyn quickly continued, "Please, I beg you....I have to see them...I gotta do this for my own peace of mind."

Zack rose from his seat. "Okay," he said, trying to smile at his friend, "let's go."

An hour later, Zack and Kaitlyn were standing in the mortuary lobby, looking at the board listing all the bodies there. Kaitlyn found what she was looking for:

ROOM 2: DAY, ALEXANDRA J.

And a little farther down:

ROOM 8: DAVENPORT, REBECCA L.

They walked down to Room 2 and looked in. Near the coffin containing Alex's body, Kaitlyn spied a blonde woman standing and looking somberly in the coffin. No, it can't be! she thought. It's not possible! Then she remembered the girl in psychology class that went to Braidwood Manor and what she found. Or is it possible?

"Zack....would you mind waiting in the lobby? I need to be alone right now..."

Zack replied shakily, "Frankly, I want to get out of here, period. After finding her last night, right now I...I...I can't...can't see her...her..."

Kaitlyn put her hand on his shoulder. "If you want to leave me here and go, that's okay," she told Zack. "I understand. I'll be okay, and once I'm done here, I'll go get some rest and meet you back at your house at four. Okay?"

Zack put his hand on Kaitlyn's and smiled weakly. "Okay. Thank you."

Kaitlyn watched Zack leave, then she turned and walked to where Alex's body lay. She gently stroked Alex's cheek. "She's so beautiful," Kaitlyn whispered, then said in a normal voice, "Why'd you do it?"

The blonde said plaintively, "I didn't mean to! I didn't mean for this to happen.... I didn't want her to die...I just wanted to make things right between us..."

Kaitlyn turned and faced the blonde. "I know you didn't want her to die," she said gently. "I want to know why you wanted you to die, Becca. Why did you take that dive off the balcony?"

"Because my...." Becca paused. "Wait a second... You know I'm here? You can hear me? Because you're the first person who's even acknowledged my presence since...since...I landed on the street...."

"Kinda surprised me to see and hear you too," Kaitlyn replied, chuckling. "Then I remembered Hannah and her girlfriend and took the chance I wasn't hallucinating. So, I still wanna know: why did you jump?"

"Because..." Becca hesitated, looked in Alex's coffin, then said, "Because she's now dead and I caused it. She drank herself to death because of me...I know it. She drank herself to death because I was a selfish bitch that let my pride get the better of me."

Kaitlyn asked, confused, "How do you figure that?"

"You remember the blowup and breakup after I got accepted to transfer to Hawg," Becca replied. "Well, after it all went down, I knew the way I went about it hurt her....I'd made her cry....I was afraid to chase after her because I didn't want to make her cry again....so I threw myself into my studies, got my J.D., worked my way up to become the youngest District Attorney in California history....there's even talk -- scratch that, there WAS talk -- of me running for Attorney General next year....but...Kaitlyn....all that success, all that that glory...was hollow. It didn't fill the void that Alex left in me when we split up. All that I have -- had -- achieved...meant and means nothing without her... As each day went by...that empty feeling kept getting bigger, kept gnawing at me....It got worse every time I saw her on TV being interviewed after each best-seller she wrote, because she looked so happy without me....Finally, I'd had enough. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to talk with her and try to make things right...you know the rest....so, yeah, I killed her. I didn't mean for her to die .."

Kaitlyn sighed. "You didn't kill her, Becca. She killed herself. She sent me a suicide note by email," she said.

Becca was puzzled. "If I wasn't what caused her to take her own life, what was?" she asked.

"Well, technically, you were," Kaitlyn answered, "but not in the way you think. It wasn't anything you'd done, but something she'd done. According to her note."

"But...she never did anything to me! She was nothing but good to me!"

A voice came from behind them. "Yes I did, Becs. I did something bad to you. Three times."

Kaitlyn and Becca spun around. "ALEX!!!" Becca cried out.

"The first time was when I acted like a spoiled brat and walked out on you during the law school blowup," Alex continued. "The second time was last night when I gave you hell and walked out on you a second time without giving you a chance to talk....I screwed us both over with that one...had I taken the time to talk and listen, we probably wouldn't be in this situation..."

Kaitlyn looked at Becca. "She got you there, Davenport," Kaitlyn said, then looked at Alex and continued, "but you said three times. That's only twice."

Alex chuckled slightly and said, "Considering that my corpse is in this room, and that Becca's is three doors down because I made the one in here a corpse, number three is kinda obvious, don't you think?"

Becca looked at Kaitlyn and said, "She got you there, Liao."

"Oh, shut up!" Kaitlyn shot back.

Alex walked over and looked at her own body lying in the coffin. "I wish I could take it back, Becca," she said, regret and remorse showing in her voice. "The woman I loved, the woman I longed for, the woman I wanted to hold in my arms again, the woman I wanted to come back to me and take me and make me her wife...came back to me wanting to make things right between us....and I fucked it all up, ruining any chance of that happening...I couldn't take it. My life was over because I couldn't go on another day without her...so I sent Kaitlyn a suicide note via email, grabbed two bottles of tequila, guzzled both down in two minutes flat and...next thing I know... I'm standing up, sober as I can be, looking down at my dead body....".

Alex looked at Becca. "I died needlessly by my own hand. And because I did, you took your own life, also needlessly," she said ruefully. "I killed us...I'm ultimately responsible for both our deaths. Our blood is on my hands...and I can't do anything to make up for it and make it right...and...." She looked at Becca with sorrow and regret in her eyes. "...I have to deal with that for all eternity....I can't take back what I've done...I've condemned us to...to this....and...now...I have to face the fact that..that I caused us to never be together, ever...I'm so sorry, Becca...I never meant for it to be like this...."

"Are....Are you saying you don't love me anymore? You don't want to be with me anymore?" Becca asked dejectedly.

"I love you very much, Becca! I never stopped!" Alex replied. "But... we're dead. All we are now is a pair of ghosts. That sorta puts a stop to being with each other, doesn't it?"

Kaitlyn interrupted. "Umm, Alex... If Eleanor being a ghost didn't stop her and Hanna from being in love and being together, why would it stop you two?"

Alex thought, then looked at Becca. "After all I've done, after all the damage I've caused,":Alex asked nervously, "can you ever find it in you to forgine me?"

"I forgave you a long time ago, my love," Becca said gently. "Can you forgive me?"

Alex put her arms around Becca and kissed her tenderly. "I already have."

Becca put her arms around Alex and returned the kiss passionately. "Will you stay with me and be my woman?"

Alex smiled and looked Becca in the eyes, a deep love replacing the pain and regret that had been there earlier. "I'm yours for all eternity, my love! For all eternity!"

Kaitlyn smiled. It wasn't the way she wished it was, but her friends were back together at last.

[angstalottle]

On Deaf Ears

For his whole life Keith has been deaf.

Growing up the other kids would avoid him, either unsure of how to communicate with him or scared away by his cool exterior.

By the time he went to middle school he had given up on people all together, becoming isolated surrounded by an aura of anger.

Keith was fine with how his life was. It was all he had ever known.

It was also all he could ever think about.

He would try to focus of class and ignore the crushing loneliness for as long as possible but he always found himself staring out of the window losing himself in the silence that consumed his very being.

No one bothered with him.

Not even the teachers tried to see what was going around that head of his as long as he continued to produce results.

It hurt…

Maybe that was why Keith found himself on the roof after school?

Maybe he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

Couldn’t stand another day surrounded in darkness that was crushing his soul down into the dust.

Or maybe he just wanted to watch the stars for a while…

To pretend everything was fine until he decided if he really wanted to take the step over the edge or not.

Suddenly someone poked him in the shoulder and he looked up to see something written on a chalkboard.

‘Hey! Are you ok?’

The day Keith met Lance, the darkness was destroyed by his light.

The moment he read those words Keith knew his silent life would never be the same.

While most people got scared off after a few failed attempts at making conversation, Lance seemed to take it as a challenge.

He learnt sign language, carried a whiteboard around with him, even mouthed his words slowly so that Keith could figure out what he was saying.

By time they reached high school Keith had gotten used to the unstoppable light that was Lance.

The day Keith got the email saying there was an operation that would let him hear was probably the happiest day of his life.

Finally he would be able to hear Lance.

Hear him laugh.

Hear him talk.

Hear him sing.

Finally get to hear the guy that made his life worth living.

Keith was away all summer.

The operation itself only took a few hours, it was the getting used to a whole new kind of world that kept him away so long. Keith had to learn what sounds were and to train himself to interpret them.

This ranged from the sound of cars approaching to his own voice.

