#who are all supposed to be gay and messy. I just sort of write them however I want without thinking

[hexhomos]

S2 mega spoiler asks/answers. don't click readmore if you're avoiding it.

That entire thing really did not land for me and took me extremely out of the episode ngl. The way it is framed and later on referenced on warwick's delusion flashbacks (IN MY OPINION) seemed to suggest that their mom was embroiled in an unrequited love triangle with these two and i could feel my brain leaking out of my ears because, to get back to a previously mentioned problem; it makes the world feel really, really limited. Like there's 10 real people surrounded by a population of NPCs. The idea of silco/vander as singlehandedly responsible for a 'revolution' that has no lineage beyond themselves is already laughable but?? they frame it as if vander could legit have been vi's dad?? he picks the name?? and that he is maybe seething in rage at silco because he was the reason she died??? huh? whuh? what in all of the wattpad fanfiction. not to mention... it makes silco constant attempts to kill vi in s1 seem contradictory and nonsensical. His motivations???????????

In some ways.. it is still resource exploitation now but Worse and in a time-ticking bomb sort of way that absolutely breaks the idea of Piltover using hextech for decades at a time. Im curious to see if that will be referenced in game content now bc it legitimately has shattered the timeline. I think its once again unnecessary and sacrifices a lot of good stuff for mid hand-wringing. But yeah. P/Z as presented in arcane has had so much personality sapped out of it. a whole roster of characters who might get completely rebooted for no good reason.

stole his whole flow. Disgraceful.

TBH i wouldn't really worry about this because i think if anyone is getting a new sex scene its going to be cait/vi makeup or hatesex. Sky is a plot convenience; her existence for the show's entire runtime is an accessory that they couldn't even bother fleshing out. The definition of the not-gays.

My reasoning is that if they were going to do any of that we would have already seen her do these things, more things, in the scenes she already appears in; but as always she is a static 3D model lounging in the background. (Related: this might be because she is Literally Not Real and the hexcore is just making up a faint mimicry who can only say 1 word.) Their time budget is really messy this season and i just don't see them wasting More time like that. They don't care for sky. never did! She's just a way to avoid letting viktor be an ideologue glorious evolutionist.

We already know internally some of the animators & art team like jayvik & there's even a few for-fun outside of the company interviews w/ crew expressing a preference to jv on a personal level ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ the more the script tries to push it as nonromantic the more coded these scenes get. In terms of actual interaction i think a lot is going to depend on whatever the hell happens in episode 6 because their screentime is REALLY low and im unsure act3 can pull off another timeskip. So much left dangling.

IDGAF about meljay and i've never cared about meljay i think it is the culpirit of not-gays #1 so its hilarious how that shit literally didn't matter. The entire noxus storyline is a can of worms i would have thrown in the garbage and have no interest in. Still, in realistic terms, there is a 50/50 chance this season ends with jayce married 2 kids 1 dog 1/2 parrot moving out to noxus and saying 'heh, i never liked piltover anyway' and they'll play it like we're supposed to clap because nothing matters

if i was in charge we'd get full frontal jayvik stigmata scissoring write that down. I still hope if we can manifest 1 thing it is a good fight scene with some choking on it

[to-be-a-dreamer]

Jumping onto your post about Tommy and cancel culture. People need to remember the general audience for 9-1-1 is people in their forties and fifties, who most likely did shitty things very similar to the things Tommy did in the begins episodes at one point in their lives, then grew and changed in the same way he did. So the notion that the show would circle back to before this obvious growth and portray him as some sort of irredeemable monster is laughable. Because they would be alienating a big chunk of their audience by doing that.

Post that Anon is talking about for reference (it could also be this one but the other one links back to this one anyway)

This is exactly why I have a love-hate relationship with Josh's monologue from Episode 6!! Because it is absolutely true that younger queer people (or queer people who came out in more recent years) who haven't learned their history could never understand the kind of things people had to do to protect themselves. And I immediately clocked that the whole plotline about Abby was supposed to be an indirect explanation for why Tommy acted the way he did in the flashback episodes and it was actually the writers subtly speaking to the viewers who still didn't understand. And that's such an important conversation to have but I don't know why they didn't just make the episode about that instead of bringing Abby into it.

Like, it would have been so much more impactful and just as easy if, instead of Tommy offhandedly mentioning he was Abby's ex-fiance, Chim and Hen were joking about how Tommy used to act when Gerard was captain of the 118. And instead of Buck not understanding why a gay person in the 2000s wouldn't feel safe enough to come out, he could wrestle with the fact that Tommy had once been a bigot who hurt his friends and we could see him work through that with the viewers.

I dunno if they just didn't know how to write that or if they're afraid they wouldn't be able to redeem Tommy to certain viewers if they acknowledged that part of his backstory and preferred to just keep ignoring it in the hopes that people would just move on. But the fact is that Tommy's story is relatable to so many people who watch 9-1-1 and I'm sure a lot of them were excited to see that portrayed on TV. And I'm just really sad for those people who have to see other fans act like they don't deserve to be happy.

Queer history isn't all drag queens and Stonewall riots. It's also people like Tommy who had to hide who they were and do shit they shouldn't have because not everyone is brave enough to throw the first brick. Even today, being queer in real life isn't always like Heartstopper or Buddie fanfictions. Sometimes it's scary and it's messy and there are so many good people who do a lot of bad shit out of fear. And maybe you don't think that's right but it happens and those people deserve the chance to redeem themselves and be a part of the community. It's time we start telling their stories too, not just the perfectly noble ones.

[maliciousmagpie]

Not to be sappy on main but it’s genuinely really nice seeing people having so much love for Supernatural on this site.

Like, I know it’s terribly written, and omg some of the bullshit it pulls but that’s part of its charm, it’s pulled so much goddamn bullshit that I can’t even predict it anymore, which, idk the pattern recognition in my autism loves to predict everything (and it’s right a good chunk of the time too) so the fact it’s managed to break it is damn impressive in my book.

And the characters omg the characters, they’re so messy and so dramatic and they’re all so sad and I love them and it’s so nice to see other people also love them and see similar or even new things in characters I also love!

Idk, it’s just something I feel is missing from my main socials (that being instagram) and unfortunately none of my friends have watched Supernatural (Yet. It’s going to happen.) so I’m sort of missing that connection I suppose. It’s been a real long time for me since I was really this into something, arguably I haven’t been this into a piece of media since FNAF 1 came out, since that was what pushed me to start drawing and making ocs in the first place and now here I am planning a whole 7 season comic (I’m incapable of taking things slowly) just because of this damn show and because of how much I genuinely love Dean and Castiel and because I wanted so much more for them.

It’s unfortunate I feel a bit cringe unironically saying Supernatural is one of my favourite shows now, but it is! What started as just picking a long ass show I had some morbid curiosity about because of one of the characters getting sent to superhell for being gay where I couldn’t even remember the characters name but somehow remember he was played by Misha Collins has now basically become a cornerstone of my journey as an artist and the thing that pushed me to finally start seriously pursuing writing!

Saying all this I haven’t actually finished the show yet, I’m currently on S12 and no doubt I will continue to be angry at the absolute shenanigans this show will pull, but honestly if I’ve stuck around for 12 already, what’s another three?

And when the writers do something I really hate? Well I have my lovely ocs who are totally not based on Dean and Cas and are definitely not just so I can live in the delusion that in some universe destiel is real.

Tldr: I am cringe but I am free, I unironically love destiel and I love looking at posts related to it specifically on tumblr, good shit.

[marta-bee]

I've been fixating a bit on Good Omens, specifically on Neil Gaiman being accused of sexual assault and the petition to get Amazon to fire Neil as writer of Good Omens S3.

What I've read about Neil Gaiman assaulting those women seems credible to me. I mean, I try to believe women who say they're assaulted generally and give wide berth for the sometimes odd ways trauma can keep them from coming forward as soon as I'd like, or giving clean accounts of their assault. But I was busy, I hadn't read the reporting, and I also liked Gaiman's writing and felt like I knew him (of a sort) because of years of following his Tumblr feed. Now I've done the reading, and at least based on the evidence available... I believe them.

Which raises a very uncomfortable question. I like the Good Omens novel, and the show, and I do want to see what happens. I enjoy the fanworks even more, but the originals also has a special place in my heart.

A lot of discussion around the petition starts with the (strange to me) idea that no one owns art once it's shared publicly. I do think we all own our experience of the story, and if the creator meant us to experience it a certain way, it's their responsibility to lead us down that road. Probably it's impossible to create that experience in the same way for all readers or viewers, because humans are messy and we bring all sorts of glasses, rose-tinted or otherwise, to everything we read. (I'm thinking of that line from the Lord of the Rings introduction: "It is perhaps not possible in a long tale to please everybody at all points, nor to displease everybody at the same points; for I find from the letters that I have received that the passages or chapters that are to some a blemish are all by others specially approved.") So yes, people are going to experience fiction from their own vantage-point, and our own experience of a story is our own. I'm really not very interested in interviews or other secondary statements about what an author meant. I mean, if JKR wanted Dumbledore to be gay she should have written him that way, etc., etc.

Even so! The story as it is (not as it's experienced, which can be quite different) really is the work of the people doing the telling. We all have the right to our own perception, the story that lives rent-free in our head.

But to say the person who fashioned the story doesn't in some sense own it -- legally or ethically -- just feels odd to me. I suppose Amazon would be within their rights to fire Gaiman. Maybe they'd even legally be allowed to not film the third season. But to say he's just one writer among many, and that we're entitled to the show without the brain that (co-)birthed it? That doesn't feel accurate and I don't think I can get on board with it. It actually seems extremely presumptuous and entitled to me. I'm imagining if someone objected to something they found out about me and decided to just rewrite one of my fanfics. That would feel invasive af, and I can't imagine anything I could do that would give them that right.

What are the other options? Well, the obvious one is the JK Rowlings approach: she created the story, it's hers, and it's precisely because she's so hateful now we shouldn't engage with it. Applying this to Gaiman, maybe we say we can't watch or reread it, maybe we push Amazon not to release it or other companies not to develop his stories into shows. Morally that makes more sense, though it feels like a shame because Good Omens pokes fun at religion's foibles in a way I know a lot of people found very helpful. It also seems like good queer representation, and it's also just plain fun. I'd hate for us all to lose that.

Personally, I've gotten quite good over the years at enjoying good stories told by bad people. I still watch my DVD's of Oliver Twist and The Pianist, even knowing what Roman Polanski did. The Cosby Show still makes me laugh. Etc. It helps those are things I already own so I'm not giving those people I object to more money. Not sure what I'd do about Good Omens S3; probably I'd pirate it or wait for DVD's I could get through my library, because there's not another season we need to get greenlit and I'd rather avoid giving him more money if I can help it. But I don't feel some moral imperative to shun meaningful, enjoyable art because someone involved with it did something wrong. Certainly not the other art people have made around it, including fanworks.

I can respect people who come down on the other side and say, nope, Good Omens = Neil Gaiman so I'm no longer going to touch it. This idea that we can somehow cut Gaiman out of this story and somehow enjoy it without worry just doesn't sit right with me.

(I can 100% understand people who can't read the book or watch the show without thinking of him, to the point it's no longer enjoyable. I tend to get engrossed in what I watch to the point I'm not thinking of the RL people behind it, so that's less of a problem for me personally; but that's my personal quirk. And thank goodness for that- I studied philosophy, and there are lots of "interesting" biographies going on there...)

[authoralexharvey]

INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @angelsofprey

Who You Are:

Angel || He/they

I’m a queer black man fighting against the shallow nature of love. I tend to lean towards stories with loving GNC people. Being never-T as of now, this is important to me.

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Adventure, drama, fanfic, fantasy, horror, paranormal, psychological, romance, and sci-fi. Adult.

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

Romance. As long as you don’t limit yourself you will have endless possibilities on what to write. This is from experience! The messiness on what romance can be is what really draws me in, how you can write a pair of world shattering lovers who are terrible apart, but would be destroyed if not together. Some find it disturbing—in real life it would be—but in stories it’s beautiful to see through my mind’s eye (maybe especially if it’s wonderfully queer)!

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

Mystery. ‘Cause that sounds HARD! One day I might touch on a whodunnit, but as of now just imagining trying to weave and mislead a reader when I’m such a… literal(?) person would be difficult. I do have a story where it’s an “opposite mystery” of sorts where the killer is the protagonist and we watch as they stumble around to get away with it.

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

GNC and Enby people would be my target audience, them and those who relate to mlm attraction I suppose? It depends on the project! I think anyone outside could get a kick out of the things I make from beta reading experience— as long as they have a tolerance for love.

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

For themes I for some odd reason drawn to religious imagery in larger projects and larger projects only… it’s odd. If I thought about tropes or anything my head would hurt so I kind of just do my own thing lol.

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

Nowadays I’m saddened by other’s intolerance. I find myself to be open to anything, really.

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

I have gay novellas in the works and a gay flash fic as well (at the time of writing), but my baby is Before Flowering Hands. BFH is a Wild West, cosmic horror romance where a young man falls in love with an older woman (this woman is in a relationship with three other men as well) who, not to his knowledge, is a ‘horror beyond comprehension’ as the saying goes. She has her own agenda or taking over her kingdom with her cowboy outlaws and, later, the world. He has his own agenda of finding himself and his purpose which he discovers through and after meeting her.

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

To indulge myself. My own desires and yearning keep me going.

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

Around 2015, maybe earlier. I can’t remember if I was interested in writing and stories before Her, but I knew she really pushed me into it. It was math class in middle school, I was sat next to a beautiful girl and somehow we got to talking about kpop fanfiction and I said something like… ‘I like writing too’ and the rest was history.

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

Music, but not the lyrics. What a song makes me feel, not what it’s really about. The scenes that play in my head during songs are not at all related to what’s happening in the lyrics—it’s almost funny.

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

I’d say my recent flash fics “Vulgar” and “New ‘Us’” over on my tumblr. They absolutely flopped, but I love them dearly. I’m proud because I was able to really dive into two characters and their feelings after a three year hiatus, it represents that I’ve still got it in a way.

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

No… and I have grown to want my writing to be accessible. I want everyone to be able to read it. The closest thing to having a pay wall before my writing might be Substack if I decide to do it in the future. Actual publishing… considering I write erotica mostly it’s not very much in the cards for me. It’s kind of hard to exist even in an online space while writing erotica. Everyone is too ashamed to reblog for one, lol, but ‘tis their right.

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you?

You have to pay to get paid. It’s like a scheme, a grift lol.

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

I think I love outlining, it’s like a zero draft for me! I get to know exactly what’s happening and how everything feels with zero effort of pride or syntax! I don’t think I have anything I don’t like about writing; if I did I don’t think I’d write. I learned that art is about enjoying the process in the first place.

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

My process is nearly pure digital (quick notes go on my flip writing pad); I open a new doc on Pages and just start writing notes after a new idea comes to me. After notes I start outlining and after extensive outlining I start drafting. When I actually follow my process of deep outlining I sometimes only need one draft (this is based off of feedback)! I wish I listened to myself.

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

I only recently rejoined at the time of writing. Three years ago I was writing fanfic and having a hell of a time! I wanted my writing to be seen; I wanted to make people feel things and hear about it. I wanted to hear what I did good and what I did bad, how I could improve. I want my writing to get to the next level.

Shout out some of your favorite writeblrs. How did you find them and what made you want to follow them?

@arijensineink was my first friend on here. I found her through tumblr live! @coffeewritesfiction I met through Ari, he’s just really cool with many great ideas!

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

The mini events where it forces everyone around to ask about each other’s W.I.Ps like W.I.P Wednesday!

What do you think writeblr could improve on? How do you think we can go about doing so?

We could ask each other more questions.

How do you contribute to the writeblr community? Do you think you could be doing more?

I think I myself could be asking more about people’s W.I.Ps. Think after this survey I’ll be doing exactly that… on anon cause I’m shy.

