#but i guess it wasn't until i was reflecting on this party that i realized it could be used to create a safe space

[aluminumneedles]

I'm knitting in the corner at a party

and guys my age stop by to tell me I remind them of their aunt, of their grandmother. This is a compliment and I take it as such. They confess to having tried crochet once, and I smile. They get back in line for the bathroom.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and a queer woman sits on the floor next to me, arranges her skirt, and smiles up at me. (I try not to blush.) She asks me all the questions on her mind about my craft and I answer them, hands still moving. We swap yarn sources. She doesn't stay, but she knows where to find me.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and everyone knows where to find me when they need a minute, when socializing is too much and the music is too loud and they need to catch their breath. They pretend to be checking in on me, which is sweet, but I can see the relief in their eyes the moment they stop performing for a house full of people. They sit down and tell me things and all the while they never take their eyes off my hands.

The party has wound down and I'm still knitting and the hosts, two guys in their twenties, thank me for "helping to curate the vibe." I had no idea that's what I was doing. I leave the party having forgotten to drink anything and without that woman's number but with many rows added to my top-down raglan sweater. I call it a night, and a good one.

[szariahwroteit]

Doll House: A Jude Bellingham + Original Character Erotic Series

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 5

Tori allowed a day to slip by following the night of the party. Although her mind was tethered to Jude, the reason for her journey to Dubai, she needed a moment to gather her thoughts and find some clarity amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. The vibrant city stretched out around her, but she felt the need to pause, breathe, and reflect.

However, the next morning, Jude woke up with a newfound determination. There was only one day left of the year, and while he didn’t care for resolutions or using the start of the calendar year to try and implement change, he refused to go into the new year existing in such an awkward space with Tori. They were so new that Jude wouldn’t call what they were amid growing pains, but he knew it was a hurdle they had to get over together if they wanted to be in each other’s lives.

He understood how daunting his life may have seemed and how sought after he was by women, but he also needed Tori to understand that it was her he wanted.

As one of the most heavily documented footballers of the current generation with a star power that only seemed to be going from strength 

to strength, women came in droves, but having options didn't mean much when there was already someone in his line of sight. 

Slipping on his sneakers, Jude stood from his seat on the edge of his plush hotel bed, grabbing his phone and wallet before stepping out of his suite. 

Letting out a breath he'd been holding, Jude made his way towards Tori’s room, his palms clammy despite the coolness of the hotel corridor. 

She'd texted him around an hour prior letting Jude know she was awake, but that had been their first interaction since the night of the party in his teammate's hotel suite. 

She’d spent the day before ignoring every call and message he sent her, only reading them before closing out of the chat. 

Although it wasn't in Jude’s intentions to hurt her, he was man enough to acknowledge how careless he'd been and as possessive and ego-driven as it may have sounded, it wasn't until he saw Tpri with Alex that he fully realized the error of his actions. 

To even see her standing beside another man made Jude’s skin crawl and adding insult to injury Alex had an arrogance about him that Jude didn't care for at all. 

With each step towards Tori's room, Jude's heart raced. The sound of his footsteps echoed softly in the quiet corridor, mirroring the internal chaos brewing within him. He thought back to the moment he recognized his feelings for her—how genuine her laughter was, how her eyes sparkled with excitement, and how she brought a sense of warmth into his otherwise chaotic life.

Reaching her door, he paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. He wanted to be honest, to lay everything out on the table, but he also didn't want to come off as desperate or overbearing. He had to strike a balance between vulnerability and strength. 

Before he could second-guess himself, he knocked gently. A few moments passed, and just as he was about to knock again, the door swung open, revealing Tori. She looked beautiful, her hair tousled messy bun and her eyes slightly puffy from sleep. There was a hint of surprise etched on her face, but it quickly faded into an unreadable expression.

“Hey,” Jude said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Can we talk?”

Tori hesitated but then stepped aside to let him in. The air was thick with unspoken words as he entered the room. She stood a few feet away, her arms crossed defensively over her chest as if shielding herself from whatever was about to transpire.

“I should have been more considerate of your feelings, I should have been more attentive and the last thing I want is for you to feel as if I’m just dragging you along for the ride.” Jude took a deep breath, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his emotions. 

“I know I messed up. But I also can't ignore the fact that I feel like you're holding back or anticipating me fucking up,” he continued. 

“I’m not waiting for you to fuck up, Jude I have no idea what I’m doing,” Tori attempted to explain. 

Jude took a step closer, his desire to bridge the gap between them almost palpable. “Then help me understand,” he urged, his voice softer now. “Because I want to be around you.”

Tori looked into Jude’s eyes, searching for answers, for reassurance, for something to break the tension that clung to the room like a thick fog. His sincerity was evident, yet doubt still clouded her thoughts. “The world is yours to do as you please with, the other night made me realize that and it's unfair of me to expect you to change anything about your world because I'm uncomfortable.”

They’d only known each other a few short weeks, but those weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions and unpredictability. Everything that had happened between them thus far has stemmed from impulse and raw attraction to one another, but eventually, they had to be real with themselves and for Tori; this was that. 

“I get that, Tori,” Jude replied, his voice steady despite internally trying to keep his frustration at bay. “But just because I can do something doesn't mean I will, I have self-control.” 

“I never said you didn't,” Tori shot back, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. 

“That’s what it feels like you're getting at.” Jude leaned in slightly, trying to gauge her reaction. “You’re implying that my lifestyle somehow dictates what I should want, or who I should be. But that's not the case, not with you. I need you to see that.” 

The charged atmosphere hung between them, heavy with expectation. Tori took a deep breath, the fight in her eyes softening momentarily as she considered his words. “I just don’t want to end up being another woman in your life, Jude. I want to matter to you—not just because I’m a different kind of distraction.” 

Jude shook his head firmly, his expression earnest. “You already do matter to me. You’re not a distraction. Being with you feels real, and that’s what terrifies me and excites me all at once. I want to make this work, but I need you to meet me halfway.” 

Tori dropped her arms, the defensiveness slowly peeling away. The vulnerability in Jude's eyes tugged at her heart. She could feel the sincerity of his desire, how he was trying to carve out a space for both of them amidst a storm of external pressures. 

“Halfway…” she murmured, the thought lingering in the air. 

“Yes,” he urged. “Let’s be honest with each other. I won’t pretend that it’s easy for either of us, especially with my world. But if you’re willing to try then I'm here.”

Tori felt a knot in her stomach loosen just a bit with Jude's words. They felt genuine, the kind of honesty that could either lead to something beautiful—or something painful. But she wanted to lay down her fears, to strip away the layers of uncertainty that had built up between them. “I want to try too,” she said finally, her voice steadying. “But I need you to understand where I’m coming from. I can’t just dive in without knowing if we’re on the same page.” 

Jude nodded, his expression softening. “Tell me what you need to know.” 

Taking a deep breath, Tori plunged into vulnerability, the words tumbling out. “I just need you to see with me. I'm not asking for constant reassurance, I just want to know that we’re exploring this together, to understand what we both want.”

Jude took a moment to process her words, his heart swelling with the weight of her honesty. “Tori, I want you,” he said firmly.

“If by chance that changes, please just—” Before Tori could complete her thought, Jude swiftly moved forward, enveloping her in his embrace. His arms wrapped securely around her, pulling her close as his lips crashed against hers, the intensity of the kiss catching her off guard. It was a fierce, passionate connection, igniting a spark that surged between them.

Tori felt herself melt into Jude, losing track of the worries that had weighed so heavily on her mind just moments before. The kiss was all-consuming, filling the room with a warmth that pushed away all thoughts of uncertainty. She could taste the determination in his kiss, the promise of sincerity that lingered in the air around them.

As they pulled apart slightly, she could feel Jude's heart beating against her chest, a rhythm that matched the unrest of emotions swirling within her. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and intense, searching her expression for any sign of hesitation. 

“I won't change my world, Tori,” he said quietly, his voice just above a whisper, “but I want to invite you into it. I need you to trust me.”

Tori nodded slowly, grappling with the flood of emotions rushing through her. Fear, exhilaration, longing—it was all entangled within her, but she found solace in Jude's presence. “I want to trust you, Jude,” she admitted, looking up at him, “I just need to know that you see me.”

He stepped back slightly but kept his hands on her arms, grounding her. “I see you,” he insisted, his voice sincere.

“Then can you kiss me again?” Jude's lips curled into a smirk, a playful glint sparking in his eyes at her request. He took a step closer again, his grip on her arms tightening just a fraction before he gently tilted her chin up. The air between them felt electric, charged with an undeniable chemistry that had been simmering since they first met.

“Are you sure?” he teased, though the sincerity in his tone was evident. He wanted to ensure that she was ready for whatever this connection could bring—because he certainly was.

With a soft breath, Tori nodded, her heart racing in anticipation. The nervousness in her stomach began to dissipate, replaced with an exhilarating rush that accompanied Jude’s every movement. He leaned closer, his breath warming her skin, and then his lips met hers once more in a slow, deliberate kiss.

It started gentle, a tentative exploration, a soft brush of lips that spoke of longing. But as the kiss deepened, it morphed into something more urgent and impassioned. Jude’s hands found their way to her waist, lifting her so he could carry her over to the bed. 

Tori couldn't help but giggle as Jude positioned himself above her, his strong hands framing her face. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin, and gently captured the delicate curve of her neck between his teeth, sending a shiver down her spine. The playful intimacy of the moment filled the air with a charged tension that made her heart race.

“All I want is to make you smile,” Jude murmured against her skin, his right hand moving from beside her head to grip her hip holding her in place. 

“I think you do a good job most of the time,” Tori smirked, reaching up to run her fingers through Jude’s coils as she looked into his eyes. 

“Most of the time?” he repeated in mock offence. 

“Most of the time,” Tori confirmed. “For example when you're at parties receiving lap dances, I'm not too hot on you,” she said, making Jude frown playfully before pushing his face back into the crease of her neck. 

“Okay, I deserve that one,” Jude admitted, his voice muffled against her skin. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling in the intimate space between them. “But, can I make you moan?” he asked, a playful challenge dancing in his eyes.

Tori's breath hitched, her heart racing at the sudden turn of the conversation. The boldness in his question sent heat pooling in her stomach, igniting an undeniable desire within her. She met his gaze, searching for sincerity among the playful banter, and found it. Jude wasn’t just teasing; he genuinely wanted to know.

“Depends on how you plan to do it,” she shot back, teasingly raising an eyebrow, her confidence blossoming in the aftermath of their heightened emotions.

“I want to taste you,” Jude whispered hotly into her ear. 

“Is that so?” she replied, her voice sultry, laced with intrigue as she arched an eyebrow, daring him to make his move. 

“Absolutely,” Jude affirmed, his confidence unwavering. He shifted his weight ever so slightly, his body pressing closer to hers. “Let me show you how I plan to make you moan.”

With that, he trailed his lips down the side of her neck, savouring the taste of her skin as his hand reached between them to pull apart her robe, cupping her breast. Tori gasped, every nerve in her body igniting under his caress. The sensation was rousing, the promise of what was to come sending spirals of desire coursing through her.

“Jude,” she breathed the warmth of his mouth on her skin, sending a tingle down her spine. 

“Relax,” he breathed out, his lips and tongue continuing their exploration, trailing lower, sending waves of pleasure shooting through her. His fingers danced over her soft skin, igniting a fire that made her pulse quicken.

“Just let me enjoy you,” he murmured, his breath hot against her as he settled between her legs, raising her left leg to come and rest over her shoulder so she lay completely exposed to him, the space around them fading into a blur of colour and sound, leaving only the two of them.

Tori let out a breathless moan as Jude pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her pussy, groaning as he got his first taste of her on his tongue. 

The sensation rocked through Tori like a bolt of lightning, her body instinctively responding to the warmth and pressure of his mouth. She gasped as he explored her with slow, deliberate movements, his tongue dancing over her sensitive folds, teasing her in a way that made her forget everything else around them.

Jude’s eyes flicked up to meet with hers as she felt his lips spread into a smile against her before he went to work on her.

Tori’s hand reached up to cover her mouth as a means of silencing her moans as Jude feasted on her pussy, his skin slippery against hers from a combination of his saliva and her arousal. 

The sounds that came from his ministrations were lewd, he sucked and slurped on Tori as her back arched from the bed completely intoxicated by her. 

Her senses were overwhelmed, the way Jude's mouth moved with expert preciseness sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. The air was electric with tension, the intensity of their connection radiating like a wildfire, each gasp she stifled only fueling the fire within. As her breath hitched, her fingers tightened in his hair, guiding him closer, craving more of the intoxicating sensations he created. Every flick of his tongue sent her spiralling deeper into ecstasy, and at that moment, nothing else mattered but the connection they shared, lost in a world of indulgent pleasure.

“You have such a pretty pussy,” Jude groaned, leaning back a little to make room so he could use his thumbs to spread her open, gathering saliva on the end of his tongue before allowing it to drip from his mouth onto her. 

Tori gasped softly at the improper compliment, a rush of heat flooding her cheeks and spreading lower, intensifying the throbbing ache between her thighs.

"Take it," she managed to murmur, her voice breathy and laced with desire.

As if to emphasize her point, Tori's hips tilted upward, offering herself to him more fully. The cool air kissed her damp folds, a stark contrast to the burning heat of Jude's gaze as he took in the sight of her splayed out before him.

"Please," she whimpered, the word escaping her lips before she could stop it. Her fingers tightened in his hair, not quite demanding, but urging him to continue.

At that moment, Tori felt wild, uninhibited, and completely surrendered to the sensations coursing through her body as she watched Jude stand from the bed to remove his clothes before grabbing his wallet and retrieving a condom from it.

“I want you inside of me,” Tori's eyes fluttered open, meeting Jude's gaze with an intensity that stole his breath away. "Please Jude," she whispered, her voice rough with need. "I want to feel you inside me."

She reached for him, her fingers trailing down his chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You’re so beautiful," she murmured, her voice slightly deepening with desire.

Tori's hips lifted off the bed, a silent invitation, an offering of her body and soul. Her legs spread wider, a clear display of her readiness, her need for him.

"Take me," she breathed, the words both a plea and a command. "Make me yours."

In that moment, Tori was lost to everything except the fire burning within her, the aching void that only Jude could fill. She needed him with an intensity that consumed her, obliterating any remnants of doubt or hesitation.

Crawling on top of her petite and slender, yet dangerously curvaceous body Jude led with his tongue as parted her lips so she could taste herself. 

As Jude's tongue parted Tori's lips, she moaned softly, the taste of her own arousal mingling with the unique flavour of Jude. It was a heady combination, one that sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through her body.

Tori's arms wrapped around Jude's neck, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss. Her tongue danced with his, exploring every inch of his mouth with a fervour that matched the intensity of their earlier passion.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Tori arched her back, pressing her body flush against Jude's. She could feel every contour of his muscular frame, the hard planes of his chest rubbing against the soft swells of her breasts.

The friction of their bodies moving together stoked the fire within Tori, her skin tingling with anticipation. She needed more, craved the feel of Jude's hands on her body, his touch igniting a trail of sparks wherever he caressed her.

Their bodies undulated together, a sensual dance fueled by primal need. Tori's hands explored Jude's back, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, marvelling at the strength that lay beneath his skin.

Jude groaned against her lips, the sound muffled by their kiss. His hands roamed her body, skimming over the dip of her waist, and the flare of her hips, before coming to rest on the soft curves of her ass. 

With a firm squeeze, Jude lifted Tori's hips, angling them so that he could slide into her with one smooth thrust. The sensation was indescribable, a perfect reunion of flesh on flesh that left them both gasping for breath.

“Tori, you feel fucking perfect,” Jude groaned into the crease of her neck, his hand slipping from her to wrap around her thighs and pin her to the bed beneath him. 

Jude had never considered himself a man with sadistic tendencies, but where sex with Tori was concerned; she possessed an innocence he wanted to ruin and protect all at once. 

She was so submissive to pleasure, both giving and receiving and all he wanted to do was explore that—explore her. 

Tori's body arched into Jude's touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips as he filled her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, bordering on painful in its intensity, yet Tori welcomed it, craving more.

"Ah!" Tori let out a throaty cry as Jude slammed deep into her, the sudden fullness stealing her breath. "God, yes! Fuck me harder, Jude!"

Tori's nails raked down Jude's back, her fingers digging into his skin as she urged him on. Her hips bucked against his, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervour, driving them both closer to the brink of ecstasy. 

"You're so fucking tight," Jude grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "So good, baby." Tori's head fell back against the pillows, her dark hair fanning out around her like a halo.

“Get on top, I want to watch your beautiful little body while you ride me,” Jude continued, raising his head so he could look into her eyes. 

Tori hesitated, her eyes widening slightly at his request for a change in position. She wasn't used to taking the lead in the bedroom, preferring to let him guide her. 

But there was something about Jude's command, the way he looked at her with such raw desire, that made her want to please him, to give him exactly what he wanted.

Slowly, carefully, Tori manoeuvred herself into a straddling position, her knees on either side of Jude's hips. She could feel the heat of his body, the hard length of him pressing against her core, and it sent a shiver of anticipation through her.

As Tori lowered herself onto Jude's cock, she couldn't help but moan softly at the sensation of being filled, stretched, and consumed by him. Her walls clenched around him as if trying to keep him inside her, never to let him go.

Tori’s mouth fell open in a silent cry, her eyes locking with Jude’s as he raised his hips beneath her, the head of his cock kissing firmly against her cervix. 

A rush of sensations flooded Tori’s body, the fullness igniting every nerve ending as she gasped at the invasive, yet welcomed pressure. Jude’s intense gaze held hers captive, the heat of his desire reflecting back at her like flames in a hearth. 

“Fuck, you feel unbelievable,” he rasped, thrusting gently as he pushed deeper, each subtle movement sending electric jolts of pleasure cascading through her. Tori arched her back, her hard nipples brushing against his chest, intuitively wanting more of him, more of this exquisite connection.

“More,” she urged, her voice barely a whisper, heavy with longing. “Please, Jude... I need it.”

A predacious grin spread across his face, and without a moment’s hesitation, he complied. Placing a hand on the back of her neck and the other on the small of her back, pulling her body flush against his. 

With a powerful roll of his hips, Jude drove deeper, claiming her in a way that turned her breath into a string of frantic gasps. The rhythmic motion filled the space between them with an intoxicating harmony that made her pulse race. Tori’s body melted against his, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that rippled through her, echoing with each thrust.

“Jude, you're so deep,” she moaned, her voice weak with desire as the sensation overwhelmed her. It felt as if he were reaching into her very soul, each movement igniting a fire that blazed hotter with every stroke.