It was jarring to finally found out what he sounded like, it was something that was so familiar to those around him, yet alien to Keith.

It took a few weeks of speech coaching before he could talk normally.

Then a further week waiting to be discharged from hospital, finally able to go home.

By the time he arrived back barely anyone but a small few could tell he had been deaf most his life.

Of course he was thrilled to hear his brother finally talk to him, but Keith had one very special person he needed to talk to.

Keith had barely been home and hour when he ran out of the door not slowing down until he was panting outside of Lance’s home.

He couldn’t wait to hear Lance's voice!

“Sorry dude, Lance is... sick right now and can’t talk.” Hunk had explained in his wonderfully gentle voice having almost sent the shorter boy flying when he had walked into him on the porch.

Keith pushed past Hunk into the house not even stopping long enough to apologize.

He didn't stop until he was outside Lance’s bedroom and kicking the door open, causing Lance to jump in surprise from where he was lying in bed looking much too pale and small surrounded by the bright blue duvet.

“I’m gonna hear your voice no matter what! So I’m going to make sure you get better even if I have to nurse you back to health myself!”

Lance didn’t look at Keith as he got him soup and checked his temperature.

He seemed so hollow and defeated nothing like the Lance Keith had gotten to know over the years.

The thermometer beeped and he pulled it from the other boys mouth with a frown.

“No temperature again...”

It had been almost a week and it would seem Lance was perfectly healthy.  All except for his voice and his spirit.It was like someone switched off Lance’s light. That was all the evidence Keith needed for something being wrong.

However he never realised just how wrong until he overheard Hunk when he was coming back from the store bag filled with medicine.

“You have to tell him!” Hunk sounded angry before he sighed “how much do you think it will hurt him to find out that you’ll never speak again?”

“What?”

Lance and Hunk jumped as Keith threw open the door.

“Keith I...” Hunk tried as Lance looked down.

“What did he mean you won’t talk again!” Keith yelled as he grabbed Lance by the collar.

“ANSWER ME!”

Hunk placed a hand on his shoulder “he can’t...”

A look of horror crossed Keith’s face as silent tears began to fall down Lance’s cheeks.

“While you were away... Lance got sick like really sick. He had a tumour growing on his vocal cords, it was lose them or we would of died.”

Keith shook his head dropping Lance as he backed away like he could escape from the terrible truth.

“No...NO YOU'RE LYING!”

Lance looked away wrapping trembling arms around himself.

He opened his mouth and for a brief wonderful moment Keith thought he was going to answer him.

However he simply closed his mouth again, shaking his head as even more tears fell from his eyes.

Lance looked so small and fragile.

His light flickering so terrifyingly close to being snuffed out. It was then that Keith realised how much Lance needed him.And how selfish he was to get angry at him for something like this.

Keith surged forwards and wrapped his arms around Lance cradling him close.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry.”

Keith didn’t even realise he was crying until hot tears hit his hand.

He may never get to hear his best friend speak but he would never let that light go out.

Now Keith had a chance to repay all those years of kindness and support.

Now Keith could be Lance’s light.

As the years passed Lance had high and low moments.

Going from someone so loud and filled with music to being completely silent was devastating for him.

There would be days where he could do nothing but stare at the faded scar across his neck and long for the sound of his own voice again.

For any sound at all.

Then there would be days where Keith could talk enough for the both of them, filling in the silence with mindless chatter about just about anything. It warmed Lance’s heart to see his best friend so happy.

He only wished that he didn’t have the really bad days.

The days where he just couldn’t move from bed because it felt like some giant crushing force was holding him down.

The days where he would stare at himself in the mirror for so long that he no longer recognised the man in front of him anymore.

The days where Keith would get a call in the middle of the night and have to rush to hospital.

The days where Lance woke up with tubes down his throat and a sobbing Keith begging him never to try and kill himself again.

The days that happened far too often.

However as Lance got older those days became less and less.

Keith made them less and less.

He began to notice when Lance began to dim and needed him more than ever. Whenever that happened Keith would drop everything so that he could fill the void Lance’s voice left behind.

It was because of Keith that Lance was able to stand up and retrieve his diploma.

It was because of Keith that Lance was able to finish high school and sit there as Hunk got up on stage for his speech.

It was because of Keith that Lance got to live his life again.

“As valedictorian I could give you a long winded speech about how hard we all worked and how far we have to go. But now isn’t the time for speeches now is the time to celebrate and be thankful for the time we spent together. I don’t think anyone understood this more than Lance.” Hunk stopped talking as a video flickered on behind him projected from the back of the crowd.

No one was really sure what they were expecting when a video of Lance began to play.

It was a few years old and clearly being filmed on someone’s cell phone without his knowledge.

People began to mutter in confusion.

Then the music began.

“Rise towards the horizon

Rise up and show your worth

We are strong and united

We are not decided at birth

Our futures yet to be decided

Our pasts do not define us

So now we shall rise up

Towards our time to come.”

A shocked silence flowed over the crowds as the beautiful melody crossed over them.

Only few of them had ever heard Lance speak let alone sing.

Keith wanted to look at Lance to see if he was ok, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

It was the most wonderful sound he had ever heard.

Even if he lost his hearing again today Keith wouldn’t care, because finally he got to hear his best friend’s voice.

Finally he got to hear the boy he loves light.

[taejinkive]

Taste Of Your Love- 32

Taehyung’s eyes were unfocused, his breathing uneven he felt as if a huge tide had swallowed him and then threw his remains against a stone paved bank- taking with it his most precious possession. Seokjin’s lifeless-looking body laid in the hospital bed surrounding the two of them in a choking silence- one that is too devoid of air. Too devoid of Seokjin. Because to Taehyung, Seokjin was as important as the air. The air around his room in his apartment when the younger was pressed against the former’s chest was soft, sweet with their lingering hushed midnight whisperes that had gently mixed with Seokjin’s own special smell- a smell that took Taehyung back to his hometown. Back to the fields he loved running around as a kid. Back to simple, quite yet imparting an exquisite warmth- Daegu. He loved every moment with Seokjin. But not this. Not when the latter was lying in a motionless state with the pale yellow hospital walls around them.

When he went to Seokjin’s apartment, with a big smile and a huge box of his boyfriend’s favorite chocolates he half expected to see Jimin vigorously tapping on his phone and then pressing it to his ears. Taehyung felt his own phone vibrate in his pocket and curiously went up to the younger boy standing by Seokjin’s door with a picture of distress on his face.

“You were calling me?” He asked. Seokjin’s apartment door was open and Taehyung peeked inside searching for his lovely boyfriend. He couldn’t wait to see his cute, cute Seokjin in the new haircut. If a picture could make him look that perfect, how good would he look in person?

“Taehyung I… Seokjin.. he,” Jimin hesitated. He knew how Taehyung would feel the moment he hears the news. Despite being an asshole previously, Taehyung had changed so much over the past months. And he loves Seokjin so much… Jimin felt a phang in his chest.

“I was texting Seokjin but then he made weird typos. Something told me he was not fine. Probably because the same happened when he fainted the previous time…I dont know but… I found him passed out in his apartment,” Taehyung gasped. “I just sent him to the hospital as soon as possible before calling you.”

Taehyung stood there shell shockef for a few minutes and then everything happened so fast. Before he knew he was once again sitting by Seokjin. 5 hours since then- somewhere, some time ago, I heard a clock strike one. Seokjin’s being was still still.

Taehyung sat with his mind in a frenzy. A mess and a complete utter chaos. But he had always been a mess, he thought bitterly. He was an insecure mutt and spent a good part of his life denying Seokjin’s place in his existence. Heck, if thought carefully, he was the reason why Seokjin suffered and why he keeps suffering. If he told his beautiful soul that it was infact connected to Taehyung’s the very day he discovered bit, maybe Seokjin would stay back. Maybe the godforsaken flight would have no Kim Seokjin in it. Maybe now the older would not have to bear the burden of a truth Seokjin was yet to recall. The burden of his follish, childish past.

Seokjin was like little blooming rose amidst the harsh thorn bush that he was. His rough edges were too many and showed too often. Taehyung was impulsive- contemplating about things before taking any decisions were often not a part of his checklist. This made him hurt many without meaning too. He was too egotistical and thus, saying ‘sorry’ was hard for him. He was often irrational, confused and so stubborn. But then… Seokjin happened. Seokjin took Taehyung’s hand and told him how to show his emotions properly, guided hin through the extreme relief that is apology and acceptance. Seokjin’s small smiled when Taehyung would pause before saying something that would lead to misunderstanding during fights always made Taehyung proud. Proud that he managed to stop an argument. Satisfying Seokjin felt good. So so good.‘Perhaps this is truly the meaning of having a soulmate-’ he thought, ‘- to have someone bring out your best.’