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

Things directly about people’s stories like a bit of characterization or dynamic between OCs.

What kind of posts do you most like to make?

I post my writings and soon links to my writing on AO3. When I’m not doing that I wanna blabber on about my W.I.Ps and reblog writing things and sometimes visual art as that’s another passion of mine.

Finally, anywhere else online we may be able to find you?

I’m angelsofprey over on AO3. Time or writing nothing is there yet, but there will be!!!

[zamalie]

Maybe I should just abandon gender entirely forever or something

[direautistichobbit]

The AMAB Blues: On Being Eternally “Questioning”

This essay, or whatever this rambling set of nonsense is, comes with a disclaimer.  That this needs to be expressed in the first place is part of the problem I suppose, but I am getting ahead of myself.

I’m about to talk about an big, messy issue that I have been facing as an AMAB person who is gender questioning.  Currently, I identify as Gender-Fluid; previously, I’ve experimented with Nonbinary and Autigendered.  To be perfectly honest, Autigender is probably the most accurate of those I’ve played with so far but I have to explain enough stuff about who I am that explaining an entire term is more trouble than it is worth, generally speaking.  I’m pansexual, but usually more attracted to femme presenting and directed persons, and I’m struggling to sort out how related to my own personal traumas that is.  None of them were sexual, to be clear.  Thing is that I am an exceedingly sensitive person, and a lot of masculinity is…not inclined towards sensitivity in the majority of Western culture.  You become a target for other masculine people to take out their aggression on to prove to each other how manly they are.  So I’m…always anxious around men.  At least a little.  For someone who is Demisexual, this has made the pursuit of relationships with masculine looking persons challenging.  I’m polyamorus, with all of my partners at long distance (one of them is moving away as I’m writing this, don’t worry, we are fine), I have been looking for people closer by.  It has not gone well.

With that subtext out of the way?   I’m also a white, masculine presenting person that (superficially) resembles something that is cisgendered (not even slightly, I’ve come to realize) and heterosexual (not that either) enough that my “passing” privilege is extreme.  I am neurodivergent (ADHD diagnosed, ASD self-diagnosed and largely agreed upon by past therapists/doctors)  but can mask well enough that I get the “peculiar”and “eccentric” kind of labels before I get the problematic ones.  I am not going to pretend that I don’t have a lot of passive advantages here, nor am I blind to the amount of privilege I possess in the vast majority of social situations.  None of what I am about to say detract from those who don’t have these benefits.  I’m not complaining that the gays are being mean to me; they aren’t.  The majority of them have been nothing but wonderful to me.  I’m talking about the issues I’m facing; I don’t discount the issues that others are facing.  Hopefully that comes across here: I’m not blaming the broader LGBTQ+ community for how I feel, the issues I face, or the circumstances that hurt me.  I am not trying to crowd out other voices; I’m just trying to express my own.

Cool?  Cool.

There are a lot of queer spaces where masculinity is, while perhaps not the enemy, regarded with suspicion.  I don’t blame anyone for that; as I already stated, it’s something I share.  White dudes can get away with literal murder, and I know it.  I’ve read about it.  I’ve become familiar with it.  I own it.  I recognize, and attempt to always dignify, the danger that I represent, in potentia, to a lot of people in the LGBTQ+ community.  I recognize that while my intentions are as fair and honest as I can possibly strive to express, there is no way to prove those intentions without someone having to risk an interaction with me. No one is obligated to provide me that chance to prove myself; no one should be either.  There is no way to say I’m “one of the good ones” and have it be taken at face value; even saying that you are a “nice guy” is a huge red flag just due to the sheer number of bad faith fuck-wits who have purposely and maliciously abused that.  I get it.  I understand it.  I don’t make excuses for it.  I don’t misunderstand it.  I don’t begrudge people for it. That doesn’t stop it from being extremely isolating and dehumanizing at times.  Especially when you aren’t sure if “masculine” or “male” is something you even want to be…because the truth is that I’m not certain that I do. Would I say I am Transfemme?  No…but it’s a question I also go to some lengths to psychologically avoid. 

I don’t try to feminize my voice, even experimentally; hasn’t stopped me saving every TikTok on voice feminization that I have come across.  I’m definitely more curious then I’d like to admit regarding the topic.  I own a few pairs of high heels, but have avoided going any further down that fashion/clothing rabbit hole.  The majority of my friends and partners do not subscribe to gender binaries.  I have a lot of crushes on Transwomen, but not because they are some representation of some fetish; I like them because they are wonderful people that I want to be closer with.  They’re cute and sweet and I just kind of want to get lost in them.  Also, yeah, I follow a lot of Transwomen and Transfemmes on social media.  Yes, I have a beard!  How did you know? I don’t know that the end result of this question is being a transwoman.  I also can’t say that it isn’t.  I just don’t ask the question, deliberately, because I can’t follow through with it.  I’m not in a position to do so and right now I suspect that “Unsure but questioning” is easier to take then “certain but unable”. My ex-wife and I are civil, bordering on friendly…but she is pretty much just slightly better then milquetoast liberal.  Better than average but really bad at questioning her biases or blind spots.  Do I think she would use being Trans against me in terms of custody of our child?  No, I don’t think so…but I also don’t know so.  My daughter is 9.  Am I willing to risk my ex-wife’s inability to emotionally regulate?  This is someone who has wished me dead in front of other (She thought I missed the pick up of our daughter,5~6 at that point, by oversleeping.  It wasn’t even my day to pick her up and she was the one who got the schedule wrong) so her emotional maturity isn’t something I can take for granted.  I have no idea what will or will not set her off. Due to a host of reasons, most of them related to COVID and the movement of Amertican society, I am looking at the possibility of needing to get on disability.  While I am a bit of an ambivert, I have gotten to the point where I don’t trust anyone I don’t know.  Shit is crazy out there.  I am legitimately terrified of anyone having power over me.  It’s complicated, but the short version is that my social anxiety has become legion.  If I move to make any alteration to transition, if that were what I decided I needed, it could affect a disability case to my detriment due to the biases of judges.  It could even affect my ability to get representation.  The madness that is some conservatives' idea of how “easy” the disability process is for their definition of “undesirables” is utterly stupefying, because the reality is much different.  

I live with my parents for a number of reasons.  My mother and father are…progressive, for the most part.  They mean well.  That said, they’re also pretty benignly ignorant about a lot of mental health and social stuff.  Not in a way where I have to avoid topics of conversation or humor them on Thanksgiving to keep the peace, mind you, but in a way where it makes explaining myself extremely tedious and painful.  Like I don’t think they would purposely dead name me or something like that, but my mother is also a very “grounded” person…and hearing her drone on and lecture me about elevated risks in society when I’ve studied them more then she has is a kind of personal hell I struggle to properly articulate.  My mother is my greatest ally and, also, one of the worst burdens on my mental health.  I’d be dead without her but I’m also frequently injured by her.  I survive, a lot of the time, by just laying low.  Restructuring my whole identity isn’t something I can “lay low” with.  

Also, there is a question of if I found out I wanted to be a woman or even just more feminine?  Well, would I look like a feminine person I even wanted to be?  With facial hair, I can pass for a solid version of ruggedly handsome.  I don’t suspect that, even with a more feminine face, there are many versions of femininity that I could pull off nearly as well.  The question of whether it hurts more to be a modestly attractive version of something you don’t want to be or an ugly version of something you do want to be comes up frequently.

So I don’t ask the questions that would give me the answers.  At least, for myself, in my heart of hearts.  Executive function issues can be a blessing in disguise, I suppose, because even in spite of everything I just said?  The question of my gender and how I view it feels pleasantly unresolved to me.  I can see the line of data and evidence, but not come to a conclusion because I haven’t done the work to find out.  I haven’t tried to feminize my voice or my appearance in a meaningful way.  It’s also still functionally unknown, even if highly suspected. Which brings us back to the central issue.

It’s one thing to feel rejected or regarded with suspicion when you are masculine in your presentation, you feel masculine, and you have to navigate the mess left by other masculine people.  It’s another thing to feel rejected or regarded with suspicion when you are masculine in your presentation, but don’t even know if you want to be but don’t feel you have the opportunity to be otherwise.  I feel like I carry the weight of choices I wouldn’t make on behalf of someone I’m not sure I even want to be.  I feel held accountable to things I wouldn’t do and never wanted to be a part of.  Not because I don’t want the consequence of being a male…but because I’m not sure that male is something I want to be.

But I look like I’m male…so they do.

I look through dating profiles of people who interest me.  I never hear back.  Lots of them have phrases about “mostly looking for femmes, but open to anyone!”, so the writing's on the wall when I get nothing but radio silence.  Marking down Non-Binary or Gender-fluid doesn’t functionally matter when your face isn’t the kind of face they are looking to get to know.  When people who I’m interested in talk about not being attracted to “mascs”....I know it’s nothing personal.  It’s not any kind of an attack or dismissal of me as a person.  It’s two people discussing the nature of what they are attracted to, and I don’t begrudge anyone for saying.  In another instance, someone who was local and who I was beginning to flirt with but a halt on everything because...my masculinity got to her.  She wanted time to unpack that.  She deserves it.  I would never want her to feel any kind of way about asking for what she needed.

Irregardless of whom I do or do not “blame” for these situations, even if I blame no one at all, it is still a fucking kick to the guts because I feel stuck being something unwanted.  It makes you question the attraction of the partners you do have; how long until they look at you like everyone else does?  When everyone else they are around or connected to is in some way femme or leaning that way, when do you get cut?  When do you stop being undesired....and it’s easy to question that when you cannot imagine even wanting to be yourself much less next to yourself.  Especially when you feel like that happened before. I was pursuing a woman once.  She was a transwoman.  I thought there was a connection, and she seemed to echo the sentiment.  Some point down the line, she exploded at me.  The reasons are still uncertain; some of it was miscommunication, some of it was some problematic word choices that I will absolutely own*, and some of it I still have no clue.   Whatever her reasons, she called me out as just another fetishist. A chaser.  Accused of creeping on trans-women and following them on social media for some fetishizing reason.  Liking memes and posts on facebook that weren’t mean for “creepy cis men”.  I had been wanting to tell her for a while that I was gender questioning.but never did; I didn’t want her to think I was doing so dishonestly to curry her favor or something.  So I was grappling with feelings that she, without realizing, invalidated. It set me back a lot.. We didn’t have a relationship; there was just some flirting and feeling each other out.  It was still traumatic, because I left the situation feeling as if she needed a reason to purge me out of her life.  She asked me never to contact her again; I’ve honored that, and have no plans to change that face.  I’d be lying, however, if I said that I didn’t want to cuss her out.  It felt she was looking for an excuse to villainize me, and she took the first one she got. She damaged me and my progress with my own identity more then any transphobic half-wit ever could, all for what feels like having some moral high ground.  It took me longer to get to the questions about being Enby or GF because of her.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive her for that.  I’ve been phobic about being seen as a “fraud” ever since.  That was approximately 3 years ago. Perhaps more.  It still hurts.  Still feels like what I am going to be seen as the enemy for what I look like, not for what I am. .

Yet, I don’t actually know what I; I avoid asking the question about because opening Pandora’s Box is going to make it twice as bad, if the answer is what it looks like it is, because it won’t change what I am able to do about it.  I feel as if my options are to feel like a pariah and just struggle through it blindly or feel like a pariah after doing personal exploration to discover something that I can’t act on anyway.  I don’t suspect I am alone here.  That’s the thing; I am, comparatively, lucky.  I think I am in a uniquely privileged position to express myself this clearly and this cleanly.  I can speak to this in a way many AMABs don’t get to.  Masculinity is one hell of a double edged sword in Western society; you can do practically anything you want as long as do it without any emotions that isn’t anger, confidence, or grim determination.  If you are married, you can love your wife (and kids) in a noble and detached way.  You can only cry when kids are born, you partner leaves your, you parents die, or you get kicked in the testicles.  Even then it’s treated as suspect.  Everything else is socially and culturally forbidden.  I have enough emotional eloquence that I can express a pain that I suspect many others grappling with yet can barely identify, much less explain.  How do you deal with any of this when you lack the emotional vocabulary to feel half of it?  I can only speculate.

I guess this all leads to one point; your friends who are AMAB, in queer spaces, and are in a continual cycle of gender questioning?  They are probably going through some shit.  Probably a lot of shit.  All the time.  We are stuck in the fringe territory of overlapping identities and we don’t really have any way to go in one direction or the other.   Be gentle with those of us who fall under this banner if you can be. It’s lonely when you can even be yourself with yourself...and you can’t.  You don’t even exactly know who you are, and you end up scared that finding out could destroy you.  So you exist, perpetually, as a reasonable facsimile of who you think you want to be if you are luck...and who you need to be if you are not.

=-= =-= =-= =-= =-=

*For the curious, I used the phrase “pull up your big girl panties” in reference to someone I was dealing with at my job; a client at a day program for adults with developmental disabilities.  The individual in question became a very abusive person during her menstrual cycle, often attacking other clients and becoming extremely aggressive at the slightest annoyance or inconvenience.  Pushing, screaming, trying to bash people with her wheelchair and waiting until people weren’t looking at her to do it. While that behavior was very toxic and frustrating, I didn’t choose a good way to speak about this client, and I will absolutely own that there were better ways to express myself and vent my frustrations.  When the woman I was trying to build a relationship cussed me out on using that phrase, she accused me about talking about my ex-wife in this instance...which I wasn’t.  I have no idea why she thought that.

[engie-ivy]

Yes, he's in the hospital and doesn't remember anything about himself, but it's actually not that bad. His memories are sure to come back in a matter of days, and until then, he can spend time eating, sleeping, reading, daydreaming about that ridiculously attractive Healer...

(The aim is Funny and Fluffy Wolfstar)

It's Like the First Time

“Everything seems to be in order,” the Healer Trainee, Aubrey, says. “As we expected. How’s the dizziness?”

“When I’m laying down, it doesn’t bother me,” he replies.

“That’s good,” Aubrey smiles. “The dizziness and light-headedness should gradually disappear over the upcoming days, and then the memories will come back after.”

He nods. He’d be more worried about all his memories being gone if the Healers at St Mungo’s weren’t so certain they’ll all come back in a matter of days. Dizziness, light-headedness, and amnesia; it’s a familiar picture when being hit with a Confundo-charm from a defective wand, which the Healers have encountered many times before and has apparently happened to him during some friendly duelling.

It’s always the same picture: the dizziness and light-headedness slowly lessening, and the memories all coming back at once after two to at most five days. Like, one moment you know nothing, and the next you remember everything.

Well, he doesn’t exactly know nothing. His semantic memory is intact, meaning he has basic knowledge and remembers facts and skills. He knows he’s a wizard, he knows the hospital is called St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, he knows the people in the lime green robes are the Healers, he knows that since he’s a wizard he probably went to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he knows perfectly well how to perform a wide variety of charms, jinxes, hexes and curses. (So luckily those years at Hogwarts weren’t for nothing)

What he doesn’t know is anything about himself. His episodic memory, memory for any kind of life events, is completely gone. Who he is, what he does, what he has done, who he knows, it’s all gone. His own mum could walk into the room, and he’d think she was the laundry lady. (Luckily, she seemed like a very nice lady, and had thought it rather funny)

The only thing he knows about himself, not because he remembers, but because it’s the only thing they told him, is that he’s someone named Remus Lupin. Apparently, in the past, trying to fill in the gaps has proven to be more frustrated than helpful for the patient and, as the memories will come back on their own anyway, quite unnecessary. Therefore, they don’t tell him much else, and all he can do is wait.

Past experience has also shown that the patient often finds it quite stressful, and even frightening, to be surrounded by lots of people who all know him, and whom he feels like he should recognize, but doesn’t. Therefore, friends and family are only allowed in limited numbers, one new person a day, which started with his mum.

His mum had brought him his favourite novel, saying that he read it so many times, and would always wish he could erase it from his memory just so he could read it again with the same sense of anticipation. Well, she had figured this was his chance. Now, all he can do is lie in bed, read his book, and eat food, which is... Well, pretty great actually.