“Look at me,” he growled his words lacking in diction as his hand on the back of her neck came to wrap around her throat, easing her body to sit up some so he could look into her eyes as he rounded his hips into Tori, fucking her incredibly deep. 

Tori’s heart raced, the combination of his grip and his commanding gaze sending shivers of exhilaration down her spine. She loved this side of him, the way he took charge, the way his need matched her own. The space around them faded, leaving only the two of them tangled in a whirlwind of heat and desire.

“Jude…” she breathed, her voice trembling as she leaned into his touch, craving both his possession and his passion. The intensity of his stare felt almost tangible, wrapping around her and binding them in this moment of unadulterated pleasure.

“Tell me how it feels,” he urged, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins.

It took Tori a moment to gather her thoughts, to articulate the overwhelming sensations crashing through her. “It’s... so much,” she managed, her breath hitching as he ground deeper inside her, every thrust perfectly timed to lift her closer to the edge. “It’s everything, Jude. Just—just don’t stop.”

His eyes burned with a mix of ownership and satisfaction, and he revelled in her response as if her words were his own personal high. He adjusted his angle, hitting a spot that sent a wave of pleasure washing over her, causing her to arch into him. 

“Don’t ever second guess how fucking perfect you are,” Jude growled, his voice deep and resonant, filled with raw need. He intensified his pace, each thrust resonating through her as he delved deeper, pushing her closer to the brink. The heat between them crackled, an electric current that sparked at every point of contact, igniting every sense.

Tori’s breath quickened, each inhaling a desperate gasp for air as if the sheer force of their connection threatened to overwhelm her lungs. 

“Oh god, Jude… yes,” she cried, her back arching further, urging him on. It was as if his every touch had created a symphony within her—a melody of pleasure that coursed through her veins, building to a crescendo that she could almost taste.

“Feel how much I want you,” Jude painted, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice as he quickened the rhythm. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every contour, as though he wanted to memorize her completely.

Finally settling his hands on her hips as he bit down on his bottom lip, Jude’s brow furrowed as his gaze fixed on Tori's glossy brown eyes as she gave herself to him. 

The connection between them deepened with every thrust, a magnetic pull that transcended the physical realm. Tori felt exhilarated and vulnerable all at once, ensnared in a dance of ecstasy that made her skin tingle and her heart race. Jude’s gaze burned into her, the depth of his desire setting her aflame from within.

“You’re everything I want,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear as he quickened his rhythm, driving them both higher.

As Tori’s eyelids heavy with lust slid shut, she felt a singular tear of unadulterated pleasure roll down her cheek, a physical testament to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. Every thrust from Jude felt like a promise, each powerful movement igniting more than just her body; it deepened their bond, drawing them closer together as though they were the only two souls in existence.

“Jude,” she gasped, opening her eyes to meet him once more, searching for some kind of guidance. Her body was his, even if only for the moment. 

“Let go,” he urged, his voice a heated whisper as he captured her gaze, anchoring her in the depth of their connection. Tori felt as if he was unravelling her from the inside out, his words wrapping around her heart like a warm embrace. The trust between them intensified the experience, elevating every sensation beyond the physical.

“Just you and me,” he said, his breath heavy with need. “Nothing else matters right now.” With those words, he thrust deeper, asserting that claim within her, pushing her to places she had never dreamed of reaching.

Tori managed a nod, her voice lost in the tumult of pleasure. She surrendered completely to the moment, allowing the waves of ecstasy to wash over her. The rhythm between them grew urgent, a fierce manifestation of their shared longing, building in intensity with every tide.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Jude groaned, his hands tightening possessively around her hips as he lost himself in her. The pressure building within her was electric, every pulse of pleasure drawing her closer to that swirling vortex of release. 

“Jude, I—I can’t hold on much longer,” she warned, her words whisper-soft amidst the gasps and moans echoing through the room. 

“Good,” he encouraged with a primal growl, his eyes darkened with lust. “Let it go, Tori. I want to feel you cum on me.” 

With each powerful thrust, he pushed her closer to that edge, his rhythm relentless, a beautiful pinnacle that made everything else fade into oblivion. Tori’s body responded instinctively, tightening around him as if seeking to pull him even deeper.

“Jude!” she cried out, feeling the pleasure tighten into a coil, ready to unravel. He pressed on, relentless in his pursuit, his voice a seductive growl that wrapped around her heart. 

“Just let it happen, Tori. Feel all of me,” he coached his hands firmly gripping her hips as he tilted his hips into her, making sure she felt every last pulsing inch.

The intensity of their connection reached a fever pitch, each thrust adding fuel to the fires that roared within her. Tori could feel the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over her, a tsunami she couldn’t hope to hold back any longer. Every nerve in her body tingled with need, each pulse syncopated with Jude’s movement, forging a bond between them.

“Just like that!” she gasped, her words melting into moans, expressing the bliss that swelled within her. Every inch of her became attuned to his rhythm, and she relished the dance of their bodies—the slick sliding sensation that came with each thrust, their shared breaths mingling in the charged air.

Tori’s fingers tangled in his hair as she leaned forward, wanting to feel every part of him pressing against her. “I’m so close,” she confessed, her voice breathless and laced with desperation. The heat radiating from his body set her ablaze, igniting a fire that refused to be quenched.

“Cum for me,” he commanded, his voice raw with desire, pushing her to the brink. His hands gripped her tighter, anchoring her as he thrust deep, each movement driving her closer to the edge she was so desperately in pursuit of.

Tori's body quaked above him, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. She could barely string words together, lost in the depths of her pleasure. “Jude, I can’t… I—”

“Give it to me,” he urged, his strained as he felt his end nearing. “Please, Tori.” The desperation in his voice pushed her over the edge, that insistent tone igniting the last spark of her restraint.  

With one final thrust, Jude buried himself deep inside her, and Tori felt the world swirl around her. The coil of pleasure snapped, sending shockwaves coursing through her body as her orgasm shattered every thought, every worry, leaving only raw ecstasy in its wake. Waves of pleasure rippled through her, overwhelming her senses, and she forgot everything except the intoxicating rhythm of their bodies entwined.

“Jude!” She cried out, her voice hoarse as she let herself fall into that abyss of pleasure, riding the crest of the wave as it crashed over her. Every muscle in her body tightened, and she felt herself pulsing around him, tightening and pulsing in the throes of her release.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunted, his own body responding instinctively to the feel of her climax. With each tightening clench of her walls around him, Jude lost himself completely, the warmth of her body drawing him into a well of bliss. 

He felt his release building, the intensity of her orgasm pushing him over the edge. “I’m right there with you,” he groaned, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 

Tori locked her gaze on his, their breaths mingling as they rode the waves together. The connection between them deepened with each pulse, each beat of their hearts echoing in time. 

“Jude!” she gasped, as another wave washed over her, pulling him along in its wake, and then, as if their bodies were synchronized, he delved deep into her, stilling as he poured himself into the condom he wore. 

“Fuck, Tori!” he cried out, the sensation of her wrapping around him perfectly driving him over the edge as his cock filled her completely.

As the remains of their orgasms gradually faded, Tori collapsed against Jude, panting against his chest, both of them lost in a cocoon of warmth and satisfaction. Her heart raced, still thumping with remnants of pleasure as she felt Jude’s arms wrap around her, holding her close.

After a few moments of blissful silence, Tori began to regain consciousness of her surroundings, the warm afterglow of their passion enveloping her like a cozy blanket. The city outside was bustling with life, but inside the room, time felt suspended, a private moment shared between just the two of them. Tori would have been content to lie there forever, nestled against him, but a sudden wave of apprehension washed over her. 

Jude, sensing her shift in mood, tightened his grip around her. "What are you thinking?" he asked softly, his voice low as he stroked her hair, pulling her even closer. 

“Not much,” she mumbled, nestling deeper against the warmth of his chest. The contentment surrounding them was intoxicating, even as a flicker of reality started to seep back in. 

“I was thinking about taking you shopping today,” Jude suggested, a teasing lilt in his voice, his fingers gently grazing back and forth over the small of her back. “I want to spoil you a little.”

“Spoil me?” she asked teasingly, tilting her head to look up at him.

“Yes,” he replied, a charming grin spreading across his face. “So you can get dressed up for me tonight while we bring in the New Year.”

Not only was it a chance to spoil her and in turn feed his ego, but there was also something about the act, the quality time spent that seemed rather intimate to him. 

“What would you like to see me in?” Tori asked with a smirk as she sat up, her breast round and perky as she straddled Jude’s lap. 

Jude's gaze darkened with desire as he took in the sight of her sitting on him, her body radiating confidence and allure. “Honestly? I like you in absolutely nothing, but a dress would be more fitting considering our plans for tonight,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly.

Tori felt her cheeks flush at his words, the compliment igniting a warmth within her. “What are our plans for tonight?” she asked, her breath deepening as Jude’s hands came to rest on her hips. 

“Dinner and then a New Year's Eve party at the marina,” he explained, his dark eyes locking onto hers, filled with anticipation. “And you have my word no lap dances will be taking place,” he smirked, earning a laugh and playful punch to the bicep from Tori. 

When they finally pulled themselves from the bed, Tori made her way into the bathroom to get ready as Jude went to leave her hotel room and head back to his own. 

As he pulled open the door of Tori’s room, he noticed Alex walking towards him, dressed in a suit similar to the one he wore the night of the party when he comforted Tori. 

Instead of saying anything, Jude offered Alex a knowing smirk, his body still humming for the passionate encounter he just had with Victoria. 

Making his way back to his room, Jude changed clothes and alerted his security guard of his plans to leave the hotel with Tori. 

As he dressed, Jude felt a sense of anticipation bubbling within him. The thought of taking Tori shopping, of sharing the day with her, filled him with excitement. He couldn't wait to see her in something stunning for the New Year’s Eve party, something that would make her stand out and remind everyone—especially Alex—who she belonged to.

Once he was ready, Jude stepped out of his suite and made his way down the corridor to Tori's room. He knocked, his heart racing again at the thought of seeing her. The door swung open, and Tori stood there, looking radiant despite the casual outfit she wore. A fitted black top hugged her frame, paired with high-waisted jeans that accentuated her curves perfectly.

“Tori,” Jude spoke up, his voice laced with genuine admiration. “You look incredible.”

Tori smiled shyly, a light blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Thanks. I figured I’d keep it simple for shopping,” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Simple? You look anything but,” Jude replied, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “Come here,” he instructed. 

Tori’s heart fluttered at the command in his voice, and she took a small step toward him, curiosity lighting up her eyes. Jude reached out, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. 

Tori’s breath hitched in her throat as Jude pressed a kiss against her plump lips, his hands slipping down to caress her backside as he walked her backwards into the nearest wall. 

His mouth moved against hers with a hot intensity, igniting a fire within Tori that she couldn’t ignore. She thawed into him, her body responding instinctively as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the warmth of her mouth. 

“We need to leave or I'm going to end up fucking the shit out of you in this entryway,” Jude groaned against her lips, a teasing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Tori couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension of the previous days melting away in this moment of intimacy.

“Then we should hurry,” she replied, her voice playful, yet filled with a thrill of excitement. She stepped back, breaking the embrace just enough to catch her breath and regain her composure. Looking into Jude's eyes, she felt an undeniable connection, one that made her heart race and her stomach flutter.

Jude gave her a lopsided grin, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Shopping first, party later.”

Tori grinned, her excitement bubbling to the surface as she took Jude's hand, guiding him toward the door. “Lead the way then,” she said, her voice playful.

[another-lost-mc]

RAPHAEL x gn!Reader, 0.8k words, nsfw. Content warnings: Marking/hickies. Possessiveness if you squint. A/N: Inspired by The RAD Vampire Club! Devilgram story.

“This looks fantastic,” you told Raphael as you stretched out your arms in the costume he made for you. It fit you perfectly, and you were genuinely impressed by the craftsmanship of his work. You didn’t expect he would put so much care into an outfit you were only going to wear for one night.

You were surprised when he invited you to Purgatory Hall earlier that week to confirm your measurements. You offered your approximate measurements over the phone, but he insisted he wanted to verify the numbers himself.

“Is that really necessary? I don’t want to waste your time.”

“It’ll be a bigger waste of time if what I make for you doesn’t fit. Who took your measurements?”

“…I did?”

It was embarrassing to think about—the way you twisted in front of the mirror, jotting down your measurements for him and hoping the entire time that the tape wasn't too loose or crooked as you awkwardly measured yourself. You tried your best and hoped that whatever he made would fit, at least.

But then he sighed into the receiver, and you guessed he was imagining how you managed to achieve the numbers you gave him, too. “Come over after dinner and I’ll confirm your measurements myself.”

That’s how you ended up in his bedroom in Purgatory Hall, wearing only your undershirt and underwear, perched on a stepping stool he grabbed from the kitchen he shared with his dorm mates.

You expected him to take your measurements quickly in the sitting room, and maybe he planned on that, until you both realized Solomon was reading on the sofa. Raphael sensed your apprehension and led you straight past the sorcerer and into his room instead.

Raphael’s intense focus while he worked was nerve-wracking enough—you didn’t want to worry about Solomon leering at your half-naked body.

Raphael worked quietly but quickly, drawing the tape measure across your limbs and around your torso. He was respectful, not touching you more than necessary, and you didn't notice his eyes roaming freely over so much exposed skin. You were surprised how comfortable you felt with him in such an intimate position, but there was nothing intimate about this. He was professional about it, and you tried to be too.

He scratched out numbers on the sheet of paper he brought with him—the one with the original dimensions you gave him—and he corrected all of them. He snickered under his breath when he came across one you had measured very poorly.

“Hey, I tried my best!”

He smiled when you crossed your arms over your chest and pouted. “You did, but I want you to look your best even if it’s for a silly party. Let me finish this for you and you can be on your way.”

When Raphael met you at the venue to prepare for the festivities, he handed you a zipped-up clothing bag. You put on the outfit excitedly and stepped out of the dressing room for his approval. He gave you an approving once-over, visibly pleased by how you looked in the costume he tailored specially for you. You were delighted—it was comfortable enough to move around in freely, but fitted enough to be flattering on your body.

He stepped closer to you and after a moment of scrutiny, he pulled a loose thread off your shoulder. “You look like a respectable vampire now. Your unsuspecting victims won't stand a chance.”

You admired yourself in the full-length mirror when he walked away and started tidying his supplies. “Are you coming to the party too?”

His reflection in the mirror shook its head. “I’m not sure I understand the appeal of blood-sucking, even if it's only pretend.”

“I’d let you try, if you're curious,” you joked, looking over your outfit one more time as you smoothed down the front of your jacket.

Your eyes shot back up when you felt something—someone—at your back. Raphael had moved behind you suddenly, and his bright eyes caught your gaze in the mirror. He pushed down the collar of your shirt—gently, so he didn't ruin the lace trim—and bent his head.

His hair tickled the side of your face when his lips brushed against the side of your neck. He hummed when you gasped, and he pushed down a little firmer with his mouth and sucked. He was careful enough so that it didn’t hurt, but there was no mistaking the hint of teeth that scraped your skin before he lifted his head and stepped back again.

“Perhaps I’ll see you the party after all,” he murmured, licking his lips as he turned away. He was out the door, closing it behind him with a decisive click before you could even respond.

You were frozen in place, overwhelmed by the tingling sensation radiating from your neck and the erratic heartbeat hammering in your chest. You leaned forward and stared at your reflection in the mirror. There was an unmistakable mark on your neck now, blooming purple just above your collar where everyone else would see it.

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[lardguz]

A Samurai's Hunger for Justice

This was originally longer, but I wasn't happy with the last part of it at all, and decided to just delete it entirely. But, I have returned with more gay fat lawyers! This time, featuring a certain samurai prosecutor and loud defense attorney! I never used to ship these two but uh, this dynamic is kind of super hot and gave me intense brainrot for months. Sooooooo I hope you all enjoy!

It was a rather nice spring day in Los Angeles, as Apollo Justice looked down at his phone’s screen. He looked back up at the restaurant in front of him, scratching the back of his head with worry. Prosecutor Simon Blackquill, the Twisted Samurai himself, had invited the young defense attorney out to lunch after their courtroom battle earlier that day, baffling Apollo. He had thought the stern former convict hated him, so being invited to eat with him was unexpected at the very least. As he walked up to the glass door of the restaurant, Apollo caught sight of his own reflection staring back at him. The anxiety plastered on his chubby face was quite apparent, so he took a deep breath and clapped either side of his face with his hands. He straightened his tie and walked in, spotting Prosecutor Blackquill immediately. The thick-haired black and white clad man was pretty hard to miss, sipping on a cup of hot tea as he shot a look at the chubby defense attorney as he entered. Apollo hesitantly made his way over to the table, pulling out the chair across from Blackquill and taking a seat.

Apollo awkwardly coughed before speaking. “So, uh, Prosecutor Blackquill! What’s, um… Why did you want to meet me?” he asked hesitantly.

The intimidating man chuckled mirthlessly. “I see you truly do assume the worst in me, Justice-dono. Why is it that acquaintances cannot just invite each other to a meal after a long battle?” Apollo snorted quietly at Simon’s ever-present dramatic and overly-traditional way of speaking, grabbing the menu in front of him and scanning it while he mulled over the prosecutor’s question. He had never really realized that Prosecutor Blackquill qualified as an acquaintance of his, mostly just thinking of knowing him as his coworker Athena Cykes’s older brother figure. Contrary to his thoughts, Apollo realized that he had fought against Simon in court a number of times now, almost as much as he’d gone against Klavier, who he saw as a close friend.

Apollo decided on ordering a sandwich platter and a large soda, and looked up at Prosecutor Blackquill to respond to him after he placed his order as well. “I guess I just never realized we were ‘acquaintances’, Prosecutor Blackquill. I kind of just thought you preferred hanging out with Athena since, well, you know…” Apollo trailed off as he saw the look on Simon’s face shift abruptly, and sensing danger, decided to drop that line of conversation. They sat in silence until their food arrived, Apollo blushing and staring at his lap while avoiding the gaze of the dark-eyed man opposite to him. While looking down, Apollo noted that the lowest button on his red waistcoat was starting to strain around his chubby gut a little. Apollo had never been a skinny man, especially during his law school days, when the stress of studying had him balloon up to 450 pounds at one point. After he got fired from his first law firm after finding his mentor guilty of murder on his first trial ever, Apollo had briefly gained some of his college weight back but he’d been working on trying to lose it again, though the strained button on his vest told him he wasn’t doing a very good job.