His heart thumped against his chest and he continued starting at the pale cheeks of his lover under the hospital lights. Oh how much he adores holding Seokjin’s shy hands when they are out for a date- even after so many months, Seokjin still was shy when it came to PDA.His face would cover into a pretty blush and he would hide his smile under his free hand while casting his eyes at the ground. But the very same shy Seokjin was the most confident person he ever met. Always going on about how he is ‘worldwide handsome’ and that his face is his most important feature. Yet he was so insecure of his fingers because they were double-jointed and uneven. Taehyung wanted to kiss each and every one of them and tell Seokjin that he loves his fingers no less than he loves hi-

Snap!

It’s like a hidden door behind Taehyung’s head gave a red singnal. White and red lights filled his eyes and his hands felt extra clammy, extra, sweaty. His brain hit void he was unable to think of anything else.

I love Seokjin. I Love Him- Kim Seokjin! I am in love with Kim Seokjin!

Taehyung was combusting.

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Taehyung suddenly felt the presence of a smile on his lips. ’Feels this good to be in love, huh?" He smiled, “Seokjin wake up fast! I have a lot to tell you!” He whispered to the man before him.

Taehyung almost missed the way the younger's fingers trembled and his lips quivered, the previously resting eyelashes fluttered against the puffy hamster cheeks. The older was about to jump in celebration. It was almost as if the powers has heard his prayer.

“Seokjin! You’re up? Gosh you scared me,” Taehyung said with a relieved sigh. He felt as if someone poured life into him. Watching the constant dynamic Seokjin had become such a regular habit that stagnant Seokjin scared him. He felt as if Seokjin would forever remain that way. Cold and motionless.

“Here, drink some wat-” before the older could register what was going on, the glass flew out of his hand and shattered into a million pieces against the white floor. Taehyung was shoked, his heart was jumping in his chest. He looked at Seokjin with bewilderment written on his face only to meet with blazing eyes. Seokjin’s face twisted into an expression that made Taehyung feel sick in his stomach. He gulped at the sheer intensity of Seokjin’s fiery glare.

“S-seokjin?” Somewhere, from deep within, Taehyung’s voice drew out a small, scared whisper. He felt his eyes become teary- ‘what happened to him?’ his mind kept asking the same question in vain.

“You,” Seokjin’s voice wasn’t very strong but the venom laced in it was piercing through Taehyung’s heart.

"You lied to me. More than once."

__________________

Taste Of Your Love

previous-Chapter 32-next

AUTHOR’S NOTE/SYNOPSIS

I WOULD LIKE TO MENTION AGAIN THAT IN THIS STORY SEOKJIN IS THE MAKNAE AND JIMIN IS YOUNGER THAN JUNGKOOK

I was ranting so much in my previous post that I forgot to warn y'all that the second climax of the story is going to start from the next chapter so please be prepared. I can't wait for y'all to see the ending tbh because I have it all thought out shsvsj. The comeback has officially made me an emo hoe. Today i gave a horrible English Language exam i forgot to title my notice and email. I guess 2 marks gone and i also wrote some crappyass essay so much marks gone uwu

____

Taejin/Jikook Soulmate AU

[based on social media and texts]

AU where, when people turn 18, they get to slightly taste the food which their soulmate is having.

Stuck in the fate-tied world, Kim Taehyung, world famous music artist, strongly distastes the concept. Why would nature decide who he is to love and date?

Kim Seokjin, however, is always waiting for the warmth of his soulmate, that was made just for him. He desperately wants to find the person nature has gifted him.

But, no road is formed without bumps and we seldom find it easy to get what we yearn for the most. The undeniable bond between the two of them teach them how to give up, own up, forgive and find the happiness that’s created just for them.

or,

In which Jimin and Jungkook are tired of all the angst like?? please get together and live in peace and let us live in peace to thank you very much.

[catch22inareddress]

Stolen Choices: Chapter Two Tarnished Man

Previously:

"The information that you gave us will be void if they know that we have it. We need time to decipher it and act on it. We also think that if you appear to have Steve as your new bodyguard and perhaps show you two getting... friendly... at a few public events it will send Henry over here to collect you or we can find out where he is staying. We're also putting a tracker on you." You could feel your body closing in on itself and with a cold and distant finality, you stated. "He doesn't love me and you're playing with fire."

Steve spoke up with an indignant attitude. "Well, why get married? You must've loved him at some point or he loved you. So we're banking on those feelings otherwise more innocent lives will be lost. I'm sure you don't want that on your hands, Mrs. Abbott."

You could no longer hold your temper any longer. You were finally making a decision for yourself and it just went to hell in a handbasket. "Listen here, Captain America. Save your self-righteous commentary for the public and your fanbase. Not everyone gets the white picket fence and the happy ever after. Some of us get sold off at auction to the highest bidder. The only way Henry comes back is to get his property not his love. This is not some romantic fairytale that I've had the luxury of living. So shut the fuck up unless you have something useful to say."

Steve was dumbstruck and humiliated as the thought never occurred to him that you married with no choice. He just assumed that you loved a deplorable man and willingly went to bed with HYDRA. Literally, and now this was your way out. His mouth was agape and while you were ashamed at your outburst you felt it was a long time coming and it felt good. Very good. Perhaps too good and you should let that lion out of the cage more often.

"Look, I'll do it. If it will give you time to take down HYDRA and Henry but is there anyone else besides him." Steve's brows hitched together in what you found to be a usual look for him and he put his hands in his pockets knowing how he acted; you had every right to ask for someone else. He also knew that the request would be declined.

Fury shook his head. "No, Bucky is too high profile with HYDRA. Sam and Clint are great but not if you're attacked by multiples, they aren't superhuman. Plus Steve's already comin' off an undercover op so he'll be more incognito to the public eye." Then he turned to Steve. "Make it work, Rogers." And with that, they left the room.

"I-I just have to get my bag then we can go to your place." You waved him off and as soon as he left you finally let the tears fall as you looked out on the New York Skyline.

So much for new beginnings

Nat sat in Steve's room when he gathered his belongings and was ready to give him an ear full. "Really, Rogers? You're an asshat of epic proportions." He nodded and mumbled in agreement. Just then Bucky came into the room to assist Nat in berating a one Steven Grant Rogers off his high and mighty horse. Steve rolled his eyes at the intrusion knowing they were about to tag team him.

"Look I made a mistake and didn't have my facts." Buck leaned against the door frame and brushed his long chocolate locks out of his face. "One look at her would've told you she wasn't there by her own choice. You just heard HYRDA and wife then went all ballistic, man. To be honest I would switch spots with you in a heartbeat. Something about her just makes me want to keep her safe." Nat chimed in. "She's a victim and from what I gathered from Tony she's pretty much been in captive by family or that fucker her entire life. So what if she thought this was her way out. If I were her I would've taken it to. Wouldn't you, Cap?" They turned to leave and he grabbed the first thing that he could find and threw it against the wall.

"FUCK!" When did he lose composure like this and when did he make an innocent feel helpless and unsafe. He felt powerless and hated that feeling when things spiraled out of his control. His gripped the marble countertop and looked up at his reflection, he felt like he had lost his way through all of the years. He was tired of the wars and the fighting, of always seeing things in black and white, especially when he saw that you were clearly a color spectrum that he had never quite seen before. That's what had him so off balance and for lack of better phrasing, tarnished. He needed to get his shit together and fast. Hell or high water he was going to keep her safe, no matter the cost. If this was his final mission he was going to redeem himself and make it right.

You arrived at the penthouse and Steve did a perimeter check and Tony snuck in to add some additional security measures. The thing about Henry was that he was so arrogant he thought the penthouse was impenetrable with the small security system and the bodyguards. He also probably forgot that he even had the HYRDA intel here, so careless of him. Typical.

"How do you communicate with Henry, Mrs. Abbot?" You walked into the office and logged into a secure server. "Please, Y/N. Not Mrs. Abbott." While your composure was there, Steve could see the quiver in your voice. "I email him weekly unless other instances require like this evening. I will notify him of John and William's leave and that I have taken and hired you, Steven Grant for my protection detail. I have forwarded your credentials to him and he will assuredly want to video chat with you tomorrow regarding safety measures and when he will check in, etc." You quickly finished a formal email to your "husband" which Steve read and then sent it. Showing him to his quarters after reviewing all of the codes and locks, courtesy of Stark, you turned to leave.

