Aka my Masterlist. Which will be updated/organized along the way. Some small ideas, who are too small will be connected from here. (but not linked here) as well as the longer stories.
By the way, you can find my stuff with the tag: juullllssss
Should you love art, then you can visit me on my art blog -> @noartleft
Get Comfy, have a drink some snacks and come on the journey that is my stupid ideas and drabbles. ❤ Stay hydrated kids.
I will say it again but it is important to me, Never put any of this into AI, i will despise you with the passion of a scorned Widow!!!
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just a little scenario that i had, and needed to write down. Mind you i give the cards my own meaning, for others it might mean something else.
Can be a follow up of the other Tarot reading chapters. See here: with König with Nikto
The next time the tent opens is at sunset, the warm, dwindling sunrays steam into the dark space around you. Giving the soldier with the mohawk a temporally halo, shining around him.
"Hi bonnie, heard ya doing some reading stuff for a buddy, mind giving me one, too?"
With a wink and a boyish grin he was already sitting down, sloughing a little on the stool, as far as it was possible.
Lying your deck down, the picking of the cards was over. It was time for the reveal. Three choices, and three possible fates.
The Fool, Death and Knight of Swords
With a raise of his eyebrow the soldier studies the cards for a second. "Well, that ain't good 's it bonnie?"
You lean back a bit, taking a deep breath, thinking, searching for the right words, to explain the meaning in a way that won't lead him to act rashly.
"Not necessarily, the meaning is not always literally."
One look up to him, the Energie he gives of is indicator enough for you.
"The Fool, acting impulsively and taking your path how you see fit, even if it doesn't match with the expectations around you, not necessary something bad." His shifting feet don't escape your attention.
"Now Death, despite what some might say, is a neutral fate, it can stand for a new chapter in ones life or a life changing event that is about to occur. But it is also a warning, to change means that we have to make a sacrifice, one we might not be ready to make."
He stopped fidgeting a while ago, now only looking at the cards, following the art lines with his baby blue eyes.
"And lastly, Knight of Swords, we always have to remember that a sword has to sides, two sides that are just a fine line away from each other. in your case i think this card stands for a decision, if nothing changes you might follow this fate. The Knight is bold, with good intentions but impetuous. Dashing forward towards something he might not be able to change."
-----
With one last look back the Soldier opens the tent again, now serious stopping for a moment, like he wants to remember this moment. A second later his face is beaming again, with the boyish grin he seems to wear like armor.
"Nice meetin' ya bonnie, maybe we'll see each other again."
And then the opening is closing again, leaving you behind in the dark again.
hyperfixation please stay with me long enough to complete the project. hyperfixation do not fade. hyperfixation finish what you started for the love of god
COD posting on my main again because if you want me gone that badly, you're gonna have to see more of me 😘 Also I literally wrote this in an hour so it's probably very rushed
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, this is petty AS FUCK
The clock reads 1:53am when Kyle blinks awake.
At first, he’s not sure what woke him. It’s his first night in his own bed since returning from a black site in Urzikstan, he should be exhausted – he is exhausted. But there’s a nagging feeling keeping him from returning to the blissful embrace of sleep, and it’s not until he blearily reaches out to your side of the bed that he realises why – you’re not in bed with him. He has a sixth sense for these things, always seeming to know where you are at any moment, or when you’ve wriggled out of his grasp in the night. But somehow you’ve not only managed to slip from his arms, but from the room entirely, without him even noticing.
When he finds you hunched over your laptop screen in the living room, the only light being the blue glow of the screen illuminating your concentrating face. It’d be cute if it wasn’t 2am.
“What are you doing up, love?” he grumbles, padding over to your side and perching on the arm of the couch.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You beam up at him, but there’s a hint of guilt in your eyes, like you know you were caught doing something you shouldn’t. He wants to believe it’s just from being caught on that hellsite again when you should be sleeping (it’s an addiction, he swears, but at least it’s a harmless one?) but something at the back of his mind tells him it’s not. You’re up to something.
“What’re you up to?” he traces his hand up and down your arm, a soothing motion and one he’s done a million times before, an absentminded gesture that he hopes will let your guard down. “What’s so important that it took you away from me, hmm?” He leans in to drop a kiss to your head, his eyes on the laptop screen the entire time. It’s tumblr, certainly, but he’s seen you use it enough times to know it isn’t a post. There’s a little blue button at that says “ask”, leaving him even more confused.
