letters-to-me

Taken from the Reader Letters in Star Wars #24 (Marvel, 1979). 

As I mentioned, we bought a bunch of really old Star Wars comics last weekend. My husband was just reading this issue and he started gleefully reading this letter and response to me.

This feels, uh, kinda like something tumblr might appreciate in these pre-Episode 8 and 9 Times. 😉

Dear Evan Hansen Reverse AU: Heidi's Letter

“You want me to do what now?” Connor now sat at on his bed with an open laptop while Evan hovered nearby.
“Please, I just need to let my mom and Jared know it’s not their fault.”
“And I should help you because…”
“You’re the only one who can see me, I need you to type for me.”
“What if I don’t feel like it?” Connor quickly started to regret saying that when he saw Evan’s face. He looked like a kicked puppy.
“Please, I’ll never ask you to do anything again I swear! I’ll leave the second they get the letters just please…”
“Okay, okay, just don’t cry. Or whatever the ghost equivalent is.” Evan’s face brightened as he sat down on the bed next to Connor.
“So what do you want me to write?”
“Uh, well erm, I didn’t really think this far…we should start with my mom.”
The Hansen Household:
Heidi poked her spaghetti with the fork as she stared blankly across the table at the empty space behind the other plate.
“Evan’s late again…"She got up grabbing some Saran wrap from the cupboard and wrapping up the untouched meal. Opening the fridge she placed it next to last night’s meal, hamburger macoroni. She’s surprised he hadn’t eaten yet, he loves it when she makes that. Softly closing the fridge she’s about to head up the stairs when there’s a knock at the door.
Looking over at the clock it says 7:08 p.m. Walking over she takes a look through the peephole and sees a boy around Evan’s age standing there holding something. Cautiously she slightly opens the door.
“Ms.Hansen?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Connor Murphy, I’m…I was friends with Evan. He wanted me to give you this.” Opening the door further Heidi saw Connor was holding a letter. Eyes widening she opened the door all the way.
“Come in,” a smile decorated her face as he shuffled in still clutching the letter.
“I, I just came to drop this off. I can leave if you want-”
“Nonsense, your already here. Have you had dinner yet?”
“No but I-”
“Good, I have leftovers. Spaghetti sound alright?”

As the days get longer and we approach another sliding season, I’ve gotten many emails and letters and summons asking me about my waterpark, and begging me not to re-open my waterpark, and etc.

And rather than respond to those all individually, as manners and the law require, I’d thought I’d instead use the venue of this list-based comedy website to address some of these questions and concerns, and even, if I might be so bold, apologize for some of the events that occurred at The Slick ‘n Sloppy Chris Bucholz Experience last year.

Hold on to something, kids …

7 Reasons I Am Sorry I Tried To Start My Own Waterpark

Bumi: Ulan

Word came through in a letter,
One of us changing our minds.
You won’t need to guess who
Since I usually do not send letters to me
That are mine

I told him I saw this coming,
That I’d practically packed up my things.
I was glad at the time that I said I was fine
But all honesty knows, I wasn’t ready, no

Lantunan Bluebird dari Sara Bareilles merenggut telingaku yang senyap, di hadapan malam. Malam ini, tubuhku terdampar di pesisir keresahaanku yang samudera, bersama dengan kepalaku yang gamang oleh khayalanku yang terlalu tinggi.

“Lan, besok pesawat jam berapa? Safe flight, ya” Gawaiku bergetar, ketika pesan dari laki-laki yang kukenal setahun ini, masuk.

“Jam 14.00, see you.” Aku pun membalasnya.

Sudah dua tahun aku meninggalkan Jakarta; 10 besar kota yang paling dibenci di dunia, menurut berita CNN. Namun di Jakarta lah, aku menemukan satu buah cerita dari 9,9 juta kesempatan yang mungkin bisa dari mana saja aku dapat.

Bumi, laki-laki yang tak berhenti membuatku kagum dengan sudut pandanganya. Dua tahun lalu, aku pergi dari kekaguman itu. Tapi tidak seluruhnya. Sebab sampai saat ini, aku masih melihat apa yang kami lihat dua tahun yang lalu.
Bumi pernah mengatakan bahwa, pertemuan Bumi dengan Bulan seperti sinetron, berawal dengan tabrakan. Aku tertawa saat itu. Tapi Bumi masih dengan wajah yang serius mengatakan, “sebuah kejadian yang mungkin jika dipikir dengan rasional adalah sebuah akhir, namun ternyata menjadi sebuah awal.” Aku tertegun menatap mata Bumi kala itu.