"Goodnight Mr. Rogers." He grabbed your arm lightly but you still gasped at the contact, expecting pain and he quickly released you. "I---I'm sorry. Earlier. I'm ol' fashioned and that's not an excuse but hopefully will explain why I assumed you two were in love. It was a terrible mistake on my part and I won't assume in the future and will instead ask you if that's ok." Your hand found the place the Steve touched on your arm and you nodded.

"Be careful what you ask, you may not care for the answers you are given." With that, you took leave to your bedroom to hide away from the results of the day. If you were lucky, the ruse that you emailed Henry on courtesy of SHIELD and the set up with Steve would work and hold him off for the time being. At best you would have a few weeks before he sent someone in, especially when they wanted you and Steve to be out in the public to draw Henry in. This was an absolute catastrophe but at the same time you knew that you had made the right choice, the outcome wasn't ideal but nonetheless. You would persevere like always.

You awoke to Steve knocking on your door and you opened it in your silk cami and shorts not thinking anything of it. "Is the building on fire?" He averted his eyes but smirked. "No, but we have an email." He could've sworn he heard you say "Then it's worse." But chose not to respond as you grabbed your robe and walked to the office and signed in.

"So as I said, you have a video chat with him in 1 hour and he will want updates every week unless the situation demands it." You handed him the list of demands for previous bodyguards and your weekly agenda which of course changes. His brows stitched together. "Y/N, these are ridiculous." You nodded. "So you see why he will be very upset when you and I are at all of these social events seemingly so close." He shook his head as he quickly memorized the requirements set by Henry.

The weekly agendas ranged from brunch with socialites and wives of HYRDA's henchmen, now that you know the true nature of Henry's work. You normally have a gala or charity event a week to attend in his absence. So Steve didn't have any idea what he had signed up for when he was given protection detail to you and you were sure by now his star-spangled head was spinning.

You stood outside and listened while Steve took every condescending remark and insistence made by your husband and passed the interview of sorts with flying colors. As he called your name you smoothed your dress out, calmed your nerves and then walked inside. Steve left the room as asked but remained close so he could hear everything. Which only added to your discomfort and embarrassment.

"Henry, how are you?" You timidly ask as this is the first video chat in two months. "How dare you go under my authority and hire him! You insolent whore! I give you everything and yet you displease me in such a way."

 You sat with your hands in your lap resigned to the verbal abuse because you knew it was coming, ever grateful that he was oceans away though. "I'm terribly sorry, Henry. I just know that business is very busy for you and thought I could be of assistance." He laughed at your attempt to appease him. "That's fucking rich. You don't know anything." You apologized again. "I'm sorry Henry if I have done anything to upset you." He waved you off. "He's fine for now. I won't hire another since there hasn't been a threat in New York since I left. No one would care to harm you anyway. I have to go now for a... meeting. Be a good wife and follow orders. No more surprises." He signed off and you sat there in silence unable to get up yet and unwilling to face Steve either. You could tell that while the first encounter was terrible, he was a good man. You've seen enough atrocities in this life to know good when you see it and you didn't want his pity.

It wasn't until you felt a strong hand on your shoulder that you snapped out of your haze and looked up to ice blue forgiving eyes. You didn't want nor need his compassion, it made you feel weak so you stood up and wiped your cheeks discretely. "I assume you have something to wear other than flannel, Captain Rogers?" His saw that you closed off the wall and stood taller and nodded. "Good because to make a man like Henry jealous enough to risk coming here you'll need to up your game." He smirked at your remark. "Understood, Ma'am."

After your shitty remark on his attire, he had some clothes delivered to the penthouse and decided that it be best to practice on how you two would keep up appearances while outside and in view of the world.

"So, there will be events that will allow me to dance with you. I'm sure a man of your age can dance." He lightly chuckled. "That's a ...nice way of calling me old." You nearly smiled at his easy way but held back. At the moment both of you were sitting on the couch and had just begun to break down how to handle situations together. "If someone asks how we met..or how long..?” He nodded. "Just smile like it's the naughtiest secret and don’t say a word." You agreed and fiddled with your fingers and he reached over with his large calloused ones. "Hey, this will work. We will distract him. Use the intel, catch him and get you out of here." He gave you a reassuring smile while he ducked his head a bit to meet your eyes and you gave him a smile. "There she is. Smile at me like that when we are out and everyone will believe that we are together."

He kept his hand there and you went to remove yours. "You need to get used to me touching you." you shook your head. "I-I don't like being touched." His face did that notorious pinch and you wanted to smooth out the lines but immediately reproached yourself for thinking such a thing. Steve paused but decided to ask anyways against his better decision.

"Why?" He knew that you had warned him and that he wouldn't like the answer but still, he had to know. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and looked into his eyes. "When you associate touch with pain why would you like it?" His thoughts immediately went to Bucky and the trouble that he had when he first came back and it hurt him to his core to think of you not having the pleasure of touch. "When Bucky first came back from captivity and was no longer The Winter Soldier he had similar issues. Although different, still hated to be touched. Associated it with pain." You shook your head. "Don't compare me to him. He deserves more than that!" Steve moved closer to you and gently took your face in his palm and you flinched.

"Listen, doll. All I'm sayin' is if he can recover so can you. The man loves to have Nat touch him now, he what we call touch starved. He can't go 5 minutes without touchin' someone." Steve chuckled a bit and you felt his hot breath on your face and you didn't cringe at his warm embrace on your face and his breath on your skin or his eyes scrutinizing every flaw on your face. "See even right now, you're fine with me." He kept looking in your eyes searching for an answer that you knew silently he was asking. "Because I feel safe." You saw his jaw tick and his thumb gently grazed your skin. "You are, I'll keep you safe."

He sat back against the couch and pulled you into his side and you laughed and he thought it was the sweetest damn sound that he had heard. "You should do that more often." You looked up at him. "I can't make any promises, but I'll try." He nodded. "I'll take it. So now that we got the touch under control---" You cut him off. "I've got it under control when we are alone. I've never done this in front of anyone. Hell ..." You ran your hands over your face while Steve patiently waited for you to continue. You were finding that the man was a fucking saint one minute but then another be a man of this world and baffle you.

"Ok, so consider me property and as property, I am to maintain appearances and looks. I was..am Henry's wife for all purposes of appearances. When we go out it is to make him look good. I was bred to be the perfect specimen of flattery, to make him look good. When I say he bought me I mean just that. I came from a line of wealthy families but my uncle squandered away the money and inheritance. He used me to make millions."  You were ashamed and felt cheap at the words as soon as they left your mouth; Steve seemingly took ages to process the information, while you sat watching him digest what you had said.

When he finally did speak you were surprised with what he asked and the level of intimacy in which he asked it. He didn't make you feel like less of a person or like a bought and paid for human, he was concerned more for the lack of experiences that you had. The absence of love in your life was what he had focused on and you didn't know what to say or how to answer and remain diplomatic to the situation so you were blunt in your response. 

"Ok, so you've never experienced a man holding your hand, kissing you, making love to you. Romance?" You laughed humorlessly. "No. I've had my handheld to show possession or to be pulled. I've been kissed on my wedding date or roughly to satisfy his needs. Making love ...I've been fucked, poorly by Henry and no other." He nodded and roughly stood up and you sat back feeling the need to comfort him. Odd. "I'm fine, Steve, I don't need pity and I don't say these things to anger you. I just want ...need you to know that I don't know how to complete this facade and make it look believable."

He turned around and knelt down before you with conviction in his blue eyes. "Let me kiss you." You pulled your face back as if he slapped you and he looked ...hurt? Why would he ask you for such a thing? This was what made your head spin about the Captain. One minute he would treat you like a doll, so kind and gentle. The next he would speak like he had no control over his mouth or thought process. Had he not heard how you were acquired and did he not think of how you would feel of his request? To just be kissed for a mission? You felt dirty at his words when only moments before you thought he was a different man...you were comforted with his touch only to feel burned. 

"Absolutely not! Are you out of your mind, Captain!" He put his hands on your thighs and the warmth radiated through the fabric and you felt as though you were on fire, but this time it felt good and you chastised yourself. You wanted the kiss but..at what cost. Damn him and damn all of this. He spoke up and pleaded with you. "Please, let me kiss you. I want to do this and maybe it will help you..."

You pushed him away and he almost fell back but righted himself. "Help me what? Loosen up? Is that what you think of me? That I'm uptight? Well, excuse me Captain Loose Lips. I don't want my first real kiss to be a show. I- I thought that we were--. Nevermind." You went to walk away and he was furiously running his hands through his hair and coming after you. Under normal circumstances, you would feel threatened but with him, you didn't. You felt ...desire. You wanted him but he only wanted you for this mission and that hurt.