“It’s nothing, really. Just a thought I had to get out. I’m done now, I’ll be back in shortly.”
You move to close the laptop, but Kyle is quicker, snatching the device out of your hands and moving it out of your reach.
Now that he’s finally able to see the screen clearly, his stomach drops. Inside the little ask box is what is clearly someone’s personal social media profile, full name, picture and all, followed by three simple words: this you lol.
He almost drops the computer, but whilst he’s frozen in shock you manage to grab the device from his hands and slam the screen shut.
“What the hell is that?” he says, his demeanor eerily calm. You've never seen him at work, so you're not aware of how easily he can bottle his own emotions up and feign indifference. He's tried so hard to keep that side of himself away from you, and it's coming in handy now.
"It's nothing, promise, I was just..." You have the good sense to look guilty - though guilty's not quite the right word. Sheepish is more like it, like you've been caught sneaking an extra cookie and not bullying a stranger on the internet.
"Looks like you were trying to dox someone." He says, keeping his voice even. He doesn't want to assume the worst just yet, lord knows he's done some terrible things for the right reasons, and he should be the last to judge.
"I know it looks bad, but I promise,
“Why?” Is all he asks,
You're silent for a few moments, gaping at him like a dead fish. Each passing second fills him with the dreadful thought - there is no good reason.
“I don’t like her.” When he doesn't reply, you continue. "I don't like seeing her posts, ok! I don't want her in my community."
“Has she...done something? Said something? If she’s said something racist or something you know how easy it’d be to send those posts to her employer- her family- "
“Yes – well, no, nothing like that. It’s not any one thing in particular, it’s just...she’s weird.”
“She’s weird?” He deadpans. Of all the explanations, that was not what he was expecting.
“Yeah. Emotional and intense and...odd.” You wrinkle your face, as if just saying the word causes you pain. Like somehow the peculiarities of a stranger online is a personal affront to you.
"That's it? She hasn't done anything?" He probes, looking for something, anything that this stranger might have done to justify your behaviour, still not quite readily to believe that this is you, his partner, someone he thought he'd spend the rest of his life with.
"No, it's just...she's not a good fit, you know? Ruins the vibe." And any hopes he had are gone in an instant, along with any feelings he had for you. Because you, this person in front of him, are not the same person he pictured a future with.
“So you’re...doxxing her?”
“I’m not going to do anything bad! Just scare her a little. Make her stop posting. That’s all, I promise!”
There are a million words on the tip of his tongue. Most of them swears, the rest questions. It feels like everything he thought he knew about you has just gone out the window. You're clearly aware you're in the wrong, else you wouldn't be trying so hard to defend yourself, but the way you try to justify it makes his blood run cold. You seem totally oblivious to how insane you sound.
"I'm going bed." Without letting you reply, he turns and heads back to the bedroom. He hears you packing everything up before following him, and ignores your whispers of his name as you slide into bed and try to cuddle him, feigning sleep instead. He can't face you right now. He's not sure he wants to face you ever again.
Kyle pretends to still be asleep when you leave for work the next day. He’s clearly played his part well, as you don’t seem to suspect he's anything more than a little bit upset, leaving a little note on the fridge telling him we’ll talk late, love you! with a little heart, sending him the occasional picture or meme throughout the day. If you’re concerned by his lack of a response, you don’t say anything. Which is a relief, because he has work to do.
It only takes a single phone call to Laswell to have all your incriminatory social media posts about your workplace and colleagues sent straight to your boss’s boss. (It doesn’t matter that you’ve never posted a single word, let alone a bad one, about them anywhere. Your bosses don’t have to know that). He even gets a front row seat via the security cameras to the moment you’re whisked out of the office by security, clearly confused and distraught but trying to hold it together.
