#this is not specifically ab my stuff just something I’ve noticed
Text
Seeing so many fics now not have many comments but so many notes really frustrated/ saddens me :/
people deserve to be told their works is good, that silly line they threw into the third paragraph referencing that show / movie was noticed, that they did not waste their time working on free entertainment for us.
It’s just so frustrating to click into a fic with a good few hundred notes and the only comments are “part two” or “tag in next part” cause like? How about some appreciation for what we already gave you before you start asking for something else that you’ll probably just disregard aswell?
#I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this before#but common people please#Appreciate your fic writers people#our form of payment is hearing if/what you guys liked about our stuff ig#imma start commenting more/ sending in anons more myself#it’s really hard to stay motivated to work to give ppl free content when not one person will even be like oh this is cool thanks#also yes I just woke up sore and cranky as shit but still#this is not specifically ab my stuff just something I’ve noticed
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Disclaimer for people who read my stuff:
Most of my fics are 18+ tbh, so if you don’t wanna read all that don’t get on my account !!
In no way shape or form do I condone non consensual situations in real life. As someone who has already been through that type of situation, I don’t want that to happen to anyone. Ever. Consent is key .
In no way shape or form do I write or condone pedophilia. That shit is disgusting. Even if I never exactly note how old they are, reader will always be of age .
I also don’t write about actual people!! The character and actor are two different things and keeping them separate is important!!
About my requests: if I EVER write something in your request that you’re uncomfortable with, feel free to write me and I will completely redo it. I understand that some people don’t like certain things, and that’s perfectly fine and okay :) I’m also going to put trigger warnings on all my fics if they have dark themes!!
I also know that I’m slow ash when it comes to requests, but I’ll try my hardest to get back to all of you <33
Although the pictures that I add to my fics may show some kind of thin person, it’s only because when it comes to the early 2000s aesthetic, the only pics I can find mostly adhere to a skinny girl. Not that there’s anything wrong with being skinny, it’s just that most plus size readers aren’t acknowledged. My reader, however, does not have a specific size. I mostly just use the pictures as the outfit inspo for the reader. As a plus size person myself, I know how difficult it can be when they make the reader out to be a specific size.
My reader does not have a specific race!! I’ve noticed that some writers like to give their readers predominantly white features, but I try my hardest to make sure my fics don’t go into specifics ab how they look (their hair, their race, etc). If I ever miss a minor detail that may reference to the reader having white features, please contact me so I can change it! again, the pics I post along with the fics are not how the reader actually looks !! The reader looks the way the person reading it does, or how the person reading it wants them to look <3
I’ll write ab specific readers per request!!But in the general outline of my writing, where their appearance isn’t the whole point of the fic, the reader isn’t specific!!
I’ll be happy to write any lgbt fics!! I’m pansexual and genderfluid, so anyone with anyone is fine with me (so long as it’s not a pedophilic relationship or something) .
That’s all !!
Xx, Bunny 🐰
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
Maybe it's You
Another BHM/FFA romance story I posted on dimensions magazine that I also wanted to post here :)
Summary: Catherine feels alone in the big city, until she meets a man who changes everything.
Content warning: This story contains a character who suffers from health-related anxiety.
There’s something wrong with me.
There has to be.
I have these thoughts sometimes, and they’re not like what everyone else around me is thinking or feeling. They’re… different. Taboo even.
I can’t quite put my finger down on when they started. Maybe for as long as I remember. But it took a while for me to understand that other people didn’t feel the same.
In kindergarten, I’d grab the pudgiest boy in class by the arm, squeezing his upper arm fat like it was a stress ball. He would laugh, seemingly happy to have found a friend at all, even if she was odd and didn’t respect personal boundaries.
But it became weird in first and second grade. You couldn’t just grab someone’s fat and squeeze it. And other kids liked to poke fun at the fat kids, they would taunt them.
Eventually I would just join in. It was easier that way. Less conspicuous. But I’d never grown out of wanting to touch, to feel that supple flesh under my hands.
During puberty was when I really noticed it.
People would talk about going to second base, how hot abs were, how sexy an hourglass figure was on a girl. But I was only ever aroused when I imagined someone eating, rubbing their fat belly, getting full, moaning, but still stuffing food in…
So, it turned out most people didn’t share this interest.