"Look, doll. I'm sorry. I just- you deserve better than him." You nodded in agreement and finally found your voice. "You’re damn right I do! I also deserve better than you trying to kiss me for this damn charade too. Have the decency to kiss a woman because you desire her and want to feel her against you. Not because you want to make the ruse believable." You could've sworn you saw his eyes glass over but you couldn't tell because yours were swelling up. You turned on your heel before he could see what he was doing to you and went to your bedroom. "Goodnight, Steve."

Steve ran his hands over his bearded face in defeat as he crashed down on the couch beneath him. “I do fucking desire you. That’s the problem.” He was thankful that you were out of earshot but that the same time cursed himself for not speaking up and for being the coward he has always been around women. 

He was falling for a woman he couldn’t have and would never choose him. 

HOPE THAT EVERYONE ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER. FEEL FREE TO COMMENT OR SEND ME A REQUEST FOR A TAG OR ADD YOURSELF HERE: LINK. (STRIKETHROUGH BELOW DIDN’T WORK, SORRY)

I’m super excited about this series and Cap and his fumbling and fuck ups but how he takes care of the reader. Plus I have a new character to introduce in  Chapter four which is not in the Marvel Uni but is hella delicious. TEEHEEE. 

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Steve Rogers

@patzammit

[fatbadjah]

To those whom I’ve disappointed and to those to whom I am disappointing...

On Monday I demonstrated that common sense, good judgment, and I are not always the best friends.  I learned about a social event that I was not involved in, and I felt hurt, left out, emotionally neglected and replied out of pain.

I hurt others in a moment of weakness, and for that, I apologize and ask forgiveness.

For me, one of the most iconic images of the 90s was a clip from Blind Melon’s “No Rain” video. In it, a little girl in a bee costume is ridiculed after a dance performance, and spends the song wandering the street…again facing derision and ridicule from strangers. Then, at one point in the song, she sees a gated field. In it, she sees others in bee costumes, dancing around. She pushes through the gate and joyously cavorts—having found “her” people.

I’ve come to define these moments of social connection “bee girl” moments. Most of us have them—especially in the furry fandom.

Like most, I was interested in anthropomorphic animals since I was a child. After reading The Wind in the Willows in third grade, I wanted to join that created family of Rat, Mole, Toad, and Badger. In the mid 80s, I saw Animalympics on HBO until I knew the songs by heart. Likewise, seeing Rock and Rule on the Movie Channel in early 1986 not only furthered my interest in anthropomorphics, but expanded my musical palate out a bit. I started collecting comic books in 1987, as quarter bins were bursting with remnants of the Black-And-White boom—many of which were anthropomorphic attempts to become the next TMNT. When I played role playing games or video games, I gravitated towards any animal-themed races, classes, or characters.

Frankly, I thought I was weird and the only one.

In December 1993, I saw a clip of an event called Confurence on the then-new Sci-Fi Channel (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iodRjbBKB0k). For the first time, I knew that there were others out there like me…that I wasn’t alone.

Florida State University, like many universities in the early 90s, restricted their student Internet access to engineering and computer science students. If you weren’t in one of those disciplines, the assumption was that you didn’t need to access the Internet. Of course, once I’d seen the Internet, that didn’t stop me. I’d learned a little UNIX trick that allowed me to access a raw Telnet in 1992, but I didn’t know what USENET was until January of 1994, when FSU began selling Garnet accounts to students—a basic Internet account with Telnet, email, a few other early 90s goodies, and USENET access. One Friday night, as I was diving through the sea of alt and soc groups, I found one called alt.fan.furry. The group was buzzing about an event called “Confurence” which was happening that weekend in Orange County, California.

I had my “bee girl” moment. I soaked up every zine I could find. Alt.fan.furry was my new hangout. I had an account on Furrymuck and explored more.

I felt like I belonged somewhere. I made a trip in January 1995 to Confurence Six and soon connected with virtual friends.

I wanted to get more involved. I wanted to give back. I didn’t want to just be a passive fandom participant. I put my art out there—though I knew I would be mocked and ridiculed for my lack of skill (I was). I started the first openly gay furry zine, Ten Furcent, in 1995.I published a comic book, Milikardo Knights, in 1997. In 1999, when Ed Zolna’s Mailbox Books folded, I was one of several who tried to open a zine distribution business to fill the void—mine having been Bronzebear Media. And in 2001, I founded Florida’s first furry con, Furry Spring Break, which folded after an internal coup in late 2001 and became an event you may be familiar with today.

Yet while most (sane and rational) people would have denounced the fandom and moved on, if not taken up ranks with folks like the Burned Furs (whose ranks were pretty much filled with fandom failures who could not adapt to the growing and changing nature of the fandom and began pre-Trump cries of “take back our fandom!”) and becoming toxic and bitter fandom saboteurs, I stayed in to help how I could. I involved myself with the staff of events like Mephit Furmeet, Furry Weekend Atlanta, and Midwest Furfest.

In 2011, I took a break. I finally realized after a social breakdown that I was grinding metal and stepped away. I’d moved to North Carolina in the wake of the Great Recession, and I decided to focus on my career. Thus, for years, I was the guy at the Triangle Area Furries meets who stood off to the sides and only chatted with one or two trusted friends, as I licked my metaphorical wounds from the 90s and 00s.

But I never quit, I never left, I never got bitter, and I never tried to sabotage the fandom. For me, furry fandom was my family. You don’t abandon family because of a few toxic relatives. Like the odd cousin at the family gathering, I just stepped away a bit because the obnoxious aunts and uncles had finally taken their toll.

In 2015, I finally got some forward motion on my career and returned to fandom activities, with MFF 15 being my first con back since 2010. In the summer of 2016, I thought about the fact that there were no cons or large “destination” events in or around Raleigh, in spite of the large community. I talked to an old friend, and in early July 2016, Tarpaw Furmeet was born. We staged a “practice” event in November 2016, which then gave way to events that grew in May and October of 2017. As they grew, we eventually had a staff, with whom I started to bond.  People were friendly to me at the Triangle Area Furries events and actually started to talk to me.

I actually thought that I was “in,” but got blindsided by my social eagerness, as several of you now know.

To really get this, you need to understand a little of my history and romp through some trauma baggage. I was in a family with two emotionally abusive parents. I not only heard the constant barrage of how I was “not good enough” from both, but during their divorce, each specialized their skills by projecting their spousal loathing onto my brother and I.

My mother played the diehard Christian card, completely modernizing the “spare the rod, spoil the child” concept by making my brother and I draft up “contracts” that opened with “PAIN + FEAR = RESPECT” then laid out multiple violation clauses. Usually, the clauses in these contracts varied by my mother’s mood and often had a bad habit of doing so when she’d had a bad day at work.

My father, meanwhile, decided to simply deploy a forever-scarring tactical nuke on a school morning in early 1981. As my mother was helping my brother and I dress, my father came downstairs, looked at us all and said simply “bye guys, have a nice life” before walking out the door. We knew our parents  were divorcing, so my brother and I spent five minutes trying to persuade him to stay—and by “persuade” I meant that my mother held one sibling while the other sibling laid behind the tires of Dad’s Corvette, then swapped places when she would pull the other one from behind the tires. A few hours later, when I had a hysterical breakdown in my third grade classroom, neither my teacher nor principal believed me. I was sent to the office, and the principal called my father’s office to follow up on the “lie.” Upon calling my father’s office, I was told that he’d flown to Acapulco to holiday with the women he was (then) leaving my mother for. My mother at least intervened to back up the “have a nice life” story, because I had to go home since I was a basket case. Dad came back tanned and whored, and acted like nothing had happened—not even an apology.

Since then, I’ve had a nagging fear of abandonment and all purpose fear of letting people get control over me. I’ve tried to address it by simply not letting people connect to me emotionally and living a life of fierce self-sufficiency. I’ve heard “aloof” pushed on to me so many times in my life, I’d have assumed it was my name if I didn’t know better. After all, I figure, everyone leaves me eventually…so why attach to them? Likewise, my other coping mechanism is to just quit when things turned bad—a trend in my early relationships. Imagine that Kermit/Dark Kermit meme: “Things going bad in the relationship… Bail on them before they get to bail on you!”  I tried to not quit a spiraling situation once. I made the mistake of entrenching on Furry Spring Break when the coup’s instigator began to get out of control in mid-2001 and fought suicidal urges for most of 2002 once I’d been ousted.