He doesn’t have anything to worry about. How can he worry about anything if he doesn’t remember anything? It’s like having a little break from life and all its expectations and responsibilities. (Though the fact that he’s so happy about having no worries, makes him think that this Remus Lupin normally worries quite a lot)

When a Healer comes to see him, he suddenly knows something else about himself: he’s very, very gay.

The Healer has a classic, aristocratic beauty to him, with his sharp cheekbones and full lips, and his eyes are of a clear grey, that appears silver, which contrasts quite nicely with the strands of raven black hair that have fallen from the messy bun on top of his head. And no one has the right to look that good in lime green robes, which he fills out pretty well with his lean, muscular body.

The Healer gives him a soft smile, and really, if he smiles at all his patients like that, the whole hospital must be diagnosed with palpitations. “How’re you feeling?” the Healer asks in a warm, deep voice.

He wonders whether his semantic memory has failed him after all, as he suddenly seems to have forgotten how speaking works. “Erm...” he says, very eloquently.

The Healer frowns, and looks at Aubrey. “Isn’t the confusion supposed to be gone by now?”

Aubrey looks from the Healer to him and back to the Healer, while a knowing smile appears on her face. “Don’t worry,” she tells the Healer. “He has been perfectly responsive and coherent all day.”

“Has he had some Anti-Confusion Concoction?”

“He’s had a small dose, as the confusion was already wearing off on his own.”

“Are you going to give him Memory Potion?” the Healer continues his questioning.

Aubrey shakes her head. “We have already given him Mandrake Restorative Draught against the spell’s physical effects. Adding Memory Potion might make the dose of Stewed Mandrake too high. As we can be certain all memories will come back on their own, it isn’t worth the risk.”

The Healer nods thoughtfully. “So only a daily dose of Restoration Potion until all effects have subsided, I assume?”

“Yes,” Aubrey agrees. “Based on past experience, that’ll in all likeliness be sufficient.”

The Healer turns his head back to him, and that soft smile is back in place. He opens his mouth to speak, but right at that moment, a bright flash can be seen, and a gazelle made out of shining white light is standing in front of them.

“I’m so sorry to disturb on a moment like this,” a stressed-sounding voice of a young woman comes from the Patronus, that is directing itself to the Healer. “But you’re needed back at the HADA department immediately! We’re having an emergency.”

The Healer curses under his breath. He takes a step towards the door, but then stops to look back at him with a pained expression.

“He’s in good hands,” Aubrey says.

The Healer nods. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he tells him, before hurrying out the door.

Though his mum was right, and the novel is really good, he has trouble focusing on it from that moment on. He’s constantly interrupted by thoughts of bright, silver-grey eyes. Merlin, he’s seen the guy once, and he’s acting like a twelve-year-old with a crush!

Telling himself off for it doesn’t stop him from looking up hopefully the moment he catches a glimpse of lime-green robes. It’s quite a disappointment when the Healer that walks in to check his vitals is a greying, grumpy man with a face that seems to be twisted in a permanent scowl. Asking him where the good-looking Healer went to seems kind of impolite though, so he just sits and nods whenever the Healer grumbles something unintelligible.

“So, why have I gotten a different Healer?” he asks Aubrey later, trying to sound casual.

“Different Healer?” she asks, not understanding.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling to his great annoyance that his cheeks begin to flush. “There was this older man checking up on me, while before, there was the young man with the broad shoulder, shining dark hair, sweet smile, pretty eyes...” He trails off.

“Oh!” Understanding, and a not insignificant amount of amusement, appear on Aubrey’s face. “Oh, he wasn’t not your Healer, sweetie! He was visiting.”

“Ah,” he sighs disappointedly. So the Healer had only been here for some sort of second opinion, and he probably won’t be back. It was too good to be true, to have a Healer like that around as a nice distraction.

“Healer Black works for the Healing Against the Dark Arts Department,” Aubrey continues.

“You know him?” he asks.

“I know of him. But honestly,” she adds with a wink. “Everyone working at St Mungo’s knows of Healer Black!”

He chuckles. “I suppose he cannot not catch your eye.”

“It’s not just his appearance,” Aubrey says. “Healer Black is the leading expert on healing Dark Arts-related injuries and combating curses from the Dark Arts. He has invented novel Healing Spells and revolutionized the protocol for treating curses. Healers from all over the world consult him on their cases, and patients come to see him from all over the world.”

“Wow...” he sighs again, but this time it’s a more wistful sigh. He doesn’t even care anymore that he sounds like a love-struck teenager. Maybe Aubrey will write it off as a side-effect of the Confundo-charm. He briefly wonders about that himself, but as those bright, silver-grey eyes come to mind again, he knows he’s under a whole different kind of spell.

“Yeah,” Aubrey smiles. “He’s quite a remarkable man.”

“So I guess I won’t be seeing him again then,” he says dejectedly, letting his head hang. He wonders why they’d sent that Healer to come see him in the first place, as he surely must’ve had better things to do.

He hears a choked noise besides him, and he looks up at Aubrey, who seems to be stifling a laugh, with her hand pressed against her mouth. “Don’t worry, love,” she says with obvious amusement in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of him.”

The young man sitting next to his bed has been talking about his wife and their baby for an hour straight. Though it really isn’t so bad. His stories are quite amusing, and the man is very charismatic. He has sparkling eyes, and hair so messy, he had immediately checked whether it wasn’t storming outside when the man had entered. He has a disarming smile and a contagious laugh, and is surprisingly easy to talk to. He says his name is James Potter, and he’s Remus Lupin’s best friend.

He has to give Remus Lupin a pat on the back for having made such a nice friend. Honestly, the idea of socializing with new people, trying to make friends, does not appeal to him, and he’s glad to know Remus already has them.

“And I just went to see Sirius,” James says. “Well, more like I was speed walking next to him in the two minutes he had to get from one room to another. He still managed to apologize twenty times though. Normally, I’d say he should be sorry, but the poor guy seems to hardly have any time to eat or sleep.” James shakes his head. “Did you hear what happened? Three children were playing in the woods, and they must’ve accidentally touched an unknown cursed object. They were brought in barely conscious and with a mother completely beside herself. So of course, ‘the widely renowned and highly acclaimed, capable-of-the-impossible Healer Black’ was the only one who might save them. And he has, as they seem to be recovering,” James adds, relieved. “But really, there aren’t many excuses that would justify him not being here, but having to save children’s lives is definitely one of them.”

“Thank Merlin those children are alright. That sounds- Wait,” he says, before sitting up. “Healer Black? You know Healer Black?”

James blinks at him. “Ehm... Yeah?”

“Merlin, that man is so handsome!” he exclaims. “He was here for like two minutes, before he got called away to other patients, but I just can’t stop thinking about him! He already looks perfect, and now you’re telling me that he’s some kind of miracle Healer saving children’s lives?” He sighs. “It’s just not fair.”

At first, James still looks confused. Then his eyes widen in understanding, and his mouth starts twitching like he’s trying to hold back laughter.

He doesn’t blame him. He’d laugh at himself too, with how ridiculous he’s been acting over this random Healer. He just hopes he won’t have embarrassed Remus Lupin too much once his memories have returned.

“Don’t worry,” James says, in an amused voice. “Healer Black will come back as soon as he has the time.”

Now, his own eyes widen. “You really think he’d come to see me again?”

James lets out a strangled noise and starts coughing, which he strongly suspects being a laugh quickly covered up by a cough. “Yes,” James replies, suppressed laughter still sounding through in his voice. “I really think so.”

He knows it’s rather pathetic, but as he’s got nothing better to do, he did it anyway. He practiced what he’s going to say to Healer Black when, or if, he comes back.

He’ll tilt his head slightly downwards, so he’ll look up at the man through his lashes, and then he’ll give him a coy smile, while softly saying ‘Healer Black. It’s so good to see you again. I’ve heard many great things about you, and what you did for those children is truly admirable.’ Luckily, flirting seems to fall under semantic memory.

However, when the moment comes that Healer Black enters the room again, his carefully constructed plan falls apart.

At first, he’s stunned that yes, Healer Black really looks like that, and he hasn’t made it better in his head. Alright, the man has bags under his eyes, his robes are rumpled, and his hair is slightly greasy and so much strands are peaking out of his bun, making it look more messy than what would qualify as a normal messy bun, but he still looks like the most beautiful person in the world. He doesn’t even notice Aubrey and James walk in after Healer Black.

He opens his mouth to deliver his carefully practiced lines, but the words die in his throat as Healer Black... Well, flings himself at him. He literally splays out on top of him, hugging him close and pressing his face in the crook of his neck. “I missed you so much,” Healer Black murmurs against his skin.

He freezes. Yes, he has forgotten quite a lot, but he’s still pretty sure this is not the standard operating procedure for Healers to greet their patients. “Erm...” He says, once again ever so eloquently.

Healer Black lifts his head and looks up at him in confusion, but he can’t possibly be more confused than he’s feeling.

James scrapes his throat. “Remus, may I introduce you to Healer Sirius Black-Lupin, your husband?”

“So neither one of you decided to tell him?” Healer Black has crossed his arms over his chest and is glaring at Audrey and James.

“I’m sorry, Healer Black!” Aubrey squeaks. “I know I should’ve told him, but it was just too cute, watch him be all smitten with his own husband.”

He isn’t really listening. He’s openly staring at Healer Black. Apparently, he bloody married the guy, so it’s allowed, right?

“I don’t know how you pulled this off, Remus Lupin,” he whispers under his breath. “But thank you, and kudos to you, mate, kudos to you.”

As he looks at Healer Black up and down (at some point he’ll really have to stop referring to his husband as Healer Black, probably), he suddenly really wishes for his memories to come back fast, as there are some things he’d really like to remember.

Though on the other hand, he thinks, biting his lip, maybe ‘Healer Black’ won’t mind freshening up his memory in the meantime?

“Ugh,” Remus groans, hiding his face against Sirius’ chest. “I can’t believe I was practically drooling over you!”

Sirius chuckles while he’s rubbing soft circles on Remus’ back. “You were cute.”

As a reply, Remus just groans again.

“I’m sorry, though,” Sirius says, suddenly quietly. “It wouldn’t have happened if I had been by your side as I was supposed to be.”

Remus lifts up his head to look at Sirius. “Hey, none of that! You were saving lives.” He presses a quick kiss to his husband’s lips. “You wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else, and I wouldn’t have wanted you to be anywhere else.”

Sirius smiles softly at him, and Remus lays his head back on his chest. “Besides, it was a good reminder that I should be more proud of my accomplishment to get Healer Black to marry me.”

Sirius barks a laugh, that Remus can feel vibrating in his chest. “And how exactly was me down on one knee practically begging you to become my husband ‘you getting me to marry you’?”

Remus smiles fondly, happy that that memory is safely back in his head. “And it was nice to feel like having a new crush again,” he continues. “ All exhilarated, enraptured, and in awe.”

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of Remus’ head. “I feel like that every time I look at you.”

[sangwooooh]

The beginning of an unlikely duo

Part 1

It’s like really late (or should I say early) right now and I should definitely be sleeping because tomorrow I’m supposed to hang out with some friends, but here I am. I guess I’ll finally write something as it appears that I’ve got a sudden burst of courage (what’s up with that?).

Anywayyy this is just something I’m writing in the heat of the moment. Whatever happens shall happen and all that (☆▽☆)

what this is about (sort of) : male!reader in the world of my hero academia; there will be romance, not bromance 👯‍♂️

warnings : this kid is kind of sad, brief mentions of family problems, he has them ups and downs, brief mention of friends not doing a good job at being friends, I think that’s it though (if there’s anything else worth mentioning, please tell me :))) thanks); btw they’re gay if you didn’t know ;)

When has it started? The endless cycle of nothing and everything that is taking over (m/n)’s life? If he were to ever answer such a question — which he isn’t — he’d probably say when he was born because damn did it feel like it. Everything was chaos. Emotions all over the place, grades going up and down like they’re on a swing, family a mess, friends nowhere in sight.

Whatever the case, there is always time for some really good tea with his neighbor, miss Bakugo. She is a though lady no doubt about that and she always has something to tell (m/n) that will make him question whether it is actually helpful or not. Regardless, she is good company when he’s got nothing else to do — even though it is summer and theoretically he should be having some fun with his friends. (M/n)’s friends stopped being relevant a while ago when they gave him the cold shoulder for some reason, then ghosting him when summer break came around. They weren’t the best of friends, but they were something at least. Now he feels really lonely because those idiots ditched him.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I should introduce you to my son, shouldn’t I? He could really use someone like you.” Mitsuki sighs with a thin layer of annoyance in her voice, shaking her head. Not this again. (M/n) really doesn’t want to talk to Katsuki. It would ruin what opinions he already has on the guy and he isn’t sure if he wants that.

(M/n) averts his eyes awkwardly, knowing fully well that this time he might not get away with just leaving early, “Oh, you don’t need to do that, madam.” His grip on his own fingers tightens considerably.

Mitsuki gasps, “Stop it! How many times do I have to tell you? Call me Mitsuki! And I do need to do that. Katsuki’s so called friends are such little assholes.” Mitsuki sighs once again and, with how often she does it, it might as well be her character trait.

She dropped it after a while, as she always does, with the promise that (m/n) at least says hi to Katsuki when he gets home from wherever he is.

So he waits for the firecracker in his room where he shouldn’t be here Mitsuki told him to stay a while ago. Since (m/n) has a hard time saying no, he is now staring at the suspiciously not so secret lair looking room of one Katsuki Bakugo.

The room is clean, not a surprise considering who the inhabitant was. There isn’t too much stuff that could make it messy either. There’s the desk with some books — it’s not pretense and Katsuki actually does work from the words of Mitsuki, and that earns him (m/n)’s respect. The bed is made, a soft looking teddy bear resting on the blanket. That’s definitely not cute. (M/n) approaches the desk and lets his fingers travel along the cover of a biology book. It looks old, but there are no torn or bended corners. His eyes slip from it to glance again at the room as a whole. It shouldn’t feel relaxing to be here, but it does. It’s probably the smell of vanilla. It reminds (m/n) of his big sister.

The door opens with no warning. The one who opened it is, of course, the blonde firecracker who (m/n) is certainly not attracted to.

They don’t really talk. In fact, they’ve met like once. But Mitsuki talks and (m/n) clings to whatever he can to get his mind off of his own life. Sometimes, if a story is well told, it appears characters can actually spring up to life in one’s heart. (M/n) has an intriguing version of Katsuki in his mind, but a more intimate version of him in his heart. Hurts that Katsuki probably doesn’t know him.

“(M/n), what are you doing in my room?”

Spoke too soon.

[lardguz]

All You Can Eat Bluff-et

WHEW. This took me a lot longer to write than I anticipated because I got kind of stuck near the end (just like a certain fatass lawyer in this one, hehe) but YEAH. Wow! Hope you guys like gay lawyer feeder/feedee relationships! 

Phoenix Wright sat on the couch in his office, formerly known as the Weight & Co. Law Offices, blankly staring at the TV screen in front of him. It had been two weeks since he was found presenting forged evidence to the court and subsequently stripped of his attorney’s badge and defense attorney title. Since then he’d not really had much to do, not being used to being unemployed for the first time in years. He had cleaned the office from top to bottom multiple times in the first few days following his sudden dismissal, trying to keep his mind off the creeping existential dread. His friends had stopped by frequently to check on him when they heard the news, and he put on a reassuring smile to them all, but now? The apathy was beginning to set in. Phoenix sat there, wearing just a dress shirt, an undone tie, and some slacks, watching the news talking yet again about his disbarment, with his hand rummaging absentmindedly around in a bowl of potato chips. He kept bringing handfuls of the crunchy snacks up to his mouth, loudly chewing on them without realizing how much he was eating.