“Yang dipikir akhir, bisa jadi sebuah awal.” Kataku lirih. Malam ini, aku terseret dalam ingatan masalalu, di meja belajarku. Remang-remang bulan di balik awan, masih terlihat lebih terang, dari pikiranku yang masih menerawang. Dan setan di kepalaku berbisik, jika esok beranjangsana sesaat, mungkin tidaklah menjadi kesalahan yang harus diperdebatkan.

Namun menemui Bumi masih menjadi keputusan yang berat. Seberat debar yang mesti kutanggung untuk mempertahankan peran Bumi di cerita ini. Peran yang begitu berarti, dilihat dari sisi mana pun. Mungkin, Bulan memang hanya perlu sekali menabrakan dirinya ke Bumi, agar apa yang sudah tersusun dengan rapih, tak perlu dibuat berantakan. Aku yakin, jika Bumi mendengar ini, dia pun menyetujuinya.

#
Pagi, bersama dingin dan secangkir teh hangat bertemu dalam balutan degup jantung yang mengetuk dada kiri. Iramanya senada dengan degup jantungku, di malam ketika perpisahan itu dimeriahkan dengan secarik kertas yang dinodai sekelumit kata yang tak sempat terucap, di dua tahun kesempatan yang kupunya.

Dan pagi, menjadi lebih ramai dari suara-suara burung gereja di atap rumah, yang entah untuk sebuah pertemuan atau perpisahan. Tak ada beda. Sebab ditelingaku, keduanya tetap terdengar ramah.

Kurang dari tiga jam lagi, akan ada cerita baru, dan setelahnya, menjalani cerita seperti yang diinginkan, mungkin tak terdengar buruk. Memang sejak SMA, aku sudah mulai mencintai dunia photography. Aku mulai mencintai ketika Shutter Speed-ku tak terlambat menyelamatkan ingatan. Dan mendapat kesempatan untuk bekerja di Negara tetangga dan melanjutkan kuliah di sana, jauh membuatku menghargai masalalu. Sebab seperti kamera, Bumi butuh cahaya, dan aku, bukan lah sumbernya.

#
Bandara menjadi tempat yang kubenci dari cerita ini. Tempat yang menceritakan pertemuan sekaligus perpisahan dalam satu waktu, dan aku telah menjadi bagian dalam ceritanya. Aku sudah sering mendatangi bandara sejak usiaku menginjak lima tahun. Sejak itu juga, aku sudah menemukan banyak pertemuan dan perpisahaan.

Namun Bumi benar, “Yang dipikir akhir, bisa jadi awal.” Kataku lirih, sembari berjalan memasuki kabin pesawat.

Bumi, 2017
andhikahadip

Fran and Jock

by reddit user Pippinacious/ tumblr user muricanmagpie

I was the last in a long line of grandkids on both sides of the family. No one has ever said as much, but I’m pretty sure I was an “oops” baby; the result of one too many glasses of wine and a couple over forty who thought unplanned pregnancies were for teens.

Oops.

Keep reading

  • Jefferson: That coat looks terrible on you, Hamilton
  • Hamilton: I'm rereading the letters you wrote me
  • Jefferson: what
  • Hamilton: I'm searching and scanning for answers in every line
  • Jefferson: what are you doing
  • Hamilton: for some kind of sign
  • Hamilton: of when I asked for your fucking opinion
Twenty things I’ve learned in Twenty Years

1. Life will break you down until you’re crawling on your hands and knees, until you feel like you are Atlas holding the world upon your shoulders, until you feel like the raging inferno inside of your chest is going to combust. These are the moments that will forge you in a fire and make you more unbreakable than diamonds.

2. We are made of stardust, at least that’s what they say. I remember someone told me that every atom in my body once belonged to a star that exploded. At night I stare at my hands and wonder when I will erupt. I know now that I cannot trust anyone else to keep me whole in the darkest hours of the night but my own two star infused arms.

3. You will fall in love, and that is okay. Sometimes we need to fall in love to remember that there is good out there. Fall in love with the boy who opens the door for you, fall in love with your boss who works too hard, fall in love with the woman who hands out roses on that one street corner, fall in love with yourself.