Apollo snapped out of his line of thought as their food arrived, and immediately he grabbed for half of his sandwich, not looking up until he had taken one huge bite. What he saw in front of him shocked him momentarily: Simon Blackquill had an entire party platter in front of him, and he was picking away at it diligently with a speed that surprised the much heavier defense attorney. “Wow,” Apollo mumbled through his mouthful of sandwich, “you must be pretty hungry Prosecutor Blackquill!”

The long-haired wannabe samurai stopped his strategic attack on his food to snap his head up and glare at the chubby man across from him. “What is that supposed to imply, Justice-dono?” he growled through gritted teeth, causing Apollo to immediately backpedal.

“W-well, what I uh, meant, was that, um…” the chubby lawyer stammered, his eyes wide as he worried that Blackquill might be hiding any number of weapons on his person at any time. He took a deep breath to compose himself before finishing his thought. “I’m sorry, I guess I just was surprised that you were intending to eat so much food.”

Simon glared at his dining partner again. “What’s wrong with how much I choose to eat to refuel after a long battle of wits?”

“Oh, nothing!” Apollo grinned awkwardly. “That’s just a lot more food than even I can eat, and I was thinking if you keep eating like that…” Simon growled again, causing Apollo to cut his thought short.

“I can eat TWICE this much, and my diligent samurai training regimen allows me to not gain a single ounce of weight from it, Justice-dono!” He slammed his fist onto the table fiercely, rattling the dishes and silverware, and sending their waiter scrambling over to see what was wrong. “Bring me another of these platters, on the double.” The waiter nodded and walked away quickly, while Simon continued tearing into his party platter with a much less methodical and calculated approach, instead just going for speed and ferocity. Apollo sat there dumbfounded, completely taken aback by the normally-stoic prosecutor’s competitive outburst. His own lunch lay completely forgotten as he sat there, transfixed by Simon’s frenzied eating.

When the second party platter arrived at their table, Simon merely gave a curt nod to the waiter, mouth too stuffed with bite-sized foods to verbalize anything. He finished his original platter and chugged the large soda he had ordered with it, draining it in less than a minute. Then he proceeded to begin attacking the new plate piled high with the tiny party sized foods, but this time noticeably slower. Simon was clearly wincing occasionally, trying to resist the urge to rub his overstuffed gut, which was just starting to look the slightest bit distended under his tailored waistcoat.

Apollo jolted out of his stunned silence. He saw Prosecutor Blackquill flagging in his consumption, his normally dark-circled eyes dropping even more underneath his thick, salt and pepper bangs. “Aw, come on, Prosecutor Blackquill!” Apollo grinned mischievously, “You’re not giving up that easily, are you?” Simon grunted through a stuffed mouth, shooting an exhausted and painted glare at the brown haired man. Apollo leaned back in his chair, and patted his tubby gut. “I was going to be so impressed if you managed to eat that much food in one sitting!” The young man sighed dramatically as he put his arms behind his head. “Oh well, I guess we’ll both just have to go home disappointed that you couldn’t keep your word.”

Simon snapped back up, ignoring the jolt of pain from his overstuffed gut. His honor had been challenged, and he would not let himself be defeated here. The black-and-white-clad prosecutor began stuffing his face with even more speed than at the start of his challenge, occasionally groaning in discomfort around mouthfuls of food. Apollo sat in his chair, grinning like a child in a candy store. It was so good to finally find a weakness in the stern Prosecutor Blackquill, and one that could be so easily exploited! Wait, Apollo thought with alarm, why do I care that I know Prosecutor Blackquill’s weak spot? I’m not fighting him or anything! We’re just legal rivals! The awkward defense attorney suddenly blushed furiously. Unless… maybe I want to see him do this more often?

Simon slammed his fists loudly onto the table, causing Apollo to leap up and yelp in surprise. The man’s thick ponytail was just slightly damp with sweat, his bangs sticking just a bit to his brow. He was panting heavily, and his face looked pained, but a smug expression was plastered all over his flushed face. “I… haah… win, Justice-dono.” Apollo looked down at the monochrome-themed outfit Blackquill always wore, his tight waistcoat straining around a soccer ball sized gut. Simon clasped both sides of said gut, running it to try and reduce the pain. Apollo coughed awkwardly. “You, uh, you sure did, Prosecutor Blackquill! I’m impressed you, um, managed it…” He trailed off once more as thoughts flooded his mind. Maybe… maybe he should start spending more time with Prosecutor Blackquill. He certainly seemed entertaining at the very least.

Apollo and Simon had been regularly meeting up for meals and conversation after their courtroom battles for about a month. Apollo found the former death row inmate absolutely fascinating, from his love of all things samurai, to his dedication and kindness towards his pet hawk, Taka. Most of all, however, Apollo loved how he reacted to being taunted when he was eating. Something about the way Simon got defensive over how much he ate, or could eat, delighted Apollo, and he thought he was finally figuring out why. He noticed that more and more often, even in court, he was able to get a reaction out of the ordinarily stoic prosecutor. Apollo would make a jab about Blackquill’s arguments in court, or his body in public, and Simon would get this look on his face that the defense attorney just loved. His brooding expression would break for just a moment, his eyes would look overcome with some strong emotion Apollo couldn’t quite identify, and suddenly it was gone again, hidden behind a burning glare of determination. He wanted to see that look every chance he could get.

The young defense attorney currently sat across from his new rival, watching him tearing into a triple cheeseburger with stunning speed. The amount of greasy meat being bitten off and swallowed so rapidly was staggering. Apollo smirked and said, “Wow, Prosecutor Blackquill, I think you might finally be wider than me now! Maybe you should cut back a little.” The defense attorney had spoken loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear, causing some other tables nearby to start muttering about the display of gluttonous depravity taking place at their table. Simon swallowed his crammed mouthful of beef and cheese, eyes narrowed, as he growled back at Apollo, “You know as well as I that I can lose weight whenever I want. I am a proud samurai, descendant of proud samurais, and I am not even that large, Justice-dono.”

Apollo laughed uproariously in response. “Hahahaha, you can’t actually be serious, Prosecutor Blackquill! Have you looked in any mirrors lately? Or, better yet, try looking down at yourself! You’re clearly almost too big for that little chair, and I’m not even close to being that big yet!” Apollo felt a jolt of satisfaction as he saw the cold expression on Simon’s face melt for a second, realizing that even if he outwardly pretended to hate it, Prosecutor Blackquill enjoyed his teasing as much as he did. The portly man had recently upsized most of his wardrobe, but his steady weight gain made it very apparent that he wouldn’t be able to keep that up sustainably. His new waistcoat already strained around his new moobs at the top, and around his ever softer abdomen, his gut sitting in his lap every time he sat down. His signature long black and white coat, which was a custom piece, was the one part of his wardrobe that hadn’t been upsized because it couldn’t be modified, so it now strained around his fattening arms and shoulders, the fabric clinging to them like it was painted on. His soft fat rolls on his sides and back pooled over his belted pants, forming a pronounced muffin top. His thighs and ass cheeks pressed gently into the arms of his chair, threatening to get him stuck in it if he kept eating. The once-muscular prosecutor had undeniably let himself go, and Apollo could tell that behind all the stoic attempts to deny it, Simon was enjoying it just as much as he was. Maybe even more.

The defense attorney grinned smugly, resting his chin on one of his hands. “Well, I guess if you can lose this weight whenever you want to,” Apollo said, his tone dismissive, “you can just give up on our lunch right now…”

Simon’s head shot up, a mouthful of burger hanging from between his overstuffed cheeks, shooting a glare full of anger and something else at the pudgy attorney. He flagged down their waiter, hastily swallowing his food before speaking. “I want you to bring me three—no, four—more of these triple burger combos, and I want them on the table before I’ve finished this one. Understood?” The waiter nodded, visibly shaken by his murderous tone, and ran back to the kitchen while Simon resumed tearing into his burger with renewed vigor. Apollo watched in amused silence. There was no way Simon would be able to finish five triple decker combos in one sitting, not even at his size. He couldn’t wait to see the sinking look of defeat on his rival’s face when he realized he couldn’t do it.

Simon stuffed his face with his current burger as fully as possible, cheeks bulging as he chewed and swallowed the massive amounts of greasy beef, cheese, and buns that he loaded into his mouth. He took fistfuls of fries and shoved them into his greedy maw as well, his double chin flecked with crumbs fallen from his overfilled mouth. The waiter scrambled up with the four other plates of food, overflowing with fries, and placed them on the table before running back to the kitchen again. The portly prosecutor smirked around his final mouthful of his first combo meal, looking Apollo in the eye cockily. The brunette smiled back dismissively, silently mouthing the words Four more to go! at his dining partner. Simon glared once more before picking up his second burger and ripping an enormous bite off of it, then a second and a third. Apollo’s confidence began to waver as Blackquill finished the second plate in record time and moved onto the third without slowing down at all, though his face was covered in grease and crumbs, as was the front of his vest, whose buttons were straining ominously.

Simon finally started to slow down after the fourth platter, his movements visibly slowing down. His round gut strained the buttons of his vest to their very limit, and pressed firmly against the edge of the table in front of him. The surly prosecutor was sweating, pale face flushed around his round food-stained cheeks and his black and white bangs plastered to his forehead. He winced as he lifted the final three-tiered burger to his greasy lips, breathing heavily as he opened his mouth for another massive bite. Apollo could only look on in stunned silence, watching the obese prosecutor exhaustedly swallow the final plate of food. When Simon stuffed the last of the fries into his mouth and swallowed them, he leaned back in his chair and let out a groan of triumph, his hands immediately rubbing his straining gut.

Apollo blinked in shock, then rose from his chair to offer Blackquill his hand. “All right, fair is fair, you win this time.” Apollo smiled. Simon looked up at him, his exhausted face giving nothing away as his grease-slicked hand grabbed Apollo’s. They both strained and tugged to try and get the stuffed man out of his chair, and eventually he popped free. Prosecutor Blackquill stood up, and Apollo finally got a good look at the damage his challenge had done to his rival. The seams of Simon’s pants had started to split from the thunderous thighs straining them, his pale flab poking through like bubbles of lard, but most notable was his finely tailored vest, whose buttons looked like they were going to shoot off of his distended abdomen at any moment. Simon’s pronounced dome of a gut stuck out at least a foot from his body, and looked firm to the touch.

Realizing he might have gone a bit too far this time, Apollo offered his shoulder to the obese man. “C’mon, big guy,” he grunted as Simon leaned his considerable weight onto the presented shoulder, “Let’s get you back to my apartment to sleep this off, okay?” The chubby defense attorney and rotund prosecutor made quite a pair as Apollo helped Simon painstakingly waddle his way to the train station, the overstuffed taller man huffing and panting the entire trek. He immediately flopped onto one of the seats on the train up on entering, his thighs and love handles overflowing just slightly into the seats next to him. The pale prosecutor’s face was flushed and sweaty from the walk to the train station. When they reached their stop, Apollo helped hoist the exhausted man from his seat and once again supported him with his shoulder to help him up the stairs to his apartment. The two men were panting for breath by the time they reached the apartment door, Apollo fumbling for his keys while Simon leaned his bulk against the wall, his taut orb of a gut still straining the buttons of his vest nearly to bursting.

Apollo finally unlocked his door and led his tired rival inside his sparsely decorated apartment. Simon spotted a loveseat sofa and immediately waddled over to it, collapsing onto it gratefully. He laid down on his back and immediately began massaging his painfully stuffed stomach, groaning in discomfort. Apollo made his way to the kitchen, humming a little song as he opened the fridge. Simon was too exhausted to notice what the defense attorney was doing until he was standing next to him, holding a large white box in his hands and grinning mischievously.

“What… what do you want, Justice-dono?” Simon grunted, “Can’t you see I’m a little preoccupied?”

“Oh, I noticed, don’t worry.” Apollo responded cheerily. “I was just bringing you your dessert!”

Blackquill winced. “D-dessert?! But I… I don’t have any room left for anymore—”

The box was placed firmly on Simon’s distended abdomen, Apollo opened the top and grabbed a slice of the chocolate confection inside with his bare hands. “Don’t be silly, Simon,” he said in a soothing tone, “you can’t just ignore dessert! How else are you supposed to finish a proper meal? Plus…” Apollo chuckled. “You can’t really consider me impressed by your eating capabilities until you’ve broken out of that tight vest of yours.”

Simon narrowed his eyes. “Is that another challenge, Justice-dono?”

Apollo nodded, and silently lifted the cake slice to the obese man’s lips. Simon immediately snapped forward and took a huge bite of it, then another. In three bites it was gone, and Apollo promptly lifted another slice to his mouth. With his other hand, he rubbed Blackquill’s straining gut, trying to relieve some of the pressure inside and make more room for the rest of the cake. The sounds of straining seams and ripping fabric was slightly overshadowed by the loud chewing and heavy breathing. Halfway through the cake, the bottommost button of Simon’s struggling vest finally gave up the fight, pinging off and flying across the room at top speeds. The rest of the buttons straining around his bulging gut snapped off in quick succession, but the buttons holding back his huge moobs continued to hold on. With three slices left, one of the buttons finally broke off, with another flying off after the second to last slice. Simon’s face was covered in sweat, crumbs, and smears of frosting, his eyes glazed over from the oncoming food coma. Apollo gently guided the last cake slice into his mouth, and as he swallowed, the last button flew off. Simon was breathing heavily, his panting mouth leaving his cheeks and double chin jiggling with every breath. His chubby cheeks were suddenly grabbed by a hand on either side as Apollo straddled his enormous gut and planted his lips against Simon’s, passionately kissing his rival for the first time. Simon froze at first, but then melted into the kiss, realizing that this was all he had wanted all along: Apollo Justice‘s love and approval.

Just a few months after their first kiss, Apollo and Simon were once again back in the courtroom against each other. The red-clad defense attorney threw back his arm and pointed, letting out one of his law firm’s famously-yelled “Objection!” cries. The entire court was stunned into silence by the force behind his self-proclaimed Chords of Steel, so he had a quiet moment to piece together his argument before proceeding.

“Your Honor,” Apollo began, his voice uncharacteristically confident, “the prosecution is drawing a lot of assumptions about my client without any evidence. I would like to present my own evidence that contradicts everything Prosecutor Blackquill has been arguing so far!” He slammed his hands onto the desk for emphasis. “My client could not have cooked the seafood stew that was used to kill the victim, as he is also deathly allergic to shellfish, like the victim was!”

“Silence!” The growling shout echoed from the opposite side of the courtroom. Simon Blackquill banged his fists onto the desk in front of him, chuckling darkly before speaking. “Justice-dono, is that really your argument? Couldn’t the defendant merely have worn gloves to prepare the deadly meal for the victim?”

Apollo smirked. “Well, Prosecutor Blackquill, if you had been paying more attention to the case instead of stuffing your face with all those snacks you have hidden behind your bench, you would know that that’s not possible.” The defense attorney’s voice was smug, but in a teasing manner, like a parent chiding a child for getting into the cookie jar. Simon’s chubby cheeks flushed, embarrassed that Apollo would tease him in front of the entire courtroom. “Or,” the defense attorney continued, “perhaps your stomach might be covering up some of the files on your desk?” He grinned. “It does seem to be pressing into the desk pretty hard these days, Prosecutor Blackquill. Maybe you should consider getting a specially modified prosecution bench for someone as… ample as you.”

Simon bit his chubby lower lip to cover up the whine he almost let out in response to Apollo’s public teasing. The courtroom gallery murmured, Blackquill able to catch snippets of some of the onlookers commenting on his skyrocketing weight. It truly was undeniable now how much the once-muscular Simon Blackquill had let himself go in recent months. The former death row inmate had lost all of his once intimidating facial features, his chubby chipmunk cheeks and prominent double chin softening his usually dark expression. He had just gotten a new suit tailored to his current measurements yesterday, but his obese body was highlighted more than ever by it. His biceps were covered in jiggling, saggy fat, hiding any muscle he once had and even beginning to fold over his elbows just slightly. His wrists and hands were even getting fat now, his fingers almost akin to little sausages. His chest was already starting to strain the buttons of his tailored waistcoat slightly, his enormous moobs resting comfortably on either side of his gut, the clothes preventing them from sagging under their own weight for now. His monstrous gut, when tucked into his waistband like it had to be for court, sat like a dome sticking out almost 2 feet from his body, pressing firmly around the prosecutor’s bench in front of him and even resting on top of it in places. His love handles and side rolls bulged out over his waistband, forming a pronounced muffin top and preventing his fat arms from resting flat at his sides. His suit pants looked like they had been painted onto his legs, so form-fitting across his thighs and ass cheeks that you could practically see every roll, fold, dimple, and stretch mark under the tight fabric. His thigh fat, much like his biceps, was starting to collapse over his knees and melt into his calves, which, combined with how much he had to spread his legs apart to keep his thighs from rubbing together painfully, meant he had to walk in a pronounced waddle whenever he needed to get somewhere now. The jab Apollo had made about the snacks behind his bench was also true, Simon now notorious for “sneaking” a bite or three during his opponents’ arguments. This was, however, detrimental to his own formation of counterarguments, the once-whip smart prosecutor now more frequently stumbling through trials because he was too distracted by food to notice a contradiction. Many people were making fun of Blackquill for what they perceived as his degradation into becoming a useless fat slob, but little did they know, it was all what he most fervently desired.

After the case wrapped up with Apollo victorious, Simon sat in the prosecution lobby ravenously devouring the rest of his pile of snacks while waiting for Apollo to meet him. Just as he was pouring the last crumbs from a potato chip bag into his greedy mouth, the doors opened, and the chubby defense attorney walked in. He silently offered his hand to the obese prosecutor, helping him up off the groaning antique sofa beneath his corpulent rear. Apollo planted a kiss right on Simon’s chubby lips, still covered in snack crumbs, and began helping his rotund boyfriend waddle to the train station. The courthouse was only a block away, but that was still one block of agonized waddling for the out of shape prosecutor. Huffing and wheezing the entire way, his face flushed and his body sweating profusely, Simon had to stop to catch his breath no less than 5 times in such a short distance. Apollo teased him the entire time, calling him a pig and commenting on how far he’d let himself go since they started talking more often. Simon loved every second of it, whining between breaths as he tightened his grip around Apollo’s hand.

When they finally got on the train, Simon immediately sat down, his enormous behind requiring two seats, one for each cheek. Apollo laughed. “Oh, gosh, Simon, you’re so huge! How selfish of you, taking up two whole seats on the train! What if someone else needs one?”

