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We Who Survived The Sky

Amesaya
They say, although you never really know how reliable 'they' are, that over five million people go missing every year and are never heard from again. Is that worldwide? America only? I never cared enough to pay attention, because as far as I was concerned, it had nothing to do with me. No one I know has ever disappeared, and the odds say that no one I ever know ever will. There's more people who live in New York City than that, and I've never even been to New York City, much less lived there. I don't know anyone who has. Besides. There's so many more pressing matters to think about. I never have the sort of free time I need to think that, really, I'm playing a lottery with crappy odds I didn't ask to play in. Every single person I know is another entry every year, and first prize is ending up among those people that lose someone who never reappears. Sooner or later, there's a lot of people who win the grand prize jackpot they didn't know they were competing for. At seventeen the state of Oregon doesn't think I'm ready for the cut-throat world of scratch tickets and guessing lottery numbers. Turns out there's some lotteries out there that you don't need to play to win. Some people see their numbers on the television, some people have to wrestle them back from enthusiastic shop owners, and then some people take the scenic route from the bus stop and run into a wall of light and weightlessness halfway home. I grew up in a little town in the Pacific Northwest that's never been in any movies, and I hit the jackpot at seventeen years old.
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Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL]

[Updates resume March. Due to exams] [This book contains, explicit and mature scenes—no r*pe. Not advised for viewers under 18, protect thy purity] Lance Dixon is drowning in a debt that isn’t his. His parents’ financial mistakes have fallen entirely onto him, and his life has collapsed into a constant struggle to stay afloat. He has never denied what he is. Lance is a masochist, and most people he’s dated couldn’t handle that truth. Every relationship ended the same way, leaving him with needs no one was willing to meet. Everything shifts on a night he drinks too much and ends up venting to a stranger. In a mix of frustration and alcohol, Lance jokes that he’d sell himself to anyone willing to pay off his debt. The stranger, Ansel Lowell, doesn’t brush it off. He asks how much. And when Lance tells him, Ansel offers a deal: three months living under his terms, in exchange for clearing the debt completely. The deal is straightforward and seems almost like relief. But as the days pass, the dynamic between them deepens in ways neither expected. What began as a simple exchange grows into a connection that is far more consuming, and far more dangerous, than either of them intended. [Excerpt] Lance meant to pull away when Ansel stepped closer, but his body didn’t move. Ansel’s hand hovered near his jaw, just close enough to make Lance’s breath catch. “Do you understand what you agreed to?” Ansel asked quietly. Lance swallowed. “You’re paying off my debt. I stay with you for three months. That’s it.” A hint of a smile tugged at Ansel’s mouth, which made him more dangerous because of it. “No, Lance. That’s the surface of it. I want you to hear the truth.” Lance’s pulse stumbled. Ansel leaned in just enough that Lance could feel the warmth of his breath. “I’m going to take up space in your life. I’m going to have you when I want you. I’m going to learn every weakness you try to hide, and I will use them. I will claim you, piece by piece, until you can’t tell where your choices end and mine begin.” Lance exhaled shakily. “Do you worst Mr. Lowell, I can handle it.”
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