He should feel bad for ignoring your frantic calls and texts about some bloke you swear is following you, but he knows Simon won’t hurt you, just scare you a bit (a lot). He does feel bad for the neighbours when you finally arrive home to find a bag of your things on the doorstep and the locks changed, and proceed to start banging and wailing for him to please, please let you in so you can talk. But he’s already warned them (and your friends) about how heartbroken he was to find you in bed with his cousin (on the day he was planning to propose, no less) so they were ready for your theatrics. Still, he thinks he should probably buy them a bottle of wine or something for putting up with the racket. It’s a relief to his eardrums when a car finally pulls up outside and your friend Jen finally whisks you away (he never did like her, she always seemed to encourage your worst impulses, so it’s no surprise she’s the only one who answered your pleas). He chuckles when your pleading and confused texts turn into an angry you told my MOTHER?? He figures if you’re going to act like a highschooler, then maybe you need some parental discipline. He wishes he was able to see the look on your face when you realised why he broke up with you, but the lack of remorse in your texts and voice messages (you can’t be serious! It’s just some stupid internet thing! I did nothing wrong! She deserves it!) just makes him glad he’ll never have to see your face again.
He should feel bad at how quickly and completely he’s ruined your life, but he doesn’t feel a single speck of pity for you. Any emotion towards you disappear the second he discovered you were a pathetic, insecure bully.
I had a great deal of respect for you until you did that.
Not even an attempt to talk to me first, just straight to publicly accusing me of stealing your work.
I wrote this in like the span of an hour last night after someone doxxed me. When I wrote it, I was actually thinking of a friend's work, and I'm sure you noticed i looked at your Kyle piece to MAKE SURE IT WASN'T TOO SIMILAR (I was just about to post it at that stage, so no I wasn't 'inspired'). The only similarities are: Kyle finds you doing something bad, and breaks up with you whilst you're out. There's no dialogue in yours, no confrontation, no ruining readers life. Please tell me exactly how this was "lifted" from you?? I could even show you the document where it's half finished and the bits I cut out.
But I'm sure you'll accuse me of faking that, because apparently that's a pattern in this fandom. How dare my work be similar to yours! How dare two people have similar ideas!
Like I said, all respect gone. Any good will, gone. If you had genuine concerns you would've tried to talk to me like an adult. Instead you went straight for the public callout to try and paint yourself as a wronged martyr or something.
I wrote this after being DOXXED. It was a purely self indulgent fuck you, and barely has any hits. I'm not a "threat" to you or whatever. I've already started getting hate anons, but you knew that when you posted this. You knew exactly what you were doing. it's quite telling that this is almost the exact same MO as a friend of yours pulled 🤔
Mission fucking accomplished, early. You're just as bad as I was warned you are.
I just had to back up @thevoiceinyourheadx fully on this. And i don't think i have to say anything else to show that the two fics are really different. (Just read them for yourself) what i do want to point out is first, the irony of being a bully (@553580) about a beautiful work about a immature bully reader. And second that something like this is despicable in a community full of writers. Btw there was a mention that a friend of them pulled something like this, too? Is there more Information?
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based on a tik tok where the man's divorce lawyer married the (ex) wife XD
that is just so price coded, btw i imagine a chubby/fat reader in this (but it is up to you)
You are still numb afterwards. Watching as your husband (now ex husband) walks in front of you, a spring in his step and you could swear he would whistle if you both were not in a court house.
The sight bruises your soul even further. You know people mostly men always say the divorce came out of nowhere, but for you it really did. You were so sure that you did everything right. Even signing up to the gym when he started criticizing your appearance.
A deep sigh escapes your lungs, now what? you don't even realize the first tears that escape.
Suddenly there is a handkerchief being slide into your view. Looking up you recognize your ex-husbands lawyer, Mr. Price. You both didn't really talk, but with a shudder you remember how he had reasoned with the judge to finalize the progress. He could have told the judge the sky was red and you would have doubt your own reality. With an air of authority and confidence his baritone voice had everyone listening.
Gritting your teeth you thought about snatching this stupid piece of fabric and just stomping on it, but you held yourself back because of the look in his eyes. For now you couldn't make out what it was, no one had ever looked at you like that. With a shaking hand you reach for the handkerchief. You don't know if the rubbing of his finger across your knuckles could be accidental.
"Don't cry love, he doesn't know what a good woman he had."
Now this got your attention. You straighten up a little, searching for some words, who don't want to come.
"I know it's hard for a loyal thing like you, i will be in contact." with this he steps cautiously back, like he doesn't want to startled you away.
You can only stare wide eyed at his retreating back, what did he mean "in contact"?
there was silence all around, with difficulty you were able to hold on to the fork, half lifted towards your face. Turning towards your husband felt like a eternity. His eyes were wide, under his blouse you could see his racing heart. But he didn't say anything, why was he not saying anything? Defending himself, saying it was not true. Something.