4. They weren’t lying when they said we accept the love we think we deserve. I grew up being told I was a mistake and so I adopted the idea that no one could ever love a mistake. I was wrong (they were wrong) and now it’s up to me to prove them wrong. Don’t believe the things they said, you are so much more than the toxins they tried to poison you with.

5. Close your eyes, count to ten, and open them again. You are not alone. I know it may feel like you are the only one, but believe me when I say that you aren’t. I was where you are, and now I have talked to more people that have been through much worse than I than I would like to admit to. You are never alone, not really.

6. Music can save. Play it as loud as you can with the windows down as you drive (probably a little too fast). Play it while you are at work and while you are in the shower and play it when you want to give up in the middle of the day and when you want to give up in the middle of the night. Just play the music that tugs at your heartstrings, it may save you.

7. Nothing in life is easy, not really. You will catch a few breaks here and there, but the rest of the time you will find yourself fighting tooth and nail to make it back to the top. Don’t give up, I almost did this year and if I had I wouldn’t be able to witness what the sun looks like shining in her eyes.

8. You will have scars, and that’s fine. We all have them but it’s up to you if you want to hide them or show your battle wounds to the world so they know how strong of a warrior you are, so they know not to fuck with you.

9. Watch the sunrise, and watch the sunset. There is something about the sun that screams life; let the light bleed into you and consume you until you shine with it. Sometimes it’s the simple things we are missing in life that we need the most.

10. They will say they love you and then they will turn around and break your heart. You cannot compare your life’s worth to the empty spaces that were once filled around you. People will leave (willing or not) and life will go on. Let life go on.

11. If you are under the impression you are broken, then it is up to you to decide if you are or not. It took me years to admit that I was never quite whole, but when I did it was the most freeing feeling ever. Brokenness does not take away from perfection, and you are the very definition of perfect.

12. It’s okay to let people in, you don’t need to cage yourself away from the rest of the world, don’t forget to live your life while you pursue safeness.

13. Hobbies will save you when all else fails you, find a hobby and stick to it. When the world feels all too loud, a hobby can make you go deaf.

14. The moment you realize Wonder Woman or any other superhero you idolized as a child is not going to swoop down and save you is when your life changes. You have to be your own hero in this world. Stop waiting for someone to save you and go save yourself.

15. They are gone, she took her own life and he died in a car crash and she died from cancer and he left. You cannot live your life counting how many people that held a piece of your heart vanished, I’m not saying to forget about them I’m just saying that it’s okay to say goodbye.  

16. It’s okay to cry; cry in the shower and in bed and in your car, being sad is okay as long as you don’t let it consume you.

17. Smile as much as you can even on the bad days.

18. For God’s sake, don’t let them ruin you. You are so strong, you’ve made it this far and that means you can make it another day. If you can get through today you can get through tomorrow and every day that follows. If you feel like you can’t get through the day then sit down and don’t move until the light is peaking in through your window.

19. Never say never. If you think you can’t do something try anyway, this is your life, you are the main character of your own story, but you are also the author of your story. Write it however you want, but don’t give up halfway through.

20. Just don’t take your life. While this is something I learned this year I’m also writing this as a reminder to myself and to you. Don’t do it, please. There can be more to life than what you are feeling right now, don’t rob yourself of the beauty of this world. Don’t give up, no matter how much it hurts.
—  An open letter to myself, and to you. (Sometimes I write until I run out of words) ALightLitInTheDark
Literally just all the sexual things Alexander Hamilton sent to John Laurens


“I love you.”

This one is pretty self explanatory. Men were much more intimate back in the 1700′s, forming bonds that seem very ~gay~ in today’s light. Homosexuality wasn’t a very understood thing back then because rigid moral codes and censured education prevented people from learning more about sexuality.

 But Alexander Hamilton knew.

 He grew up on an island where ‘Sodomites’ (gay people) were dumped and  allowed to mingle with the island population. Alex knew that there was a certain zone of interactions between men that went from being merely friendly to sexual. He clearly steps into the bounds of sexual while fully realizing it.

“In drawing my picture, you will no doubt be civil to your friend; mind you do justice to the length of my nose and don’t forget, that I [- - - - - -].”

Ahhhhhhhhh my son Alex, could you be more explicit? Alex here is obviously referring to his something else (you know) with the knowledge that John Lauren’s knows the size. This sentence right here is basically just one long ;).