And I never said it out loud, never admitted to anyone besides myself, that I was attracted, with a level of exclusivity that scared me, to fat people. More specifically, fat people actively getting fatter.
My first boyfriend was thin. I was 15 and I wanted. I kissed him. I really tried to get into it.
But I couldn’t.
My college boyfriend was big, but not in the ways I wanted. He was physically imposing, well over 6 feet, broad shouldered. Handsome, sweet, funny. That helped. I nearly convinced myself that I was attracted to him. See, brain? He’s big. He makes me feel dainty and happy and nice.
It didn’t work.
I never wanted to have sex with him because I couldn’t get aroused around him.
My excuses of taking it slow, then of ‘headaches’ or of not being in the mood only went so far. So we went our separate ways after a year together, never going farther than kissing and fondling.
It was depressing and sad that I’d only ever gotten myself off when watching some fat person on youtube stuff their faces. And after getting off, I always feel worse.
It’s in these moments of self doubt, late at night, when my heart aches for some kind of intimacy, some kind of belonging, that I think about these things.
But maybe it’s not my interest in fat men that is the problem. Surely, if that were the case, I’d just find a fat guy to date.
So maybe it’s me that’s the problem.
*
“Cath!”
I whipped my head around, spotting Layla as she waved a hand to get my attention. She was standing with a couple of other people, none of whom I recognized as I approached.
I cleared my throat, “Hi.”
Layla reached out to hug me, but I leaned away and she dropped her arms. Her smile was pinched around the edges, making me feel even more like shit.
Layla knew not to do things like that, but she was always…pushing.
Layla recovered quickly.
“I’ve got to introduce you! Okay, this is John,” she gestured to a tall man with thin wire glasses, “and Isaac,” a broad-shouldered man with curly brown hair nodded towards me, an easy smile on his lips. I attempted to mirror the expression, but it felt forced.
“They work in marketing,” Layla prattled. “And this is Vienna, she’s a data specialist like us, but in a different department.”
Vienna, a short woman with very big hair greeted me.
“Everyone, this is Catherine!” Layla said, hovering over my shoulder.
“Nice to meet you all,” I said, still feeling off balance from the almost-hug and Layla’s watchful gaze.
“You as well,” big-shoulder guy, Isaac, said.
The thing about being an adult, with an adult job, is that you always feel about an inch from unraveling.
I hesitated around the edges of the end-of-quarter banquet, near the hand sanitizer dispenser.
It was annoying that every employee had to attend these. So many people crammed into a banquet hall, all for some mediocre mostaccioli and baked chicken to ‘celebrate’ the employees and boost morale.
And although Layla’s attention to me was misguided, I did appreciate that there was someone here who was interested in socializing with me.
“You should ask John out,” Layla said, appearing at my side. She was eating the olive out of her martini.
“No no,” I started to protest.
“Come on! You’ve got to get out sometime!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Which one was that again?” I asked.
“Glasses.”
Thin and tall, I added mentally. I shrugged. I knew it would only end one way: disappointment. But as usual, I was hoping for a miracle, a miraculous change to occur in me. For me to feel something for someone else, even just for a moment.
*
The date could be worse. But it felt more like a friendly meetup. I glanced at John’s slim figure, his slender arms, his sharp jaw, and knew with a sinking feeling in my gut that I wouldn’t even want to kiss him.
“How do you like the city? Layla mentioned you’re from the south,” John asked after a sip of water.
“It’s good, busy. I miss Georgia sometimes, of course, but I am grateful to be away from the humidity,” I said, pleased when he laughed with me.
“Oh, I'm sure! I’m a native New Yorker, so it’s interesting to hear about other people’s hometowns. Back when I lived in Queens…”
At the end of the night, John walked me home. He leaned down, maybe to hug me, maybe to kiss me, but I pulled away.
There was a small frown tugging at his lips, but politeness seemed to keep him from saying anything.
“I had a great time, thank you for dinner,” I said, and went inside my building.
*
“And so, this Layla person, the only friend you’ve made from your work, is now dating the guy she set you up with?” my sister’s voice, thick with the sound of home, crackled through my phone speakers.
“Yup,” I said, trying not to get polish everywhere as I painted my toes.
“Wow. What happened to girl code?”