  Phoenix had been eating like this for as long as he could remember, but without constant cases keeping him on the move, and all the time in the world to just sit on the couch and mindlessly watch TV, his snacking habits were starting to show on his body. His middle was starting to protrude just the tiniest bit, slightly straining the button nearest his tummy on his dress shirt. As his fingers scraped the bottom of the bowl with nothing left to eat in it, Phoenix got up off the couch and turned off the TV. At that precise moment, he heard the familiar Steel Samurai ringtone that his former assistant, Maya, had begged him to put on his cell phone echoing from across the office. Trotting over to his messy desk, he picked up the phone. “Wright and Co. Law Offi—er, wait. No. Hey, this is Phoenix Wright speaking?”

 “Wright, I’m outside your office door,” spoke a familiar voice with a slight British accent to it, “Open up. How long have you been hiding away in there, anyways?”

Phoenix audibly sighed. “Just a couple of days, Miles. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right over.” He hung up and made his way over to the office door, hastily running his hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t a mess.

 There outside his door stood Miles Edgeworth, the famed prosecutor, long-time rival to Phoenix Wright, and his boyfriend. The silver-haired man had bags in each hand which seemed to be very heavy. Phoenix leaned in to kiss his partner and then welcomed him into his office. Edgeworth looked around at the shabby state of the room, empty snack bags littering the floor, and huffed in mild disgust. “Really, Wright, you live like this? Have you eaten nothing but garbage junk food at all the past week?”

Phoenix rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, you know, I was always more of an art guy in college than a cooking guy? Ehehehe…”

Miles groaned and dropped the heavy bags onto the couch, sitting down next to them. “Well, it is a good thing I brought you some real food then, Wright. Here, come sit next to me. I’ll show you what I’ve brought.” The well-dressed prosecutor patted the cushion beside him gently. Phoenix lowered himself down next to his boyfriend slowly and looked into his cool gray eyes curiously. Edgeworth opened one of the bags and pulled out a few plastic containers of some sort of soup. “This is homemade potato and leek soup, with lots of heavy cream. Very nourishing. It’s still warm, I made it just before I left to come over here. And this,” he said as he opened the other bag, revealing a single much larger container, “is a devil’s food cake. I also made this myself, but I baked it last night. The frosting is also homemade.”

Edgeworth popped the lid off of one of the containers of soup and, pulling a spoon out of the bag, dipped it into the bowl and lifted it to Phoenix’s mouth. Phoenix leaned back a little in confusion, stammering. “I-I am perfectly capable of feeding myself, Miles! You don’t have to—”

He was cut off abruptly as the spoon was inserted into his open mouth. The soup, with beautiful, bright flavors and creamy deliciousness, practically melted in his mouth. His cheeks flushed crimson as his eyes met his boyfriend’s, who lifted a finger to his own lips in a shushing gesture. “You have done so much for me, Wright. Now it’s my turn to take care of you. Understand?” Phoenix nodded quickly, still a little dazed, and Miles removed the spoon, refilling it from the bowl and bringing it to his lips again. This went on and on, as Miles emptied one container of soup and moved onto the other two, until there was no more left to feed to his lonely boyfriend. Phoenix belched softly, rubbing his distended belly, which strained against the buttons of his shirt even more now that he’d eaten essentially a whole pot of soup by himself. Miles rubbed his swollen tummy sympathetically before leaning over to whisper in his ear. “I hope you still have room in there, Wright, because you still have to eat dessert…”

Removing the rich chocolate cake from its container, Edgeworth cut off a large piece and held it to his boyfriend’s lips, encouraging Phoenix to take a big bite of the delicious confection. He opened his mouth wide and took a much larger bite than Miles had anticipated, taking about a quarter of the slice in one gulp. The two men continued in this manner, the prim and proper prosecutor delicately feeding slices of the moist chocolate cake to his now very stuffed boyfriend until no more cake remained. Phoenix undid the buttons on his shirt to allow his strained gut some relief, the orb of flesh firm and hard to the touch. Edgeworth gave his boyfriend some gentle belly rubs to try and ease his aching tummy before leaving for the night, promising to be back again tomorrow with more proper food to keep the unemployed former lawyer well-fed.

  A year had passed since the fateful trial that had left the legendary Phoenix Wright unemployed, and not many people had seen much of the former lawyer since. Only his closest friends, and the occasional food delivery person, had been in contact with Mr. Wright since his disbarment. The one-time master of courtroom bluffs was sitting on the couch in his former office as he did every day now, a small stack of takeout boxes stacked on the coffee table in front of him. Anyone who knew Phoenix Wright in his lawyer days would hardly recognize the man on the couch as that legendary defense attorney now. Phoenix was wearing a baggy hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, having long since outgrown his old tailored suits from when he still practiced law. The loose, stretchy clothing he preferred to wear at present didn’t leave much to the imagination despite not being form-fitting yet. Phoenix’s chest, once a decently defined pair of pecs, had blossomed into a pudgy pair of moobs that even his XXL hoodie couldn’t hide, and his growing gut sat comfortably in his lap, the bottom of his softening tummy rolls peeking out from the bottom of his hoodie whenever he stretched or moved his arms. Speaking of which, Phoenix’s arms were also noticeably jiggly with fat, with rolls that bunched up at his shoulders whenever he reached upwards. He also had a nice, plush pair of love handles that oozed into a muffintop over the elastic waistband of his sweatpants, which his boyfriend Miles Edgeworth had taken quite a fancy to grabbing ahold of whenever they kissed. None of his weight gain on his upper half even held a candle to how his lower half looked, though. Living such a sedentary life for the past year since his disbarment had sent quite a bit of fat to his thighs and rear end. Phoenix’s ass cheeks were enormous, giving him a beautiful pear shape whether he sat his fat ass on the couch or stood up to waddle to the door to get food delivery. Each round cheek was roughly the side of a pillow, and just as soft. His thighs were also thickening at an astounding rate, each one roughly wide enough to get him stuck in some smaller chairs. When he’d weighed himself earlier that week, Phoenix saw that he’d surpassed 350 pounds. If he had still been a lawyer, that number would have stunned and horrified him, but now? He didn’t really mind at all.

 The tubby former lawyer scratched at the stubble on his double chin, leaning forward to grab one of his takeout containers stacked in front of him, when the doorbell rang. Phoenix lowered his arm and instead hoisted himself off the couch, his chubby stomach wobbling underneath his sweatshirt as he did so. He walked over to the door to the office,  his meaty thighs rubbing against each other uncomfortably as he did so. God, I’m probably going to have to start taking bigger steps when I walk soon, Phoenix thought to himself as he reached the door. He peered through the peep hole, expecting to see Maya or Edgeworth or someone more familiar, but instead he saw a face he never thought he’d see again. Or, rather, the lower half of a face, since the upper half was covered by a very familiar visor. Phoenix hastily opened the door and stepped outside to confront the visitor.

“Godot?!” he shouted, “How did you get here? Aren’t you supposed to be—”

“In prison?” the white-haired man laughed. “Yeah, well, as it turns out, murder in defense of another isn’t a death sentence. Your pretty little boyfriend got my sentence reduced for “good behavior” and “health reasons”. He also said I should stop by and say hey.” The former prosecutor glanced up and down at Phoenix’s body, chuckling dryly. “Good to see you’ve been taking real good care of yourself, Phoenix, despite everything that’s happened to you.”

Phoenix gulped, subconsciously scratching at the bottom of his overfed gut which flopped over the waistband of his sweatpants. “So, you heard about… that?” Godot nodded, and Phoenix sighed softly. “Figures. Yeah, I got played for a fool. Given forged evidence to present in court. I’m sorry for letting you down so soon after I proved to you that I was worthy to follow in Mia’s—”

“Trite!” Godot snarled. Phoenix yelped and reflexively covered his face, expecting to feel a scalding cup of coffee smack into his face upon hearing his old rival’s nickname for him. He peeked around his fingers to see the masked man rummaging around in a plastic bag that was slung over his arm. That was the first time Phoenix noticed that Godot was carrying multiple plastic bags. The older man clicked his tongue decisively and pulled out a small white box, marked with a logo like a coffee cup with three red lines going horizontally across it. He held it out to Phoenix.

“What’s in this?” Phoenix asked curiously as he reached a hand out to take the box. Godot stayed silent, so Phoenix opened the little package. Inside was a large pastry, a cream tart shaped like an attorney’s badge. Phoenix looked down at the confection, then glanced back up at Godot, a look of confusion plastered on his chubby face. The masked man’s eyes couldn’t be seen, but his mouth broke into a sly grin upon seeing the disgraced attorney’s expression. “I needed something to do after I got out of prison, so I decided why not do what I was always born to do and open a nice little coffee shop? We’ve been a massive success, and your prettyboy boyfriend told me you’d been really enjoying sweet stuff lately, so I decided I’d bring a little taste of Café Armando to your office.” He lifted his bag-laden arms to properly show off just how much he’d brought with him. “Got a little something of everything we make back there for you, Wright. Mind if I come in?”

Phoenix swallowed heavily, his mouth watering already at just the prospect of gorging himself on fresh-made pastries. He nodded shakily, unable to form words with his mouth in his dazed state. Godot shouldered past the overweight former lawyer, heading further into the office. He chuckled loudly at the stack of takeout boxes on the coffee table. “Looks like you already got plenty to eat here, Phoenix, but that’s fine, I’ll put my stuff on this side of the couch for you.”  Godot dropped the bags of baked goods onto one half of the couch, leaving Phoenix with the other half all to himself.

The portly man sat back down on the couch cushion, his lardy ass spreading out under him to take up the entire couch cushion. He made to reach for one of the plastic bags and grab a box from within, but Godot slapped his hand away. He waggled a finger in Phoenix’s face. “Ah ah ah, that’s not how we’re doing this, Wright. Your man had very specific instructions for me. So you just sit there and look pretty while I handle the hard stuff, tubby.” Godot prodded a finger into Phoenix’s chubby gut to emphasize his point before reaching into one of the bags and removing the box that contained the cream tart from earlier. The older man then swung his legs over either of Phoenix’s thick thighs and straddled his rounded gut, leaning on it lightly while pressing the cream tart to the scruffy man’s lips. Phoenix eagerly devoured the tart in just a few bites, waiting impatiently for the next confection.

The two men continued their feeding session for hours, Godot getting more and more forceful the more Phoenix ate. His fat cheeks and double chins were covered in crumbs and cream, and a few bits of pastries had fallen onto the front of his hoodie, which was now riding up heavily on his distended gut. The soft layer of fat cushioning the outside of the enormous orb was stretched far by the amount of food Godot was stuffing into his former rival. Phoenix’s mouth was constantly full, every time he finished chewing on a pastry another was prompt shoved into his tiring mouth. Godot growled taunts in a low tone the entire time, calling him a fat pig and commenting on how far gone he was after just a year of unemployment. Finally, as he reached into the last bag to grab another pastry to shove into his adversary’s mouth, Godot’s long fingers closed around empty air. Turning his gaze back towards Phoenix’s exhausted, messy face, he grunted in annoyance. “Well, I guess that’s the end of my fun for now, Wright. But before I leave, I got one last thing I need from you…” Before Phoenix could muster a response, Godot leaned heavily against his bloated gut and wrapped his arms around the stuffed man’s chubby shoulders, planting his lips against Phoenix’s cream-covered mouth. Phoenix let out a muffled noise of surprise before melting into the kiss, unable to deny his long-standing attraction for the mysterious masked Godot back from his lawyer days. The two passionately made out for another few minutes, Godot’s sharp teeth digging into Phoenix’s lower lip occasionally. Finally, they parted, and Godot stood up, slapping Phoenix’s engorged stomach as he made to leave the room. Phoenix sat there in a daze for a few moments before the inevitable food coma washed over him, lulling him into a slumber while his stuffed gut digested its feast.

 Morning light filtered through the blinds of the former Wright & Co. Law Offices’ windows, shining directly into Phoenix’s eyes and waking him up. The disgraced lawyer yawned and stretched as he leaned back on his couch, where he had fallen asleep sitting up the night before, just as he did every night these days. It was now a little over four years since the once-famous Phoenix Wright had been stripped of his attorney’s badge, and that time had not been kind to his once-slim and fit body. As he yawned, his fat cheeks caused his eyes to squish shut entirely, and his triple chin creased into a quadruple chin. His neck was buried under rolls of fat, showing no separation between chins and neck anymore. His hoodie, once slightly too big for him, was now several sizes too small, and yet he kept wearing it. The only thing it covered was his oversized moobs, which stretched the elastic fabric nearly to its limits just from their girth alone. The sleeves of said hoodie were starting to rip in places on the seams, his pillow-sized fat-coated biceps poking through the little tears in diamond-shaped bubbles that widened as he stretched his arms above his head. Phoenix’s stomach, while nowhere near his biggest asset, was still impressively large, completely visible due to his hoodie not even coming close to covering it now. His gut split into two distinct rolls that were separated by the fold where the upper roll collapsed over his belly button. The lower roll pooled in his lap like a liquid, settling between his overstuffed thighs while also overflowing over the outer edges of them, and flopping over the edges of his knees slightly. His love handles had also become a multi-layered deal, each one soft and squishy and overflowing out of his strained waistband like an overcooked souffle.

Still, due to his sedentary lifestyle since losing his job four years ago, Phoenix Wright was incredibly bottom-heavy. All those months of planting his fat ass on his couch and doing nothing but eating crappy takeout food, sleeping, and watching Steel Samurai reruns on his TV, with the only exercise he got being walking to the door to bring in all the bags of food he got delivered every couple of hours, truly did a number on the lower half of his body. Each of his enormous shapeless asscheeks took up one half of the couch, the cushions completely flattened underneath his incredible weight. The burgeoning bulk of his massive ass strained the fabric of his once-huge sweatpants, with one steadily growing tear going right down the middle of his butt, which would reveal his boxers to anyone behind him if his ass weren’t firmly sat down on his overburdened couch at almost all hours of the day. His thighs were almost as thick as tree trunks, making his pants look like overfilled piping bags, with little rips forming on the seams where his dimpled cellulite poked through. His thighs were so fat that no mater how far apart he spread them while sitting, they pooled under him in a way that they were always touching. The fat from his thighs was also starting to fold over onto his knees, making it gradually harder to bend them when he stood up to get his food deliveries. Phoenix was also starting to notice that his meaty calves were starting to get so fat that his ankles were fusing with the mass of fat that was the rest of his flabby leg rolls. All in all, the former legal legend was nigh unrecognizable to anyone who hadn’t seen him in the past four years and known about his decline into pure sedentary gluttony.

Phoenix felt a buzzing coming from the pocket of his hoodie that currently rested right between his massive pillow-sized moobs, straining his fat arms against his squishy chest. The sheer size of his chest made it hard for his already-overburdened arms to reach things in front of him, especially when it was something so close to his body. Eventually he managed to reach his pocked and pull out his phone and saw that the last of the deliveries had been made, so Phoenix swung his bulk off the couch and began waddling to the office’s door. His soft, flabby gut hung almost like an apron in front of his legs, the lower half of it dangling halfway down his couch-crushing thighs, slapping against them loudly with every heavy step he took. The obese man opened the door and gathered up the piles of takeout containers in his flabby arms, his wobbling gut just barely brushing the floor as he leaned down to pick up the precious packages. He knew he had a double date tonight with his husband and boyfriend, but Phoenix just couldn’t wait that long to have his greedy gut properly filled. He began steadily waddling his way back to his old worn out couch, his shapeless orbs that were his enormous ass cheeks jiggling hypnotically the entire time.