 “Your friend” seems to be written teasingly, as if they both know how far from friends they are.

And we can only guess how dirty Alex got in those last six  CUT OUT words.

“Dear Boy” [sent by John Laurens]

John laurens calls his wife his ‘dear girl’, and here he calls Alex his ‘dear boy’.  Moreover, Laurens did not call any other man he ever wrote to as his ‘dear boy’. Laurens seems to see Alex as on the same level, if not higher, as his own wife.

“Did I mean to show my wit? If I did, I am sure I have missed my aim. Did I only intend to [frisk]? In this I have succeeded, but I have done more. I have gratified my feelings, by lengthening out the only kind of intercourse now in my power with my friend.”

This phrase right here I unfortunately do not see a lot when people talk about Alex and John’s letters. This, to me, is one of the most explicit. “Wit” also mean one’s you know what (here I give a nod to the Ravenclaw moto), so Hamilton’s saying he was pretty much just messing around with John the last letter he sent. This is the only sort of “intercourse” he is able to have with John, as they are both so far apart. He is incapable of ‘sexual’ intercourse because of their distance, so he feels he must, in the 18th century way, sext.

“I would invite you after the fall to Albany to be witness to the final consummation.”

As you might have already guessed, Alex is inviting John to a threesome on his wedding night. The idea that Alex feels so at ease inviting John to a threesome with his wife suggests they have already had something going for a long time now. 

“But like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued. I had almost resolved to lavish no more of them upon you and to reject you as an inconstant and an ungrateful –”

Here Alex compares himself to John’s lover, and a jealous one at that. John seems to be shying away from Alex’s bawdiness, as if realizing how strange their relationships is in retrospect. Alex is scrambling to hang on to him, even though he knows well what are and what happens to Sodomites. He would do anything for John while knowing the consequences. And John is too afraid to join him. And who the hell knows what the last word was.

“And believe me, I am lover in earnest,”

*cough cough* looks like John knows exactly what happens when Alex’s feeling frisky.

“She [Eliza] loves you a l'americaine not a la francoise.”

The French were renowned for their relaxed stance on extramarital love affairs, while Americans were more Puritan-minding and thought love affairs only should happen in church-sanctioned marriages. Thus Eliza has an a l’americaine love of John Laurens, rather than an a la francoise.

“You will be pleased to recollect in your negotiations that I have no invincible antipathy to the maidenly beauties & that I am willing to take the trouble of them upon myself.”

*cough* this sentence is a bit confusing, and could be taken a few ways. What I infer from this is that Alexander Hamilton is willing, and John knows this, to assume an air of femininity because he finds no fault with it. It was commonly noted by people who wrote of Hamilton that he was very feminine in comparison with other men of his day. Alex’s femininity seems to please John, the topic even having been discussed between the two in ‘negotiations’.

“My ravings are for your own bosom” Alex desperately misses Laurens’ intimate contact in a way that, in my opinion, could never be mistaken as simply friendship. Alex literally wants to be held by John. How fucking heartbreaking is that.

“Yrs for ever”

Ok, this one isn’t sexual, but I had to add it because it is so heartbreaking. This was Alex’s last farewell note to John. That is, if he even received it. He died shortly after Alex sent the letter; whether he read the farewell or not is all lost to history. Alex loved John so much, despite the fact that both already had a wife. He would have always loved him, even if they had grown apart…

That’s it folks: time for me to cry.

Vampire Times
MBMBaM episode 348
Vampire Times

Transcript:

Griffin: I have a very related Yahoo that I'm— I would be delighted if you would all let me read.
Justin: Okay.
Griffin: It was sent in by Amelia Berger, thank you Amelia, it’s by Yahoo Answers user Dirk, and it’s a similar vein of like, “How did folks get in touch without phones,” right? But the wording of this question is… maybe the best.
Griffin: Dirk asks, “How did people know when to meet back in vampire times?”
[All three brothers laughing]
Griffin: “I know tha—”
[Brothers continue to laugh]
Griffin: “I know that they wrote more letters—”
[Laughter]
Griffin: You gotta let me get through it!
Griffin: "I know that they wrote more letters and stuff, but back in vampire times, how did you make plans with friends?”
[Brothers still laughing as he reads]
Griffin: “Did they just wait around all day and hope that they ran into each other?”
Travis: Oh god…
Justin: [Laughing]
Travis: Oh god, what is wrong with our schools?
Justin: You can make all the plans you want, the vampires are gonna ruin them. I mean you could write them a letter and it’s like “Meet me at Ye Olde Arby’s this afternoon” but a vampire is just gonna be waiting there to harangue you!