I sighed. “I didn’t like the guy. So I honestly couldn’t care less.”
My sister made a thoughtful noise.
“It’s been over a month since I went out with him. Once. One date. It’s not like I had some kind of claim on him.”
My sister Ciara, like most of my friends and family, thought I was too picky with men. If only they knew the half of it.
“When are you visiting again, Cath?”
“Not until Christmas,” I replied.
Ciara audibly sighed.
“You could visit me here, you know.”
She didn’t answer, but she didn't need to. It was expensive and she had the kids to worry about.
“How are the rugrats?” I asked when the silence had stretched a moment too long, and she went into depth about how Connor was doing with potty training and how Rachel was able to keep her head up on her own.
It seemed like everyone, even the kiddos, were doing more, were improving, changing. Bettering themselves. Everyone except me.
I recognized that this thought was unfair, but it didn’t stop me from having it.
*
Exactly three months after the last, there was another end-of-quarter banquet.
I dressed myself presentably, in a comfortable yet stylish sweater with black dress pants.
Layla waved me over to a table, where she and John were sitting side by side. Vienna, who I remembered from the last banquet, was there too, sitting by John. Next to her was a couple I didn't recognize but who Layla quickly introduced. Layla, an insufferable extrovert, was always making new friends. Or networking. I could never quite tell with her.
I took one of the two empty seats, sitting at Layla’s right.
They were talking about holiday plans, and so I chimed in that I was going to visit family in Georgia.
“How fun!” Vienna said.
“Probably won’t be a white Christmas,” John said with humor.
“I’m not built for snow anyhow. I hate the cold,” I said, gesturing to my tiny body.
A few people at the table laughed, but my attention was pulled away as the empty chair next to mine was pulled out.
I glanced up. Broad-shoulder guy, er, Isaac? Yes, Isaac, with the curly hair. But he looked… different.
He sat down heavily. I’d noticed at the last banquet that he was a large person to begin with, tall and wide. It had been difficult to tell in a suit, but he’d seemed stocky. Like someone who was quite muscular, but not cut or lean by any means.
But now…he had a belly. A real, honest-to-god, belly. It balanced out those crazy wide shoulders, pushing out from his suit jacket, and balling up in his lap as he pulled the chair up closer to the table.
I felt myself blushing and pinched my thigh.
Now is not the time.
“Snow is overrated if you ask me. It’s glorified cold, icy rain. Bleh,” Isaac said.
John made an indignant noise.
Isaac grinned at him.
“It’s the most wonderful time of the year…” Vienna started singing when John and Isaac began debating the pros and cons of snow.
“Isaac,” somebody said from behind. Isaac turned in his chair, smiling that easy smile. “You been hitting the eggnog a little hard, pal?”
My eyes widened, and I deliberately looked into the candle flickering on the table’s centerpiece so that my eyes wouldn’t wander towards his midsection. Why would this guy say that? Wasn’t that… rude?
But Isaac only laughed. I heard something, a light patting that might’ve been Isaac tapping his belly for emphasis.
“Yeah, it’s my winter coat.”
I crossed my legs under the table.
Get a grip, Catherine.
We were served dinner, chicken in mushroom sauce and mashed potatoes, which I picked at, paying much more attention to the plate next to mine, which was cleared before anyone else's. It was all but licked clean.
*
That night, I couldn’t get Isaac out of my mind. As Isaac was someone who had only spoken about three words to me in my entire life, I had become quite easily infatuated.
Isaac was fatter now. And based on the way he had eaten tonight, it seemed likely that he would continue to do so.
Check and check.
I couldn’t help searching him up online.
I went through Layla’s friends list, and scrolled to the ‘I’s.
“Found him,” I muttered to myself, clicking his profile.
Isaac Friedmann
I scrolled through his profile photos, but the newest was over a year old, before he’d gained weight. Still, he looked nice, with sparkling eyes and a wide smile. I scrolled back, seeing younger versions of him. One photo from six years ago showed Isaac in a hockey jersey, fresh off the ice, stick in hand, grinning with some of his teammates.
“College hockey player? That’s impressive,” I murmured to myself. I ignored the twinge in my gut reminding me of the ‘ex-athlete who gets fat’ trope in weight gain fiction.
