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Old 27-Jun-21, 23:37
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Post Bunk Bed Wrestling (ILLUSTRATED)

BUNK BED WRESTLING (ILLUSTRATED)

NOTE: It's been a while since I uploaded a story, but I think I've improved substantially since last time. I poured a lot of time and effort into this piece, so any comments are greatly appreciated, I love reading them like last time, I have based this loosely on events from my life: the circumstance for wrestling and the woman are true, the events are not. This is part 1 of 3 (maybe more?), so if you enjoy this part make sure to subscribe to the thread.

Attached are illustrations I did of the girl in the story from memory. One image is how I envision she looks in her underwear.

The other image is a diagram to refer to at key moments in the plot. The diagram is numbered. Refer to these numbers when they appear in brackets in the story [for example: (1) look at diagram 1].

******************************************

Part 1: "Hope you like feet, meanie."

We werre in Switzerland. An educational trip to Geneva to see the CERN, though everyone saw it as a holiday instead. Even the teachers, upstairs and unbeknownst to the chaos that ensued below, seemed uninterested in the educational side of things. We were in a hostel, seven floors up with three rooms for nearly 20 of us. With three bunkbeds a room it wasn’t too much of a squeeze, sleeping was the last thing on everyone’s mind. Our rooms weren’t small: there was space in the centre where the wooded floor laid thick with a blanket of smudges from shoe soles and suitcase wheels. It was roughly midnight. We had returned from our first encounter with legal Swiss weed, though no one smoked it correctly. With nothing but the adrenaline (and hostel food) in our systems, everyone wanted to go out for the third time tonight. Everyone, of course, but me. The night before, George, a lad who spent all of his money on McDonalds for everyone the night before, had kept us up until about 3 am in a historical game of knock down ginger (ironic since George was ginger and was the main victim of this savage game); I wanted to get a wink of sleep tonight at least. I stayed where I was, bottom bunk, on my back, eating pringles, listening to everyone else’s laughter, relaxed. That tableaux, which would have otherwise seared into my mind, became lost to the swelling memory right beside it: the moments that happened next.

Amelia came in as everyone decided to leave. She slipped through our ajar door and stood with her arms behind her back. She didn’t see my crisp crammed head as I soaked the sight of her in. She had never, and had not since, looked as maddeningly beautiful as she did there. Amelia was 5ft 5, the same height as me at the time, but I would soon outgrow her. Amelia was the prettiest girl I had ever met. She always glanced at me with her head slanted down and to the side, the scar-like dent on her forehead as an imperfection prickled on her strawberry features. She was in an old, baggy hoody and grey and white striped shorts, her athletic legs naked and smooth. I frequently saw Amelia in passing, slicing through the air like a phantom, leaving a perfumed whirlwind in her wake. She walked alone, despite her friends, and wasn't active on social media despite her following. She was her own paradox, the idea of her rippled through my head as she stood before me, revealed now more than ever in her cute and revealing pyjamas. Despite how intimidating she sometimes appeared, she would speak to anyone. We became friends through seating plans, though I would always end up embarrassing myself and then avoiding her out of shame. In my first year at the school where we met, she and the girl who sat beside me in science class would steal my stuff, leaving me to try and snatch it back from them. I was confidently sensitive and took their attempts at flirting as a sign of bullying. Two years later in drama class, I would naively overshare about my past, leading to her jealous ex to make a scene and peer pressure us into saying we didn’t like each other. Little did I know of the times that still awaited the both of us. No matter how much I embarrassed myself, she always reappeared later like some buoyant object in the water that I kept pushing below the surface. I was her math partner the following year, accommodation roommates at university a few years later. Her consistent reappearance in my life had me question the existence of some divine intervention that kept us stitched together through time. Her transparent presence in the room here certainly fed into that string of thought. Nobody seemed to notice her standing there but me, maybe she was a figment of my imagination. It was hard to peel my eyes off of her. Her ghost became flesh as she spoke.

“What are you lot laughing about?” Her voice was distinctive, English accented in a slightly posh way.