Simon blushed. His breathing was still heavy from the trek to the train station, so he had to speak between wheezes. “I… h-hope… haah… that I-I… hhhh… t-t-take u-up… haah, haah… an entire… row… s-someday… haah…” He squirmed a little in anticipation for that day, making his flabby body jiggle and wobble. This made Apollo blush in return, imagining his boyfriend so desperate to please him that he became too fat to even move. He leaned forward and kissed Simon’s sweaty blushing cheek, whispering in his ear, “I’ll make sure you get that big and even bigger, you greedy hog.” The lardball of a prosecutor couldn’t stop himself from moaning when he heard that come out of his boyfriend’s mouth. Apollo loved seeing that pleading look in Simon’s eyes, that desire to eat and become as fat as he could, just to impress him. He wanted to see that look every day of the rest of their lives.

When the train arrived at their stop, Apollo once again helped hoist his boyfriend off his prodigious rear, and held his fat hand to help guide him to their apartment. Once they arrived at the building, Simon made for the elevator, but Apollo stopped him. “We’re not doing that today,” he whispered deviously. “You’re much too fat now, Simon. What would the other tenants think if they found out some landwhale broke the elevator with his fat ass?”

Simon whined, but then readapted his surly demeanor. “What are you suggesting, Justice-dono? How am I supposed to get to our home if not for the elevator?”

Apollo took his chubby hand again and guided him to the staircase. “It’s either these, or no dinner for you, Simon.” The defense attorney grinned mischievously as Blackquill stared up at the stairs, his initial worried expression morphing to determination when food was mentioned. The rotund man grabbed the railings on either side of the staircase with his soft, round fingers, and began slowly and painfully lifting his bulk up the stairs, one lard-coated leg at a time. After just one step he was wheezing and coated in sweat, and he had to take a break after three steps up the stairs. Apollo stood behind him, ready to catch his bulk in case he lost his footing or if his overburdened legs gave out on him. Thankfully that wasn’t necessary, but it did take over half an hour for Simon to get to the second floor where their apartment was.

Once Apollo unlocked the door and they were both inside, Simon immediately grabbed his boyfriend and held him against the nearest wall, his plush gut enveloping Apollo in a warm embrace as they made out passionately in the dark. Apollo found his hands roaming his boyfriend’s folds and rolls, pinching and shaking them, delighting in how soft and flabby he has become because of his encouragement. Simon, being much taller than Apollo, loved seeing his boyfriend’s body buried between his flab and the wall, his face just barely poking up between his moobs. He bit his boyfriend’s lips a bit between kisses, pressing his own bulk harder and harder against the wall. Suddenly, his stomach gurgled, and the lovestruck pair realized that Simon hadn’t eaten since court. Apollo ran to the kitchen to grab snacks, while Simon sat down on the couch to order himself delivery from a couple restaurants nearby. Apollo returned from the kitchen with his arms full of bags of snacks, dumping them on the table in front of his morbidly obese boyfriend, who immediately began ripping open the packaging and devouring the snacks in a frenzy. About 20 minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and Apollo got up to grab the stacks of take out containers, leaving Simon to continue stuffing his fat face on the couch. Gently placing the towers of boxes on the table, Apollo opened one and straddled his boyfriend’s flabby gut. “Here’s tonight’s challenge,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire. “You rip all those clothes off you just by eating all this food, and I’ll feed you dessert in our bed.” Simon moaned, nodding frantically, reaching for the greasy quadruple decker burger in the box that Apollo offered him. His boyfriend smiled and let him take it. “Guess that’s a yes, then. All right, I’ll keep the food coming.” Apollo pulled out his phone, ordering even more food just to make sure that finely tailored suit was reduced to shreds by the time the night was done.

It didn’t take long for some of the tighter seams of Simon’s suit to start straining and ripping. After just a few of the greasy towering burgers from the nearby burger restaurant, little diamonds of soft, pale flab were poking through on the outer seams of his pants, and the shoulders of his dress shirt were starting to suffer the same fate. His fat face was covered in grease, his cheeks wobbling and his double chin budding into a triple chin when he chewed. The button on his dress pants, which his massive gut was still stuffed into, pinged off after an alarmingly short period, allowing the surge of stomach rolls to begin billowing forth onto his lap. Simon moaned in delight, the sound muffled by a mouthful of juicy bacon cheeseburger. His fat hands began stuffing his mouth at an even faster pace, the chubby sausage fingers greedily grabbing at anything Apollo held out within reach. After about an hour, all the buttons of his waistcoat had burst off, revealing the straining buttons of his dress shirt, complete with rips around his impressive moobs. The seams of his sleeves were almost completely torn apart, his flabby shoulders nearly ripping the sleeves right off the shirt entirely. Suddenly, after eating a party size tray of deep fried cheese sticks, the buttons of his shirt gave out one after the other, starting from the bottom of his sagging gut and working all the way up to his trifecta of wobbling chins. With the demise of his shirt buttons, his cascading stomach rolls surged forward with no barrier, with the largest lower roll almost flowing to the edge of where his knees once were.

Apollo chuckled, withholding the next box of greasy fast food from his hopelessly obese boyfriend, waiting until he finished his current batch to see if he noticed the food had stopped. Sure enough, Simon immediately noticed as soon as he swallowed the last of his fried chicken wings, his flabby hands grasping around desperately for any nearby food. His gray eyes suddenly locked with Apollo’s, as he saw the bag of delivery boxes dangling from his hand. “Justice-dono,” he growled, “give me that, now “

Apollo smirked. “Not until you beg for it, Simon.” He waggled the overflowing sack of food back and forth, watching his corpulent boyfriend’s glare soften into a look of desperation, his pudgy lips quivering as he unconsciously whimpered. The voracious overstuffed man raised his jiggly arms, his fat sausage fingers grasping desperately towards the delicious fattening treats he so badly craved. Apollo felt a surge of pride, mingled with desire, at seeing the once-proud samurai prosecutor reduced to a pitiful blob of adipose, too addicted to being fed to even put up a fight anymore. The chubby defense attorney never thought he could be so attracted to someone so pathetic, but something about finally being the one in control gave him such a thrill.

Apollo finally relented after watching his barely-clothed partner struggle to reach for the food for a good few minutes, placing the bag of food directly on top of Simon’s overstuffed gut. The greedy hog of a man eagerly began ripping open the takeout containers, desperately stuffing the food within into his mouth to sate his hungry stomach. The more he devoured, the more the sounds of ripping fabric and busting seams began to fill the apartment. His flabby arms and pancake stacks of love handles and side rolls reduced the remains of his shirt to shreds, and his enormous couch-filling ass cheeks and jiggling thigh rolls quickly burst out of the restraining dress pants, immediately pooling out beneath him and spreading across the cushions being crushed underneath his bulk.

As the final death knell of his tailored suit ripped through the air, Simon swallowed the last of his dinner, his entire chest jiggling from how hard he was panting. His flabby face was flushed and sweaty, but his gray eyes glowed with pride. The morbidly obese prosecutor looked over at his boyfriend Apollo, who was walking into the kitchen. The red-suited man returned with a bag filled with bakery boxes, a soft smile on his chubby face. “Well, a promise is a promise. You did great, Simon.” Apollo grabbed his boyfriend’s chubby wrists, hoisting the enormous man off of his flabby ass and helping him waddle his way into their bedroom. The lowest roll of his overfed gut loudly slapped against his thunderous thighs with every slow step he took, and Apollo kept glancing back to look at Simon’s shapeless ass cheeks jiggling and wobbling constantly the entire time. When they arrived in the bedroom, Simon gratefully collapsed onto the bed, his chest heaving from the effort to walking just a few feet. After taking a few minutes to catch his breath, an exercise in futility at his size, the obese man shifted his flabby physique so he could lay on his back. Apollo straddled his boyfriend’s lap-covering gut, laying himself between his pillowy moobs, and opened the first of the white boxes. Inside was a decadent chocolate cake, with lots of gooey frosting and ganache. Grabbing a big slice with his bare hand, Apollo lifted it to Simon’s waiting mouth. “Open wide, babe. You’ve earned this.” In between stuffing pieces of the sticky sweet cake into his boyfriend’s chubby mouth, Apollo also took breaks to make out with him, caressing his jiggling jowls and chins while licking the frosting off his lips between kisses. He relished in hearing Simon’s labored breathing up close and personal, feeling his panting breaths against his own mouth as their lips met. Apollo thought about how lucky he was to have met Simon, and how much luckier he was to have discovered his softer side, as he heard his flabby boyfriend moan softly, his hunger for more cake eclipsing his lust for more kisses.

[ehksidian]

Legitimately just curious, why is Nia trans? (I already know she's bi)

so like, Officially she's not.

but her arc in xenoblade 2 is the single most trans thing i can think of in a game that isn't LITERALLY about a trans person.

xb2 spoilers i guess but i don't respect xb2 as a whole to censor it beyond this but. with the bathhouse scene, i didn't realize it was about her core crystal. i thought it was her actually being trans and going "please don't out me until i'm comfortable with that" but no it wasn't that.

she still ended up being closeted and hiding who she "really was" and it's extremely telling how she went from wearing a big baggy set of clothes that totally cover her (such as, idk, a dysphoria hoodie!) to something far more revealing (which i have issues with that but that's just a general xb2 "why did saito have to make all the main female blades in the party Like That" critique) like...a fair amount of trans people also tend to do. also the whole "This is who I really am!" bit, too, feels trans as hell like someone coming out as trans to people.

one can argue that nia being forced to become a flesh eater in and of itself strengthens that - forced to go through something that left her body permanently altered against her wishes. kinda like what puberty does!

also her core is blue and pink and light reflecting off it can make it white which i don't think was intentional trans flag imagery (given all flesh eaters have that and the pink is more meant to be red, as seen by jin) but also it's a very funny coincidence.

so that's why i think of nia as a great trans character even if, by all accounts, she's cis. but god, you couldn't make a more trans-coded character without just making them trans.

(the presence of juniper and A in xb3 and its DLC also makes me think that nia's arc being so very trans coded wasn't accidental...)

[suicide-in-october]

Dec 2 2024

The start of it all. Hopefully this entire page will be kept under wraps and separated from my personal identify, but anything can happen I guess. Would be cool to see if people respond to these posts and to give me their perspective. I will start off by explaining what this entire "project" is. I had just finished watching a Fuslie video where she talks to her future self on her birthday and just recaps the year and reflects on all that has happened and what she had hoped would have happened by the time she reacts to the video. I was inspired to take a similar approach, but I am lowkey camera shy, and I just want to ramble and type what I am thinking at the moment with little to no filter. I also want to make daily entries just so I can come back and recall what I had done a certain day. I feel like that would help with some of my memory and recollection abilities. This is such a weird day to start. Not the first of the year, month, or even on my birthday. I guess no start is going to be perfect, as long as it is started. This one will be one of the longer posts, until I hit the birthday post. Hopefully there are no word limits on Tumblr, I have not used this platform in AGES. I wonder how my old friends are that I had met through this site.

Let's start with a recap of this year, before my birthday. So this year has been really tough. The previous year I had gotten into a relationship with someone that I became super irresponsible over. I would lose money faster than I would make it just so I could see her. It was great at the time, until it wasn't. I had quit my job just so I had more time to see her, in hopes that I would get a different job within a few months maximum. This decision was the single WORST decision I have ever made in my life. I am still unemployed, and racked up immense amounts of debt that I can't even afford to pay off monthly. It is a very terrible feeling having to rely on your parents and friends just to survive and do basic things. The job market is terrible and every single job I had applied to for this entire year had never responded to me. Until last week, I got an offer for a site cleaning job that pays less than 50% of what I used to make. But I guess I'm at the point where anything is better than nothing. That was probably the major event of 2024 that is shaping me, or I hope will change me for the better. Because I sure as hell won't make this mistake again (hopefully).

I have been holed up in my room for the past few months because of the lack of funds, yet I realize I am digging a deeper hole in my pockets. Going to Florida on Thursday and that is going to set me back a few thousand dollars extra... But hopefully with the cleaning job I will be able to clear that up along with other expenses soon enough. Saturday was the first time I had gone out in a very long time, but all for the best reasons. Partied with a bunch of friends, haven't gotten drunk properly like that in a very long time, and also a proud little side note, I only had a maximum of maybe 5 bumps. Not bad considering my history.

All in all, I hope the next year fills me with some sort of fulfillment, purpose, and/or happiness. For the future me, I hope that you become someone that the present me can look up to instead of the usual belittlements. I want to be proud of myself one day.

Anyways. I rambled for a bit too long, I might add some things here and there for myself to read in the future, but as for the daily journaling portion, not too much is happening today. I woke up at around 3pm... Must've been because of Saturday. I then played a little bit of MapleStory and ate dinner with my family. Going over to J's house in a bit to have some sinigang that he made. After that I will continue to play a little bit more games and maybe head to bed early.

[caestoexist]

GOING HOME / TO FEED MY BROTHER

by caeser

after i dropped him off i just drove. i couldn't tell you where i was going, all i know is that i thought i was going home until i realized i wasn't turning into my street.

i kept driving further down main street, turning left at the "keep right" sign, turning onto parkland ave, and then suddenly i was on james street. i drove slow and turned my music down, thinking of young kids in houses trying to sleep. i had been that kid. on this street. as i got a little closer to the yellow house, or the old house, as we call it now, i saw a sign.

"block party!

saturday the 29th

3pm-8pm"

i remembered the block party that made me think all block parties would be live music, scootering with other kids my age, and soda, which was new and exciting at the time. it's not anymore, and the last block party i went to was all old people and food i didn't eat and one person i knew from school but didn't talk to, but i still took a picture of the sign.

i turned around in the driveway of the old house, because the other option means going down to a street that reminds me of him, and fuck him. he doesn't even get to be a part of this story, not anymore. it doesn't matter to me that i blame him for things that aren't even his fault, because i never blamed him for anything when it was his fault, so i have plenty of catching up to do. i drove by the house slower than i'd driven the rest of the way. the door was a different color than it was when we lived there.

as i turned right off of james street, it occurred to me that i always drove home from the old house the same way that we drove to and from the red house, while we were moving. i remember taking that sharp turn onto parkland ave, sitting in the back of the van, on the floor, with all the stuff next to me, and being excited and nervous and so giddy to be allowed to sit on the floor instead of in a seat, just cuz it was different.

of course i still drive that same way. felix had commented on it once, at that very spot, saying how i always took the strangest routes places, but it always worked out. i guess i hadn't thought of it as strange. i guess it hadn't occurred to me that there were other ways to drive.

i got to the cliff and tower overlooking my town, where i guess i had gone to write, with mental images of me looking over the edge and realizing that i don't have a cigarette to smoke, and so simply sitting and typing on my phone until everything internal was external, or at least, on my phone screen. however, my internal images didn't account for other people. i'm always alone in my head, i guess. but now that i'm here, and there are two cars full of teenagers bumping music, i really don't want to get out of the prius.

ever since the incident with alder, where those fucking retards tried to beat us up, i haven't trusted loud teenagers. or any teenagers in a herd. im trusting by nature but i know how dangerous other teenagers can be. i know i was never raised tough enough to deal with them.

instead i pull in next to them, turn off all the lights in my car, pull out my phone, and try to ignore the anxious feeling i get whenever i think i see movement in the corner of my vision. it's always just me, typing on my phone screen, reflected in the window.

i avoid looking at them, as i know from experience that anything, even something as small as eye contact, could set off the type of people who would beat you up. or call you names. like dead squirrel. earlier, the librarian said she liked my email. squirrel, at blankmail dot com. that's me. i guess.

finally the two cars leave, one right after the other, confirming my suspicion that they were together. yikes and double yikes, thank god they left. two seperate cars of teenagers is less scary than two correlated cars of them. at least if they're unrelated, there's a chance that if one car happens to take issue with you, the other car will step in and help.

i contemplate getting out of the car, now, to look over the edge and try to remember what felt so freeing the first time i drove without my parents in the car, the day i came up here and climbed out as far as i could without falling off that cliff, and grabbed the furthest bottle top that i could. i still have that bottle top. maybe i should get out.

but i'm hungry. and i have frozen chicken and vegetable dumplings in the back seat, because i'm sick of the pork ones, and because i finally caved to my impulses and just went to cvs to buy dinner instead of looking thru the fridge again. $5.34 cents poorer, but hey. food is good. i'm good. i'm taking care of myself.

i decide to get out, just to see what happens if i do. after seeing someone walking towards the car door and spooking a little before realizing she's not paying any attention to me, i finally get out, and, dizzy with hunger, stagger towards the guard rail. i hear the flag on top of the tower clapping against itself as it flaps in the wind.

the air smells nice, nothing i can describe but something that's been present in summer air since i was a child, something that makes me feel safe, and remember looking out the window and imagining what it would be like to be outside when i was little and had never really been outside at night before. the streetlights looked so inviting.

i squint at the streetlights down on the street. i can't decide if they look inviting or just like nicotine addiction. everyone always says it, but it's true, things do look so small from up here. toy cars and trees and hospital. almost invisible ant people. lights so bright they'd give me a headache if i didn't already have one. mostly dark though, and outlines of houses that i can just barely make out. i remember coming up here with michael, remarking how i liked the lights, and him saying he liked the dark more. i wonder which kind of person i am tonight. the lights seem too bright but the dark is boring- i like the outlines of the houses. i like the music and talking i can hear. from some house down there, i think.

the whole city- can i really even call it that? i know it's true, but still- is covered in haze, and the lights that are really far in the distance seem to twinkle in it. the smell of fire wafts into my nose, and i have so many thoughts and so little thoughts all at the same time.

i miss something. i've missed something for.... i don't know how long. at least since we moved. but probably longer. probably since i was 9, standing in the driveway, wondering why i'm so sad all the time. probably my whole life.

whatever. whatever. whatever. there's no beast inside of me. there's nothing held in that needs to come out. i'm angry but i'm not angry like i used to be. i've already puked. it's already all over the floor. there's nobody coming to clean it up, and i probably won't either.

there's nobody else living in my brain, keeping track of me, keeping track of the steps it takes to start my car and start driving. it's just me, just me and my body. and you know what? we are going home.

we are going home to make chicken and vegetable dumplings in the microwave, and figure out what it takes to keep us going. at least for today. and it doesn't matter if that involves spending $5.34 at cvs, or crying for an hour, or laying in bed for 6 months, or smoking every day for the rest of my life.

i'm alive. and that's fucking good enough.