Phoenix slowly lowered his incredible bulk back down onto his sofa, oblivious to the strained groaning of the metal frame beneath his prodigious rear end. He deposited his delicious cargo onto the coffee table in front of his couch and leaned forward, his double-layered tummy splitting into even more rolls as he strained to reach one of the roughly thirty or so containers of food. He grabbed it in his pudgy fingers and sat back, sighing in relief as he opened the styrofoam box. Inside was a triple decker cheeseburger with extra cheese and bacon, with extra fries. Phoenix always gorged on burgers on Wednesdays, it was an old tradition of his and Maya’s to get burgers on Wednesdays nights after working a long case. Now that she was too busy training to be the next Master of Kurain Village, Phoenix opted to just stuff himself with extra large burgers on his own instead. Grasping the massive burger between his sausage-sized fingers, he lifted it to his mouth and took a huge bite, moaning in joy as the flavors of the juicy burger burst over his taste buds. A little bit of grease dribbled down his scruff chins, but Phoenix didn’t even notice. He continued devouring the triple cheeseburger with practiced ease, demolishing the entire thing and all the fries in record time before moving onto the next container, and the next, and the next…

The former lawyer ate and ate for hours, completely lost in the decadence of his burger feast, each one just as fattening and greasy as the last. Phoenix was completely ignorant to the pounds he was packing on in his fast food haze, too busy stuffing his flabby face with his greasy “breakfast”. His fatty arm rolls grew thicker and thicker, ripping the seams of his hoodie’s sleeves to shreds after just an hour of gorging himself. Tears in the stretchy fabric began to form between his massive breasts, each one straining the overburdened sweatshirt in opposite directions. His soft, flabby gut gurgled as it slowly seeped further outwards, filling his entire oversized lap and overflowing over his legs entirely. His enormous ass and titanic thigh rolls finally won the battle against his formerly-loose sweatpants, a series of loud ripping noises and the twang of splitting elastic signalling their end as waves of lard erupted out of them, his meaty love handles and wobbling cheeks resting comfortably on the arm rests of his overtaxed couch as his oak tree sized thigh rolls dangled over the edge of the sofa cushions.

Finally, after just a few hours, Phoenix finished devouring the last of his burger feast, belching into his closed fist after swallowing the last bite. The man lazily looked down at himself, realizing all he could see was his bare tits and the top roll of his gut. Then he felt his soft fatty flesh covering the entire couch, overflowing over the edges, and it hit him: Phoenix had officially grown fat enough to fill his two-person couch just by himself. As that realization was sinking in, he heard a loud noise, like metal bending, and his heart sank. Trying desperately to lower his sagging lard-covered arms to his sides to hoist himself off of the ticking time bomb that was his couch, Phoenix realized he was now so fat that his arms couldn’t bend right at the elbow anymore, his rolls of arm fat folding over the joint and making it essentially useless. Not only that, but he couldn’t even get his arms down to his sides anymore because of his beanbag-sized moobs and layers of side rolls getting in the way. Well, that just leaves me with one option, Phoenix thought to himself as he planted his chubby feet on the floor in front of him. He began slowly leaning forward, trying to inch his way upwards and off of his sofa, but after a few minutes a cold realization dawned on him: his enormously fat ass was stuck between the armrests of the couch. He’d heard of people getting stuck in a dining chair before, but an entire loveseat?! This was ridiculous! Phoenix didn’t have long to think about how incredibly obese he had gotten, as the couch let out one last groaning metallic shriek and gave out under his unbelievable weight. Phoenix let out a yelp as he plummeted backward to the floor with a resounding boom that sent the entire office quaking. Thankfully he had a lot of extra padding to cushion the fall, and he lay there groaning, his flabby shoulders and back rolls pushing his multiple chins and drooping jowls up around his face. Well, at least Miles and Godot will be here in a few hours, Phoenix thought to himself. I may as well sleep off those burgers while I wait for them. The gigantic man yawned loudly as he fell asleep, pinned beneath his own hundreds of pounds of lard, snoring loudly the entire time.

 Phoenix woke with a start as he felt something laying on top of his squishy chest. He opened his eyes and was greeted with the familiar red glow of his boyfriend Godot’s visor inches from his fat-wreathed face. Standing over him and looking mildly amused was his husband, Edgeworth, holding a few bags of food in his arms. The chief prosecutor tssked softly as he shook his head at his obese partner. “Really, Wright, I’ve been warning you about that couch for months now, and yet you kept ignoring me. Now look where that got you, stuck laying on your back, pinned by your own greedy ways.”

Godot laughed softly as he leaned forward to kiss Phoenix’s fat lips. “He has a point, Phoenix, you really have let yourself go. You’ve become quite the hungry little hog, haven’t you?” The masked man grabbed heaping handfuls of Phoenix’s flabby jowls as he shoved his mouth against the helpless former lawyer, making out with him with such an intense ferocity that Phoenix didn’t really know what hit him. Their lips parted with a whimper from Phoenix, craving more, but it was cut off by Edgeworth sticking a sticky cream-filled donut in his husband’s greedy mouth. “There will be plenty of time for that later, dear, but for now, I’m sure you must be starving. Let us take care of that little issue first before we get you up off that floor and find out just how big a butterball you’ve become.” Miles passed the rest of the box of donuts to Godot, who was still laying on top of Phoenix’s enormous bulk. He positioned the box on Phoenix’s chins for easier stuffing access and began pressing the fried sweet delights into his mouth one after another, barely giving him any time to swallow one before another was fed to him. Miles sat on the floor beside Phoenix, leaning against his pillowy arm rolls as he began stuffing his husband’s face with large fancy cupcakes, frosting and crumbs flecking his droopy jowls and his many stubble-covered chins.

The tender dual-feeding session was over quickly, with two feeders and one voracious feedee making short work of the boxes of baked goods. Edgeworth leaned over his morbidly obese husband’s arm fat to kiss his round overstuffed cheek. “All finished? Then we should probably get you off the floor now and see how much you weigh, hm?” Godot whined from where he still lay on top of Phoenix’s mounds of man-tits. “Aww, but I’m having fun up here! He’s so soft and fun to pinch and lay on now “ The masked man grinned mischievously. “Plus, it’s so fun to see from above just how far the mighty Phoenix Wright has fallen.” Miles gave Phoenix’s flabby gut a hearty shove, sending the entire expanse of his husband’s fat-swaddled body wobbling so hard that it knocked Godot off of his chest. The two men each grabbed one of Phoenix’s lard-coated wrists and heaved, taking a solid five minutes to get the jiggling mound of pure fat that was once the best defense attorney around back on his feet. Edgeworth then led the pear-shaped butterball to the scale he’d bought last year, watching the numbers go up and up. They finally stopped, and Edgeworth read the display out loud. “Seven hundred and sixty-two pounds. Good god, Wright, you really have gotten enormous.” He pulled Phoenix into a hug, squishing into his pillowy soft body. “I’m so proud of you, dear.” Godot grabbed a fistful of his boyfriend’s chair-sized ass cheeks appraisingly, before grunting in approval. “Yeah, I’d say you’ve become a pretty prize hog, Phoenix. Good work. Looks great on you.”

The two much smaller men escorted their doughy partner as he lumbered his way back to the broken sofa. Phoenix was breathing heavily, worn out from just waddling over to the scale and back, but the couch was completely busted. He had nowhere to sit now. Edgeworth patted his squishy shoulders reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Phoenix. I can get you a special reinforced couch delivered tomorrow. But more importantly, I have a job opportunity that came my way for you.”

Phoenix looked at his husband quizzically. “Job opportunity? What kind?” Miles chuckled. “Well, it involves a lot of eating as a front, but… how good are you at playing poker?”

 A young brown haired lawyer was pacing around the defendant lobby of the courthouse. Today was his first ever trial as a defense attorney, and his client was nowhere to be seen. The chubby man was very nervous, loudly muttering to himself in a voice that had clearly been driven hoarse from practicing all night the night before. “It’s fine, Apollo! Everything is just fine! Your client is probably just stuck in traffic, that’s all! He’ll be here in time for the trial! It’s fine! You’re fine! I’m fine!” He took a deep breath and let loose a yell that could probably be heard from across the entire courthouse. “I’M APOLLO JUSTICE, AND I’M FINE!!!” Breathing heavily after such an incredibly loud scream, Apollo wiped his forehead with the back of a pudgy arm and walked over to one of the benches in the lobby, collapsing onto it gratefully. It was then that the rotund young man noticed the array of tables on the other side of the defendant lobby, each one piled high with mountains of food. “What the…” he mumbled to himself, “Who is all that food for…? Is- Is that for me?” He hoisted himself off the bench and walked over to the tables, his fat tummy growling hungrily at the sight of all that delicious food. Apollo was by no means a skinny man, having been well acquainted with stress eating ever since he started law school. Reaching out for a cream-filled donut with one chubby hand, he stopped when he heard noises coming from out in the hall. Loud noises, like a dinosaur was stomping around out there. Curious to know the source, Apollo turned around at the exact same moment the door to the defendant lobby opened. His eyes were greeted with the sight of none other than the Chief Prosecutor himself, Miles Edgeworth. Apollo yelped in shock and bowed his head respectfully, but Edgeworth stopped him. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Justice. I’m not here on prosecutor business. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, though. I’ve heard much about you from your mentor, Mr. Gavin.”

Apollo’s chubby cheeks were bright crimson, flustered to receive such high praise from such a legendary prosecutor. “U-uh, th-thank you, Mr. Edgeworth. I mean! Uh! Chief Prosecutor, sir!” Miles chuckled, a sound that Apollo was certain not many heard. “Please, Mr. Edgeworth will do. Now, I’ve heard you’ve taken over the case that Mr. Gavin was originally meant to take?” Apollo nodded. “Yes, Mr. Edgeworth. Once I heard who it was I would be defending, I insisted! He was always a hero of mine when I first decided I wanted to be a lawyer as a kid. Even after what happened seven years ago, I still believe he’s innocent!”

Edgeworth nodded, satisfied by the fledgling defense attorney’s passionate answer. “Excellent. Well, then, your client shall be arriving shortly.” Apollo looked up at him, clearly confused, so Edgeworth continued without pause. “I said I wasn’t here on prosecutor business, correct? The only reason I came here was to make sure your client could get here on his own.”

Apollo hummed in even further confusion. “What do you mean, Mr. Edgeworth? Is he… injured?” Miles shook his head gently. “You’ll see soon enough. Good day, Mr. Justice, and good luck with your trial.” With that, the Chief Prosecutor left the defendant lobby, his coat tails swooshing behind him. Apollo stood in the middle of the lobby, absolutely baffled, when he realized the loud stomping noises in the hallway had started again, and were getting louder-- and closer. He stood and watched as the door to the hallway was opened, not by a hand, but by an enormous flabby stomach as wide as the door was pressed into it slowly. The wobbling double-decker behemoth of a gut oozed past the door frame, soft enough that it could still fit through despite being wider than the doorway itself. Then came the rest of the doughy man’s front, his enormous drooping moobs and upper belly roll the only thing covered by his tent-sized sweatshirt. His neck was a thick ring of no less than eight flabby chins, all covered in a stubbly beard. His eyes squinted from behind jiggling oversized jowls that drooped down to his shoulders. The mammoth of a man continued shuffling his way through the doorway, squishing all his doughy rolls against the frame. His arms, which were just cylindrical dimpled pillows of fat that were slowly absorbing his round hands at the wrists, grasped at either side of the door frame to try and lever his massive bulk through the door easier. But suddenly, his flowing rolls of lard stopped moving through the doorway, and the flabby behemoth strained and pushed against the walls with his swaddled arms, trying desperately to get the rest of his bulk through the door. Apollo shook himself and trotted over to help the comically oversized man.

As he got closer to the wedged ball of lard, Apollo really got a good look at just how massively obese this guy was, even with only half his body visible. The young lawyer wasn’t skinny at all, but this guy even put his soft and round physique to shame. Apollo was pretty sure he could see the man’s feet peeking out from under the bottom of the exposed rolls of his incredible gut, which came down to just above his ankles. Looking down at his own stomach, which only just barely drooped over his belt, he couldn’t help but feel a little impressed, and maybe jealous, that someone could get just so ridiculously fat.

Apollo coughed nervously before addressing the panting, wobbling blob of a man. “Uh, sorry to bother you, sir, but uh, do you… need help getting through the door?”

The blubbery behemoth responded in a voice that was deepened by all the fat caking his neck and interrupted with wheezy breaths every few words. “Yeahh… tha’ woul’… haah… helph a lot… thin’ my assh ish… haah… shtuck…” Apollo had to take a few seconds to mentally translate what the enormous man was saying through his speech being slurred by his flabby jowls getting in the way of his mouth. “Oh, your, uh, b-backside is stuck? Here, let me grab your arms and try and pull you through, okay sir?” The doughy butterball nodded, his cheeks and chins jiggling as he did, and he reached his overburdened arms as far forward as he could. Apollo had to lean into the man’s cushiony stomach rolls to reach his arms, feeling himself sinking into the warm, soft adipose. He grabbed onto the man’s fat-ringed wrists and began pulling as hard as he could, trying to ignore the way being enveloped between the man’s blubbery tits and tummy made him feel. After a few minutes of pulling the immense man’s nearly useless arms, Apollo finally felt the wobbling flab all around him begin inching forward slowly. He kept tugging at the monstrously sized man’s round hands as he in turn shuffled his titanic thunder thighs through the door, every roll and fold of fat covering them touching at the middle, all the way down to his ankles.  Once he got his double door-wide hips and thighs through the door, it was just a manner of getting his fat ass inside, which was easier said than done.

Apollo let go of the man’s flabby arms to take a few steps back and think of a new plan of attack. He scanned the blubbery blob’s body, observing the parts he could now see that were stuck on the other side of the door before. It was no wonder he’d gotten stuck in the door. It was a single doorway, and this man, who was so fat that he’d probably be immobilized by his own weight soon if he kept getting fatter, had a lower half that was wide enough to take up five chairs at a dinner table. One overstuffed thigh was almost as wide as the doorway itself on its own, let alone two of them. His squishy love handles oozed over the top of his sweatpants that probably had more X’s in their size than Apollo cared to even imagine, giving the already definitively pear-shaped blubber bag a overflowing muffin top behind his apron of stomach rolls. His arms rested at a ninety degree angle because of his beanbag-sized tits and plush love handles colliding with fat-coated arm rolls that were the size of his own fat head. Damn, how huge must this man’s butt be if it’s still stuck in the doorway after all the rest of that managed to get through?! Apollo thought to himself, when he noticed the whale-sized lardball eyeing the food tables that he’d almost taken a donut from earlier. “Who’sh tha’… haah… food f’r...? Haah… haah…” the behemoth wheezed. “The food? Oh, I’m not sure. It was here when I got here. No one said whose it was.” Apollo could only stand and watch in awe as he observed what happened next. The monumentally obese man began wobbling his bulky form forward and backward against the door frame, slamming his rolls against it repeatedly as cracks began to form around the wooden framework. He then began slowly inching his thunderous legs forward, having to shift his blubbery bulk back and forth in a painfully slow waddle, his lard-caked thighs touching at all points no matter how far apart he spread his legs to “walk”. As he moved his door-sized legs forward, the cracks around the door frame widened, creating loud snapping noises as he dragged his rolls of fat further and further into the defendant lobby.

Finally, with one resounding crunch, the door frame gave way, parts of the walls surrounding it coming with it, crushed to pieces by the enormous blob of a man and his incredible ass cheeks. The flabby titan’s doughy body surged forward as he freed his backside finally, giving Apollo a chance to finally see the probably half-ton of lard in all his glory, and boy, did it make sense how he’d gotten so stuck in that doorway. The man’s ass was easily wide enough to get stuck in a double door, let alone a single one! Each doughy cheek probably took three chairs to sit on on their own, and they sagged so far down that they were touching the floor! Apollo was stunned. How could someone get this fat and still be up walking around? The swollen mass of fatty rolls wobbled constantly as he stood still, wheezing from the effort of busting through the doorway using his hundreds of pounds of fat as a battering ram. After getting his breathing back to the normal level of heavy breathing for one his massive size, the colossal mountain of man-flesh turned his attention back to the tables piled high with food across the lobby, drooling at the sight of it all. He began shuffling his jiggling bulk towards the tables slowly as Apollo watched in fascinated awe. Each heavy step shook the entire room, his double-decker gut rippling with shockwaves from slapping against his meaty cankles with every step. His shapeless flabby ass cheeks wobbled hypnotically as they bumped against the floor with every movement. His beanbag chair moobs slapped against his flab-caked arms, which rested at an angle  even when waddling across the room. His cascade of chins and sagging jowls shook with every heaving breath from the exertion of walking so much. As soon as the man’s gut rolls reached the tables before the rest of him, he flung his doughy body at the plates of food, his fat hands grabbing any food within reach and stuffing it into his greedy face, chewing loudly and getting his chins covered in food. Apollo cleared his throat and spoke to the whale of a man. “Um, excuse me, sir, but, wh-why are you here? This is the defendant’s lobby, not a buffet.”