You do not know what kind of face you must have shown him, in the next moment his head slammed against the oak table top. "My Queen, my love, i am at fault, it was in a moment of weakness-"
Already standing your feet move on themselves. Your knees feel so incredible weak. Your handmaid is rushing to your side, a strong arm already around your arm, shouldering most of the weight. Without her you would already be laying on the floor, with how dizzying your head is spinning.
-----
The office is quit, disturbed by the small sniffles and whimpers of the kitchen servant, who is pregnant, and kneeling in front of you right now.
A dear friend, and your handmaid is standing to the side, in front of one of the bookshelves who spann across the whole side of the room. Her hard gaze is not leaving the shivering girl.
It is already late, the shine of the incomplete moon is falling onto your back, keeping your mimic in the shadow for now.
Your head is still pounding, while the ground feels like it could swallow you at any moment. Sinking down onto the chair at your office desk, letting your heavy head sink onto probed up hands. Your voice sounds quitter than usually, "how long?"
Like a scared little mouse her head springs up, "your' majesty, no' that long, just some times, please forgive me..."
With heavy hands you rub over your face, a deep sigh escaping. The urge to just scratch at skin until it bleeds or beating this child in front of you is becoming nearly to much. Swaying back and forth, you gather yourself and stand up. The grinding of the chair seems to terrify the girl even more. A short, cut of cry breaking loose.
Leaning down towards her, you take her jaw into your hands. Feeling the soft skin you look into her eyes. She freezes in the hold. Short, forced breath being the only sound for a moment. Tears catching in the corners of her eyes.
Gulping once you try to keep your voice steady, gather the voice deserving of a queen. "This, is not your fault, my husband made his choice." Slowly letting go of her face, you stand straight, grasping both hands in front of yourself. "What do you wish to do now?"
The Confusion in her wide eyes is clear as day, she sinks down further onto the ground. "I..I wish t' go back to my hometown, raise the babe t'ere."
Another deep breath. "To my knowledge, this would mean a five day journey, would it not?"
"Yes.. m' Queen."
Closing your eyes you turn around, summoning every advice your mother or tutor ever gave you. "You are allowed to stay here, when the baby is born, and you still want to leave for your hometown then you will be free to do so. For now you will be reassigned, the work will begin tomorrow. Dala, bring her out."
Behind your back you could hear shuffling, seems like Dala was moving her towards the door. Before the massiv door could close again, a slightly shrill voice was calling out once again. "M' Queen i'm so sorry, i'm sor-!!!"
The moon was still there, letting her light fall into the high window. Squeezing your eyes shut, starting to rock back and forth again, there is nothing that can keep your own tears back. A wailing cry escaping with them.
Listen, how about a Queen reader, but her husband is clearly uninterested in her or even cheating on her. Ignoring her even in the presence of others. Maybe you are not up to the ridiculous beauty standard of your time. Not having clear and fair skin. Your hair not smooth enough for the snoopy elite eyes.
Cue the 141 come to your kingdom. And they see you, see how much work you put in for your people, or see how gracefully you maneuver between the nobles and others. Not only are you beautiful in their eyes, despite what the others say, you are also educated and open to new ideas and reforms. Maybe that is something Price values in you, clearly wanting to negotiate with you and not your incompetent husband.
But they also realize that the elite of this kingdom does not apricate you.
Mocking you for being a women from another country, or because you don't act on your husbands cheating. Not giving him an heir yet.
So now they are thinking about what to do, a treasure like you can not be ignored, all while they know that you won't just leave your position behind, wanting to help your people. You are fiercely loyal to your responsibilities. Maybe they can get rid of your husband? The Kingdom could certainly use new rulers. And you could need someone who fully loves you.
would you like a little more angst?
w: unreliable narrator, misunderstandings everywhere, self-hate
You don't know how long it has been. You had blocked Johnny the moment you got home. Now you were just laying in your bed, wanting nothing but to melt into the mattress. Your thoughts swirling in your mind. Bashing you for your naivety and false hope.
How had you deluded yourself into thinking a man like Johnny would really like someone like you? But like always the hopeless romantic in you had hoped for a chance.