Don’t give me hope. Please. Be clear that it’s over. Break my heart. It’s ok. Just don’t give me hope. Don’t string me along, allowing me to develop this false pretense that we might get back together. You know that it’s over, but I don’t. I am an optimist. I am holding onto this thin thread of hope that we might miraculously work things out and end up together again. So, please. Break my heart into a million pieces and be clear that there is nothing left to salvage.
— 

-Hope isn’t always a good thing.

-m.t.t.

5

Malcolm X and Maya Angelou in Ghana, 1964.

Malcolm X on his last visit to Accra had announced a desire to create a foundation he called the Organization of Afro-American Unity. His proposal included taking the plight of the African-Americans to the United Nations and asking the world council to intercede on the part of beleaguered blacks. The idea was so stimulating to the community of African-American residents that I persuaded myself I should return to the States to help establish the organization. 

We all read Malcolm’s last letter to me.

Dear Maya,

I was shocked and surprised when your letter arrived but I was also pleased because I only had to wait two months for this one whereas previously I had to wait almost a year. You see I haven’t lost my wit. (smile)

Your analysis of our people’s tendency to talk over the head of the masses in a language that is too far above and beyond them is certainly true. You can communicate because you have plenty of (soul) and you always keep your feet firmly rooted on the ground.

I am enclosing some articles that will give you somewhat of an idea of my daily experiences here and you will then be better able to understand why it sometimes takes me a long time to write. I was most pleased to learn that you might be hitting in this direction this year. You are a beautiful writer and a beautiful woman. You know that I will always do my utmost to be helpful to you in any way possible so don’t hesitate.

Signed
Your brother Malcolm 

(Excerpt from Maya Angelou’s memoir A Song Flung Up To Heaven)

3

Interesting find at garage sale- Pat’s letter teddy bear

O.k so while i was at my part time, this church from across our apartment was having a yard sale, my sister tells me she found a cute teddy bear and has gotten it for me, she paid 50 cents for it. Little did we knew that this little teddy bear hold a incredible secrets.

The teddy bear, or as I call him, Pappi, had writing all over him. At first we thought it was some scribble made by little kids, but the more we examined it closely it was an old writing wishing someone well. One thing we noticed is that the teddy bear was presented at 4/15/1944. Guys this teddy is like 73 years old.

There is so much thing that is unusual about Pappi, and here are couple of things we figured out so far.

-It was gifted to a girl name Patula, but everyone calls her Pat. And according to the letters she was a sweet and swell gal.

-All the letters where indicating that she was going away somewhere, one writer stated that they will soon meet at Tulsa.

-Pappi was signed by 25 different people, who really treasured Pat.

- Black inks turn brown over long period of time, so this is as legit as it can get.

-Pappi’s design is highly unusual for a teddy who is from 40′s. He has no sign indicating that he was manufactured. (Such as logo print, or a button with company name engraved to it) Not only that he was made with a cloth instead of being covered with fur like the rest of the teddy from that time period.

Here is an example of type of teddy bear that was common in that time frame, a popular one from the 1940 was the Steiff teddy bears.)

-There is a high indication that Pappi has been hand made by someone from scratch, likely with a sewing machine. Whoever made him ran out of materials and left his arm in a simple floppy design, again i shall mention, is a unusual design choice compare to a popular designs.

-We know for the fact that, Pat adored this bear and treasured it, keeping it such incredible condition for past 70 years.

-It’s possible that Pat is no longer with us.

-And my sister and I know for a fact that Pat’s family saw no value in it and decided to simply toss it at a yard sale.

It’s sad to see such wonderful thing to be thrown out like this, honestly this teddy bear belongs in a museum, not because how old or unusual it is but because of the love put in by the 25 different people and the owner who took such good care of it for seven decades.

But for now, I think this teddy deserves some cuddling.

Whelp, where ever you are Ms.Pat, I adore this really strange, mysterious and sentimental teddy, Pappi gets to see sunshine and travels with me now.