Isaac’s ‘about’ info was private, so I couldn’t check his relationship status. But really, what were the chances that he would even be interested in me anyway?
I didn’t request to be his friend, even though I sort of wanted to.
*
I spent the holidays back home. I had to dodge lots of questions about my love life, which was of course, nonexistent. Instead, I steered conversation back to safer topics, like my job.
“I basically crunch numbers for the company. It’s a little boring, but the pay is nice and it’s low stress. Good hours, and benefits.”
This explanation generally had my aunts cooing and congratulating me on my success.
I flew back to New York on the 29th, as I wanted to go to Times Square and see the ball drop. I’d done it the past two years since I’d lived in the city. It was crowded and cold, but somehow, my inner child lived for it.
I had plans to meet up with my friend Chris, also known ‘Moxie’ when he was in drag, and his partner Sid. Chris lived in my apartment building and we’d bonded over being the only tenants who do laundry at 5:00 am. For Chris, he usually hadn’t gone to bed yet, and I had typically just woken up. Between our incompatible sleep schedules, we barely saw each other outside of these strange twilight hours or weekend nights. We exchanged texts semi-regularly throughout the weekdays, which was about all I could look for in a friend anyway. It’s not like I needed 24/7 companionship.
I’d been tempted to tell Chris about my, um, tastes. He was very kink positive and not at all judgmental. But every time I considered it, I practically broke out in hives. It stressed me out so much that I eventually gave up on the idea. Chris was probably under the impression that I was ace, and I had never done much to dissuade him from this idea. Hell, maybe I was on the ace spectrum.
That might explain why the only thing that could get me going was fat bellies.
This is not the time to think about this.
I met up with Chris and Sid in the lobby and we walked to Times Square together.
I was freezing cold in a matter of seconds.
“Aw, poor Peach,” Sid said, rubbing my arm as we walked, which didn’t do much to quell my shivering. Peach was Sid’s nickname for me, one which I thought was endearing in a slightly annoying way.
“I have extra gloves if you want to double up,” Chris chimed in.
“Don’t worry about me, I’m wearing lots of layers,” I said. The wind chose that moment to blast frozen air directly onto my exposed face. “Fudging fudge!” I exclaimed.
Sid cackled while Chris groaned.
“Please just say fuck. Please,” he begged.
I wrinkled my nose. “Hmmm,” I pretended to consider it. “No.”
We argued over which swear words I was likely to say, and what disastrous scenarios might prompt me to break my ‘no-swearing’ streak, which I’d had for as long as I could remember.
Eventually, we nudged our way into the NYE crowd and found an area to stand. We weren’t near any of the stages, but that was alright. The main attraction was the ball, which could be seen from anywhere. None of us had much interest in the musical guests.
“I’m gonna grab a drink,” Sid said, gesturing to the pub down the block that was selling drinks in disposable cups. “Anyone want anything?”
“I’m alright,” I said.
“A beer?” Chris asked. Sid nodded, gave his partner a quick kiss, and headed off.
I had become acclimated to the harsh cold and so I wasn’t shivering too badly anymore. That, or my face had become completely numb.
“Your nose is so red,” Chris commented, booping me on the nose with a gloved finger.
“It’s charming,” I replied easily, earning a crooked smile from him. Chris had a way of soothing my mind. I couldn’t think of a single other person who I could joke with quite so easily.
As he readied to say something else, I was bumped into from behind. Chris caught me by the elbows so I wouldn’t fall.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, shit,” a deep voice mumbled.
I turned, don’t worry about it, already on my lips but…
I saw shoulders, broad and thick. An open winter jacket, a sweater-covered belly filling the opening. Curly brown hair. Chubby red cheeks. It was Isaac!
I blinked.
Isaac blinked back.
“Oh, hey, um Catherine right?”
I felt myself blushing, but hoped that the general redness of my wind-numb face would cover it.
“Yeah, hi, um Isaac.”
Chris nudged me. “Oh, and this is my friend Chris,” I added.
“Nice to meet you,” Isaac said. His eyes darted between Chris and I. I felt keenly aware that Chris still had one hand on my arm.
I pulled away and gave Isaac what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
“Um, great to see you somewhere that isn't work-mandated.”
Wow, I am horrible at flirting, I thought to myself. But he laughed.