They all filled her in on the events that led up to this moment. Laughing, Amelia climbed up the ladder of my bed to sit on the bunk above, next to Jakub. I watched the mattress arch under her subtle weight. It reminded me of my most erotic encounter with her.

It was last year. We shared a group in drama and had to find an unoccupied room in the school to record a trailer for a horror movie. I was in a group with Ben, Amelia, and Kaysha (her best friend), we found the empty food tech room and used that for our performance. I played a dead body and rather than getting up between takes I remained laid down a majority of the time, propping myself up on my elbows whenever I spoke. Amelia, flirty and easy - and with the momentum of giggling with her friend - began dragging me around by my arms like some kind of wildcat did to its caught prey. My ragdoll body was easy work for her, a rain of laughter drenching the room as I sailed across the floor. Now on my front in the centre of the room, I felt her hard foot on my back, my chest tightened more when I felt the other, and with that, all of her weight. She did it shoeless, the bumps of her foot pointing into my flesh. Unable to see her on me, I focused solely on the increased sensation of touch. One foot became heavier than the other as she alternated, the weight disappeared, reappeared, and disappeared again. On and off, controlling my sensations with the flick of a switch. And then there were 4 pillars of weight, all at once, moving, stepping, at the top of my back. It seemed Kaysha had felt she was missing out. Hypnotised with the massage I was receiving, my ears swimming in Kaysha’s laughter, it took a few moments to compute the sensation I felt next. The weight returned, but softer and thicker. Much softer. I felt her on the small of my back, from the beginning of my spine to the bottom of my shoulder blades, a sinking, pillowed mass.

“That’s right Amelia! Sit on him!” Kaysha howled.

Kaysha followed her lead, plumping herself down on my lungs. She was slightly heavier than Amelia, and she placed herself down quickly, slightly bouncing on impact. Kaysha forced the air out of my body, I breathed in with difficulty as my chest failed to expand underneath them. They both continued to laugh, rocking me beneath their jiggling selves. Then followed a moment of silence, the sense of exchanged looks acknowledging the weirdness of the scene, and then the pressure in my chest was gone as they lifted themselves off me.

“You two have fun!” George called on his way out.

I was unaware how long I was daydreaming for, perhaps the weed did have some impact after all. George’s voice tuned my head back into reality.

“You two?”

“You and Joseph.”

“Joseph’s here?”

“Yeah, bottom bunk.”

The door shut and Amelia’s feet dropped onto the ladder, then onto the floor as she slid off the top bunk. She turned to face me, her face lighting up when she spotted me. I couldn’t help but noticing this was the moment that she realised I was even in Switzerland with her.

“Joseph!” She exclaimed.

“Amelia!” I echoed.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see you before! Budge up, let me sit.”

I sat up and shuffled over. Whilst I was about to swing my feet over to the side, she sank onto the bed next to my knees, the blanket caught underneath her. I was going to sit up, leaning against the wall, instead, I propped myself up on my elbows, just like in drama. I didn’t continue adjusting myself, I liked being so close to her.

“Aren’t you going with them?”

“I’ve been out enough today. Plus, I’m in my pyjamas,” I said. “I was planning on getting some sleep, since I hardly slept yesterday.”

“Ugh, tell me about it.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I can leave if you like.” She met my eyes. Her pupils were massive, her face held a relaxed, unalert expression: she was high.

“No, no, stay. Please”

“Thanks.” She smiled. I felt slightly awkward speaking to her, but I didn’t let that stop me.

“Why aren’t you with your friends?”

She looked at the wall as if she could see them moving on the other side of it. “They’re being dicks.”

“Oh, how so?”

“Dimitar’s in there.”

“Oh… Yeah, that guy sucks.”

“We were playing truth or dare, and he dared me and Erin to kiss.” Erin was another one of her friends. I had had enough of Dimitar before I had met him, one could guess at what Dimitar was like soley based on the indestructible smugness of his face. He lingered about in science block like some biologically unkillable germ. Of course he dared the two hottest girls on the trip to kiss. The image of him rubbing his slimy hands together and grinning at the genius of his own idea - an idea that was quintessentially his own, its arrogant attempts of appealing to us as the two-years-older, cooler, sexually experienced student (watch out girls!) made me laugh. “He’s a literal child.” She added.