I’ve been used to being left out of things. It was the hallmark of my adolescence. When it wasn’t a point-blank, mean girls style rejection (no seriously, I got “you cant sit here” in the school lunchroom), the reasons were a bit softer on the blow. “Sorry, we just didn’t think you were interested” or “Sorry but there just wasn’t enough room for you” were the popular go-tos.

Once, when I was fourteen, I let my guards down. My father went to the “country club” church in Flint Michigan, First Pres—the one where the shi shi white people went to escape the lower classes. One afternoon, I got a call from one of the students in “the Pipe,” their Wednesday night youth group. “Hey, can you come to the meeting tonight? We’d love to have you there!”

I was beyond elated. Someone called me to come out. They wanted me out there.Me, worthless, stupid me. When my father got home from work, I told him in no uncertain terms that I had to go to church that night, for the Pipe. When I got there, people were friendly towards me. Then the meeting started. Eventually, one of the leaders came out playing “Sasha Cashachek,” a taunting (yet Christian) Russian femme fatale (it was 1986. Russians and Iranians were stock bad guys then) who was gloating that the Pipe wouldn’t make their ski trip. Eventually, we stopped for snacks, and a few people came up to me during the break.

“So we know you like to ski, and we’ve got a big weekend ski trip scheduled to (some shi shi place I can’t remember) in a month, but we need a few more people to help pay for it! Want to come?”

I told them that I’d already booked with my high school ski club on a trip to Killington, Vermont, and my dad was tapped.

“Oh.” No one talked to me as soon as I’d announced that. Not even a “goodbye” when I left.

Remember that scene in “A Christmas Story” when Ralphie learns that Little Orphan Annie’s important “secret message” was nothing more than an Ovaltine ad? I got the 80s church group version of it.

When I said no to the ski trip, I went back to either being invisible in that church group every Sunday (I never went to another Wednesday night meeting), or I existed only when I wore or did something worthy of social mockery. I never got an invite back to the Pipe.… After that, I shut down. I stopped trying.

Given that I’d taken to emotional avoidance since late childhood, I was used to it. I took jobs in college that kept me working Friday and Saturday nights, so I didn’t have to worry about feeling slighted from collegiate social events, and I always had an excuse when people felt crazy enough to ask me to do something. And as an adult, I became a hermit who spent most weekends alone, playing video games or working. I never kept friends because I didn’t think friends wanted to keep me around. I feel emotionally uncomfortable when people press me into social conversation…unless I’ve been drinking or that weird cluster of neurons has fired that say “we can trust this person Lighten up, badger.”

But I thought that things were going differently in the Triangle. I felt my guards dropping. I didn’t feel that “fuck! Fly now! Flee, fatass! Get small or invisible!” reflex when I talked to people.

So on January 1, 2018, I became aware of a New Years party via Twitter. I saw friends names. I saw friends pictures. And I didn’t even know about it. In a split second, I was caught off guard.

And I felt stupid. I felt like I’d been left out. Knowing that people there were talking about con plans, I had fears of another Furry Spring Break style coup. But most importantly I felt worthless, like I did in childhood and adolescence because I wasn’t good enough to get invited. I felt like I’d made inroads, that people liked me and wanted me around, and I felt foolish for letting my guards down. It was like finding out that the people at the Pipe only wanted me there to make a ski trip happen, and threw me aside as soon as I couldn’t help them do it.

So I made a nudging reply that my invitation must have been lost. I later vented because I felt like all I was good for was making the con happen. Then the messages started piling in…

“No one owes you anything!”

And they were right.

And that was my mistake. I own that. No one has to be my friend, and no one owes me a damned thing. I had thought that because we had bonded as a staff, because we had broken meals together at staff meetings, that I was more important than I was in the collective zeitgeist —namely, that I’d finally gone from beyond being the “creepy” guy to someone that people actually wanted to know and interact with. Again, my mistake.

As our event has grown, I’ve been mulling over the #FurryOver30 hashtag from Twitter—the reaction to an ageist movement that suggested that anyone over 30 should leave furry fandom. As of 2017, I’d been a formal part of the fandom for almost 24 years, and at 45 years old, I’d more than outlived my socially-decreed “time” by the claimants standards. Likewise, as I was pulling locals together to build this event, I remembered a friend telling me recently that I’d been described to him as “creepy” by at least one local furry in the early ‘10’s, before I stepped forward to begin building things. Despite groups in fandom who told me I didn’t belong, I actually felt like I did here—like I wasn’t just “buying” my way in by making a convention happen in the area.

I had gotten a little comfortable and let my guards down. I had thought that I’d had my “Bee Girl” moment and found my community, and that being excluded from the party was a harsh reality check. So I got angry on Twitter. I apologize for any assumptions made, and I assure folks that I’ll maintain my social distance as I keep looking for my “bee girl” moment elsewhere in the fandom.

For four days now, the people I've hurt told me how I disappointed them.  That happens a lot, believe me.  Just ask my parents for the last fourty-five years, so it's nothing new.  If this is your first time, I'm sorry I hurt you.  I'm not always going to be able to be the unflappable badger, or an unmoveable rock.  I'm broken.  I've been broken most of my life, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm on my way to being whole.  Only to be reminded of just how very far I have to go.  I'm not convinced I'll ever be whole?  But I'm going to keep trying.  And I'm hoping to keep trying with the those around me.

Once again, I apologize.

[stop-klancing-around]

Study Time

Well, its been awhile since I have Klanced Around (get it since I'm... nvm) We are back with a new installment of the Daily Shifts series with a full fic about their actual meeting (without the bickering). Thank you @raythenerdyfangirl  for betaing this for me.

You can also read it here on AO3 

Enjoy😇

Lance’s plans for the day has been blown to bits. First, Hunk had to call in for work for Janet because of a family emergency. Lance had asked Hunk if he wanted him to call in to keep Hunk company but, Hunk texted saying that he was alright and that there was no need to do that. That left Lance to his own devices. Lance could go to the city and spend some time there but he currently doesn’t have the funds to splurge on useless knick-knacks and overly priced foods. He could also stay in his dorm until it was time to go work his shift. Lance knows that he’s going to laze around and nap the entire day without getting much done. So he decides that today is the day that he would study on anatomy and physiology because he has a test on Monday.

That is mostly the reason why he is in front of the Smythe’s Library with a bookbag full of studying supplies. Part of Lance wants to actually study and not fail this test in a few days from now. Another part of him wants to bother the absolute hell out of one of the librarians that Lance knows that he is working at the moment. As soon as he walks into the library, he was greeted with the smell of old paper and coffee. Lance goes straight to the stairs and jogs up to the fourth floor. The fourth floor was void of actual people so it was easier for him to start and stay studying for ample amounts of time. After looking around, Lance takes a seat near a window and places his bag on the table to take out his notes and textbooks.

Lance starts to tackle the notes from his anatomy class with highlighters and worksheets. With the silence and occasional light taps of the keyboard from the other students on the floor, he easily finishes the first two thick packets that he printed out two days ago. Lance's phone gives out a tiny ping and he quickly reaches to put the device on silent, after checking what was the notification. With a quick unlock, Lance checks to see that it was one of his professors sending him more work for him to do before class. Lance begins to swear quietly. Normally, he wouldn't have minded the extra work being sent to his email but this particular professor for (koff) anatomy (koff) loves to send work very late. This email was no exception. He is down to 473 pages out of the 600 free pages the university issued to him and most of it is because of this class.

He sighs and gets up to semi pack up while grabbing a folder of printer paper from his bag. The library doesn't have the paper in the printer and buying from the library is too much for him. He hasn't been paid yet and the last thing he needs is to buy overly price paper when he can bring his own. He could go to the computer lab in the Balmerian Center but he is too lazy to make the walk.

Lance begins to walk around in search of an empty computer with a printer. A few minutes into the search, Lance notices a tall stack of books with a tiny figure next to it and decides to check it out. On further inspection, he recognizes the heavily freckled boy as Keith, the one who calls in to be walked over to his car every time, was just sitting in the corner brooding with a rack of books on one side and a tall, unstable stack of books on the other side reading of all things. Lance just looks at him with confusion. Understanding that yes, Keith works in the library as both a clerk and shelver, but this is ridiculous. Why spend your break on reading when you can actually leave for lunch? Keith could be studying for something for all he knows, but Lance starts to walk up to Keith with the full intent of telling him to leave for L-U-N-C-H.