“Yeah, you too!” He glanced around. “I’d better get back to my friends, but it was great running into you.”
“You too!”
There was another awkward smile exchange, and then he was slipping through the crowd and out of sight.
“Um, who the hell was that?” Chris wheeled on me. His face was all-too knowing.
“Work acquaintance,” I said.
Sid slid back up then, took a quick look between Chris and I before saying, “What’d I miss?”
“Catherine just attempted to flirt. With another human being.”
Sid raised his eyebrows.
I pulled my hat down so it covered my ears better, not acknowledging that.
“Attempted? Was she successful?” Sid asked.
Chris eyed me and I felt horribly transparent.
“The guy seemed into it. He was all smiley.”
I frowned. Had he been? I couldn’t hardly remember the encounter except my own horrible embarrassment.
“Well, who wouldn’t be? That’s the power of the Peach right there.”
I laughed and felt a tad lighter.
When the ball dropped, I bit my lip and sighed, yearning for something unnamed, unknowable. For something.
*
“Great work, Catherine.”
I couldn’t help but preen a bit at the praise. My boss wasn’t harsh, but he also wasn’t overly friendly. He meant what he said, and he rarely gave compliments.
I let the high from that interaction carry me through the rest of the day. Petty work drama couldn’t touch me, not when I had done such ‘great work’ on my report.
“There’s cake in the lounge if you want. It’s for, em, Eric,” Shelby, one of the interns from NYU, attempting to remember, “… Eric from accounting,” she said as I walked past.
‘Eric from accounting’ rang absolutely zero bells in my brain, but I figured I’d grab a slice.
My workplace was a big office suite located inside of a high rise. The data specialists had a corner of cubicles to themselves which budded up against the accounting cubicles. The marketing and supply-chain people had offices to themselves with glass walls and great views of the skyline. Of course, executives had a whole floor to themselves.
It wasn’t like us numbers-folk were in some dark hovel or anything, but it nagged at me when I crossed into the marketing offices and noted the differences between our office areas.
The lounge had a few people mingling around. I grabbed a slice of cake; it was chocolate. Not as good as vanilla, but it would do.
“Cath, oh, tell them about that funny saying your mee-maw always says. Mee-maw, isn’t that such a cute way to say grandma?” Layla, always in the center of all social gatherings, asked as I went towards the beverage station. She was standing in a loose circle with John and Vienna.
I filled a paper cup with some burnt coffee and made my way over to her.
“Good ol’ mee-maw,” I said, playing up my accent. “She says lots of things. But, the one that always gets Layla is well, that just dills my pickle!”
Layla laughed, batting at my arm as she doubled over. I stepped out of the way to avoid the contact.
“Ah, such southern charm,” she said, giggling.
It was hard to tell with Layla whether she was laughing at you or with you.
Just then, Isaac waltzed through the lounge doorway.
“Heard there was cake,” he said, and instantly made his way over to the cake and cut himself a large slice.
It’d been a few weeks since I’d seen him on New Year’s Eve. In that time, he seemed to have gotten a little bit plumper. His dress shirt was tight across the push of his belly. The buttons were pulling a bit on either side, puckered. I tracked his movements as he forked up a big bite of cake and stuffed it in his mouth.
Isaac made an appreciative noise before stabbing another piece with his fork.
I felt a blush creeping up my neck.
I sensed rather than saw Isaac’s eyes flick over towards me. I instinctively glanced down at my own plate, not wanting to be caught staring.
“We still on for the gym tomorrow?” John asked. I looked up. John was staring with concern towards Isaac’s middle.
“Course,” Isaac said through a mouthful of cake.
“Are you going to do cardio with me this time?” John asked in a lighter tone.
Isaac scoffed. “You know I gave up cardio for lent.”
Layla tilted her head. “Lent doesn’t start until the end of February,” she pointed out.
“Eh, I’m not particularly religious,” Isaac said, as though that explained everything.
Vienna laughed.
I couldn't suppress my own smile. I felt Isaac glance at me, but he quickly looked away before I could catch his eye.
“Well, that was delicious. Have a good weekend everybody,” Isaac said, throwing his empty plate into the trash. He waved and left the room.
There was a lull in the conversation, seemingly until Layla had declared Isaac as far enough away from the room to be able to talk about him without risk of being overheard.