“Well did you kiss Erin?”

“Of course not!” I took a moment to laugh again at Dimitar, the dunce. I, too, felt like I could see him through the wall, the others in the room trying to mollify his annoying manners, barely tolerating the heaviness of his repugnant breath.

“I thought you’d like Dimitar,” I teased. “You love smart guys.”

“Ugh. He’s disgusting. You can just tell he’s looking for a way to annoy you, guys like him think that annoying girls is actually flirting. He spent the whole time staring at my fucking legs.” With that, she dropped her legs onto the bed in front of her and crossed her ankles, her feet facing me. I resisted the urge to just flat out look at them, becoming just like Dimitar in the process. I pretended to not see them.

“Like, have you not seen a pair of human legs before? I mean look…”

Gladly, I thought. The invisible dotted stumps of shaved hair, the moving coat of tawny skin, the hints of muscle like the bump of an animal inside an anaconda. Out at the hip, in at the knee, out at the calf, in at her ankle, a rollercoaster. Her feet boyish, her second toe as long as the big toe, which had a glossy, clean nail. I wanted to touch her; she laid the rails of my train of thought.

I didn’t know what to do next. I was longing for a repeat of her behaviour in science class or another incident like in drama. I knew I couldn’t seduce her, but I wanted to touch her in any way. I teased her.

“… they’re just normal legs. He’s like two years older than me too, which makes it even more gross.”

“They’re not bad for ‘normal legs.’” I said, sliding back to sit up.

“Thanks.” She smiled, obviously fishing for me to say such a thing.

“Especially for someone as nerdy as you.”

“Shut up,” she laughed.

“It’s true.”

“You’re a bigger nerd. Your legs are like sticks. My legs are in better shape than you’ll ever be.”

“Sticks can be quite strong, actually. People can live in huts made from sticks.”

“Fine, a twig. And only a nerd would say something stupid like that.”

“Speak for yourself.” I grinned.

“What do you mean ‘speak for yourself?” She put on a mocking voice when quoting what I had just said.

“Well, you didn’t come on the trip to hang out with your mates exactly, you’re here to learn about science and shit, like a saddo.”

“Shut up, if I weren’t here, you’d be sat in this room while your friends go and smoke.”

“And if I weren’t here, you’d be sat here alone trying to avoid your friends, who are literally on the other side of this wall.”

I felt the heel of her foot slam into my arm, leaving a static numbness in its footprint.

“What was that for?”

“For being stupid and mean.”

“I may be stupid and mean, but at least I don’t love Dimitar.”

“Hey!” Another heel to the arm. Her cute face scrunched into a fed-up phrase. I knew it’d piss her off.

“What? Just because you can’t be in the same room as him without being upset, you want him that much!”

“Shut!” She reeled her foot back and grabbed the ladder for support. “Up!” Her foot shot towards me and into my arm, now aching with the repeated blows to the muscle. She left the mattress momentarily in the firing of her limb.

“Well, it’s gotta be true now that you’re getting so offended by it!”

And with that, I ignited the playful, aggressive face of her character. The subliminal part of her that would stand and sit on my back or give me dead arms as I reached for my stolen pencil case: the very component I missed about her, and which gave her such an invisible, unignorable aurora. I hadn’t needed to do much to light her fuse, to push over the first domino that would eventually lead to an extraordinary night. I liked to think her actions here were due to some deep-rooted, hidden attraction to me, hidden even to her, a feeling fluttering inside her like an erratic and directionless bat. Expressing itself in this neo-aggressive manner, like how humans want to subconsciously smudge and squidge things they find adorable, or how emotionally unaware people resort to bullying as a sign of romantic teasing - but truly I doubt this secret love for me ever existed.

She flew towards me, I snatched at her ankle before it collided with me.

“That all you got?”