The barely-mobile butterball spoke around a mouthful of food. “Mmmmph… sho… Milesh… mrrrrmph… dihden… shay…? Youh… ahre… hffff… my… lawyuh…mmmmph…”

Apollo’s jaw practically hit the floor. Gazing at the mound of blubber before him, wearing a tiny sweatshirt stretched across his moobs and sweatpants what couldn’t even contain half of his ass fat, the young defense attorney stammered out a response. “W-what?! So then… y-you’re the Phoenix Wright?! The famous defense attorney?” The man’s swollen fatty head wobbled in something resembling a nodding gesture, his neck too fat for an actual nod. “Wh-what happened to you? Last I heard, you’d been disbarred seven years ago! How did you end up like… like that?” The enormous Phoenix Wright paused his gorging himself to explain. “Haaah… haah… I wohrk… ash a… haah… tashte… teshtuh… urrrrp… fuhll… tihme…” The blob-shaped man smiled cryptically, before immediately returning to stuffing his face with the frantic speed of someone who thought they would starve to death. Apollo rubbed his temples, more stressed than ever. How was he going to defend someone who couldn’t even go ten minutes without eating? This case was going to be an ordeal, he could just tell.

[cloudychao]

I am the creator of Angie’s Pokemon High School (sadly but not really). What an interesting universe I came up with. We look at high school through a side character named Angie, whose gender is such a big mystery, and see how everything plays out.

What a wild ride this has been. Currently, the last episode is done, but not published as I am writing this. A lot of spoilers ahead for the head canons I will clarify.

- Melody’s band is my favorite part of my universe that never got properly address. Melody plays the ocarina, Alice plays her grass whistle, Lizabeth plays drums and sings, Rebecca is on piano, Carlita is on bass, and Diana is on guitar.

- Melody has her own separate group of friends too and that is the best part about her. 

- There was a lot of thinking, but in the end I thought Melody and Barry were a good couple choice. Very unconventional, but Melody is the cool, popular girl while Barry is a nerd. They kinda went well together.

- Tracey was just the roommate of the series and that is all he is. I love him, but adding him made things really messy. He had a good plot though with wanting revenge on the person who trashed his room and being somewhat friends with the group. If I was a better writer, I would have definitely changed his personalty and made him a permanent part of the group.

- I like the fact that the comments loved him so much though. They like his dynamic with the group and how he was kinda like the crybaby. He always was whining, complaining, and just being the wimp. 

- Sakura and Ritchie were never supposed to be a big part of the group like Tracey and Melody. Sakura and Ritchie really just stick to each other more, but when I was writing, I kept adding them for some odd reason. I really just like what they add to the group. To me now, they are permanent members, but I was the poor writer who could not keep them there.

- Making Ritchie the cousin of Ash was a last minute decision too. I swear I had the series wrote out somewhat, but I added so many plot holes. I just thought it was a cute idea and it would add something to his character other than being the bitch and lameass. 

- I wrote the side couples completely outta the blue and I really did them dirty, but I cannot think of rewriting it any other way. It was cute that May and Drew were the leads of the play. I like how Paul discovers humanity through Dawn. The rest was just meh and I wish I did something else. 

- Somewhere, someone says that the anime makes it that Ash is asexual. Once I finished writing Ash’s part, it was too late to really change what he is in my series. In my series, Ash identifies as a bisexual, maybe demisexual.

- I have headcanon that Gary still has a big ego inside of him despite being more humble presently. When his crush is around, his ego definitely lets loose.

- Adding Gary into Angie’s group was a last minute decision and the feedback was so positive of how he interacts with them. He was only supposed to be a side character and just say hi once in awhile. In my series, I tried to slowly add him in and make him a permanent member instead.

- The group dynamic is very wacky. It mostly surrounds the guys making fun of Angie’s crush on Ash, but I kinda developed it to where Gary is the mom of the group and Paul is the sort of Dad where they take care of Angie and Barry.

- Somewhere in the mix, it is canon that Paul Had a crush on Barry, but never really wanted to go through with it. Paul is bisexual in my series.

- It became a thing where Gary, Barry, and Paul became the Gay 3 with Angie as their nonbinary friend. I don’t know how the comments did it when this series is such a mess. 

- I really went back and forth about Angie and their gender. More now, i think Angie as enby and would use they pronouns. In my series though, I stuck with the anime where Angie is a girl and identifies as a girl. I think a genderfluid or nonbinary Angie would be interesting though.

[eyeofthedrgn]

A Heavy Battle Symphony - Chapter 4

New chapter! This chapter is slightly fluffy, still angsty, but much less than previous chapters.

Catch up here: Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

TW: language, mental abuse, verbal abuse, physical abuse, violence, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, self harm, self-esteem issues, sexual abuse (only alluded to briefly in future chapters), just a lot of trauma, angst, smut - lots of lovely gay smut

Word count: 1685

Chapter 4 - Forgotten

A little piece of paper with a picture drawn

Floats on down the street 'til the wind is gone

And the memory now is like the picture was then

When the paper's crumpled up it can't be perfect again

It was Monday, and he was healed enough that Maeve let him go to school. After a normal morning routine, Lorcan made sure he wore a hoodie that would do a decent job covering his neck. Hood up, hands in his hoodie pocket, head down, he headed to school.

He missed a lot of schoolwork. It was going to be a late night. Luckily, most of the teachers gave him until the end of the week to turn it in.

When P.E. came around, he went straight to the gym rather than the locker room. He found his teacher and handed him his doctor's note. Mr. Brullo sent Lorcan to the library to study. Lorcan was happy about that. He was able to catch up on some of his homework.

Lorcan's handwriting, luckily, wasn't hindered by his cast. Perrington at least broke his right arm, his non-dominant arm. That he was thankful for, if he could be thankful for anything that happened to him.

He was getting a headache from his pre-calc homework. Lorcan rubbed his face with his hand and sighed.

"Lorcan?"

Lorcan grunted and slowly turned to see Elide, who looked relieved to see him. That was interesting. "Oh, uh, hi."

"Aren't you supposed to be in gym?" Lorcan lifted his casted arm. Elide's eyes widened and her lips parted. "Oh." She swallowed. Fuck, here comes the pity. "How-" she closed her mouth. "How'd that happen? We thought you were sick." Why were they concerned?

He told the same story Maeve told the doctor. Something about getting in a fight and falling down stairs, and "you should see the other guy". She didn't seem to believe him, neither did the doctor.

"Can I sit with you?" Lorcan shrugged. She sat down and then proceeded to talk to him about what he missed in creative writing. He didn't realize her voice was so soothing.

"Has anyone signed your cast yet?" She was eyeing the black cast. "I have a silver Sharpie!" She pulled it out of her bag and held it up with a smile.

Lorcan huffed a small laugh. Not being able to say no to that smile, knowing he was going to get in trouble, well, what could really do to him anyway? So, Lorcan carefully pushed up his hoodie sleeve. She smiled brightly at him. He propped his head up on his hand, eyes closed and listened to her hum as she put ink to the black cast.

++++

It was hard to keep from asking Lorcan questions. Elide saw the handprint bruise on his neck, the exhaustion lining his body, and of course, the full arm cast. She thought about how his injuries were formed. Obviously, someone put their hands on him, but who?

She didn't know who he lived with besides his aunt. It was doubtful that a woman had done this sort of damage, but one never knows for sure.

As she put pen to plaster, she kept looking up at his face between strokes of ink. He had drifted off to sleep. His face was slack, a slight snore every time he breathed out. Lorcan looked so innocent like that and dare she say, gorgeous.

Having finished her artwork, she just watched him until the bell rang. She gently brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, delicately tucking it behind his ear. He didn't stir.

Elide wished there was something she could do to get him away from his more than shitty situation. Calling the police was probably out of the question, but that was really the only thing she could think of.

The bell rang.

---

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he felt his textbook being pulled from under his elbow. "Oh, shit. Sorry," Lorcan furrowed his brow as he started cleaning up his stuff.

"You looked tired, I didn't want to wake you, but it is lunch time." Elide smiled, "and you have to look at your cast!" She seemed so excited about it.

Expecting some nonsense, he was pleasantly surprised to find a nice line drawing from his elbow to his wrist. It was a row of detailed trees with her name under it. Lorcan looked at it with awe. He looked back at Elide, "You did that?" Obviously, she did that. Don't be stupid, Lorcan, he thought to himself.

She giggled. He thought her laugh was adorable. "Obviously." Lorcan's cheeks flushed while he finished packing up before they walked together to lunch in a comfortable silence.

---

He followed Elide through the lunch line, the lunch lady gave him an extra serving. He was probably looking a little gaunt these days having barely eaten for the past week. Lorcan started towards the empty table in the corner.

Apparently, Elide wasn't having any of that as she pulled him to the group table before he could go be alone. Everyone seemed excited to see him. His name was shouted amongst several other greetings. Lorcan felt a tug in his chest as he looked around at the friendly faces. Why were they always trying to be nice to him? And then his eyes fell on the silver haired boy, he instantly forgot what he was thinking. He stared at the green eyed beauty a fraction longer than he should have as he sat down.

Elide introduced everyone. Aelin, Lysandra, Manon, Dorian, Chaol, Fenrys, Connall, Rowan - the silver haired boy - and then Vaughn, who was the last one to join the table.

He was sitting between Elide and Fenrys. Lorcan kept his head down while he ate, feeling very out of place. Everyone was chatting around him, over him, leaning around him. It was a lot. He wished he was alone at the table in the corner.

Rowan spoke up, "Can I sign your cast?" Lorcan jerked his head up. The sleeve of Lorcan's hoodie was still pushed up, he had forgotten to pull it back down which was unusual, but under the current circumstances, it made sense.

Lorcan's heart sped and he suddenly felt warmth spread up his neck. It drove him crazy how much his body reacted of its own accord around Rowan. He wished it would stop.

There was no reason to deny him when the punishment was coming now anyway since Elide's Sharpie touched the cast in the library, so he just shrugged and moved his arm towards the center of the table, towards Rowan.

"Elide, can I borrow your Sharpie?" She handed it over with a nod and went back to animatedly talking to the other girls about something.

Lorcan was careful not to press into the edge of the table, as he adjusted his arm. "I don't think mine will be as pretty as Elide's. Sorry in advance." Lorcan just shrugged a shoulder. He watched Rowan do his little doodle.

Then Rowan grabbed Lorcan's hand to carefully twist his arm to get to a different part of the cast easier causing electricity to shoot through his skin. His breath hitched. The soft fingers lingering on his skin, he never wanted the other boy's hand to move. Lorcan's eyes darted to Rowan's face to see if he noticed anything weird. All he saw was intense concentration, the way his tongue stuck out just a tad and his brows stitched together. Suddenly he was too warm, chest tight, heart pounding. Hellas below.

"There!" Rowan smiled at his silly nonsensical line doodle signed with his name. "All done." That smile did weird things to his stomach and the absence of those warm fingers made all the heat he had just been feeling disappear. A shiver ran down his spine.

Rowan capped the Sharpie and went to hand it back to Elide when Fenrys grabbed it.

"Can I?"

"Yeah." He was screwed anyway.

By the end of lunch, his cast was covered in names and doodles by his... Friends? They couldn't be friends, could they?

As he walked to his next class, he started panicking. His chest tightening for a whole other reason than being in close proximity to a certain boy. A tightness that was only reminiscent of growing anxiety. He shouldn't have let anyone sign it. What was he thinking?

Fuck.

++++

"Lorcan," Rowan breathed as he saw the dark haired boy basically being dragged by Elide to their table. Everyone perked up at that and welcomed him back.

Rowan saw his pained expression. Then, he saw the cast and the light purples, greens, and yellows on his neck that Lorcan was obviously trying to hide with the hood of his hoodie. It looked like a handprint. A fucking handprint. His gut roiled at the thought.

But then Lorcan looked at him, and oh boy, those eyes were going to be the end of him. They were an amazing onyx, almost like pools of night. His cheeks heated and he hoped no one noticed.

He finally got the courage to ask to sign his cast. And when Lorcan leaned over to get his arm closer to Rowan, he noted the stiffness and slight discomfort that flitted over his face. There was so much damage to Lorcan's body that they couldn't see. It made him unbearably sad thinking about it.

For the rest of lunch, while everyone signed Lorcan's cast, Rowan just sat there silently, observing the beautiful dark haired boy. He'd catch his eye every now and then give him a small smile, which was never returned. His eyes just quickly flitted away. Lorcan, he learned was very hard to read.

Rowan wished they could hang out, just the two of them. He wanted to get to know him and help him. And know what those lips felt like, tasted like. How it would feel to thread his fingers through his long dark hair that was usually in a messy bun. Or just to hold his hand. Fuck, he had it bad.

____

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be tagged.

@thenerdandfandoms @starlightorstarfire

[sunsetcurveofficial]

jatp fics by yours truly

[so, since i’ve written quite a few jatp fics in my time now, i decided that it’s time for a little masterpost before i post something new. sorted the way they appear in my ao3 stats.]

Force of Nature [Luke/Reggie, 49k, T, famous!AU]

Luke meets Reggie in a toilet stall at an award show when he's just trying to hide from everyone. He's the frontman of famous pop punk band Sunset Curve, and Reggie is an international country star. Something shifts in his life when he asks Reggie to sneak out of the award show together to attend an underground punk rock gig instead. Luke doesn't believe in love at first sight, but Reggie sure as hell makes him question everything he's ever believed in before.

A Change of Scenery [Luke/Reggie, 32k, M, camping AU]

“Oh! Apparently, there are 36 questions that are designed to make anyone fall in love with anyone,” Reggie says, eyes wandering over the page. “That sounds easy.” Luke peers at the article and snorts. “Yeah, right. You mean to tell me that if I do these with Bobby’s dad, I will fall in love with him? Sounds likely.” Reggie shrugs, a grin tugging at his lips when he meets Luke’s eyes. “We could try it. Scared to actually fall in love with me, Patterson?”

or, Luke takes Reggie on a camping trip to the woods in an attempt to cure his writer's block and gets a little more than he bargained for.

Not That Straight [Luke/Reggie, 4.8k, T, post canon]

“Am I the only straight person in this group?” Three heads immediately turned towards Reggie, and three pairs of eyebrows were raised at him at the same time. Alright. They didn’t have to make it quite so obvious that he was the odd one out, right? “You sure, Reg?” Alex asked with a fair amount of disbelief in his voice. Luke snorted. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, bro. You aren’t that straight.”

Keep Dreaming Like We'll Live Forever [Luke/Reggie, 10k, T, post canon]

A few weeks before the Orpheum, Luke wrote a list of things he wanted to do before he turned 20. Obviously he never got that far, but the list is still there, crammed into his notebook. Death didn’t make him quite as dead as he expected, though, so maybe there is still a chance to do all the things he missed out on when he was alive.

(Part 1 of the Bucket List series)

One Life, No Regrets [Luke/Reggie, 12k, T, post canon]

After crossing almost everything off his bucket list of things he wanted to do before he turned 20, Luke tackles the second list he wrote a few weeks before the Orpheum: Things he originally wanted to do before he turned 30. Life after death still has more in store for him than he ever expected, including some valuable lessons about love and happiness, and about pain and heartache.