“He got a bit chubby, didn’t he?” Layla said, her voice laced with concern. I bit my lip and said nothing.
John scratched the back of his neck.
“Well, he carries it well,” Vienna chimed in.
I nodded subtly. I itched to come to Isaac’s defense, but the urge to stay silent was stronger.
“I’m not trying to nag him, but he’s been eating loads. It is a little concerning, but I guess… He’s an adult,” John fragmentally explained.
“Of course! I only just noticed,” Layla said placatingly.
“Excuse me,” I said before hastily leaving the lounge. God, why was this messing with my head so much?
Maybe it was because Isaac was practically the human incarnation of my every fantasy. He’s been eating loads John had said… Oh God, now I was picturing Isaac sitting around, gorging on takeout, eating his way out of that tight dress shirt, buttons popping and flying off as he continued stuffing his fat face…
What the hell?? Stop thinking about this at work.
I knew I was flushing profusely, so I made haste towards the women's restroom.
Once inside I checked my face in the mirror. My mascara was flaking a bit after the long day, but other than that, I looked alright. I took a few deep breaths, counting to 10 in my head.
I felt much better as I was leaving the bathroom.
Well, I thought I would, except when I swung the door open, it opened directly into someone.
“Fiddlesticks, I’m so sor-,” I began, pausing when I glanced up and saw who I’d hit.
“No, don’t worry about it, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Isaac laughed a bit. “Payback for New Years.”
That knocked a surprised giggle from my chest.
“Oh, you know I was meaning to apologize for running into you the other day. Well, not for running into you, but for like actually physically bumping you,” Isaac said, an embarrassed flush warming his cheeks. “I’ve noticed you don’t seem to like being touched.”
I laughed again, slightly nervously. He noticed that? Oh, now he probably thinks I’m neurotic. Which… probably wasn’t so far off.
“No, it wasn’t a big deal. The square was super packed, it happens.” I was pleased at how nonchalant I sounded.
Isaac nodded. “And sorry for you know, interrupting you when you were on a date or whatever–”
“What?” I blurted, entirely lost.
Isaac glanced at me.
“You were with that um guy? He had his arms on you? I thought…”
I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. I doubled over, cackling.
“No, no.” I sobered when I saw his embarrassed expression. “That, that was my friend Chris.” I said. Then after a beat, “Chris is gay.”
Isaac’s eyes widened and then he was laughing too. He looked relieved in some way, but I wasn’t sure.
“Ah, well. I’m an idiot, sorry about that. I just assumed.”
“No biggie,” I said, still smiling.
Isaac stared at his feet, kicking at the carpet with his heels.
“So since you’re not dating your gay friend, what are you doing Saturday?” I felt my eyebrows raise in shock. He misinterpreted my expression. “I mean, tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to go, no hard feelings. But I would like to take you out sometime. You know, to see you on purpose instead of randomly bumping into each other.” He smiled lopsidedly.
For some reason, I heard Chris’ voice in my head, urging me to say yes, you idiot!
“Yeah, that sounds great actually.”
It wasn’t until much later that night that I freaked out about it.
Oh, what have I gotten myself into?
*
This date was lightyears away from my awkward date with John. For one, I had butterflies. Actual butterflies, not the nervous sour awful kind, but the good kind, the kind that made your stomach feel like pop rocks.
For two, Isaac was sitting across from me in the tiny booth of a Jewish deli, which made him look somehow even bigger. Apparently this was his favorite spot, but I’d never been.
I closed my menu. “What should I get?”
Isaac eyed me, tilted his head, as though trying to read what I might like off of my face alone.
“Hot pastrami,” he decided.
“Okay,” I agreed easily.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get a few things for us to share too. And if you don’t like it, I’ll happily eat your leftovers.”
My head swam with dirty thoughts at that, but luckily the waiter stopped by just then and saved me from having to reply.
“All decided?”
“Yeah, she’ll have the hot pastrami, and I’ll have the stuffed cabbage, a hushpuppy, and fried kreplach.”
Isaac gave a stunning smile and handed over our menus. I realized Isaac was someone who was self-assured, content. It was inspiring to me though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t also envious of these attributes.
Still, I couldn’t help but catch some of his infectious good mood and smile back.
“What in the world is a hushpuppy doing on the menu of a Jewish deli?” I asked.