You had been the replacement before. Your stomach throbbing every time Johnny had to suddenly leave, after looking at his phone. Leaving you in a hurry, like a discarded toy. Ignoring all the supple signs because you wanted to believe, oh how you had wanted to believe in him.
Holding on to the feelings he invoked in you. Since he came to the first date with flowers, being the Colour of the sweater you had worn on the night in the pub.
How he had made you laugh, grinning even more when you could barely stop. How he had made you feel attractive, when he put your hair behind your ear, taking the opportunity to steal a touch. Or how his gaze had sometimes stayed to long becoming burning, with a hunger that had startled you, but still had made you excited, had made you feel wanted.
Bringing you towards the point you had laid in bed, imagine him with his arms around you, sharing his warm with you.
Tears were clinging to your lashed, flowing down again, your pillow soaked thru. The wetness irritating your skin but you still rubbed your face deeper in, frustrated with your own sensitivity.
With a groan you berated yourself, how pathetic of you, to get attached that quickly. Already hating yourself for your self wallowing.
After some more time your Bodys needs could no longer be ignored. You felt like crawling out of a rat's nest as you entered the streets. The cold wind at least giving your cheeks some rosy Colour. Lucky for you, your favorite backery was not far. Trotting along the wet sidewalk you try to fight the heaviness of your eyelids. A treat would be good right now.
What you had not anticipated was the broad back you were confronted with. They were sitting in the far corner, Johnny's back facing you while he seemed to be in deep conversation with the Shadow from last time.
You must look like a idiot right now, standing there like you had taken root in the ground. Threat is turning your stomach into knots. Your mind was completely blank. They looked good together, like a force that could take the world down, right now being in complete harmony. Was this finally their first date?
Before you can spiral any further, the shadow is lifting his gaze from Johnnys face. When you both make eye contact his brooding eyes widen behind his balaclava. The next moment Johnny is already spinning around, eyes big when they find you as well. He looking like a kid being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
You really can't do this, not now. Bolting out of the backery you fall into a full sprint. Not long after there are wet, heavy footsteps behind you.
Apparently you are still not fast enough, even if your lungs are already burning from the strain. A big, engulfing hand falling hard on your shoulder. Spinning you around and grabbing around your arms. The grip nearly bruising. Seems like the Shadow caught up to you.
"Stop, don' run away again." a little shake accentuating his words.
You could just shake your head, overwhelmed and tired. Rough fingers are engulfing your jar, lifting your head, letting you meet his eyes. They were borrowing into you, just like last time, making you shiver with the memory.
"Ya didn' answer." he stated next, bringing your mind to focus on him. You furrowed your brows, blinking once, wanting to ask what that even meant. But he beats you to it.
"Johnny, 'e tried to contact ya. Why didn' ya answer? Made 'im really sad." with this his eyes are narrowing, angry slits looking down at you. Your lips pulled down into frown at his words. It seems today you would not get to answer anything. As another hurried pair of footsteps made the Shadows head tilt to the side. Then a too familiar voice is heard.
"Simon, no' now, it's no' th'time." he sounded unfamiliarly restricted. Slowly the Shadow, "Simon" lifted his hold on you. Coming to stand next to Johnny again, leaning slightly down. Giving you a view of his tense jaw.
Johnny shuffled where he was standing, seeking fingers clutching Simons side. It seemed he had to force himself to even make eye contact. You were not ready to wait for whatever would come next. Moving like in a daze, you had just one goal, getting back into your own hole.
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Why i think we need more historians who become journalists.
I was listening to an interview from Rachel Maddow, where she talked about her podcast "Ultra" and how it was important, especially now with the political radicalization in the USA. I am not from the USA, but like everyone who is interested in Politics i can not stop but look at America. Where, from my point of view, with incredible speed the far right are gaining ground.
As someone who is studying history i am shocked, knowing how it endet the times before. (i mean WW2 etc.)
So how come there are still people who fall for this typ of propaganda? Carelessness, Stupidity? Maybe... even people being not educated on history of the world. It is not a secret that we can learn from history, can understand human actions in the context of historical events. Because history does repeat itself, humans will always be humans.
My point know is, we need historians who can translate the historical discoveries and theories to the public. Because these discoveries are published in Articles and Magazines, but only for a scientific audience. The texts are complicated and slow to read. It keeps people from education and Knowledge.
Let's not gatekeep knowledge through complicated writing.