She yanked her leg back, out of my grip. The force of it slipping out of my hand shocking me, my fingernails catching her as she vanished, like standing too close to a passing train. Without hesitation, her legs punched back into battle, becoming boxer’s arms, jabbing and swinging – high speed, high precision. Keeping my head low and my hands high as to not get toed in the jaw, I hesitated to strike at her again. She stamped my shoulder, slamming my arm back, then recoiled like a cobra. Her muscles stretched and hardened in the attack, clenching on the retreat. She jiggled with the motion of it all, like an old washing machine set at its highest setting, her shorts rolled up – more like panties now. I struck when she burst through the air again, seizing the neck of this vicious animal. Caught in my hand like salmon in the jaws of a bear, she was too slow to escape my clutch as I buried her foot into the mattress. I smothered it under both hands, leaning my full weight onto the reptile while her free foot reached for my face.

“Let go!”

With as much force as she had previously wrung her foot from me, she drove herself into my head (1). Her foot’s kinetic air swept up my nose, reminding me of the smell that coalesces inside of an old karate studio. I turned to avoid her, but she endured, impossibly stretching her leg against the left of my face, locking my head against her. The beans of her toes clenched inwards, clustering my skin under her claw, her foot gluing my face shut. My view was astounding, she blurred against my nose, half blindfolding me, the legs that I was so nervous to glance at now burned into my vision in front of me. The chest of her sole in my eye socket, closing my nostril – inhaled her skin - laying over half of my lips, like a Facehugger from Alien. The thick skin on her sole over my mouth like one big fingerprint, hushing me. I was tugged forward as her other foot retreated, pressure on my face increased substantially, my hands wrapped around her taut foot that reeled in reverse as if jet fuelled.

“Let!” My grip loosened with the sweat between my fingers. “Go!” Her foot escaped, the equilibrium between head and body, pushed and pulled, now broken. I fell backward under the force of her sole, and though I was only falling from sitting up into a laying position, I felt like I had been shoved out of a thirty-storey building. My head hit the pillow.

She wasn’t done. Her foot remained stuck to me as she scooted up the bed. She held my face to the pillow, screwing my head to the right, the other snapped to my neck. She scooted further, again extending her legs to impossible lengths, my head scraped along the mattress until it found where the wall and bedframe met, the pillow crammed under my head. Despite the resistance, her feet continued to drive into me, my head twisted into the wall; my neck, against the cast of her foot, pulsed heavily. The balls of her feet laid over each artery of my throat, she stepped down as if on the butt of a cigarette she had dropped. I blindly grabbed at her piston legs and tried to bend them back into themselves, but instead, I pulled the taut, tense muscles in her slim calf. I pressed at the sides of her, trying to move her enough to where I could slip out, all to no avail.

“Gimme those.” She seized my hands, her handcuff fingers tugged them towards her (2).

The tension back like an unshakable cold, my hands yanked while my head pushed, using my hands as support for her strangling, smothering grip. My neck ovaled by her foot, my face mashed, her effectiveness doubled as she drilled into me, my arms turning to elastic as she stretched me. The space between my face and the wall shrank, my breathing diminished to a semi-open mouth and a half-shut nostril, my throat shrinking as if having an allergic reaction, my head filling up with an intoxicated, buzzing shiver. Blind to the sight of her, my world emaciated to an abysmally small space as if stuck in a cave, I controlled nothing of my own body but my ineffectual legs. The mundane task of breathing exploded into an achingly difficult labour, the air I breathed was muddy and earthed with sour sweat and the slight smell of cheese. I was the literal spanner-in-the works of her heavy machinery legs, caught between the cogs of her clockwork device – she had malfunctioned. My head ground her to an immovable halt, wherein once she was a chugging, kicking engine, now an immovable heap. One would have to strip the entire mechanism to extract my wedged head.

“Hope you like feet, meanie,” she said from some distant land, her voice reaching me as if from within my own head.

This was more than play fighting now. Perhaps it always was to her. With no one around there was no embarrassment of making a scene and no reason to let me out. I began to beg the question, just how far was Amelia going with this?

“Go on!” She beckoned. “Try to get out!”