“Right! I almost forgot you’re a southerner. Oh boy, you’re gonna love this, it’s a kosher hot dog, wrapped in mashed potatoes and baked until it gets all golden brown.” He leaned back and made a sound somewhere between a moan of please and ‘yum’.
“Oh my God,” I laughed. His stomach was looking quite plump from this angle.
I took a fortifying sip of iced water.
There was a tiny bit of awkward silence; my lack of experience on dates was making my arms itch.
“I’m wondering how to ask ‘tell me about yourself?’ without actually asking that,” Isaac said in faux seriousness. His eyes were alight with humor.
“Hmmm, that is a tricky one. You could always go with the classics. What do you do in your free time? Favorite color? Dog or cat person?” I trailed off, unable to think of any others. Isaac was laughing in earnest now though, so I suppose I’d done enough.
“Well, I like reading, watching movies, being with family, you know. All that wholesome stuff.” Isaac leaned forward and I was again taken aback by how stunning his smile was. “Favorite color… that’s tough. Maybe red? I maintain the right to change that answer anytime though,” he said, pointing at me.
“I’ll allow it,” I replied.
“And I’m a dog person. Now you go.”
I looked up, thinking. “I like reading, movies are good too. When I’m bored, I like going outside, walking, that sort of thing. Um, my favorite color’s got to be magenta. And I like cats and dogs equally.”
“Ah, now we’ve covered all the bases, haven’t we?” Isaac teased.
“Oh, definitely.”
Isaac glanced past me, and I turned to see our waiter heading our way.
“Oh, finally. I’m starving,” Isaac whispered conspiratorially.
My meal was placed in front of me, and I was shocked at how much food was here.
An open-faced sandwich, pilled high and surrounded by french fries.
But Isaac’s was even more full, plus the extras he’d ordered on top of his meal. Our table was crammed with plates of food.
*
We chatted a bit while we ate, but less so. Mostly because Isaac’s mouth was constantly filled.
I tapped out after eating about half of my food, but Isaac insisted I try a bit of stuffed cabbage, the weird potato hotdog, and the kreplach (which was actually very delicious).
I was rambling about the leaky sink in my apartment, which my landlord was resolutely ignoring, when Isaac finished the last of his food.
“You want mine?” I asked, pushing my plate towards him.
Isaac groaned, but nodded. He looked like he wanted to lay down, but he sat forward and stuffed bite after bite of my sandwich into his mouth until it was gone.
I pinched my thigh so hard it was likely to bruise, but it didn’t help.
I wanted to peel off the tight sweater, unbutton those slacks, feel that big bloated belly under my fingertips.
But, well. That was weird. Even if your date glutted himself out in front of you, you didn't have any right to feel them up. Right?
The waiter came by and picked up our empty plates, and Isaac ordered a coffee. He was probably very full, I thought to myself. Maybe he needed to digest a bit before he got up.
“Ahhh,” Isaac sighed into his coffee. “You know, I used to be a college athlete. Now I feel like I just ran a mile when all I did was stuff my face.”
He was probably going for self-depricating.
But, God, if that didn’t do something to me.
I felt my face go hot. I crossed my legs, but that made it worse.
“Oh, what’d you play?” I asked, as though I didn’t already know from my cyberstalking.
“Hockey,” he said. “Did you ever play any sports?”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t very interested in extracurriculars,” I said.
Isaac drained the last of his coffee and twisted his wrist to check his watch.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to keep you so late,” he said, startled.
“It’s no problem. I’m glad to be here,” I said. He met my eyes and smiled. I melted a little.
Isaac paid the bill even though I offered to split it.
“You can get it next time,” he’d promised, and that made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
We walked back towards my building. It was chilly, and so my hands were in my coat pockets. That was probably safer. If my hands were free I’d probably try to do something stupid like touch him.
All too soon, we were approaching the front steps.
“Thank you for dinner! I had a really great time,” I said. It was my usual line, but this time I meant it very sincerely.
“Catherine, I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’d really like to see you again.”
My breath caught.
“I’d like that too,” I agreed.
Isaac took a deliberate step closer to me.
“Are you going to kiss me?” I squeaked, voice too breathy, too quiet in the air between us.
He squinted at me. Licked his lips.