“Hey, Keith” He gives Lance a quick look up from one of the books that he was reading and goes back to reading, paying Lance no mind. Lance was mildly offended and begins to pester him. "Muuuullleeeet. Keeeeefff. Freeeeckles." Lance loudly whispers to get his attention. Keith closes his book and looks up at Lance in annoyance.

“What do you want Lance? Can’t you tell I was working?” Lance rolls his eyes at the ‘work’ that Keith manages to pile up.

"Hardly, Freckles." Keith gunts before opening another book.

"Can you stop calling me that? It's annoying."

"But its a cute nickname though.”

“To you yeah but not to me.” Keith thinks that maybe if he ignores Lance hard enough he will leave quicker. He picks up from a bookmark he left from one of Shakespeare's plays with full intent on finishing the last act. Lance, on the other hand, didn’t take the hint to leave.

“Hey Keith, I looked at your blood test and I found out that you are 100% back on your bullshit.” The moment Lance's lips come to a complete stop, Keith looks Lance in his eyes and delivers a look of displeasure. He closes his book and clasps his hands together and looks up like he was pleading with God himself to give him the patience for today. He takes a deep breath and looks back at Lance.

“Lance, if I wasn’t working in a library at this very moment, I would of kick the ever-loving shit out of you. I’m not in the mood to deal and keep up with your antics”

“Are you sure because you have been talking with me for the past ten minutes. Apparently, you have the patience to keep up.” Lance walks up to Keith while the said boy gets up. They meet half-way into the tall shelves until they were at an elbow's length. Lance looks down at Keith, he isn’t that short but, MAN does Lance thrive off the height difference.

“My patience has been wearing real thin today, Lance. If you like to keep going I suggest you don’t.” There was a warning in Keith's voice.

“Are you threatening me?” Lance mocked a shocked face with a hand over his chest.

“It’s not a threat, it's a promise. Keep testing me.”

“Ooo, but freckles, I already gave you the pop quiz.” Keith knows that Lance is playing around, but it was starting to get to him. In the morning he had with a few of the students and actually kicking them out with a few verbal insults thrown at him, he is not having the greatest time at the moment. He holed himself in furthest corner study so that he could calm down. It just so happens that Lance found him before he could actually calm himself. He could feel himself getting pissed off. He was hoping that Lance was taking the hint to back off with this.

Lance, on the other hand, was enjoying this. He lives on riling up Keith. It's not that he had nothing to do like actually studying because he had intentions of looking for a computer to print out his assignments. Lance was just bored and didn’t really have anyone to study and talk with. He saw Keith and began to annoy him because he thought that just needed something to kickstart his day. Lance thought wrong this time when he notices that they got louder and Keith looks like he was about to use one of his burgundy high-top Vans on Lance’s jaw with the way he was bouncing on his left foot.

Allura just so happens to walk in on the silent fight between the both of them or just Keith fuming in the corner with Lance standing idly.

“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen? I have been getting a few volume complaints of bickering here” Lance turns around to see Allura cross her arms and glare at them. She was a manager in the library and Keith’s boss. She can literally kick the both of them out and/or fire Keith.

“Nothing, there is no problem. My buddy Keith and I were arguing about-” Lance quickly picks up a Hamlet copy behind Keith. “Whether or not Hamlet was really acting crazy or not. It got really heated.” The great thing about Lance was that he can lie his ass off if it was needed.

“I can see.” Allura takes a quick look at Keith to see him calm down just a bit. “Just keep your argument and volume to a minimum. I don’t want to hear a complaint again about the both of you.” Her voice was warning them to not to try any funny business.

“Yes, Allura.” They said unison.

“And Keith, I understand your need to read, but those books need to be placed back. Got it?”

“Yeah. I got it.” Allura leaves the both of them to their devices. Keith slides his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. Lance faces Keith again to apologize.

“Look, I’m sorry for being extra irritating to you, I thought you needed a little boost” Keith waves his hand and walks back to the stacks of books.

“It’s fine. I was already ticked off before you came over with your BS and I didn’t have the patience for the usual banter. If she didn’t come over, you would have gotten a foot to your jaw, causing me to lose my second job.”

“Second job? What happened to the first one.” Lance walks over to Keith to help him out. It was the least he could do right now.

“I kicked my boss in the face for disrespecting a coworker of mine.” Lance whistles. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was reminded of how Hunk was telling him about how some dude in his job got fired for drop-kicking his boss. That was a week before Hunk quit that job to become a security guard with Lance.

“How did you manage to do that? Aren’t you like 5’3”

“Rude, I'm not that short. Let’s just say that you don’t want to catch me in a fight anytime soon.”

“I’ll keep that in mind?”

“Good.” They fell into an awkward silence. The both of them place all of the books on the rack. Keith speaks up after the silence begins to become uncomfortable. “You didn’t need to help me. I got it from here.”

“And, so? I probably got you in trouble with your boss.”

“With Allura? Probably, to be honest.”

“Okay, then consider me helping you.”

“Seriously there is really no need. Plus, don’t you have other things to do?” Lance takes the rack starts to roll to the left. He still had to print out his assignment. He could print it out later before he leaves.

“Too late, I’m helping.” Keith sighs and walks to the end of the shelf to see Lance at the end of the Art section.

“You are going the wrong way, dumbass...” Keith can see Lance making a K-turn with the rack and running in towards and pass him.

“I knew that.” Keith shakes his head and follows Lance.

Throughout the time that they put the books back in their respective places, Lance discovers that Keith is actually a sophomore here at the university because of skipping a grade at the Garrison; the same High school that didn’t leave a career untouched with all of its programs. He also learns that Keith was homeschooled for a few years before becoming a senior at the Garrison. When Lance asked why Keith mentions something about jobs and switches the conversation to talk about majors. Lance rolled along with it while dismissing the odd switch. By the time they were done shelving all 83 books in their rightful places, the both of them beat. They settle at Lance’s table, where all of his stuff was still in its place. Thankfully, nothing was taken.

“Hey, what time is it?” Keith asks.

“It is 12:30, why?”

“It's now my break. Do you want to come with me to the Cafe or you going to stay here?”

“I’ll follow you. Let me get my wallet and my phone” Keith waits while Lance takes his wallet and phone. They walk towards and down the stairs.

“Hold up, if that wasn’t your lunch break, then what were you doing in the corner earlier?”

“I already told you that I was pissed off and I needed a place to cool off. Plus, I was hiding from Coran because he always gets me to find the rarest books and I just wasn’t in the mood on finding Alex Bitter ‘Awakening of Scars’ or some shit like that. I won’t lie the book was okay. What bothered me was the protagonist’s name was Chrome and nobody was taking the opportunity to call her google chrome.”

“Hummus?” Lance questions as he looks Keith in his eyes. Keith looks at Lance and starts laughing.

“Are you always saying some type of sauce in confusion? This is the fourth or fifth time now.” Keith asks while he catches his breath.

“No, it really depends on the response, like that one. I was not expecting that Google Chrome thing.” They continue their chat from leaving the library to the mess hall, where the both of them decides to grab a small lunch and quickly walk back to where Lance left his studying supplies.

“Freckles?”

“What and stop calling me that.”

“Are you sure that’s enough for you to get through the day because that looks like it's enough for at least an hour or less.” Lance points to the granola bar, a small bowl of salad, and a bottle of water in Keith’s hand.

“I’ll be alright”

“I can buy you lunch.” Lance was hoping that Keith turns him down because he can’t afford to pay for Keith’s lunch if he goes off campus. Let alone himself on campus.

“Lance. I’m serious, I’m fine. Trust me on this.” In Lance’s mind, he was fist pumping. He should really stop offering to take people places when he hasn’t been paid for work.

“Alright. The next time you're on break, we’re going to Subway”

“Sure Lance” The both of them got to the library and went to the fourth floor to Lance’s table. They sit down and ate their respective lunches.

“Sup, nerds” Pidge manages to find them and joins their table.

“Wait, how do you know Freckles?” Lance asks Pidge.

“Freckles?” Pidge looks to Keith and shakes their head. “Do I have to ask why?”

“I don’t know why myself Pidge. It probably has something to do with my face and my hands.” Keith pushes his hair back and shows the back of his hands to reveal more freckles. Pidge lightly shoves Keith while mumbling ‘asshole’ towards him. Keith smirks at Pidge. Lance, on the other hand, looks at Keith exposed forehead and starts choking on his lemonade. The both of them gives Lance a questioning look while Lance dismissing it as the drink going down the wrong pipe. Pidge gives Lance a sly look before patting his back.

“Before I forget, Keith was a childhood friend of mine and we manage to meet up last semester,” Pidge speaks up once again to confirm Lance’s question.