(Part 2 of the Bucket List series)

Sometimes Two Is Better Than One [Alex/Reggie/Luke, 2.1k, poly soulmates AU]

It’s weird, this soulmates thing. Alex has always thought so. People are born with random sentences scribbled onto their skin, and they’re supposed to be the first words their soulmate ever says to them. Generally speaking, he does think that the soulmarks make sense, too. For most people. His, however, has never made any sense at all.

Because his soulmark says "Hi, I’m Reggie. Reggie says you’re killing it on the drums, man."

Alex And His Rose Bush Boys [Alex/Reggie/Luke, 6.6k, poly pre-canon AU]

Five times Alex has to watch his two drunk and supposedly straight best friends make out with each other, and one time he finally gets to join.

Or, Luke and Reggie are completely oblivious and Alex has a lot of feelings.

Two Can Play This Game [Luke/Reggie, 5.9k, pre-canon AU]

Luke Patterson is a menace. He’s stubborn and persistent, and when he wants something, he stops at nothing to get it. And that includes flirting with Reggie to make him go to a punk rock gig in downtown LA with him. Luke is so sure he's going to win, but two can play his game. Reggie won’t just let him have it, and he will most certainly not go down without a fight.

For the prompt: “Stop flirting with me, I’m not going to fall for it.”

In Heaven I Can Skate [Alex/Willie, Luke/Reggie, 3k, post-canon AU]

The boys get drunk on liquor that Willie smuggled out of Caleb's cursed club, and Alex decides that it's the perfect time for Willie to teach him how to skateboard.

Meanwhile, Reggie feels a little impulsive.

Booksmart [Luke/Reggie, 1.5k, post-canon AU]

“This says that one in four people are gay,” Reggie reads out loud. “That means at least one person in this band is gay. I hope it’s Luke. Because Luke is cute.” Alex looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. “Dude. I’m literally right here. I’m the gay one.” Julie giggles. “Honey, I hate to break it to you, but I have a feeling he’s not the only one who’s a little gay in this band.”

Better Think With Your Mouth [Luke/Reggie, 2.3k, pre-canon AU]

“You kissed me!” Reggie shrieks, spluttering as he drops the guitar pick he’s been holding onto for the entirety of his rant. Luke merely chuckles and goes right back to strumming idly on his acoustic guitar. “Luke!” Reggie tries again, staring at his friend like he’s lost his mind. Luke must have lost his mind, right?

or, Reggie keeps going on extensive rants, and Luke starts kissing him to shut him up.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang [Luke/Reggie, 2.2k, post-canon AU]

It's New Year's Eve and Reggie just wants a kiss.

Bed Head [Luke/Reggie, 2.3k, pre-canon AU]

Here’s the thing. Reggie loves Luke’s messy hair. He would never admit it, of course, but the messier Luke’s hair, the more he enjoys watching him.

For the prompt: "Your bed head is really cute."

Post-it Notes [Luke/Reggie, 1.3k, pre-canon AU]

Reggie cleans Luke's room and leaves small notes on his things that make them both rethink just how platonic their feelings for each other really are.

For the prompt: “Don’t be sorry… it was kind of cute, actually.”

Loving Luke Patterson [Julie/Luke, Luke/Reggie, 7.2k, post-canon AU]

Julie and Reggie talk one afternoon and end up realising they're both in love with Luke. So, naturally, they become best friends. And Luke? Well, falling in love with people is just what Luke Patterson does, apparently.

Every Storm That Comes [Luke/Reggie, 5k, post-canon AU]

"Luke wants to be with Julie, because she’s awesome. Because she’s more than good enough. It doesn’t even matter that he’s a ghost and Julie isn’t. He wants to be with her anyway. He’d never want to be with someone like Reggie."

Or, Reggie has some mental health issues to work through, and his feelings for Luke don't really help. He learns that there is so much more love in his life than he ever realised, though, and that every storm has a tendency to come to an end eventually.

Through The Ages [Luke/Reggie, 4.2k, post-canon AU]

“So Luke, huh?” Alex asks, a small smile pulling at his lips. Reggie just grunts in agreement. “You know, I couldn’t stop him from confronting Julie about the song, but it‘s only a matter of minutes until she tells him that she didn’t write it.” “It doesn’t matter now,” Reggie says quietly. “He didn’t even stop to consider that it’s mine. He just thinks I’m a loser who writes bad country songs.”

or, After a few failed attempts at telling Luke how he feels about him, Reggie decides to write Luke a song instead. He sneaks it into Luke's journal, excitedly waiting for his best friend to find it. But when Luke finally does, he assumes Julie wrote it.

[project-paranoia]

Live Watch: S.C.I. Mystery Episode One

I enjoy camp because I've always enjoyed analysis and examination.  I enjoy looking at something from all sides, testing it with my fingertips. When I was a child I would sit for hours just looking at something until I had it all held in my mind and I felt like I understood it.  Camp necessitates that understanding the way that imitation and - good - parody requires it.  To quote Susan Sontag - who articulated what camp is so well - Camp is "a sensibility that revels in artifice, stylisation, theatricalisation, irony, playfulness, and exaggeration rather than content."  Because of this camp takes on head to head gender, sexuality, expectations, any sort of defined norm and sequins it up then shakes it down until understanding comes out.  When understanding something there are three major ways to work your investigation - what it is, what it's imitation is - the close but not quite, and what it isn't.  Camp handles all three, to quote again: "Camp sees everything in quotation marks. It's not a lamp, but a 'lamp; not a woman, but a 'woman.'"

Why are we talking about camp?  Because SCI Mystery is some of the best kind of camp outside of drag or screaming about wire hangers.  It deals a lot with mental illness in a way that would destroy a serious show, but in this one "mental illness" is a metaphor for being marginalised and a way to talk about the mouse and cat in the room.  This show is about being queer.  About being gay loudly and quietly, about resisting specific labels and needing them, about the threat of a cure and the blessing of acceptance.  All the messy realities of queer life as varied as queer people. Like Lil Nas X's Montero, you can appreciate the effort without being comfortable with it. While the show's allegory of mental illness when many queer people are still told they are ill is done well and there is reason to the choices and tone, things are said which can be hard to hear.  Knowing they're there because they're hard to hear and have been heard doesn't help everyone.

With all that said, it's also a fun, silly bl drama.  Don't let the analysis scare you off.  While the information about camp can be something to be aware of, all this show requires to be enjoyed is a willingness to be amused and spooked in turns.

You know the drill, spoilers below!

* I have memorised the youku sound, I have a triggered response with it. Not all triggers are bad, this one reminds me of Guardian

* Welcome to episode one where we just leap in!  But don't worry, one of them has a cute earring and they are colour coordinated.

* Watching from youtube the episode is 38 minutes long while most of the others are 45.  Attach whatever emotion you want to that fact.

* The exposition is handily delivered by asking a question which tells us some things, thank you show, I appreciate it

* First episode and he's already giving his partner an in case I don't come back letter to be opened if he dies

*  Wait for me!~  Go!~~

* Slow walk with dramatic music: 1 (don't make this a drinking game You Will Expire) this time with bonus almost looking back

* I've seen a similar shot on Hawaii Five O

* Don't explain what's happening, just knock everything over with a jump kick in some absolutely spotless white tennies

* Running with dramatic music with bonus looking back: Does it count?  We have yet to hear back from the judges

* They leap into the water with an explosion behind them, we are less than 2 minutes in and I love that for them

* At first I thought the boats were making a big heart before I remembered that I am very silly and they are not doing that

* This one is going to be long

* I can see his pockets through his trousers, why are his trousers so thin?

* It's not kissing to dramatic music in the surf if it's CPR

* Each story line has its own intro and that's very sexy of them

* Slow walk/dramatic music: 2-6

* These people are totally goofy and and yet the Seriousness

* Two Weeks Ago!

* The police school bus has arrived to shoo away the crows circling around Dr. Zhan staring (dramatically) at the body

* Sport scar policeman dresses even more unprofessionally than Zhao Yunlan who at least looks like a detective who was jumped by so many criminals he just gave up wearing a suit and went for jeans. Chief Bai's clothes are so thin, I'm under constant anxiety someone is going to tear them off.

* Also several of the cast pictures on MyDramaList look like the pictures your auntie insists taking to send to your other aunties and I love that for them

* Triple axil spin from the victim, the judges are loving it - this is the camp I'm here for

* The dramatic slo mo and music budget for this show was so big, just as it should be

* He's mad because he's angy

*  Master Psychiatrist can tell all about the killer from crouching by the body, it's a trope and this is one of the few places I like it because it serves the show instead of the show serving it

* When you're almost boyfriend is going away for reasons and it's not your decision but you can't go with him because of your job so you're just low key bitter about it

*  "You can't control me"

* The pettiness between these two

* Professional women who worked hard to get where they are still are constantly obsessed with boys according to most cdramas

*The male posturing in those three second has accidentally circled back around to being gay in the way those bro shows accidentally do and I love that

* I live for this 80s-90s police chief perm

* The Pettiness

* I always tend to like doctor characters, I don't know why.  Even when they aren't my favourites I like them.

* She's kind of adorable, I like her (I've seen a lot of this show and every time I say I like someone it ends badly ;-; )

* "the victems"

* If you love Creative English, this is the show for you!

* Chief Bai's crew is trying so hard to get them back together

* Dr. Zhan is so good at psychology he can tell what someone looks like from some tire tracks - this trope is used all the time in crime shows, but they push it a little farther in SCI and it really helps the viewer know what the rules for the show are

* The scene in the psychiatrist's office hearkens back to queer coded villains and the way they're treated in old black and white horror cinema - but done so artfully it's almost invisible.  It's incredibly well done, and the awareness of tropes and types all throughout the series is tremendously successful as much as it's campy fun.

* There's also the trope of someone who manipulates someone into feeling like they've been "purified" and then weaponises them against the "filthy". And of course the fact that the killer's blade is a mirror - that he's killing in others what he sees in himself. This trope hasn't just been queer-coded but has been applied to any sort of physical or mental disorder. Thesis have been written about this trope and the anxiety attached to it. I can't write them better and this is long enough, it's just a small part of the excellent handling of the themes showing up in this genre and I wanted to point it out because it deserves appreciation for the skill and knowledge in the writing.  

* The whole you need evidence vs you're saying psychoanalysis isn't trustworthy feels very much like a coded angry exes discussion

* I love the establishing shots, so good

* He kind of deserved that door to the face, what was he even doing

* Police violence in crime shows is supposed to be a release for the viewer, but many countries have issues with police violence so it hits wrong.  Here it's far more performative in a way that at least has some awareness

* The weirdest phone call, you call someone to tell them something important and they say two things to you and hang up

* The tongue thing, why always the tongue thing?

* When a serial killer tries to compliment you by calling you a carnivore and you shut down the whole alpha male supposition by calling yourself a vegetarian

* At this point I've written almost fifteen hundred words and taken almost two hours to watch 23 minutes

* This is my life, these are my choices

* Dutch Angles

* You could make this conversation about being gay, I have had this conversation about homosexuality before

* Unfortunately while I had it I was on the bus trapped in a window seat

* The conversation didn't end with me saying something cool and everyone clapping

* They just got off the bus to go to work

* The banality of evil, yo

* Her shorts are Incredibly Short, good for her

* "arrest the perp behind my back" that's his job, broheim

* He doesn't ask why she checked behind their ears

* DUN dun dun!

* Slo mo file drop, and of course the file is blood stained and aged

* Chalk Art of Doom

* Chinese word play!

* Caught almost putting his coat over his crush, embarrassing XD

* Backstory!

*  I love all the little character details, I could quote lines I think are funny all day but that would start getting silly

* Bai Yu Tong is marked as clean and having OCD but we don't see what's apparently a huge character trait at all other than the all white, do love that he's good at cooking

* Dr. Zhan: Brilliant!  Genius!  Cannot feed himself.

* Dr. Gong has indifference level 100% which is true and also I love that for him

* I love that Wang Shao part of the team because he's good at making friends, I love that for him

* Poor Zhao Fu: scared of ghosts and dumb and sweet?  At least he has an 8 pack

* Jiang Lin is very tropey except the mention of her nearsightedness

* Ma Han's height 1.7m and legs 1.8m is hilarious and I love it

* I stopped recording the slo mo walks, but if you were drinking along with them you might be dead so I really appreciate you taking time out of your afterlife to continue reading.  We appreciate all our ghost readers

* And that's the first episode!  Thanks for making it to the end!

[graceslavenderhaze]

Hear the sirens, {connor stevens}

synopsis: After the shadow man was defeated their was no new supernatural anomalies in town, then you and your wayward family showed up. 

also this gif is lovethephantoms gif but I still can’t figure out why the handle won’t come up underneath the gif. 

another female requested reader however when referred to in the writing the pronouns are gender neutral.

This is part one of three!

The Midnight Society had finally settled back into life as it normally was. Gabby had passed her PSAT’s and gotten her permit, still working her way to get out of shadow bay. Hanna still heavily involved in her activism and getting more signatures than before hand on her petitions, making the world a better place even if it was one step, by herself, at a time. Luke back to focusing on school and wrestling, he was still benched for weekend meet for disciplinary due to being late to practice which gave him plenty of time to work on the science project he owed . Jai back to being the comic book nerd his friends loved him as, no longer feeling like he had to own up to any sort of standards when his friends loved him the way he was. Then there was Connor. Who found it harder than his friends to move on, it wasn’t that easy for him. His dad didn’t know what happened so he carried on with the fishing trips like usual. Luke and Hanna had started dating after the glow dance so he was adjusting to his best friend not always being available. While he knew that the shadow man was gone, something in him still felt dark. Like a part of him had been permanently darkened by what he’d been through. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up whenever he walked by cemeteries, or historic settlements of shadow bay. He pushed it all down and acted like nothing happened. But he still slept with the lights on. He still had nightmares most nights. 

The Amana family Coven had been around for centuries. It was one of the few that was a female centric coven throughout the dark ages in magic along side the golden ages. The eldest of the coven was Gaia Amana, whose daughter was Leticia Amana, they remain the only two witches in the coven. Leticia married Willow a human woman that had been orphaned in her childhood due to an magical accident claiming her parents. They had two children. Two daughters. One who was a Witch with the gift of clairvoyance. Another who was a Banshee with a generational blood curse. 

That Witch, with the clairvoyance? That was you. Your Sister was the Banshee. This was the story of your family and the magic deeply routed throughout your family and bloodline, biological and adoptive. Growing up with magic isn’t a fairytale. You never stayed in one town longer than four years, where there was witches there was hunters who never strayed far.

So anyone who had magic lived by three commandments for protections.

Thou shall not bear the knowledge of magic,

Thou shall not caress a practitioner of magic,

Thou shall not survive a witches love. 

By those three commandments your family was able to continue to practice their respective magic without worrying about witch hunts in town. But the times had changed from when your grandmother first took over the coven. It was the twenty first century and spirituality and supernatural abilities were somewhat mainstream, not the truth but the refraction of what was going on. It blurred the lines of what was actually going on. So when it was time for the quadrennial move, your mothers had chosen a small town in Canada. Shadow Bay. There was hardly any supernatural occurrence’s there. With the exceptional of a magic shop but witch hunters had standards so they’d never show up there anyways. 

You’d gotten used to the somewhat lonely routine of your life. The moving every four years, the secrets about your magic, while it wasn’t ideal. You loved your magic and you wouldn’t trade your abilities for anything else in the world. But having some solid friends would’ve been a nice start.  

The drive wasn’t the longest you’ve ever taken, it also wasn’t the shortest you’ve every taken either. The only difference was that due to getting your license recently your grandmother let you drive her car. You’d lived in a lot of placed over the years. Apartments, ranch, colonial, victorian. Now you were living in a cottage in the woods by a lighthouse. Pulling into the drive you passed a group of six people. Five teens who looked around your age and one who seemed to be younger possibly in middle school. 