~*~

i drove home and ate chicken and vegetable dumplings at the table. while i was eating, felix came in, and asked me if i got him anything from cvs. typical. i said no and tried to tune him out. then he started talking about how he was hungry, and wanted food, but didn't know what to make himself. i almost tried to ignore it.

he put something in the microwave and left the room. i got up and looked- microwave popcorn. i know that's not gonna sustain a 13 year old boy. what the fuck are my parents doing? how come not one goddamn person in this house knows how to make anything edible out of the massive, huge, nuclear war level amounts of food that we have stockpiled in this house?

downstairs: wire shelf full of artichoke hearts, relish, oatmilk, beans. chest freezer full of frozen fruit, frozen vegetables, dead mice. standing fridge and freezer full of butter, old soft apples, potatoes, weed, cream cheese. upstairs: closet full of mac n cheese (the kind we don't like anymore), cheerios, vanilla extract, baking soda. fridge full of leftovers, eggs, vegetables. cupboards full of ramen, crackers, assorted dried fruits, nuts. everything to eat, and somehow, still, nothing to eat.

fuck that- fuck microwave popcorn. felix came back in the room and i asked him if he'd eat eggs, if i made them for him. he said sure. i got out the last three eggs and cooked them, real nice with salt and pepper and garlic powder, how my cousin had taught me to do it. after the eggs, i rummaged through the fridge and found a cheese stick, gave that to him as well.

as he ate the eggs, i decided that he needed a vegetable. i asked if he still liked carrots and peanut butter- he does. as i peeled a carrot, i noticed him get up from the table and walk toward the door. i asked if he'd be back, and he said he might. he noticed me peeling the carrot, and remarked that he liked apples with peanut butter too. noted.

after i finished cutting up the carrot and apple, i got out the peanut butter, and as i did remembered how he'd told our parents they should get jif peanut butter when he was eating it at the cabin. my mom said she wouldn't, and it was only the extra oil and sugar added that made it taste so good. i eyed the peanut oil on the counter.

i brought the plate of apple, carrot, and peanut butter with extra oil and sugar up to his room, along with the uneaten cheese stick and the lemonade i had showed him how to make in the kitchen earlier, both of which he'd left on the table. it felt good to feed him, and he said thank you, of course. he's really not so bad now that he's a little older.

still, i couldn't help but feel a little sad. for myself, i think. i feed him because i know nobody else will. i feed him because i wish someone would feed me. i feed him because i know there's nobody who will feed me. i feed him because i know that by feeding him i feed myself. i feed him because i prove to myself, by feeding him, that i can take care of someone. and that means i can take care of myself. even if i don't want to.

i think, most importantly, i feed him because i know that by feeding him he knows i love him. and i do. i've had so many conversations with my therapist about how food and love are almost the same thing, and how my not being fed in this house feels like a metaphor for something.

and okay, sure, i'm loved. i know i'm loved. i know. i'm told that all the time. by my parents, im told that. but sometimes. sometimes it doesn't matter how many times they say it. sometimes i just want them to feed me.

but they're in their room. and i can hear them listening to music. and not caring that i'm not being fed, not caring that felix wouldn't be fed either if it wasn't for me.

they always told us when we fought that they wanted us to be like the boxcar children, or my mom's friends from high school who were siblings and fiercely protective of each other. they wanted us to take care of each other. they always missed the point that the boxcar children took care of each other because they were orphans and there was nobody else to do it, and my mom's friends took care of each other because their parents were addicts and couldn't do it.

now i guess we are a little like the boxcar children. it's ironic, isn't it? they somehow knew that we would get along better if they were worse parents, to the point of staging a fight in the hallway to try and get us to stop fighting, which didn't work. but now, when we try to stand up to them all together, they don't like that. they don't like being the dead parents of the boxcar children.

but they still don't feed their kids. we're all still wandering around the house, trying to figure out what to make for breakfast lunch or dinner, and forgetting what time it is and whether we're even hungry in the first place. if you go long enough being hungry, it doesn't feel like hunger anymore. if they stay in their room long enough, they don't feel like our parents anymore. sometimes i wonder how long it would take our parents to notice if one of us went missing. sometimes i wonder if i'd even notice, with how big this house is. we all just sit in our rooms. that's what we do here.

well, i noticed that felix was hungry, even when they didn't. i shouldn't be the only one noticing, and i shouldn't have to feed him, but i did. and i'm glad i did. if it wasn't for me all he would have eaten was popcorn. if it wasn't for me.

thank god for me.

[dzpenumbra]

6/13/23

I woke up last night after 5 hours of sleep, and this time... it was a nightmare. And I got myself to dream journal, which was good. But... see... usually when I journal and process the dream, I come to realize that the experience of the dream itself was the most disturbing part. Usually it's kinda like a purging of emotions, and the imagery is sorta... I feel like it's prompted to kinda subconsciously justify getting those emotions out, if that makes sense. So the situations in the dream feel intense, but after reflecting on it, it isn't really that bad. Today, however... this was the exact opposite of that. After journaling and reflecting, I felt much much worse.

I have been super panicky lately, very anxious, very tense. Way more than I had been in ages. Very viscerally, too. Lots of physical anxiety symptoms that I haven't felt in a really long time. It's becoming a daily thing now. I guess it's just that whole... not feeling safe thing. And feeling that way... within my own body. That awareness of how fragile and fleeting life is.

This dream wasn't really about that at all though. It was about... vulnerability, and trust. Putting that trust into the wrong hands, willingly, eagerly. I was out partying in the woods with some friends, and my former "friends" showed up. And I took their arrival as sorta marking that I was safe to start getting drunk. I used to do that at parties a lot in my late teens and early 20s, just hold off on getting drunk until I knew for a fact that I had a place to stay or had a backup ride or something. It's just smart. I have no fucking clue why I thought these two were the safe bet though. One of them... she is the one that texted me a few months (weeks? idk) ago. The one who became a homeless fentanyl dealer who lost custody of her kids. Enough said... It's hard to put into words the pain she put me through, the fucked up things she did to me. The other? Someone we used to do drugs with, in the short period where I was regrettably recreationally doing coke. Just... putting that into words makes me feel a lot of shame, honestly. That's the association I have with her.

In the dream, I was kinda explaining that since they arrived, I was now allowing myself to start getting fucked up. And they asked me why I do that, and why I act weird when I smoke weed, too. And back then? I did not speak like this. I like to think that I thought like this, but I honestly can't even recall. But I was not this outwardly open and honest with my feelings at all; in fact, I was really quiet and reserved. But in this dream space, I was Present Me in Past Me's skin. And I just started telling them very bluntly, stream of consciousness, that I don't feel safe around people and that weed makes me feel very vulnerable. Vulnerability was a HUGE theme in this dream. And that I need to make sure that I am safe before I allow myself to be vulnerable. And the rest of the dream after that is really fuzzy but it was like... self-reporting to one of the cops from the RP server I watch, like turning myself in or something.

I woke up and I was not in good shape. I journaled and then did like a full page reflection after to process this concept. This concept that just permeates my entire life. That I'm just a trusting little puppy that just wants to make a friend, who just wants love and play and friendship and happiness. And I wear my heart on my sleeve and roll over and show my belly and... even sacrifice my values and do things I wouldn't otherwise do due to peer pressure or just to fit in... which haunts me with tremendous amounts of shame well over a decade later. All just to have a normal fucking life. All just for a normal fucking friendship. To just go and eat lunch and drive around and talk about music and shit. To go hiking and skateboarding. To talk about our problems and be there for each other. This has been so fucking absent in my life that I have suffered some of the most horrific things of my life just for a taste of it.

So... once I connected the dots in the dream... I saw that my dream self was kinda bluntly showing me the exact problem I have: I trust the wrong fucking people. When I have a crippling pre-existing anxiety disorder. And when I trust, I trust completely. Something psychology calls "porous boundaries", where I do... basically what I'm doing now - openly sharing my true authentic thoughts. And... that led me to another thought.

I have been wondering if what I'm doing here - this, this journal - is a good idea. Obviously it's anonymous, which keeps me "safe". I don't use real names, which is good. I didn't even use age or gender for months, deliberately. I'm thinking very fast and struggling to connect the proper way to phrase this. I feel like this journal is my primary form of communication, regardless of whether it's interpersonal or not. It's the majority of my thought-output directed towards an external audience (even if that external audience may just be myself), rather than internal banter. Outside of this journal, the only other social interaction I have is therapy for one hour a week, and the very rare seconds-long run-ins in the hallways on the rare occasion that I leave my apartment. I wonder if nurturing this way of communicating - which has been a life-goal of mine for a while now - making this form of expression effortless and nearly thoughtless is a bad thing. I don't necessarily think putting my thoughts out here like this in itself will come back to cause problems, but I'm afraid that training myself to be perpetually communicating like this will be like... getting my nuclear launch codes tattooed on my forehead. That I'm going to run into the wrong people out in the wild, thinking they're my friend... like I always do... And I'm going to have a gleeful shit eating grin on my face as I delicately load bullets into their fucking gun for them to use against me. As I have many times before.

This led to a nice adrenaline surge of remembering exactly why I'm avoiding meeting new people. I'm afraid good people are a myth. I'm afraid of running into more predatory people.

There was this allegory that really hit home for me a few years back, I think it was something from a Joseph Campbell video or something. It was about being a tiger amongst sheep, abandoned as a cub and being raised by sheep and thinking it was a sheep and eating grass and shit. Until other tigers came along and they took him back home and slowly adjusted him to their way of living, his natural state. I identified with that image on a lot of levels at the time, to the point where I kinda adopted the tiger as a spirit animal kinda thing. Now? Now... I almost feel the opposite. I kinda feel like a sheep amongst tigers... very very aware that I am a sheep and they are tigers... trying to go unnoticed and praying every day that they don't just turn on me and eat me alive.

And... I think that's a good way to describe what it's like to have whatever psychological disorder is manifesting here. Be it PTSD or severe social anxiety or agoraphobia, or a nice homebrew of all the above. That was a rough way to start the day. It took me a long time to get back to sleep.

I even gave up and started googling "mindfulness exercise for guilt and shame". Because I started... this is a classic abuse-victim thing, by the way. I started blaming myself. I started hammering in on "I should've known better", "I'm a bad person for having made bad decisions", "I should've walked away", "I'm better than that." With decades of shit. My family. Both of my exes. My former best friends. It was just a torrent of shit. And I was reading about the difference between guilt and shame. It seriously helped. I often don't like googling simple shit like that because... I mean... I'm smart, right? I feel like I know the difference between guilt and shame. But... can I articulate it? Humility is a necessary step before growth.

I'm literally googling the difference right now for a refresher. XD

Guilt is like an instruction manual for a specific wrong thing that was done. A lesson to be learned. "I cheated on that test and I don't feel right about it, so I feel guilty to remind myself of that." Shame... shame is a defense mechanism. A way to control and alter a past situation. It attacks your own morality and credibility... in some cases as a way to make it sorta inevitable that the situation would unfold the way it did. "Of course they broke up with me, I'm a broken person." Shit like that. It... softens the blow, with the narrative that there's no other way it could've turned out. OR... it can be a way to control upcoming things to keep ourselves safe. Blaming yourself, so that you can then focus on fixing something that was never your fault to begin with. So that you feel this sense of like... I can make it right. When you were never wrong to begin with. "I don't have friends because I'm a broken person, so I need to fix myself, then I'll have friends." When you were never broken, just... abused.

I guess it was easier for me to process that in second person. XD Weird how the brain works.

But yeah, reading stuff on that helped me a lot. I thought I was being consumed by guilt, but I'm not a fucking idiot. I know that cocaine is bad, that's why I quickly stopped doing it. Feeling "guilty" about that over a decade later is a sign of something different. It's not my brain saying "put a pin in that, next time say 'no'"... it's my brain saying "you should've known better, and you're a bad person for having done that." And that's fucking shame. Shame is a dick. Shame is a real cruel dick. "Shame on you." I guess that's a good way for me to remember it. If the sentence I'm saying to myself can easily have "shame on you" appended to it, it's... probably shame.

And what I learned this morning? Well... what I was reminded this morning... An antidote for this is compassion. Being self-compassionate. Being fair to myself. Being loving towards myself. Especially for things that were not my fault.

So yeah... that was a rough way to wake up.

I fell back asleep though. And I woke up the second time with 9 fucking minutes to get my grocery delivery. I set the delivery last night before my bath, and gave it a 3 hour window between 5 and 8. The dude delivered the food at 4:50. So I rolled out of bed, threw clothes on, grabbed my foldable cart thing with recycling in it and rolled out the door with Veil of Maya's new album in the AirPods. Morning breath and all. I usually take the elevator, but I only had one bag of recycling so I decided to fold up the cart and take the stairs. I ran into a college age dude who was coming down the stairs who held the door for me. I thanked him. I went and dropped off my recycling, got my groceries and saw two little dogs meeting at the front door. It made me so happy, I was grinning like a child. =D

I took the elevator back and when I got to my floor, the door opens and... I'm met by the same guy who held the door for me. And he said something like "ah, we meet again" or something, and I had music playing in my AirPods but I heard him and I laughed audibly, and then made this fucking horrendous wheezing noise after the laugh. It was fucking weird. Like I got a bubble in my throat or something, I don't know. It was embarrassing. Like... it's 5 PM, I'm un-showered, no scented oil that I use instead of deodorant because I'm a fucking hippie apparently, my breath probably stinks, and make this weird fucking wheezing noise. In the past, like... high school/college age? Even up to like mid-to-late 20's? I would've been fucking humiliated. Mortified. It would've taken me hours to come back from that. This was really not that big of a deal. I guess realizing all the other fucked up shit in my life earlier that morning helped me put it into perspective a bit? Idk. In hindsight, it's nice to see me caring less about superficial shit like that.

My workout was a bit tougher than normal today, I had to do these squat-to-sidekicks and it started fucking with the top of my right hip. Not sure what to do about that, really don't know how to get more mobility with my hips. Probably not sit around all day, that might help... But yeah, I knocked that out and it went well.

I played more Rimworld. I made homemade chicken with broccoli for dinner and it was really fucking good. I think it's pretty damn healthy too, and really wasn't that hard to make at all. I might try to make it a more regular staple.

I put more time into my fractal piece later in the night but... I'm struggling with it. I don't really like the direction it's going. But I don't really feel like it's my place to fight it. It's making itself. I am looking at it right now. I am tempted to just redo the texture that I did today, that I sunk hours into, and just... make the bubbles bigger. See if that changes my opinion on it. I feel like I just went too small with it. I don't know, maybe I'll come back to it tomorrow. It really took the wind out of my sails.

I get that sometimes. It used to happen more often with music. When a piece starts going in a direction and you genuinely don't know how to feel about it. And that whole "not knowing" gets interpreted as "bad". So... I think I'm gonna settle with <shrug> for today, and see what Tomorrow Me has to say about it.

Let's round out this big intense day with some tarot, shall we?

Past - Nine of Swords, inverted (Internal despair, nightmares, anxieties.  Deceptive fears that appear to be reality, but are really illusions.) Present - XV: The Devil (Vices; indulgences, addictions, excesses.  Being in a trap of your own design, which perpetually reopens old wounds, and struggling to release attachment to the lures of this trap in order to free yourself.) Future - The Sun (Hope, clarity, confidence.  Success, fulfillment, revelation.)

This one is pretty surreal. Very on-the-nose. And the bonus card that I used as a placeholder in the book was inverted Ten of Cups which made me just kinda go... aww man... :( Buckle up.

The thread starts with inverted Nine of Swords. This is a new one for me. We had Eight of Swords last night, which was the bound woman, who just needed a shift of perspective to see that she wasn't actually trapped at all. This has a similar tone of things not being what they seem... but it seems much more all-encompassing and outside of your control. Where 8 seemed more like... you're kinda trapped by your own design? 9 feels more like... experiential. Like an actual nightmare, or panic, or insecurity, or anxiety. Which is, when you really break it down, an illusion. They can be firmly rooted in reality, but they are illusory by nature. This is very on-the-nose and... is of course inverted. Being kinda... stuck there.

This symbol connects to... The Devil. The Devil is not as much about eternal damnation and punishment all that... I've always thought of it more as a representation of temptation. But the way it was described in this guide was a refreshing take on it. They described it more as a sorta... Greek Tartarus self-punishment kinda thing. Like a hell of your own design, that you could actually free yourself from pretty easily, if you could only let go. Which, again... feels very applicable, which I'll get into in a minute.

And this concludes with a card I absolutely love seeing - The Sun. Hope. The new dawn. The sun coming up on the horizon, which I see the glow of every day.

In short - I'm stuck in torment. By specters of the past, anxieties, night terrors, you name it. Things that do not corporeally exist in the Now. These, and my accompanying insecurities and feelings of incompetence, the shame, the hopelessness... they keep me bound. And I am doing it to myself. Which is really hard to swallow for everyone, that you might in fact be the person ultimately causing your own current suffering. But once you get past that bitter pill of looking The Devil in the eyes... you see that... If you are the only one keeping you imprisoned... you are the only one who can set yourself free. Lucky you! And right on the other side of that? A beautiful new day. The light and clarity needed to move forward and grow.

It's always tough to see spooky cards, but this is a really inspiring message, and one that I really needed today honestly. I immediately look back at that stupid weird snort sound I made with the guy at the elevator. Years ago, I would've beaten the shit out of myself about that. I would've been mortified. Now? I was embarrassed, but it was mild and didn't last longer than 15 minutes. And my way of getting there? Try to put myself in their shoes. If I had that encounter and acted like him, and the other person made a weird snort, I'd probably just go "huh, that was a weird laugh" and completely forget that ever happened. I do not tend to judge people for shit like that. And if this guy really did think I was a weirdo or something for it? Well... do I really care? Do I care what some judgmental person thinks of some weird involuntary breath bubble sound that I couldn't control? No. And the only one inflating that scenario to a level where emotions even need to be involved? Me. It's my Devil, it's my trap. And all I have to do is let it go, and it disappears.

Shame does seem to be my trap. The solution? Be a bit more shameless. :) This journal is a big part of that, but I think I need a bit more. Snowskating in the park was huge for that. Skating for hours in front of an audience, where people could see me fuck up and judge me, and be able to just... move past that? Because fuck their opinion? That helped me with confidence a lot.

I want to share a memory before I go. It's a little painful, and very frustrating, but it was very memorable and I think relevant. I took my girlfriend to a big mall about an hour and a half away from home. It was like a date night thing, I think one of the last dates we went on. I have been a Star Wars nerd since I was a child, she had never seen them, I sat her down and had her binge the entire prequel and original series with me in anticipation of the release of the new trilogy. This trip to the mall was us going to watch The Last Jedi. I'm actually pretty sure I got my current cheap-ass incense burner at one of those five and dime shops on that trip, too. I remember this trip vividly because when we were there, I committed myself to being more of a goofball. Skipping around and kinda dancing as I was walking and shit. Like I used to. It was always easier for me to do that in areas where I didn't know anyone, I guess. I remember I started doing it again at the grocery store here when I had the rental car, it was very liberating. :) And when we got to the iMax theater, I went up to the counter to get the tickets and I did this stupid little bit. I came up with it right before and didn't tell my ex, it was stupid and subtle, but the subtle things can get great reactions sometimes. I went and ordered the tickets but I put the emphasis on the wrong word. So instead of saying "The Last Jedi", I said "The Last Jedi". And I was fully expecting my ex to "yes, and" with me there and just treat it like it was completely normal and let it play out. But she did the exact opposite, she like pulled me back as though I was embarrassing her and she fucking corrected me. ... And that might've been one of the last times I did shit like that, at least in-person.