2

Something Just Like This ~Jeff Atkins x Reader~

Requested: Can I request a Jeff Atkins imagine about morning after with him. And like Jeff would be so cute whispering sweet nothings in his gfs ear while also saying some dirty jokes lolol omg I CANT

The human body contains an innumerable amount of nerve cells. The best we can do is estimate that there are some billion. It is incredible how there are billions of nerve cells working in our bodies and something as simple as the touch of one person can send all of those imperceptible cells into a fervor.

It’s 9:05 on a Sunday morning. The window is slightly cracked, letting the fresh autumn air circulate in. Her chest rises and falls rhythmically with shallow breaths as she pretends to still be sleeping. Small circles are being drawn on her back, clockwise, then counter clockwise. Then it switches to a word, or rather, a name. Jeff.

His fingers drag across her skin gently. First he writes it how you would normally write your name. Then in cursive, in all caps, capitalizing every other letter, looping letters, block letters.

“Are you marking me?” she mumbles tiredly. She can feel him laughing as he wraps his arms around her midsection, pulling her flush against his chest. He kisses the top of her head, nuzzling his face into her hair where traces of his cologne are trapped within the tresses. He’s everywhere. In her hair, on her skin, and where he doesn’t leave a physical presence he takes up residence in the place where her mind wanders.

“In more ways than one,” a smug tone drips off his tongue as he brings his one hand up to grasp her throat loosely, his thumb rubbing one of many dark purple splotches.

“Jeffff,” she whines, scrunching her neck up. Those are gonna be a bitch to cover up, but he loves them. He loves the way they whisper I was here. I will be here for as long as you want me. I love you. I love you.

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night,” he whispers into her ear, letting his lips linger. A shiver works its way down her back involuntarily. It’s almost annoying- how easily he gets to her. Just the sound of his voice is enough to set her skin on fire.

“You’re awful,” she tries to sound stern, but there’s a teasing tone in her voice that gives her away. It’s hard to be annoyed when images of the previous night and all the nights before that flood her mind.

“Yeah?” he questions, an impish inflection shaping his voice, “tell me, which part was less than satisfactory?”

He cups the bottom of her jaw with his palm and pushes upward gently, stretching her neck without causing pain. The bed jostles as his weight shifts to lean over her, his lips ghosting over the thin skin of her neck. It starts with soft pecks that progress to biting and sucking until the unblemished skin becomes a dark shade of red and purple. “Was it this?” he asks against her skin.

His hands grip her bare thighs, wrapping them around his waist. His fingers drag down from the top of her thighs down to the bend of her knees and then back up. Instinctively, her arms lock around his neck, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. “Was it this?” he asks against her lips.

“Oh hush. You’re perfect and you know it,” her voice is breathy as she tries to swallow her own desire. He is perfect, in every sense of the word. He has the kindest heart she has ever known.

“Perfect enough to make you happy?” he says earnestly. He lifts his head to be able to see her face clearly and wholly. Her cheeks have developed a pink tint and her eyes are soft and dreamlike, like she’s looking at the gates of heaven.

“Perfect or imperfect, I am happy,” she grabs his face between her hands delicately, “I’m happy and I love you.”

“Say it again,” he begs as his eyes flutter shut.

“I love you, Jeff Atkins.”

And then he’s kissing her. His lips are familiar but the feeling of them on hers makes her heart race like it’s the first time all over again. His body presses down against hers and she can feel every bump of hard muscle under soft skin. The distance between them is virtually nonexistent. Her heart hangs suspended in the space where she ends and he begins.

“You know,” she says in-between kisses, “this is why the morning after always turns into round two.”

“Sorry babe, I’ll work on keeping my hands to myself,” he laughs, burying his face into her neck.

“That was not a complaint, you keep your hands right where they are,” she returns his laugh whilst running her fingers through his hair.

“Yes ma’am,” he kisses her jaw, “I love you. I adore you with all my heart.”

“That makes me pretty lucky.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” he assures, “but speaking of being ‘lucky’, how ‘bout that round two?”

“You’re relentless,” she giggles pleasantly, pulling him closer.

“Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll stop.”

“Well that would make me a liar,” this time she kisses him, initiating an evocative situation. He responds immediately, his hands tangling in the thin lacy fabric covering her bottom half.

To be adored by a person with such a pure heart is to be loved absolutely. Few ever meet a person like that, but when they do it is significant. It marks a before and after in their life, and how lucky they are to have been loved by a person who knows what it means to love without limit. How lucky they are to have something just like this.


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