“Keys are in the mail box.” Your grandmother said, you looked over. “That’s harsh.” You said unbuckling and opening the door to retrieve the keys from the mail box. If the group of teens weren’t staring before they definitely were now. “Can i help you ?” You asked turning around at the group of teens who were like you thought, were staring.

A tall blonde in a leather jacket and all black, A red head wearing an army jacket and docs, A brunnette with curly hair who had a denim jacket on, A tanned brunnette boy wearing street clothes, A pale brunette who had a skateboard not far from his grasp, and a little boy wearing a cap and a wand in his hand.

“Did you just move into the haunted house in the woods?” The brunnette in street clothes asked with zero hesitation. Haunted? “Jai!” The red head exclaimed slapping his arm. The blonde still was staring at you. Like there was this connection flowing between the two of you, you felt it too. “Sorry he has the social skills of a second grader. I’m Hanna Romero.” She said extending a hand towards you. “Y/n Amana.” 

“This is Gabby Lewis, that’s Jai Malyas, He’s Luke Mccoy, on the end is Connor Stevens,” So staring boy has a name. “And that’s my little brother Seth.” She said giving a full rollcall for you. “Sorry i just have to ask, the haunted house in the woods?” Jai said not putting his question down. Everyone turned to him and you laughed. 

“So you believe in the other side?” You said crossing your arms and raising your eyebrows. The group fell silent for a minute. “Well I mean is there really another side? Maybe all the funs having here.” Connor said smiling at you, lying. You didn’t need magic to know. You just knew the faces of people who’d experienced the supernatural and didn’t know how to explain it afterwards.

“All right then pretty boy.” You said slightly taken aback Connors eyes widened. “Are you going to shadow bay high once you get settled?” Gabby asked you. You nodded, “Yeah my sister and I are suppose to start next week.” Gabby looked at Connor and then back to you, “We could show you both around, give you the old razzle dazzle.” She said. You smiled, “Yeah i’d really appreciate that!” 

“No problem! Right Connor?” Gabby said, nudging him. You turned your eyes backed to him. “Yeah no problem at all.” He said running a hand through his hair. You nodded. “I should probably go but i’ll see you guys next week.” You said, each of the teens saying a goodbye to you and you got into the car where your grandmother was waiting, dropping the envelopes with the keys on the dash board. 

“Well that looked like a lot more than just getting the keys.” She noted as you started to drive up into the woods. “Just some local kids who offered to show me around when i start and also said our house is the local haunted house in the woods.” You said turning as the road winded. She nodded, “This town is going to be different, you can feel it can’t you?” You could and it gave you butterflies. 

That night after dinner you sat up decorating your room. You’d never had your own room before and now you had free creative decisions. You sister knocked on the door holding two cups of tea, “Tea time?” You nodded. You were older by two years, it wasn’t much but sometimes it still managed to wedge a gap between the two of you for certain subjects. She placed your mug down on your desk were you were placing posters up and she sat on your bed. “So Grams said that you were flirting with some outsiders type beat boy earlier.” 

You turned taking a sip, “I was not flirting. I might’ve called him pretty boy. But that’s the highest form of flattery rather than flirting if anything!” You said to your sister. “What if you date him? What if you fall in love and have cute babies?” She gushed. “I just met him!” You exclaimed to her turning around, “Oh come on, haven’t you ever wanted to date someone?” 

“I don’t date. We move too much besides there’d be too much lying. It would just be heartbreak for me and whoever i’m with.” You said turning your attention back to decorating rather than the conversation. Silence washed over and the question that had been on everyone’s minds was asked once again. “Is it gonna be different here?” 

You stalled, exhaling slowly. “You have the gift of clairvoyance, if anything you can tell out of all of us.” She said with excitement. “No i’m not doing it.” You said shutting her suggestion down. “Oh come on!” She persisted. 

“Astral projecting isn’t meant for figuring out if we’re going to live out our coming of age fantasies, it’s meant for real magic. I’m not doing it. If any clairvoyant dreams come to me, that’s one thing. I’m not chasing them.” You said breaking down the now empty box that once held pictures, posters and other wall hanging knick knacks. Your sister pouted, “Buzzkill.” She muttered under her breath, “Well were either of the girls cute and give gay vibes?” She asked as she finished her mug and placed it on the floor. 

“Ask them yourself. They offered to show us around on our first day. But no powers. If you want a relationship it has to be fully yourself no magic sire ties. Magic sometimes makes it messy.” You said unfortunately speaking from experience. Magic was beautiful but it doesn’t come from nothing, there is a give and a take. Like everything else in the universe. 

That night you found it hard to sleep, you usually had issues sleeping the first night in a new town. It was some sort of internal clock routine. You snuck out of the front door, for a house that had been around for as long as it had been it wasn’t the loudest. The floor boards didn’t creak every time you walked over them, the doors didn’t screech whenever you opened them an inch at a time, and the house didn’t settle several times a day. But for all you knew a spell could’ve been casted to prevent that. 

You found comfort being on your own. Having clairvoyance was overwhelming at times. You had no control over your powers, they never had a specific trigger, so naturally you just steered clear of people in general. You figured there was no way to be given unwanted visions of the future if you just didn’t have anything to do with anyone at all. Your own loneliness was your own fault. Walking through the woods you felt the feeling of dark magic, it was a distinct feeling that you hadn’t felt often but it was unforgettable when you did. It over takes you, like a wave but instead of being able to see through the water its ink. It’s heavy, and dark. It drags you under. 

You hear several snaps of twigs behind you and slightly startled you turn to see the animal or whatever that was behind you. Ready to cast a spell incase whatever followed was a foe and not a friend you gathered your hands in front of your body, “Either you come out or it’s going to be a bad night for you.” You called out into the darkness. Several more twigs snapped under what you assumed where footsteps as a dark shape came out from behind the tree. 

“I surrender!” The figured called out with slight fear in their voice. “My hands are up!” The voice sounded so familiar as they neared towards you. Once they were within eye sight you noticed it was one of the boys from earlier, Connor. “ Take it easy there cobra kai.” He said gesturing to your hands which could be assumed in a fighting position, which they were just not the fighting position he thought it would be. 

You took your hands away from the stance they were place in front of your body, “So, you enjoy taking walks in the dark and startling people pretty boy?” You asked crossing your arms. He lowered his flashlight so he wasn’t practically blinding you anymore. He laughed lowly for a second, “To be fair with the way i was snapping twigs, if you were startled that sounds like a you deal.” 

You smiled at him for second, “I’m Connor Stevens by the way, we met earlier but i don’t know you if remember me.” He said running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit probably. “Oh so you assume that you’re unforgettable. Not a chance pretty boy.” You said taking several steps closer. Slightly taken aback once again by your boldness for the second time in the one day. “I have a name you know.” 

“Oh so you don’t find pretty boy flattering?” You asked coyly, going silence after trying to create an argument. “Thought so.” You said smiling. His eyes stayed glued onto you, his dad has taught him better than to stare. 

“Sorry, i just keep getting this deja vu feeling but i would definitely remember meeting you.” He said unfiltered getting close enough for you to catch a vision, you back up slightly and he’s hurt by this. It’s written all over his face. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He apologized quickly and sincerely.

“Oh no i just have this thing with physical touch, it’s nothing personal. You’d remember meeting me? Are you reading into my character?” You said with a slight cockiness mixed into the tone. He nodded, “No it’s just you’re literally one of the prettiest girls i’ve ever seen.” You dropped the flashlight that you’d brought with you. You rushed forward to pick it up as did Connor, both your fingertips grazed each other.

The images flooded through your head. You saw past images first, not older than a month or so. It was dark, he was in the woods running, then there was a book of spells it looked like ever other witches book, and then he was grabbed into the dark. Inside of something that looked like a lighthouse but rotted on the inside and there was absolutely no light. Then there was present, this moment right here right now. The future was the two of you in front of the high school, you guessed. Then it was just the two of you, your aura’s with a red string connecting them at the pinkies. But then it was him holding your hands as something tried to drag you. Then it was over. 

You blinked a few times before looking back up at Connor, “Are you okay? You looked like you saw a ghost.” He said with a slight laugh dropping the flashlight into your palm like it was burning him to touch. “Something like that.” You muttered lightly and standing back up. Silence washed over, “I should probably get back home before anyone notices i’m gone.” You said. He nodded, “See you around, cobra kai?” 

“See you pretty boy.” You confirmed turning around to walk back to your house for the night. Sneaking back in just as quietly as you left. You managed to fall asleep before the sun rose this time. Once you fell asleep, the visions still lingered on a loop. Despite how much you hated it on a deep level it was comforting compared to the nightmares that had a tendency to plague you from time to time. 

The next morning your family had gotten take out from the local diner for breakfast and during the morning conversation no one mentions anything that gives away your nightly adventure. Throughout the rest of the week you and your family continues to get settled into your house. You hadn’t seen Connor on any of your nightly walks through the woods throughout the rest of the week and as the day of starting school gets closer you just assume you’ll see him along with his friends. 

Your sister and you were sitting in the office after you’d gotten your schedules and other paperwork. “We have two student volunteers who offered to show you around.” The secretary said as she handed the two of you a peppermint, Slightly disappointed, going under the impression you’d get to hang out with Connor and his friends today. The door creeks open and you turn. Gabby and Hanna enter the office, you notice through the glass pane of the door Luke, Jai and Connor standing in the hallway waiting for them. 

“Ah, Hanna Romero and Gabby Lewis. This is Y/n Amana and Ramona Amana.” She said as the two of you stood up. “If you need anything during your next few days don’t hesitate to reach out.” She said sincerely, offering a comforting smile. Your sister and you both exchanged thanks before leaving the office. 

You saw Luke nudge Connor to which he muttered a shut up, you smiled. “Nice to see you again pretty boy.” You said smirkingly, Jai looked up from his phone. “Again, you went into the haunted woods?” He said looking at Connor, who blank faced. “Thanks for ratting me out. Besides, there wasn’t anything out there other than Y/n and their fists of fury almost giving me a black eye.” He said punching you lightly in the shoulder, laughing with you. 

“What’s the deal with those woods anyway? It seems like everyone has some story about them.” Ramona asked no one specific just wanting a general answer after hearing the endless week of comments. The group went silent, “Okay so like did someone get murdered there. Some true crime type beat?” You asked as you leaned against the wall next to Connor. Leaning your head on his shoulder, he leaned his head on yours after a few moments of hesitation. 

“It’s an unbelievable story.” Jai said as he looked at the comic in his hand with a confused look and then closed it, Ramona smirked. “Oh we know a lot about those type of stories.” She said standing next to Gabby. Both were stealing looks when the other wasn’t. “Where are you guy’s from?” Hanna asked with confusion and a slight laugh. “Where aren’t we from.” You said under your breath catching the attraction of the group. 

“We’re military, we move a lot.” Ramona said. The cover story that had been engrained into you both from elementary school. “Damn that must suck.” Luke said getting elbowed by Hanna, “I mean thank you for your service.” He corrected himself. You laughed a little as Luke tried to awkwardly save himself. You saluted him, causing Connor to smile. 

“Nice bracelets.” Gabby said to Ramona, she looked down at them before looking back up. “Thanks.” She said slightly flustered and blushing. “Mo you should see if you and Gabby have any classes together.” You suggested slightly trying to wing woman. “What? Oh yeah!” She said handing over her schedule eagerly to Gabby. Soon enough the two walked off. 

“So, Hanna do you have the list for morning announcements?” Jai said, Hanna met him with a confused look as did Luke. “Announcements? Oh yeah! We’ll see you guys after home room!” As they left Connor and you in the hallway. “Your friends really lack subtly.” You said as you watched them go down the hallway, Hanna arguing with Jai while Luke occasionally looked back.

“Oh you have no idea.” He said turning back to you, “Oh! How do you feel about horror movies?” He asked reaching into his backpack. “Top three movie genre. Why?” You asked, he pulled out a small “slashers rule” pin and handed it you. “A formal apology for scaring you in the woods the other night, and you seemed like you’d like it.” He said gesturing to your backpack decorated with pins and patches, you smiled. “I love it.” His nervousness seemed to fade with those three words. “I’ve never really had friends or anyone give me something like this so, thank you.” 

“That must’ve been lonely.” He said as you shrugged, it was lonely but it was also complicated. “Yeah but i’m not lonely anymore.” You said as you subconsciously ran your thumb over the pin and looked up at him. He blushed, you’d learned he did that a lot and quite easily none the less. 

“So you ready for the shadow bay tour?” He said pushing off the wall, rubbing his hands together. Students had started to clear out of the halls paying absolutely no attention to Connor and yours’ affair in the corner. “Oh definitely. Just so you know i’ve been to four schools over the past eleven years, so you’re competing with that.” 

“Oh it’s a competition?” He said with fake outburst laced onto his voice, you nodded with a sarcastic smile that turned genuine. “I think i can handle that.” He said as you two began descending down the halls of Shadow Bay high. Despite your own personal barriers and everything you’d ever been taught in your life, you were falling for Connor. Your better judgement knew that you’d pay for that at some point in your life. Sooner or later, you always did. 

--

hello my loves! This is part one of three and i’m currently working on the other parts! 

[jadepetals]

so this is part 1 of the fics that i've read and have stayed with me for a looong time, hope they make you feel the same way.

once upon a dream / 33319 words

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

bloodsport / 40283 words

American Football AU

Louis Lucas /  67999 words

Louis is a pornstar with more issues than he can drink away. Harry is a bisexual singer/songwriter who is desperate to be signed to a major label. Zayn and Liam are Louis's long-suffering best friends (who also happen to be pornstars, and also happen to be dating each other). Niall just wants to play his guitar. 

To the Ends of the Earth / 68488

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

Dreaming of you / 68793 words

The Begrudging Starbucks AU.

This Wicked Game / 70010 words

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

don’t tell the gods (we left a mess) / 71556 words

After a misunderstanding with Liam’s mother, Louis agrees to accompany his best friend to a family wedding and pretend to be the world’s best boyfriend. But their simple plan goes awry when he learns that Harry, ex-boyfriend/ex-love of Louis’ life, will also be in attendance.

Here In The Afterglow / 88649 words

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

Paint Me In A Million Dreams / 112805 words

Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose / 112853 words

American Uni Au.

Fucking Animals /  116687 words

Louis is the frontman of an equal rights-movement, author of a book about beta-omega marriage and the struggles of being born and boxed into a personality you don't necessarily feel you fit. The notion that an omega must want to be with an alpha or else he or she's just settling for less, is bullshit.

For As Long As I Can Remember (It’s Been December) / 128451 words

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

red hands / 132787 words

harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird / 134891 words

Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

falling into you / 143157 words

In the grand scheme of adolescence and boyhood, Harry was still working himself out, so far with little luck. But four things he could say for certain: 1) he'd been at the top of his class all through primary and secondary school, 2) he was the shittiest alpha to ever walk the earth, 3) Liam Payne never let him forget it, and 4) he’d been in love with this boy, Louis Tomlinson, ever since he was fifteen years old.

Own the Scars / 144707 words

Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he's supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis' parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

You are the blood / 175151 words

A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin.

Cold Little Heart / 194589 words 

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child

A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham

Louis really could use the help.

Collison / 226109 words

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth / 290696 words

When Louis moves into the flat next to Harry's, neither of them thinks it will change their lives. Louis is stuck in a relationship with his controlling and overly possessive boyfriend who he loves too much to break up with. Harry is content, seeking refuge from the snobby world he grew up in and forging a new path for himself. He does happen to have a habit of wanting to fix people though and when he meets Louis, the gorgeous man with a prat of a boyfriend, he finds himself trying to do just that. While Harry tries to avoid getting tangled in a messy situation, Louis tries to deny that there's a niggling voice in the back of his head that prefers Harry to his own boyfriend. While both determinedly refuse to let change come, they fail to notice that exact force wrapping around them and pulling them tighter together until there just might be no escape from the feelings brewing within.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5