After some dead-ended struggling – trying to unwind my sprung-out arms from her wicked grip, trying to turn my head out of her inexhaustible feet – the realisation that I was trapped began to sink in. My wrists ached with the grip of her fingers wound around my wrist - unable to even swallow against her heel. Thrashing about did nothing except stamp her foot further into my face; it was as pointless as trying to escape a medieval stock with just sheer force of will. I began to feel panicked in my minimalised world of eternalised, concrete wall and relentless, ruthless pushing, so I began – albeit futilely at first – driving against the wall. Forehead, then shoulders, then knees. It was as if learning how to move from scratch, the heaviness of Amelia ensuring that I was not to escape this grave. Her presence on the bed was like a hole that sucked me into it: a hole that I had fallen into, her body on mine like the soil being shovelled back onto me. Amelia was warm, her blood pumping around her body and her heart beating in her chest like some distant drum. She was onerous to move, the soft, yet strong impermanent, moving shape of her body and the mattress absorbing the effort I put in, slipping me back into the same rut I had begun at. She was alive, unlike anything else, specific in her quest to keep me trapped, laughing with the sensation of it all. After I had inched Amelia an exhaustibly small distance, I slung my knees up and began to open my legs, trying not to lose any purchase. One knee against her, the other against the wall at some sorry attempt at prying open some space for myself. This was more effective than my previous effort, but Amelia noticed me immediately.

“Don’t think that just because you squirmed about for a bit that you’re any closer to escaping”

Her solid weight lifted, the mattress sprung back into position, the hole filled up and for a moment, my claustrophobia disappeared as I filled out the newfound space. She flew back over into the space I had created the pressure in my face skyrocketing as she dug her feet into me to lift herself up. I deflected her offense with my legs, she ricocheted off me and landed just beside my waist. I felt her hip bone dig into mine as I continued my mission. She lifted again, this time I actively swatted her away with my knee so that she landed closer to the mattress’ edge. I pursued in the spreading of my legs, turfing her out of my land like the allies attack on the heretofore dominant German forces in Europe, their army receding into itself until it no longer existed. It was like forcing the hands of a clock backwards, she mechanically tried to shove against me but was in no position to give up the advantage she had over my neck and face. As I bashed her away with my knees, I forced my arms back into their sockets and was surprised to find some leeway against her. Fighting her on two fronts, with my tugging arms and my attacking knees, I was reenergised by the scent of escape.

I was as quick as her and as mean as her. I yanked my arms out of her coils and immediately went for her legs, which had loosened their choke on my head. Looking through slanted eyes, covered partially in feet, I sought the underside of her leg with my thumbs. I drove my thumbs upwards with as much force as I could, unlocking her outstretched legs and with it releasing my head from its fortress. Her legs were tight and fleshy under the tips of my prodding fingers, the cool air hit against the warm sweat on my neck as I sat up and pushed her further. I pushed her legs to the opposite side of the mattress, ignoring her demands for me to stop and the attempts to seize my arms. She began to kick at me, my hands – as much as they tried – were ineffectual in their attempts to mollify them. I was a snake wrangler, I had to be quick otherwise I’d get bitten. I worked with my knees too, pushing her upper body alongside her legs, her hands clutching at the mattress cover. Her knees opened, her legs rolling around my hands like a thrashing eel. With my head so close to them, I felt as if in the jaws of a tiger. I continued reeling my legs, but her grip on the bed made pushing her towards the edge impossible. I looked up through the middle of her, up between her legs at her kaleidoscopic, symmetrical form as sat up to grab at my head, reaching through the fractures of mosaic shapes towards me (3). Enchanted by the sight of her, her head smiling down at me in an ‘I’ve got you now’ expression, I awaited her soft fingers.

This, I thought, couldn’t be real.

As she steered closer, her siren body lingering in my vision, her hands approaching my head like spectres, I momentarily snapped out of my trance. Looking back, I wish I had stayed put, agog, staring shiny-eyed at her, breathless, letting her do whatever she was about to do. But in this moment of mid-adrenaline action, I chose fight instead of flight. But in doing so, events may not have unfolded as they did, and I would not change that in sorry retrospect. I rolled my body into her as her hands connected with my head, hands that appeared to move in slow motion moments ago now quicker than lightning. Hands that, before, stopped me from pushing her off the bed, now unclenched.