“Oh, that’s cool.”There was a tiny ding from Lance’s phone. He checks up on the device and a single eyebrow rose up. “My mom just hit me up.”

“Why and what for?” Pidge asks.

“I don’t know” Lance checks the message and both of his eyebrows hit the roof while his mouth hangs open. “She said if I liked both boys and girls then why was I still single.” His hand begins to cover his mouth. Keith takes Lance’s phone to read what Lance said was true. Pidge takes the phone from Keith and begins to snort. With a beat, Keith returns with his answer.

“I guess you’re by yourself on that one” If Lance’s jaw wasn’t open before, it's now hitting the floor. Keith made an actual joke. A pun, with a straight face.

“The level of disrespect in that sentence was too much for me. What the hell Keith.” Lance can hear the snorts that were coming from Pidge. He looks at Keith and he looked so confused. Poor Keith, He didn’t realize that he made a pun and Pidge had to tell him directly before he was red in the face. Keith was trying to contain his laughs but failed completely with the small giggles coming out in small gaps of air.

“Hold on” He chokes out as he walks out of his chair and jogs around on the shelves before coming back with silent laughter. He sits down in front of Lance to laugh right in his face. The good thing was the fourth floor was somewhat empty with a scatter of students. They could laugh as much as they could as long as they keep it down.

“Keith, I hate you so much for that” Lance wants to get mad about this situation but he can't find anything to get mad at. It was an unexpected pun from Keith of all people and damn he was starting to tear up from all of the laughing he was doing himself.

“Lance... your... face...” Pidge was wheezing from the other side of the table. Keith calming himself down before looking at Pidge and starting round two of their silent laughter. Lance was on the floor trying to control his breathing. All that Pidge was saying in between breathing and laughing was bi-yourself while looking at Lance.

By the time all of them was calm enough to look at each other and not combust with snorting, they have gotten a few shushes and ‘quiet over there’ from a few of the students that were on the fourth floor. Keith was wiping his eyes and Lance started to pack up. Pidge had already packed up and mumbled to Keith that they were going to stay a bit more in the library staff lounge before walking off.

“I still need to print some things off,” Lance mumbles out. It wasn’t intended for Keith to hear it but he heard it anyway.

“The computers are still here when you need it. Why did you wait so long to print?”

“I don’t know, to be honest.” Lance started to leave with Keith walking.

“Let me tell you something about this place, you do realize that you can go to the Balmera and print without paying 50 cents for paper.” Lance stops and looks at Keith, while Keith kept walking on another foot before turning to see that Lance wasn’t following. “You didn’t know about that?”

“Do you know how much money I wasted here because of that stupid fee.”

“I can see.”

“Freckles you don’t know how annoyed I am right now” Lance groans into his hands.

“Don’t tell Allura I said that.”

“About how the library is robbing students of their money for paper? Suuuure” Lance raises a thumbs up before groaning again. He takes out his phone and gives it to Keith.

“Hey, Keith let me get your number” Keith looks at Lance’s phone for a bit before making up his mind. He pulls out his phone as well.

“Why?”

“Because I want to make fun of you when I’m not here. Why else would I ask for your number.”

“Oh joy, now I can block your number now that you are giving it to me.”

“Wow, you’re rude you know that?” Keith plugs in his number on Lance’s phone while Lance was doing the same. They give back their phone to their respective persons and continued to walk. Keith’s phone started to ring and when he checked it, it was Lance.

“Lance, what the hell? I just gave you my number!”

“I was just checking” Keith raises an eyebrow while showing Lance his ringing phone. Lance caves in. “It's a habit because of a long and funny story”

“Figures”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Find out on the next-”

“Keith, don’t finish that sentence.” Lance snorts out while Keith begins to giggle. They get to the first floor towards the entrance and Lance says his goodbyes to Keith as he walks out the door. Originally, wanted to bother Keith but, he got to know Keith a bit more and there was less bickering today then the times he would walk Keith to his car. Today was fun, instead of actually studying for his test, Lance hangs out with Keith and goofs off with him.

He realizes that he didn’t get any studying done and curses. Lance could always study in the dorms anyway. He checks the time to see that is was 2 o'clock. He can still go and print the pages out at the Balmera with time to spare so he starts his walk there.

Keith, on the other hand, was back on the fourth floor and was about to start his rounds of misplaced books when he looks over to see some books on Lance’s table. He walks over to see that it was his book and that his neat handwriting was on the top of the first page.

‘It looks like Lance forgot his books. I’ll just hold them until his next visit’ Keith thought as he places the books on the rack for later.

“Keith! There you are I was looking all over for you. I need you to look for this book for a reader.” Keith’s head looks up at the owner of the voice and sees Coran quickly his way.

“Shit” Keith curses.

[andiekapi]

June 3, 2017

Day 10 post heartbreak

Double digits guys. Woke up this morning sore as efffffffff. Definitely went very hard at the gym yesterday, whoosh. My poor back and chest!

Work, as expected, was completely dead. Hannah and I got in mad early to try and make up for some hours, because everyone was planning to leave around lunch time + we as interns do not get paid for July 4th. Ughhhhhhh.  

Someone from management had sent an email saying the cafeteria downstairs would be closed today, but as a comp, we would be provided a pizza lunch at 11:30am today. So as 11:45am, Hannah and I went to scout out pizza, to find 6 empty pizza boxes stacked on top of the garbage can.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

Literally no one I knew had gotten pizza! We deduced that the window cleaning team had gotten hungry and sneak attacked our pizza, but honestly who knows. Hannah emailed the manager dude back, and he ordered more pizza after we had left.

We drove home for lunch, and then groceries after. I made a very, very bold move today and left a note on a motorcycle in my complex, saying

“Hi! I’m new in town, and saw your bike in the complex. Looking for friends to ride with! If you are game for making a new friend, please give me a shout. Andrea (girl with the R3).”

And then Hannah and I wen grocery shopping.

Back home, took a nap for the headache.

Woke up around 6:30pm to a text, saying “Hey what’s up found your note on my bike!”

WHOA FAST SUCCESS.

So I may now have a new friend who is part of the marines, and used to play lacrosse. NEW WORK OUT BUDDY MAYBE? But new riding friend for sure. He rides a white R6, so nice 😊 Should he become a real friend, we can refer to him as “MR6”.

 ---

I emailed DTS’ parents today, with :

“Dear F&E,

I wanted to take the time to tell you how much I appreciate everything you have done for me in the past three years. From the first moment I stepped into your home, I have felt nothing but welcome in your family, and I can honestly say that I've never felt so at home anywhere outside of Calgary before. Your unwavering support and love has been an incredible foundation in my life, and I am so grateful to have been a part of your family, if only for a short period of time. I will cherish every memory I was able to create with both of you.

I love you both very, very much, and I hope this email finds both of you in good health and spirits.

 I still don't understand why this has happened, as it came as a great shock to me, so I apologize I couldn't tell you all of this in person. 

 Please send my love to the doggo and cat as well!”

 I got a very lawyer-esque response, not much emotion, just a thank you essentially.

I told my sister, who said “what else is she supposed to say though… Her priority is her son”. Which hurt like a bitch, even though I know it’s true.

 I’m just tired. And void of love. And hurting from losing a family.

 So tired.

 There were some fireworks within sight of the apartment today, through the trees. I am a sucker for fireworks – I am excited to be able to hopefully see them tomorrow. Hannah is taking us downtown to hang out with Ing, who is her father-in-law’s good friend. So we can have dinner together and watch the fireworks. Going to be mad tired for work on Wednesday though, that’s for sure.

 I put too much soap in the dishwasher by accident today, and it came foaming out of the bottom, whoooooooops. I scooped up a mad amount of foam from the kitchen floor while listening to fireworks.

 That basically sums up today.

Had my sister tell me things I didn’t want to hear (you might never get any answers from DTS but you’re going to have to live with it, you need to learn to love yourself, etc). It’s not like I don’t know these things, I just don’t want them continuously told to me over, and over, and over again. I personally think it is okay to be NOT OKAY after having your heart smashed into a million pieces. And I think it is okay to want answers, especially since he broke up with me so suddenly and I didn’t see it coming. If you think you are about to spend your life with someone, and they out of the blue decide it’s not for them, any normal person would want to know why. It was the first word out of my mouth to him when he destroyed my soul.

 Why.

 Anyways I’m absolutely exhausted and am off to bed. I will re-read this tomorrow and see if it needs editing, I feel just blobby and not comprehensive and sore and just unhappy.

  Goodnight.