But I'll tell you, it may not seem like much? But I really think that was the moment that I really knew that she wasn't the one for me. Which is fucked because she gaslit me into thinking I was being an asshole to her and asked for a "break"... so she could fuck someone else... and then never told me about it, I just had to piece together the evidence later after I went groveling to get her back. It still fucks with my heart. And even with that, this was like... the reason why she wasn't the one. Because that's not a partner. It's so fucking blatantly not a partner. That's literally stifling and holding you back. Like... actually physically pulling you back and correcting you as though you're a child.

I miss that side of me, and I need to reconnect with him soon. I need to find a place for him to play.

It's late, bed time.

[thecameronchronicles]

The First of November

TW: Smut. Language. Dom!Drew!

SUMMARY: Your decision to put a specific photo on Instagram since Drew’s been gone, has consequences…

Word Count: 1000

Requested:

ANONYMOUS REQUESTED:

Ahhhhh since ur requests of drew have been closed hehe possibly he’s been away in October and she went out for Halloween but he got back on the 1st of November and she posts her outfit on her insta and he gets jealous then when he gets home he lets her know that they can look but not touch 🙀 

The First of November 

Although you hated the fact you had to spend Halloween away from him because you knew he would have made it even better, you were already far too excited to allow your costume to go to waste. You had captured the detail of the skintight black silk against your skin in such a way that your boyfriend knew well. The compliment of fishnets as those signature pointed ears topping off your costume were broadcast on an Instagram post that had his eyes glued to his phone from the night before. 

"I thought you were going as a bunny-" He spoke at your back as his red eye flight had him arrive back home as you slept, the images haunting his mind with bridled lust to keep from acting on your time apart. 

"I did. A playboy bunny." You smirked as he stood in awe at your reflection for a moment as you wore only his tee, as you often did when he was away, and a toothbrush halfway out of your mouth. 

"And you danced?" 

"Yes, Drew...it was a party, so I danced..." You teased before watching him move slowly towards you. 

"And since I wasn't there you had every reason to wear panties..." You nodded. 

"So why weren't you?" Your eyes widened as he pulled the picture back to view. 

"Don't even try to lie to me. I've ripped ever pair off of you so don't even try to convince me that I don't know." You swallowed hard as he bow towered over you. 

"You want someone else to touch you? Hmm? Touch what's mine?" 

"No, I..." His hand was at the back of your neck. 

"Think you're so cute with that smart little mouth and that short little costume...Posting pictures for everyone to see what belongs to me..." He cocked his jaw. 

"Drew-" 

"Let me guess.. you're sorry, right?" You nodded. 

"Then you know how to make it up to me." You nodded as he would release you, "You have one minute and you better be back out here in that costume.. cause I'm gonna make you come in it, baby..." You bit your lip in excitement as you did exactly as you were told. Once you came back, you found him looking at the photos once more. 

"Do you have any idea what these did to me before take off? Thirteen hours of those images and what I would have done if we were alone?!" You nodded. 

"So you WANTED me to get a boner two miles high? Hmm?" 

"No...I wanted you to realize what you were missing..." 

"Oh really?" He pulled you between his legs, his fingers immediately between the tight velvet. 

"Like I could forget..." He scoffed. 

"Dance for me. Just like you would have for them." 

"Who?" 

"All the guys who you gave masturbation fuel to last night wearing this. Every one of them picturing you in the ways only I get to have you. So shake that ass for me baby, it was a long flight and I fucking earned it for not waking you up and making you pay for it then." 

You obeyed, no need for music or another command before you seduced him with your bedroom eyes and swaying hips. 

"This is how it should be...everyone seeing how beautiful you are...how sexy...but only I get to touch you." You nodded as you moved back between his legs. 

"So why the fuck were someone else’s hands on you?" He asked with the picture of Madelyn's account having posted a photo of friends you made that night. An innocent pose that he took to mean disloyalty. 

"Drew-" 

"Nuh uh. You don't get to say my name like that unless I'm about to come behind those lips. So tell me...why? My hands not enough? My touch?" Before you could ask, he tore the seam between your legs until his fingers were pistoned violently into you. 

"Drew! Oh fuck!" 

"You wanted to say their names, didn't you baby?" 

"No!" 

"Nobody else made you wet last night? Not when they had their hands all over you?" 

"I shouldn't let you come. If I didn't miss you so much, you wouldn't be. But you're gonna come right now or you don't get to." You nodded and groaned as he curved his fingers to THAT spot. 

"Drew!" 

"Come on baby...I'm getting impatient...". You whined. 

"Fuuuck! Drew I'm coming!" You were spent over his fingers as he was quick to use that around his shaft before sunking you onto him. 

"Nobody else gets to touch you. No dancing. NO touching!" You nodded. 

"Good girl. So take this cock and show me just how sorry you are..." 

"I'm SO sorry-" You were silenced by his fingers in your mouth. 

"Taste it. Taste how fucking sweet you are. Why I forgive you so easily...and clench around me...make me come like you always do...come on baby...make me come for you..." 

"Drew, please come...I’m so sorry-" 

"No you're not." 

"Yes, I am! I'm so sorry!" 

"You just wanna come again..." 

"Yes! But I am sorry-" 

"Yeah? Then make me come before you-" You pressed your hands and his chest until he lay flat your body allowed this dominance as you watched him marvel at you. Hands wrapped around each breast, you rode him to his high as he forced you onto your back, hiking your legs over his shoulders. 

"Didn't get a chance to tell you that I  missed you, bunny." He winked in reference to your costume as your eyes rolled in approval to his tongue making contact to your sex. 

So much for a punishment…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

I Just Want You

Words: 1253

Warnings: a little angst, underage drinking (kind of), some small talk about trauma/shitty parents, talk about how being gay is TECHNICALLY illegal cause it's the fucking 80s, probably poor writing but whatever

STRANGER THINGS Masterlist Main Masterlist

Longer title of this was "I Don't Care If We Can Never Be Seen Together, I Just Want You" but I decided to shorten it to just "I Just Want You"

This was also gonna be totally different, but then it became this (and I LOVE this so)

And this can take place literally any time after Season 3 (only bc Robin is apart of the group) but Nancy and Jonathan didn't get together in this timeline...but that's really the only fully 'non canon' thing about this fic

And the fact that people forget that it was technically illegal to be gay in the 80s. Like people would literally be arrested just because of that, ESPECIALLY IN SOMEWHERE LIKE INDIANA. Like, if you had AIDS, it was automatically assumed you were gay and people would hate you for it. So I kinda mentioned that here because I just love ✨historical accuracy✨

Anywho, enjoy

Y/N stood in the corner, trying not to be noticed by anyone. She just wished the floor would cave in and swallow her whole. God, she felt so stupid. Why didn't she see it? See Nancy's blatant feelings for Jonathan? How could she have been so gullible to think that her and Nancy would be anything more than friends. It's the fucking 80s. No one would even be able to know about them. So she didn't know why she had lead herself to believe that Nancy felt the same.

She held the red solo cup in her right hand as she gripped her bicep with her left hand. She was constantly blinking away the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. She watched her friends have fun from afar. And they deserved it. They deserved to have fun. And she had been having fun with them, until the feelings came in. Until she saw Nance and Jonathan. Until she remembered that she always came second to him. When she finally realized why.

She sat the cup on the stand next to her and made her way to the back door. She didn't even understand why she was really even here anymore. She only came because Nancy had practically begged her to do so. She was just planning on staying home to study. She knew that she should have just done that. Told her friend to have fun at the party herself. But Nancy had flashed Y/N her puppy dogs eyes that always caused Y/N to melt.

When she made it, she sighed as she felt the cool fall air around her. She walked and sat onto the pools diving board. She had been so into her own thoughts that she hadn't noticed the concerned look Nancy had given as she saw her friend walking outside. Nor did she hear her give Jonathan some excuse and headed outside to check on her friend. Nor did she realized that Nancy was calling out her name. It wasn't until the girl reached her hand into the water and splashed it up onto her friend that Y/N noticed she was there.

While she was ready to cuss someone out for getting her wet without any warning, the words died in her throat when she saw it was Nancy. All that she did was look back down and stare at her reflection in the water.

But now that she was aware of her friends presence, she heard everything she was doing now. Starting with the sigh she gave before she spoke, "What's going on with you? You usually love parties."

Y/N just shrugged, "Guess I'm just not that into it tonight. But you can go back in, Nance. No reason to be concerned for me."

Nancy gave her a concerned smile, "But I can tell that something's bothering you. So," She climbed onto the diving board and sat on the left side of the board. She placed her arm around her friends shoulder, "Tell me what it is. Do I have to get Steve to beat anyone up? Or need me to run them over?"

Y/N let out a meek little laugh. "You don't have to do anything to anyone. It's really nothing. Just getting my head again."

"Did your parents say something again?"

She silently shook her head, "Not this week."

Nancy softly nodded, "Then what is it? It's clearly bugging you."

Y/N sighed, "Have you ever liked someone you can't have?"

"What do you mean?"

She turned on the board to where she was fully sitting next to Nancy and turned to look at her. "I mean, have you ever wanted a relationship with a person that you can't have? Because they're either in a relationship. Or like someone else. Or they would never like you because of who you are? And you're scared that if they found out the truth they would hate you forever? But you keep telling yourself that little things they do proves that they feel the same but then you see them with someone else and you remember that you'll always be second best to them? All because you're...different."

"I-yeah. Yeah I do."

She gave Nancy a surprised look, "Really?"

Nancy nodded. "There's this person that I've liked for years. But I know if I do anything, we could never be seen as more than friends. And it hurts me. Especially because I know of their feelings for me." She laughed softly, "They're literal shit at hiding their feelings. Plus, one time they were so drunk and out of it, that they confessed it." She sighed and looked out to the forest behind Steve's home. "That was when I realized the feelings actually. That I realized everything that I thought had been friendly was more. That I wanted them more than just a friend. But I know that we could never be more than that. No matter how much I want it."

"Nance I-"

Nancy ignored Y/N and continued, "Sometimes when we're talking, I want nothing more than to just lean in and kiss her." Y/N felt her air cut off. Her? Nancy liked a girl? But...but who? She heard Nancy laugh, "God, sometimes I forget how similar you and Robin are."

Oh.

"You like Robin?"

Nancy's eyes widened and she shook her head feverently, "No! God no. She's just a friend. I just said that because she was so oblivious to the fact that Vickie likes her back."

"Then who is it that you like, Nance? Cause it sure seems as if you like Jonathan."

Nancy sighed and muttered, "I guess now is as good of a time as ever." Just as she leaned into Y/N and kissed her. It took Y/N by such surprise that she hadn't realized it happened until Nancy pulled away. "You. You're the person I like."

But instead of saying anything back. Y/N just gathered any and all fucking courage she had in her body and grabbed Nancy's face to kiss her again. Nancy deepened the kiss by placing her hand on the back of Y/N's neck. Y/N moved one of her hands onto the board and the other on Nancy's arm. Moving them both to where she was on top of Nancy as she laid on the length of the board. Nancy's legs were dangling off the edge of the board as Y/N's legs were slotted on either side of Nancy's. At some point, Nancy had snuck her hand underneath Y/N's shirt and was groping her boobs.

The two finally pulled away from each other, or rather jumped from each other, as Steve yelled at them. "If you guys are gonna sleep with each other, at least do it in a goddamn room. Not on my fucking diving board."

The looked to him surprised before he just rolled his eyes at them and walked back in. Y/N sat back on her knees and Nancy moved and copied her.

"I hate that we could never be seen together. Like, actually together. As more than just friends or 'roommates.' Y'know? I wish we could just be us."

Nancy gave Y/N a soft smile, "I don't care if we can never be seen together. I just want you. In any way I can have you. Even if it means living our life in secret."

"Really?"

Nancy nodded and kissed Y/N softly on the nose, "Really."

[randomgamefan]

It's chapter 4 babey, not too long awaited and definitely something I'm excited to share!

I won't keep ya, get into it, feel free to yell in the comments!

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The four quickly headed out of the factory, Leshy looking as if the tech would jump out and bite him, which was quite amusing for P03. Grimora and Leshy stayed in front, chatting about cards as they walked, though Grimora world occasionally glance back at the two.

Luke walked at about the same pace P03 hovered, keeping his eyes on the ground, at least until the robot spoke. 

"And why are you tagging along?" P03 asked with a smug face, it's tone implying Luke probably wasn't 'worthy' to walk with the scrybes, or something like that.

Luke shrugged. "I was invited to come along, and what else was I going to do? Sit in Leshy's cabin alone?" 

P03 snickered. "Invited? What, by the insane duo at the front?"

Luke gave a nod. "yeeep. Got a problem with it?" He asked, trying to stop himself from letting a smile creep into his expression. 

P03's display flicked, it's face now annoying, but it didn't respond.

Luke studied the robot for a second. For the entire time he played this game, P03 was incredibly self-centered. Why would it play along with Grimora? There had to be an ulterior motive, but what would P03 have to gain by coming? The whole situation boggled Luke's mind, for the short time he got to think about it.

It didn't take long for the group to reach the outer edges of Magnificus' domain, the air around them seeming to glow with a magical hint. The rocks on the ground shined and shimmered, though nothing was as bright as the factory reflected in the sunlight. The dirt under their feet was coarse, rocks and other things seeming to be uniformly mixed in. 

The tower itself wasn't far away, though they had to cross a couple more bridges, much to Luke's dismay, though they soon approached the entrance to the tower itself. It loomed over the party, with what Luke would guess to be about 4 or 5 stories, all in worn brick. Moss and vines had taken over a large majority of the tower, which only enhanced the feeling of age. There were few windows, to be fair Magnificus didn't seem to be the type of person to longingly gaze out a window. 

As Luke was looking the building up and down, a strange sort of crackling and whizzing noise came from beyond the main door. He pulled his gaze from the tower, staring at the door for only a moment before, 

"HEY, LOOK OUT!"

A large stream of magic poured out of the door, Luke not even having a second to process it before something grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him off his feet and away from the stream. 

Luke felt his heart beating out of his chest, taking a moment to calm down before realizing his feet weren't on the ground. Glancing over, a very startled looking P03 held him up. Holy shit, P03 had just saved him, what the fuck.

Before Luke had time to process what just happened, P03's expression turned to anger, and it dropped Luke to the ground. P03 might as well have marched in the tower, yelling a loud, "You almost killed me, what the fuck was-" before cutting itself off

Luke got quickly to his feet, running inside to see what the hell had just happened. 

P03 stood in front of Magnificus, who seemed quite pleased with the anger of his fellow scrybe. Beside Magnificus were his three students, the lonely wizard bouncing a bit in place. 

"Good shot," Magnificus commented. "Try to hit them next time, though."

"Okay!! Thank you master Magnificus!" The small wizard commented, seeming quite excited with the praise. 

There was silence in the room as the other two scrybes made their way inside, clear surprise on their faces. 

"Is there something I can help you with?" Magnificus asked, examining the group that now stood on the bottom floor of his tower. 

P03 looked annoyed. "Are we just getting no explanation for this??" It practically shouted, gesturing around the room.

"Is there one needed?" He asked, raising his eyebrows at P03. 

"For once I do agree with it." Luke commented, looking around with confusion. "there's a lot here that doesn't quite add up." 

Last Luke had seen, Magnificus' students were locked up in essentially torture chambers, unable to escape and in a lot of pain. And from everyone else's reactions, that was the last they had hurt of it either. 

Magnificus sighed, seeming to realize that he had to explain. "I suppose Luke opened my eyes. He knew how to play his cards and used my wizards against your creations." He gave a slight glare to P03.

"And Lone was going to leave if you didn't." The pike wizard commentated. 

Magnificus seemed to be annoyed at that being revealed. Luke secretly felt a bit liberated - Lone deserved freedom, and here he was. Well, and the fact that.. hey wait. 

"Did you just say that I helped you see their worth? Wait, you were watching in act 3??" 

The words escaped Luke's mouth as soon as he thought them, He was glad, of course, but surprised to hear that he helped free the magicians. 

The four scrybes in the room stared at Luke. Leshy and Magnificus just looked confused, while P03 seemed shocked and Grimora appeared.. not just surprised, but also a bit happy?

P03 turned to Grimora, seeming exasperated. 

"Grimora! You *inscrybed* Luke?? What the fuck?!"

"I didn't mean to!" She countered. "I didn't think he was dead! I was just going to make a momento of everything!"

"Well, kind of hard to miss the recovery process, I don't think he had the ability to do that on his own, do you??" It countered. 

Grimora growled. "I still couldn't have known he was dead!"

"You knew fine well there was a possibility! You did it on purpose. Admit it Grimora."

Luke took a moment to step in. "I'm sorry, can we please go back to the part where someone said I was dead?"

Luke could barely keep his footing, his heart beating loudly in his ringing ears. He held a hand to his head, trying to process anything that had just been said. 

"Oh, and you didn't even tell him he was dead, just lovely! Grimora, I can't believe-"

Luke couldn't hear any more of what was being said. His vision was blurring at its edges, and he felt his entire body collapsing under him. The last thing he could remember was Lone cry out in alarm as his knees buckled

He just needed a few minutes

[amoristt]

Just a Dare | Nathan Prescott x Reader

@trueloveknifefight asked, Also can I request Nathan asking you out?

here u are! i love writing convos w nathan UGH i adore his character.

as always, replies and reblogs are greatly appreciated1 i check all tags and comments <3

wanna support me for just $3? here's my ko-fi!

The lights were bright, vivid. Almost blinding. They dance LED accents into the reflection of your drink- a dull plastic cup filled to the brim with one part whiskey, zero parts mixer. The taste could bring a tear to your eye but you would be damned to water down such fine alcohol, provided by none other than Nathan Prescott himself.

Music reverberated along the pool rooms walls, laughter and hollers distantly rising with the tempos. Your foot absently tapped to the beat- you were never one for dancing. Never one for parties, either, actually, favoring drinking in the solitude of a small friend group.

If not for Nathan you wouldn't be here at all. Some would say it's a privilege to slip past those heavy doors, entering the dully lit world of the Vortex Club. You mostly just felt like it was all for show. Somehow securing a place among Nathan's friend group, and a good friend at that, it was almost duty to show up. He insisted on it.