In some deus ex machina timing, moments away from some inescapable hold, I watched this enchantress vanish.

THUD.

“Oh shit,” I said. “Are you okay?”

She got up. Moody. The people on the floor below us must be pissed. But not as pissed as Amelia. She glared at me in genuine upset-ness – I knew this would end in tears. ‘What’s the matter?’ I thought. ‘So, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?”. As soon as I thought that I felt guilty. It didn’t matter that she had been – and still would be if I hadn’t done this- strangling me for the past few minutes.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to…”

She began walking. I thought she was walking to the door, storming out, away from the guy that had just pushed her onto the floor. I had to double-take to find out she was walking towards me instead.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for that!”
Attached Images
File Type: jpg amelia (2).jpg (196.7 KB, 427 views)
File Type: jpg amelia (3).jpg (279.2 KB, 982 views)

Last edited by Jobckn; 27-Jun-21 at 23:55.
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Old 28-Jun-21, 10:06
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Default Re: Bunk Bed Wrestling (ILLUSTRATED)

The pictures do help, but your words paint a really attractive picture of Amelia, mate. It made me want to be the one flirting and playfighting with her. I can't wait to see how she makes you "fucking pay for that!".

Thanks for sharing this with us, mate.
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Old 28-Jun-21, 11:26
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Default Re: Bunk Bed Wrestling (ILLUSTRATED)

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Originally Posted by mixfightor [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
The pictures do help, but your words paint a really attractive picture of Amelia, mate. It made me want to be the one flirting and playfighting with her. I can't wait to see how she makes you "fucking pay for that!".

Thanks for sharing this with us, mate.
Thank you so much i remember you commented on my last story with some feedback and because of it I sought clearer metaphors, so thank you for commenting again on this one too.
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Old 29-Jun-21, 08:00
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Default Re: Bunk Bed Wrestling (ILLUSTRATED)

I just discovered this story along with your previous one. I love your writing style! And the illustrations are top notch as well. Can’t wait to see more!
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Old 29-Jun-21, 16:52
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Originally Posted by bartstuy [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
I just discovered this story along with your previous one. I love your writing style! And the illustrations are top notch as well. Can’t wait to see more!
Wow, thank you very much, I'm glad to be appreciated. My writing style can be overly long winded, especially for a site like this that praises stories that cut to the chase, so I'm glad that the people who do read my stories like them

More on the way
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Old 20-May-23, 14:05
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Default Re: Bunk Bed Wrestling (ILLUSTRATED)

Jobckn, I loved, loved, loved the first part of your story. One of the best ones I've ever read on the forum. The characters, the descriptions, the situation. I found it so incredibly sexy and intimate. Really nice work. I hope more people get to read it. And I so wish that there will be a continuation – and I hope Amelia totally wrecks Joseph and makes him beg for mercy

I hope you don't mind, but I did a rendering based on your story and illustrations. I normally don't do this, but the story just stuck in my mind and I just felt I wanted to show my appreciation for your writing.

All the best!
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Old 16-Jul-23, 23:18
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Martin2020 [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Jobckn, I loved, loved, loved the first part of your story. One of the best ones I've ever read on the forum. The characters, the descriptions, the situation. I found it so incredibly sexy and intimate. Really nice work. I hope more people get to read it. And I so wish that there will be a continuation – and I hope Amelia totally wrecks Joseph and makes him beg for mercy

I hope you don't mind, but I did a rendering based on your story and illustrations. I normally don't do this, but the story just stuck in my mind and I just felt I wanted to show my appreciation for your writing.

All the best!
Oh shit! Man that is an amazing render! I appreciate your love for my story, I want to continue writing stuff like this but it's more difficult at the moment... I'm working on something new at the moment but not necessarily on this, though maybe one day????

sorry for not responding sooner! i have been inactive here since about February
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