And that is why we need more journalists, who specify in bringing world knowledge to everyone. Just like Rachel Maddow is doing now.
Alright rant is over, if you want let me know what you think.
This is the first version of this part, i am not really happy with it. And i apologize that it is so short, but better then nothing right? Haven't been felling like writing much but wanted to at least get a little bit out.
You shouldn't have given this man your number. Like seriously, he had annoyed you all evening, getting into stupid debates you could swear he simply started to piss you of.
He got introduced as one of the many friends from your brother. Someone who had joined the Bundeswehr, too. That should have been your first sign that he would be annoying. Most of your brothers friends were pretentious pricks. And this guy, Krüger, was no different.
Every time you and some women had started talking about women topics he was somehow there, giving his own opinion, smirking when he caught you fuming. The only reason why you had not smacked him in his stupid face was that he always came with a full wine glass for you. It had made his company a tad more bearable. A simple gesture like a peace offering every time he came back around. You had learnt a little about him, how he came to be in the military and that he originally came from Austria. Even if you tried you could not get any more information from him, and boy did you try.
His traditional views on women and men was the spark that got you both in a heated discussion. With your tongue looser from the alcohol you were not shy to challenge him, not even realizing that at some point it were only him and you.
And still you gave him your number, maybe your competitive streak was challenged by him, nothing else! (at least that is what you told yourself)
There was hope that he would just forget you and never contact you, but that was proven wrong the next day. Just after you had woken up you were greeted by a message from him.
from dieser Idiot: Na?? You want to continue our discussion from yesterday, miss feminist?
Letting out a really un-ladylike huff you thought about just outright blocking this man. Not even ten a.m. and he was already getting on your nerves. But your answer was already send out before you could do it.
from You: There is nothing to talk about with such an ignorant person.
from dieser Idiot: A shame it seemed like you were enjoying our conversation, little miss.
Another huff from your nose. Oh how you hated him, how dare he call you like that. Only one more message you told yourself and then you would just forget about your encounter with this Neandertaler.
from You: Don't call me that, and this conversation is over. You better lose my number.
----
He didn't lose your number and even if you were dismissive in your answers....you still answered him. It became something of a ritual to check for one of his messages in the morning. With time Krüger became more blunt, making suggestiv comments and even asking when you could meet again. Deep inside you knew you wanted to see him again, too. A deep itching which crawled from your heart down towards your stomach making that clear. Maybe it was your swelling pride or your deep rooted distrust which kept you stubborn in your refusal. Not that it deterred him.
from dieser Idiot: You know i quit like your stubbornness but it would be so much sweeter if you would come to me, püppchen. I would make sure you don´t regret it.
from You: Tempting but i think i am good for now.
Even with your dismissive answers he wasn´t getting angry like the many men before him who would lose their shit if they as much smelled a rejection from you. It should be a red flag for you but to be honest to kind of enjoyed this back and forth, knowing damn well how guarded you were.
Even at work you were still thinking about him. Your work in a traveling agency and his military deployment's made for surprisingly much conversation.
from dieser Idiot: Believe me you don't want to visit Egypt. I can tell you what you will see: Sand, sand and even more sand.
from You: Excuse me? There are also the pyramids and the Nil? Besides i want to see these countries with my own eyes.
from dieser Idiot: You know what else is there? Guarantied heat stroke and a lot of scammers, they would eat you alive Püppchen. Unless of course you had me on your side, i am quit good at security.
from You: You would be the only reason i need security.
from dieser Idiot: Touché
His easy and sometimes flirtatious texts became a constant in your life. That was probably the reason why the sudden silence hurts so much now. He had warned you that he would be going on deployment soon. Had teased you about how you would miss him and regret not meeting up with him sooner.
Well damn, maybe you did miss him a little bit.
-----
A couple weeks later and you still check your phone every time you can, it had become a habit. Even now sitting in the small Café you loved so much, with your latte and work laptop in front of you, you could not bring yourself to care much for the assignment in front of you.
How was this possible? Every men before Krüger was not more than a footnote in the current chapter of your life, and now here you were longing after his conversation and company. Even your coworkers had mentioned how you looked pale, tired sometimes spacing out during meetings. You had assured them that everything was fine. But how long could you convince yourself of the same?
Even your favorite wine could not lift your spirits, it was time to do something. Even if it was just to get his attention.
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