So, here you were. Leaning against a wall in a suffocatingly warm, cramped pool room surrounded by a sea of faces you hardly recognized.

That was, until you saw Nathan's face peer through the small break in shifting bodies. You knew him all too well.

Strikingly handsome, equally strikingly pompous. Funny, crude, an absent minded party goer just as much as he was a fireball with racing, incoherent thoughts. A drinker, a druggie. Takes the edge off, he says, but you think he does it to take away his thoughts completely. You felt like his entire life was all edges, never sacred ground.

The poor bastard.

He lures your attention in as he saunters over with squared shoulders, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink when a random student cuts it a little too close. Normally Nathan would make a bigger deal, give him what for, but this time he just shoots the poor kid a menacing glare and grumbles, 'fucking watch it'. He's walking with purpose and intent, you can see it on his face. You must have a target on your forehead as he darts straight over.

When he comes to your side, his own alcohol dripping down the sides of his cup onto his wiry fingers, you raise a brow.

"Something wrong?" You ask, as he takes a spot leaning against the hard wall right next to you.

"Just wondering why you're being so fucking lame over here," He shouts over the music, taking a sip of his drink, grimacing at the taste. "We're all having a good time over at the lounge and you're over here acting like all the other wallflower nobodies."

You roll your eyes with upturning lips. "Maybe I like being a wallflower. I like people watching. I see things no one else does."

"Yeah, okay, fucking weirdo."

"I mean it," You push off the wall and grin. "Look-" You point to a student obviously wasted, drink held high over head while he lets the music take him away. "That guy is clearly trashed- he's having the time of his life. He's gotta be seeing double."

Nathan whistles at his state, taking in the guys goofy smile, half lidded eyes. "I'll bet it's the triplets. I could breathe on him too hard and he'd fall over."

"You should go try it." You tease. He shakes his head and takes another drink.

"Nah, he'll get it himself. Guarantee we'll be dragging him out by his feet by the end of the night." He shrugs. "Or, at least someone will. I sure as fuck ain't staying that long."

You snicker. "What, got a hot date?" Nathan glares at you. "Oh don't tell me," you cup your hands to whisper, a secretive gesture, "homework?"

"Fuck no," He scoffs, and you can just barely see that he's a little more than tipsy now. His pale cheeks dusted with red, the tip of his nose ruby under the harsh lighting. It's also then that you realize he's a little more tense than usual, even despite the drinking. He's standing straight upright, his right hand gripping his cup like a crutch and his left now shoved hastily into his pocket.

He hasn't looked at you dead in the eyes yet.

"So what is it then?" You ask curiously. He shrugs and stares into his cup. You frown. "Bro, are you like, good right now? Do you wanna leave?"

For the first time since he'd wandered over, Nathan looks up at you. His eyes are unreadable, but his composure seems stressed. He shrugs again. Before you can even open your mouth to ask him about his state, he sighs and downs an entire mouthful of burning whiskey. It makes you cringe just watching him.

"Fuck it," He huffs. "Look I got some stupid ass dare to come over here and put the moves on you, okay." He sounds almost annoyed, like it's a hassle for him, or maybe embarrassing. You cross your arms. "I was dared to come over here and try to get you like, to fucking, you know, leave with me, but now that I'm over here I'm starting to think maybe that was a dumbass idea."

"Leave with you?" You say incredulously, a brow already lifting. "You were dared to come over here and try to sleep with me? By our friends?"

"No, no, fuck," Nathan seems agitated now, rushing. "Like a date sorta bullshit. Ask you out." He manages to get it out in almost the worst delivery possible, meanwhile you're just trying to pick out who would put him up to this. Hayden? Victoria?

A laugh forces its way out of you. "Aren't we a little too old for that game?"

Nathan shrugs. "That's what I said but they insisted. Fucking babies. At least make the dare a little more fun than just asking some bitch out. That's like elementary level shit."

Your eyes widen, you scoff. "Excuse me?"

Nathan sputters. "You're not some bitch, I didn't mean to-... Fucks sake, I'm clearly a little drunk right now okay, if you could cut me some fucking slack that'd be awesome."

"Hey man I didn't ask to be a victim of bullying," You tease, and he can't help but laugh. You soften. "Never expected it from you, though of all people. As ironic as that sounds."

"I'm not even bullying you, come on. Don't be a bitch. I even admitted it and everything."

You grin. "Yeah. Gotta say though, I'm a little disappointed."

"Oh what, you wanted to see my moves?" Nathan hums. "You wanted some Prescott action?"

"Shut the hell up." You shove his shoulder, an action that would be a mistake to so many others, but for you, it was welcomed. "I'm disappointed that it was just a dare. I'd probably have said yes if it wasn't. But, oh well."

Nathan doesn't answer for a long moment. First, he stares into his drink, processing. Almost like he hadn't heard that right, or like you were messing with him. It's rare to see Nathan Prescott stunned into a momentary silence. He's thinking, wondering what he should say next. Suspicious that you're just playing with him, hopeful that maybe you aren't.

And, you hadn't been. Truth be told if given the chance you would allow him to take you out for the evening. Show you fancy things, try out something a little more intimate than just laughter and poking fun at classmates together. You enjoyed his presence, looked forward to it at times.

A small part of you had hoped that he felt the same, maybe. Somehow. While grateful that he respected you enough to cut the crap before it even began, you couldn't help but feel a little... Disheartened at the prank. You'd saved your pride by denying him beforehand, but, if it had been genuine...

"So if it wasn't a dare," He began, quietly, barely audible over the booming music overhead. Eyes barely visible in the sea of vibrant lights crashing like waves. "You'd have said yes."

You shrug, trying to play it casual to save your own feelings, just in case. "Probably. I mean, we're already friends. We have fun so it couldn't have been that bad." He nods along to almost every word.

"Well what if we did it anyways." He blurts.

"Did what?"

"Go out tonight. Like, you know ditch this lame ass party and have some real fun."

"You love this lame ass party, and plus," You shake your head in feigned annoyance. "I'm not sleeping with you, Nathan."

He glares at you. "Fucking duh. I'm just saying we can go and hang out somewhere else. This party happens all the fucking time so it's not like we're missing anything."

"But, wouldn't that make me the butt of our friends joke?"

He shrugs. "Fuck em. It was a dumb dare anyways."

"Now it seems like you're trying extra hard to convince me to say yes." You state, and he's frazzled, running lines through his brain to try and save the absolute failure of asking you out. You decide to spare him, take a little leap of faith for yourself. "But, alright. I'm in."

Nathan gapes at you. "You're in?"

"Yeah, why not. I'm not busy right now and if you're not either than," You smile. "Why not. You better wow me though, Prescott. I'm talking a night to remember. Fireworks, dinner by candle light, a serenade. The whole package."

Nathan's eyes light up, but he tries to hide it, rolls those beautiful blues. "Well considering I've had like no fucking time to prepare how about we instead go to the roof and chill out."

You toss the idea around in your head for show. You already knew the answer the moment he asked if you were being serious.

"I mean I guess that would work," You say. "I was looking for fireworks but I suppose that will suffice. Feel free to go tell our buddies their joke may have backfired on them."

Nathan shakes his head. "Nah, don't even bother. They're all drunk and probably don't even remember daring me in the first place."

"Alright then," You push yourself off the wall, feeling your cheeks warm. A flutter takes wing in the base of your chest, your heart picking up just a little faster. You can't stop the smile that graces you as you say, "Lead the way, Prescott."

Nathan does lead the way. He takes your hand into his own, your fingers tracing over his boney knuckles as he drags you through the sea of bodies, out to the school hall and up winding stairs.

You giggle like a child when he struggles to find the correct key on the janitors ring he'd snatched weeks ago just in case, tease him when he almost spills his drink all over himself. Nathan's hands are almost shaking, but you chalk it up to the alcohol. You chalk everything up to the alcohol- his trembling fingers, his red face, a shy, albeit goofy smile resting upon his lovely, angular face.

The night was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the smoldering heat of the Vortex Party.

He looks amazing out under the stars, and underneath the scope of the vast, black sky dotted with trillions of perfect, twinkling lights, you feel at peace.

Looking at him, you feel like this may be the start of something you'd denied yourself the chance of ever even imagining.

Out there, alone but together, hearing the echoes of music mixed with the livelihood of crickets in the darkness...

it truly was a night to remember.

-----------

Days later, you sit atop your desk, feet tapping rhythmically on your chair, typing away at your phone.

"Love the top," A familiar voice pipes, and you glace up to find Victoria standing before you, books pressed to her chest. She takes in your shirt, a nicely fitted long sleeve with a rather low cut v-neck. "Why haven't I see that one before?"

You shrug and set your phone down. "Never got around to wearing it I guess. Not a big fan of V-necks."

"It fits you," She sets her books down at the table beside you and brushes a hand through her hair, making sure every strand is in line. "I'll have to get one myself."

"You know what, you can have it after today," You say, and she perks up in disbelief. "As a thank you for what happened at the party."

That disbelief soon turned to confusion. "...Meaning?"

"Y'know, making Nathan ask me out. He made a whole huge deal about it- said you guys were drinking and playing Truth or Dare of all things. Gotta say, I was a little surprised."

Victoria's brows knit. "We hardly drank at that party, and I wouldn't be caught dead playing Truth or Dare. That game is for kids."

It almost knocks the wind out of you.

They hadn't even been playing in the first place.

As the teacher walks into the room, the first period bell blaring annoyingly over the speakers, you climb off your desk and prepare for the day, hardly able to contain yourself. It hadn't been a dare, after all.

And, you and Nathan's official second date was merely a day away.

[enerday]

While I was writing a comment under this post I realized something I would like to share.

Later I was asked by @benjamingross to explain more on Ben's colour being blue, so I had to add a little bit more about why I'm speaking of these two colours specifically, but here it is. Pure speculation and theories.

Also, a little disclaimer: it may be completely off-topic and not true at all and might be already discussed as well.

Firstly: Ben. His colour is blue because he simply wears mostly blue throughout the show.

(Speaking of "wears mostly" I mean of course not "exclusively". He has a lot of different outfits of different colours but the proportion for blue/not blue is about 60/40, which is a lot)

Sometimes his surroundings are also blueish - mostly his house and parents.

In psychology, blue means such qualities as security, trust, loyalty and responsibility. It calms and relaxes our brain, but also symbolises conservativeness, sadness, even depression.

And here's Devi, who is associated with red.

She doesn't wear red as much as Ben wears blue but also has a lot of red surroundings, especially in her room. Also Mohan and Ben define her as a firecracker which associates with red in my mind.

Psychologically speaking red means energy, passion, courage, attention, it is about strength, stimulation etc. On the negative side, it also means anger and aggression.

Both of these colours match their personalities perfectly.

Answering @benjamingross question, that's why I think Ben's colour is blue. It's not just the colour of clothes Ben wears usually, for me Ben is strongly associated with blue. And Devi is associated with red.

So here's the thought that occured to me while I was thinking about their outfits at the school dance.

There are a couple of moments we can see Ben wearing red that I want to discuss.

1. That's a little one, but interesting. 1x05, UN model. His tie is blue and red. That's the moment he first bonded with Devi and acted as a team with her. She also wears red in this scene.

2. 1x08. His birthday party. Ben wasn't going to host a birthday party until Devi asked him if he was. Both wear Ben's blue here, btw.

He invites her, just her firstly (I guess, he didn't think this through and acted impulsively) and then she invites other people. So basically this party is for her...

...and he wears red for the event. Bright red just like Devi's TikTok dance dress and UN model blouse, the colour he has never been seen wearing before (he wears once a reddish shirt but that isn't as nearly as bright as this one).

Also Ben wears bright red at the beginning of 1x10, where he and Devi have breakfast together. Nothing special here except for the fact that Devi also wears a blueish outfit here, and both of them are nice and peaceful.

3. 2x02, a few scenes we see them as a couple.

After Devi's party, he doesn't wear red. At all. But, a fun fact, Devi wears a lot more blue than she did in season 1.

So all the above is mostly just an observation not much for analysis here.

It is a well-established fact that people try to mirror people they like, I don't think I can add more to numerous psychology researches scientists did before.

Ben likes Devi and tries to mirror her. The party happens - he thinks that they are done for good, he doesn't feel confident enough to wear red anymore and gets back to his blueish outfit (although, I think he wears blue less than season 1).

That's just a really long thought and maybe I'm reading too much into this, but I think that their outfits reflect their feelings towards each other too perfect to be just a coincidence.

[ming-yu-hao]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder | Chapter 1

Pairing: fratboy!mingyu x female reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Synopsis: When you transferred to a different university, you and Wonwoo promised that you would make long distance work. But distance proves to be more difficult than you both originally thought.

This Chapter’s Tags: some angst ig, light cheating? (not really lol), mingyu is just flirty, female masturbation, mentions of alcohol and weed

Warning: THIS SERIES IS ABOUT CHEATING. DO NOT READ IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!

A/N: it’s gonna get spicy soon just trust me ;)

Chapters: Next | Masterlist

30 minutes. That's how long you had spent anxiously perched in front of your computer, waiting for the familiar ring of the video call to echo through the speakers. You cycled between scrolling through social media, checking your reflection in the camera, and debating on whether or not to text Wonwoo. You understood that he was busy; it wasn't unusual for either of you to call a few minutes later than you had originally planned. But Wonwoo had never left you hanging for this long without an explanation. Normally, your mind would begin to fixate on the worst case scenario, but Wonwoo had already cancelled on you the past two weeks because he was busy working.

The loud vibration of your phone against your desk drew you out of your thoughts, and you hurriedly picked it up and saw Wonwoo's name glowing across the screen. "Hello?" You answered quickly.

"Hey," Wonwoo's deep voice sounded through the phone. "You're gonna hate me," He chuckled.

"I could never," You replied. You already knew the next words that were going to come out of his mouth.

"I can't FaceTime tonight." He explained. Even though you saw it coming, you couldn't help the feeling of disappointment that weighed heavy on your chest.

Your eyes met with the reflection displayed on the laptop screen. It taunted you, reminding you that Wonwoo's face wouldn't be there to replace it once again. "Well, I would be a lot happier right now if you told me that half an hour ago," You laughed bitterly. Running a hand through your hair, you quietly sighed.

"I know. I'm sorry." Wonwoo apologized. His voice was laced with genuine sorrow; you could clearly picture the frown that lined his lips right now. He added after a moment of silence, "I don't wanna keep doing this to you, so I think we should change our date day. I've been working more Fridays lately."

You nodded despite him not being able to see you and hummed in agreement. "What day then?" You asked.

"I'm not sure yet. I still have to figure out my schedule. Just text me what works for you and I'll let you know soon, okay?" He sighed.

"Oh, okay... yeah." Your lips drew into a tighter line with each word he spoke.

"Okay, I have to get to get back to work right now. I'm sorry again." He continued quickly. "I love you."

"I love you too."

The three tones signaled the end of the call, and slowly you pulled the phone away from your ear. Your tired reflection stared back at you. Finally, you shut the computer for the third Friday in a row.

The remainder of the weekend passed and you had barely heard anything from Wonwoo except for the usual good morning and goodnight texts. By the time Wednesday came around, the both of you finally agreed that Saturday could be your new set day for FaceTime dates. You powered through the rest of the week, and on Saturday you excitedly set aside all the work from your classes and waited patiently for Wonwoo to call.

You really missed him. It'd been just over two months now since you last saw him in person, when you moved into your dorm at a university three hours away from the one where you and Wonwoo met. He stayed behind while you transferred to a college with a renowned journalism program. At first, you were hesitant to leave him, but Wonwoo refused to let you give up such a great opportunity just to stay close to him. That was what you loved about him: he wanted to see you be happy and successful.

Situating yourself comfortably on the bed, you pulled up some random Netflix series to entertain yourself while waiting for Wonwoo. You only half paid attention, glancing between the computer screen and your Instagram feed on your phone. Time crawled, and slowly you sunk deeper into the softness of the mattress below.

Cold, small hands shook you awake. You rubbed your eyes and sat up, disoriented. The series you were watching was still playing quietly. Your roommate, Jisoo, stood next to your bed with her arms crossed over her chest. She stared at you with a raised eyebrow. "You're passed out by 7 on a Saturday night?" A teasing smile was displayed across her face as she shut your laptop.

You suddenly realized that it was an hour past the time that Wonwoo had promised to FaceTime you. Your heart sunk in your chest as you thought about how you probably missed his call without an explanation. You picked up your phone, but quickly noticed the notification for a missed phone call from him, followed by a text that said: I'm so sorry, something came up I promise I'll call you tomorrow.

Jisoo surveyed you for a moment; a more serious expression began to cross her features. She sat down at the bottom of your bed. "Did something happen?"

You rolled your eyes and looked down at your hands. "Wonwoo cancelled on me again," You sighed, "But I shouldn't be mad at him for it. It's not his fault he's busy."

Jisoo tsked and patted your leg through the sheets. "Of course you can be upset! How many times has it been now?"

"This entire month. And he always cancels super late."

She scoffed, "See! That's shitty. If this was the first time it wouldn't have been a big deal. But four times?" She stood up quickly and opened up her wardrobe. "If he wants long distance to work, he needs to have better communication."

"Yeah, I guess." You replied. Jisoo held a black top up to her figure, observing herself in the mirror. "Where are you going?" You inquired.

"A party at the SVT frat. You know any of them?" She explained while changing her outfit.

You had heard of the frat before, but you racked your brain for any of their names and couldn't remember one. "I don't think so."

Jisoo faced you again and smiled. "Well, let's go."

You chuckled, "No way."

She pouted. "Come on. You haven't gone out with me I'm so long. You're in college!" Jisoo begged. "Just this once. You'll have fun."

Jisoo had a point. You really had nothing else better to do besides sit around and mope over Wonwoo ditching you. You let out an exhasperated sigh of defeat, "Fine, I'll go."

"Yes! Go get all cute and dressed up." She cheered.

You emerged from your bed and strolled over to your own closet. "Alright, I'll be quick."

You and Jisoo walked into the party hand in hand. Immediately, the stench of weed and sweat overwhelmed you. Loud music vibrated through the walls of the house and clashed with the sounds of people cheering and yelling. An intense game of beer pong captured the attention of most people in the main room, but you could see a separate crowd gathered in the kitchen too.

"Who do you know here again?" You shouted over the music at Jisoo, not seeing a single person you recognized so far.

She leaned closer to you so you could hear. "Choi Seungcheol. I have a chemistry class with him." She scanned the room and suddenly perked up. "Oh, there he is!" She called his name and pulled you along with her towards him.

He stood against the wall with a red cup in his hand, talking with another tall boy. At the call of his name, he looked over at the two of you and smiled brightly. "Jisoo! I'm so happy you made it." He exclaimed while wrapping his arm around her lower back. Seungcheol watched you with kind eyes as you approached him. "And who is this?" He asked Jisoo.

"This is my roommate, Y/N. Y/N, this is Seungcheol." She introduced you both and you smiled and gave a small wave to the two boys.

The other boy flashed you a sweet smile that caused his eyes to form into crescents. "I'm Seokmin. I live here with Cheol." He explained.

All four of you continued to converse casually until Seungcheol pointed to you and Seokmin and said, "Hey, why don't you two go get some drinks? We'll wait here." You swore you saw a gleam of mischief in his eyes, and you quickly glanced at Jisoo to see if she noticed it too, but her expression remained neutral. This was exactly why you strayed away from parties. You wanted to avoid any encounters with flirty, drunk frat boys. But Jisoo, who was basically a mind reader, didn't react, so maybe you were just being overly paranoid.

You nodded and walked over to the kitchen, Seokmin following close behind, and watched as he began to mix some drinks together for the four of you. He let out a frustrated sigh as one of the bottles of liquor reached its end. Seokmin peeked over his shoulder and shouted, "Mingyu! Can you get me the other bottle of vodka?" You perked up at the familiar-sounding name, but couldn't remember where you had heard it before.

A moment later a presence approached you and Seokmin from behind and set the bottle down on the counter. "Now you have to make me one too," The deep voice joked. You turned around and immediately recognized the tall figure.

"Mingyu?" You called out in surprise.

His eyes dragged over and met yours. His face lit up instantly as he recognized you. "Y/N! What are you doing here?" Mingyu laughed.

Seokmin turned around and handed a cup to Mingyu with a raised eyebrow. "You guys know each other?" He questioned.

You grabbed your own cup and took a sip of the bittersweet mixture. "Yeah, we have a digital media class together." You said before smirking at Mingyu. "I didn't think you were the frat boy type."

Mingyu rested his right hand on the counter beside you, almost trapping you in between the wood and his body. "I guess I'm just full of surprises," He replied.

You felt your heart flutter in your chest at his flirty response. This was a whole new side of him that you had never seen before in class. Granted, he was most likely tipsy and maybe even a bit high, but in class he was usually polite and reserved. He cracked jokes with you sometimes, but you never expected him to be so bold. On top of that, he always had his hair styled back neatly. Now, his dark hair fell over his forehead in messy curls. His skin was sheathed in a light layer of sweat, and the muscles in his arms and chest were suddenly more prominent under his white tee in the dim light of the house. You had to admit, he was ridiculously attractive.

"I'm gonna go give this to Cheol and Jisoo," Seokmin interrupted before leaving the kitchen with both cups in his hands.

Silently, you started behind him and Mingyu walked with you. "So what are you doing here?" He asked again as the two of you rounded the corner and entered the living room.

"My roommate was invited and made me go with her," You told him. You continued to sip your drink, basking in the warm feeling that the alcohol left in your chest.

"Makes sense. I didn't expect you to be a party girl." He teased. His arm slowly snaked around your waist and squeezed your hip lightly. Your skin tingled beneath his touch but you didn't give him any physical reaction, opting to just ignore the grip he had on you.

Your jaw dropped in a fake gasp. "You think I'm boring or something?" You narrowed your eyes at him and he chuckled.

"I never said that," He responded with a smirk on his lips.

Seungcheol and Jisoo had migrated from the spot where they previously stood, so you scanned the crowded room for the long haired girl. Finally you noticed her sitting close to Seungcheol on the couch. You could see they were laughing about something and considering Seokmin wasn't hovering near them anymore either, you decided to leave them be.

Mingyu noticed where you were looking and raised his eyebrows at you when you turned back to look at him. "Well, I guess my roommate is busy," You rolled your eyes.

You had forgotten about Mingyu's hand on your waist until he squeezed it again. "Good thing you have me then," He bantered. Your skin flushed; you slightly leaned into his touch. It had been so long since you felt someone else's hands roam across your body. You missed the feeling.

Mingyu slowly pulled your body closer to his until your chest was centimeters away. You gulped and dragged your eyes up to meet his. He stared at you intensely, his other hand coming up to caress your cheek. Your breathing hitched as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. "You're so pretty," He muttered. It felt like fire had lit up your entire body. Your nerves tingled and your brain felt fuzzy and you hated to admit it but you could feel arousal growing between your legs. Somehow Mingyu pulled you even closer than before and you felt his hard cock brush against your thigh through his jeans. His tongue darted out against his lips and he inched his face towards yours. "Can I kiss you?" He whispered just inches away from you lips.

Guilt imprisoned you as soon as he said those words. They reminded you of where you were, and what you were planning on doing. You closed your eyes and pulled yourself out of his grasp. "I have a boyfriend," You admitted briskly.

Mingyu stared at you in confusion. "What?"

Shame overtook you. Wonwoo had trusted you to remain loyal, and here you were at a frat party, leading on some poor boy from your class.

Mingyu lightly grabbed your wrist. "Hey, I'm sorry. I should've asked-" He started, but you quickly cut him off.

"No, I'm sorry. This is my fault." You apologized and pulled your wrist out of his grasp. You looked at him; he stared at you with a sorrowful gaze. The regret on your face was evident and he knew that he had helped in bringing this guilt upon you.

"I- I have to go do something," You added before turning around and darting towards the door. You didn't bother to turn around or look for Jisoo, you just needed to get out of there as fast as possible. Once you were outside, you inhaled a sharp breath and pulled out your phone to call for an Uber. You waited near the street, sending a text to Jisoo to let her know that you felt sick and went home while you waited.

Eventually the Uber pulled up and you hurriedly sat down and told the driver where to go. You breathed a sigh of relief as they finally pulled away from the frat.

The drive was short, but you spent every one of those few minutes replaying the night's events in your mind. Your flesh still tingled in the places where Mingyu had touched you. Guilt haunted you, but you attempted to lessen that burden by reasoning with yourself. You missed Wonwoo. A lot. You missed hearing his voice and seeing his face and of course feeling his touch against your skin. You hadn't been fucked in over two months now, so it was no wonder that any bit of physical affection would have such a strong effect on you. What mattered is that you stopped it before anything happened. You could live with that, you decided. All you had to do now was just clear up things with Mingyu next week, deal with any awkwardness between you two, and focus on Wonwoo.

When you arrived at your dorm, you quickly changed your clothes, cleansing yourself of the faint smell of weed and the remnants of Mingyu's touch. Not long after, exhaustion began to take over your body. You laid down on the bed, not even bothering to check your phone before closing your eyes and letting sleep overcome you.

You weren't sure what time you fell asleep, but you awoke some time later and glanced at the clock. 11:54 PM. You stretched your arms behind your head and yawned as you scanned the room. Jisoo was still gone. You closed your eyes again and tried to fall back asleep, but your mind began to race.

You could clearly picture Mingyu's lust-filled eyes staring down at you, his hands running over your waist and pulling you towards the heat of his body. The glow of his skin, the messy curls hanging over his forehead, the fullness of his lips as he asked in his husky voice if he could kiss you—the images and sensations swirled around in your thoughts.

In a half asleep daze, you rubbed your thighs together. Friction built between your legs. You groaned quietly as your mind revisited how you felt when Mingyu's hands were on your body. More arousal began to pool in your heat, your underwear clinging to your wetness.

Languidly, you ran your hand down your stomach and toyed with the hem of your underwear before slowly pulling the fabric down your legs. You imagined Mingyu's sharp eyes staring at you from between your thighs as you ran your fingers through your slick folds. Arousal coated your fingers and you began to rub your clit in slow circles. You pretended that Mingyu's thick fingers were the ones teasing your clit, making your legs jolt each time you pressed the right spot.

You moaned quietly and began to grope your own breast. You squeezed and flicked your nipple, causing a quiet gasp to fall from your lips. You pulled your hand away from your clit and slowly pushed two fingers into your dripping heat. "Mmh, Mingyu," You groaned under your breath. You imagined his deep voice saying the dirtiest things to you as he pumped and curled his fingers into your pussy.

You gasped as you hit a particular spot that made you arch your lower back. You continued pumping your fingers at a fast pace until the knot building in your lower stomach snapped. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a sharp whine as an intense feeling of euphoria washed over your body.

Your body relaxed against the sheets as your heart rate began to slow and exhaustion overtook you once again. You sighed contently and wrapped yourself in your blankets, allowing yourself to drift off to sleep.

You promised yourself that you would never do that again.

[deafchild2000]

H2O Headcanon #23:

Gracie Made All Of Annette's Dresses

A Word from our sponsor: All dresses can be linked to this IG Page:

https://instagram.com/xtabayvintage?utm_medium=copy_link

Alright, let's get started!

So, I had been thinking about this for a while and I was like: Why not have Gracie learn sewing? Considering she's lived through the 60s, 70s, 80s, and early 90s, it wouldn't be ridiculous thing to pick up maybe a lesser known talent. So, I got to thinking of narratives:

Gracie is a mostly forward person, but even as she grew up, she had a divided taste in fashion, especially in the 80s. On one hand, she loved the vibrant neon colors and fabric that came with the new decade, but sometimes the mother in her turned her head from the more newer designs. Gracie guessed the girl from the 50s inside her preferred more classic and somewhat conservative looks to what else was being worn nowadays [80s]. Just don't get her started on two-piece bikinis! (It was one thing having the top part as a mermaid, where there was nothing to show from the waist below, but the bottom part was something she still needed getting used to.)

But that didn't mean she didn't enjoy new ideas! Working in a restaurant as a manager paid the bills but she enjoyed working on her artwork most of all (tied with spending time with her daughter, Annette.)

However, she wasn't blind. Her daughter was entering her teen years and for the curly, blonde hair she inherited from her father, Annette - to the dimples, high cheekbones, and rose cheeks - got all the beauty from Gracie, which made both of them head-turners, unfortunately.

However, unlike her mother's reservations, Annette was immersed in the 80s trends of big hair, scrunchies, leg warmers, fingerless gloves, leotards , oversized shirts, plastic bangles, large funky earrings in neon shades, mesh accents, fanny packs and pearl necklaces (probably the only thing in regards to accessory Gracie appreciated!)

Gracie HATED it all! The 80s was very materialistic and all about flaunting wealth and who payed the price for all these fancy and designer clothes!? Where did the pearls come from? How much labor went into sewing a shopping out clothes to stores? What about the work laborers and the excessive need to mass-produce at fast rates? What happened to quality over quantity!?

(Annette got these lectures every time she asked for something out of a catalog and just beared with it.)

In some ways, it was lucky enough that Gracie preferred handcrafted quality items, with the occasional vintage jewelry found in second-rate stores and market stalls. She enjoyed the classics, but there was something divine in wearing something handmade. Back when her husband was alive and she lived on the military base with him, she had told this to a friend and fellow army wife one day, who reckoned her an "Old Soul" and suggested she take up sewing if she disliked name-brand clothes so much. At the time, she never considered it, but it wasn't a foreign concept. She grew up in a well-to-do family and her mother always made her dresses for special occasions. From her evening gowns to her school formal, perhaps there was something to it that she could do for her future child. Alas, it wasn't easy, but she had her mother and local wives to help with her exciting projects! Even once she left, she never really stopped making dresses.

If anything, she found it challenging to make dresses to prove to Annette that homemade was better than store brand! And especially bring the 50s to the 80s!

The Debutante Dress (Age 16- 1981)

Ah, the debutante ball. A girl's coming out to society and the elegance of being accepted as a lady - and there was just something about that flowing white, silk dress that Gracie just loved! When she had the first opportunity to be a part of one, it was for charity and her mother convinced her. To be frank, the etiquette lessons were a bore and the only real excitement was the dance lessons. Looking back, those lessons did pay off whenever she had to attend functions with her husband. She and Julia had been selected and their escorts had been Max and Karl (perhaps that was the only reason Julia took fancy to the entire event.) It had been held at the Cloudland Ballroom and been an invigorating event! She danced all night in the gown her mother made for her and she felt like the wind gliding through the air.

So perhaps it was destined that the very ballroom (unaware of its drastic fate) would be danced upon by Gracie's daughter, the very floor where she once danced with her first love and later met and fell in love with her future husband! Annette however wasn't taking being a debutante so well and fought every minute of it. It took time to get her stubborn daughter to get used to the idea and perhaps her hand-sewn dress also helped:

(The pearls were once Gracie's...and she realized she had turned into her mother!)

Halloween Costume

This one caused a fight between mother and daughter. See, while Annette wasn't going all-out Disney, she requested a princess dress that would make her stand out. And Gracie did just that, only it mirrored something more traditional with a red cloak when what Annette wanted was something more glamorous. The fight wasn't bad (compared to the ones they'd have in the future) but it did leave Gracie a bit heartbroken and the girls in separate rooms. Eventually, Annette came around and apologized, saying she'll still wear it. (Which she wouldn't regret seeing as a lot of people enjoyed a more realistic take of medieval fantasies!)

First Date

Annette had her first date! Gracie knew that he was taking her out on a beach date (Sugtons Beach) and wanted to express just that. Turns out her date was the one who was commented Annette on her Halloween costume! Annette had nothing to wear and consulted with Gracie again, this time asking if she owned anything and could modernize it. Well...Gracie did have something, but though she herself thought it could have been done better, Annette loved it! [10 points to whoever recognizes such a design from H2O!]

Year 11 Formal (age 17 - 1982)

The formal was the first dance Annette had gone without a date and was just going with her girlfriends. She turned out to like her mother's sewing skills and told her she didn't want anything too fancy to go in. However, she begged her to make it something 80s-like! But alas, Gracie could only grant that request so much before she had her artbook in one hand and needle & thread in another! [With a reference to a dress Tiffany Lamb (Annette) to rein the 80s!)

Wedding Guest

Annette and Gracie had been invited to a wedding! Well, it was more of a vow renewal, as the couple were old friends of parents back when they lived on the base and had a bit of a nostalgic touch! Considering Gracie was a bit of the same way, she found an old dress she owned when she was 16 and spruced it up a bit for Annette.

Dance Party Dress

After so much time and begging, this would be the ONLY dress Annette got from her that even resembled the 80s glitz and glam they once fought over. To be fair, the glitz existed in the 60s but she wasn't a fan of them. However, Annette was over the moon once she saw this:

Yearbook Photos

Annette may have been getting only a headshot for her school yearbook photos, but Gracie wanted to make memories. With the help of a friend, she and Annette took pictures all over Brisbane to add to the photo album. And once again that pesky beauty the mother and daughter shared cropped up when someone thought it was a genuine photo shoot and tried to recruit Annette into modeling! Gracie herself was a model in her teens and while she can say she had a good experience, there was a reason she never joined the industry full time! Luckily for her, Annette was more into becoming an inspiring chef than photos.

Year 12 Formal (age 18 - 1983)

At this point, Gracie had decided to take her daughter's advice and try to at least incorporate modern 80s with the classic 50s, and at the right time. Unlike the last formal, this time, Annette had a date, Gracie decided to do something to reflect the occasion. It also hit her how much she changed herself at 17 (most, she would never bring herself to tell Annette) and found herself designing a dress that brought back an old memory.

Gracie's 50th Birthday (age 25 - 1990)

There must have been a hint of irony in the world as for as Gracie knew. For weeks, her daughter had been quite secretive and she couldn't guess why. And when she questioned her son-in-law, he had the nerve to be cheeky and not confide in her daughter's secrets (but then again, that's how she knew he was the one for Annette!). However, during that time, she had asked once more for a dress. At the time, it had been year's and the last thing she made was the veil and reception dress for her daughter's wedding (the wedding dress she wore ended up being the one from the Debutante ball.) However, that night of her 50th birthday, Annette presented her a gift: A seafoam blue dress with pearls that she recognized as being something out of the 80s (irony Is that she liked the dresses when the 90s hit!) Annette has made it - with help, as she didn't inherit the skill from her mother and grandmother. She, Annette, and her son-in-law went out to what she thought was some fancy dinner...when it was revealed to be a small dance hall with the theme: Cloudland. Everyone they knew from friends (old and new) to coworkers, and even strangers she befriended who kept in touch, attended the party. She did raise an eyebrow at Annette being fit for the 50s while she was in the 80s...at least until an old song started playing and Annette asked her to dance...dance to the very song she fell in love with her father to. And then, she told her the most surprising news: She was to be a grandmother.

[cdmagic1408]

🎊 Onward to the New Year! 🎊

As the 2021 door closes and the 2022 door is about to open, I just want to reflect on what this year has given me and what I hope to accomplish going forward...

First off, I just wanna give a HUGE thank you to all of you for making this last quarter of my year a blast! Your support for this blog and IYTM even almost a month after the last chapter was published means so much! I love you all! 💜

And tho I'm still reveling NWH, singing We Don't Talk About Bruno on repeat, and realizing that I haven't lost my touch playing Mario Party 8 again after last playing it entering my teenage years, I want you all to know that I am still planning away at some super exciting things for the Onward fandom!

I've begun plotting the early stages of a potential IYTM sequel and have been developing our dear Eldrick's story quite a bit too. His tale is sure to be a one-shot compared to the bi-daily-ish IYTM, so I can't wait to see how it turns out and for all of you Quest Masters to learn more about him! He's an interesting one alright 😉

I know it might not seem like it (or maybe it does idk), but I have been in this fandom for a very long time (ever since Onward was first announced actually), but it really wasn't until this August where I really had the courage and confidence to finally put my foot forward and come out to all of you as someone who believes the story of Ian, Barley, and their magical world of wonder needs love and attention and to finally share my very first fanfic ever with you after all of the planning, research, writing, and editing I did for it! 😄

In doing so, I have met so many wonderful people, read some other incredibly awesome stories, and have found myself in a community where we all have this common goal. I've said this before but I am so grateful that I am not alone in believing that the world of Onward has so much potential and the need to keep that potential alive through telling more stories, sharing random anecdotes, and even just taking 5 seconds of my day to simply say "I love these precious elf bois so much! They deserve everything!" 🥺

So for that, I want to give an extra thank you to my fellow Quest Masters...for welcoming me into this glorious fandom and for just being here. Cause sometimes being here provides as much of an escape as any magical, complicated fantasy world ever could! 🥰

I guess to wrap things up, I'm just very excited to enter this new year about to read more new stories, gaze at more talented fanart, and to see what else we can bring to the table that can really help make the Onward world shine! Cause I believe everyone who is reading this has some really great ideas! 📝🎨🎬

Until then...

🎉 Here's to 2022! 🎉