“Do you want me to?” he asked.
I nodded, shivering.
Isaac seemed to steel himself. His hands reached out to cup my face, not touching, but hovering just a bit away from my jaw. “Can I touch you?”
I leaned towards his hands. “Yes,” I whispered.
Isaac’s hand cupped my face, reeling me in. His other hand made its way to the small of my back, a comforting weight. The places where his hands were touching me felt electric. I slowly wound my arms around his neck.
He leaned in so incredibly slowly that I was nearly vibrating with want by the time our lips collided.
It was soft, hesitant, at first. Then I gave into it, letting myself lean against him. His belly pushed into my abdomen, and it was more satisfying than my fantasies had ever led me to believe. His head tilted, and our mouths slid together more securely.
I made a needy noise in the back of my throat and he held me tighter.
For once in my life, my mind and body were attuned as one, reacting the same. This passion, this longing, it was mirrored in the way Isaac held onto me, as though I was something precious. As though he didn’t want to let me go.
*
Sometimes I have these thoughts that make no sense. I know they’re not logical, that they’re well… crazy. But I still have them.
I remember one time I spiraled really bad. My brain convinced me that no one even knew me. No one had ever known me, really. That no one cared about my existence. If I died, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing mattered. That I was invisible and unwanted and I had to text my sister Ciara to make it stop.
ME: You care about me right?
She’d texted back after a few minutes.
CIARA: Of course
And I didn’t believe her. But I put on a youtube video and after a few hours of mindless media consumption I remembered that my family loved me.
*
I was trying really hard to keep Isaac from seeing me spiral.
Usually when I had those weird trains of thought it took time to dig myself out. For rational thought to finally wrestle its way back into my mind.
But I’d been spending a lot of time with Isaac. And that meant the chances of revealing my fully unhinged self to him increased.
I know about probabilities okay, I’m a data specialist.
But, after our fantastic first date, Isaac and I started seeing each other with regularity. We would eat lunch together, sometimes in the staff lounge, but sometimes if we had time, we’d walk to a bodega and get a sub or something.
And a few times a week we would make plans to see each other after work. We texted in between dates, or during the work day. I spied my contact in his phone and noticed there was a heart emoji next to my name.
It was quickly becoming ‘dating’ rather than ‘seeing each other’. I wanted to ask about being in an exclusive relationship, but I’d yet to get the nerve.
But being with Isaac was just great. It really was. The more I learned about him, the more I liked him.
I really liked him.
And I noticed, because I spent so much time with him now, that Isaac seemed to be intentionally getting fat.
There were a few signs which led me to this conclusion:
Isaac would push himself to eat as much as he could at every meal even if he was full, groaning and subtly rubbing the sides of his gut, he’d still eat more.
Isaac bought a whole new set of clothes, which was only practical. BUT! But he bought them… big. That’s right, they were baggy on him. Which… why would someone do that if they weren’t expecting to keep getting bigger?
Isaac was probably onto me and my weird fetishes and he almost seemed to be leaning into it. Because he would say things, provocatively, but still subtle enough that it wasn’t super obvious, about his weight gain.
I remember one time we’d gotten ice cream and were walking around central park. Isaac had eaten a huge meatball sub for lunch and I could tell he was pretty stuffed. But he still suggested ice cream with a glint in his eye. And he tracked my reaction closely, I could feel the heat on my cheeks, I’m sure my pupils were dilating a little. And then he’d pushed his stomach out further, ‘stretching his back’ and a sliver of his belly peaked out from beneath his shirt.
“Oh, I guess I probably didn’t need that ice cream,” he said, tugging his shirt down and smoothing a hand over his rounded belly. It was a ball, defying gravity and sticking straight out. The rest of him was starting to fill out a bit more as well, but his belly was by far the most obvious feature.
I stammered, mind going blank until I eventually mumbled something about ice cream being delicious.
Isaac smiled knowingly and took my hand. He put it on his side, where his puffy love handle met his back in a roll. It wasn’t inherently weird, couples touched each other’s sides casually. But.
But Isaac watched me so closely and I let my hand do what it wanted, to sink into that flabby flesh.
And Isaac sort of, smirked? Not condescendingly. More… secretly pleased.
And after that it became normal for Isaac to initiate touching around his midsection.
Because of who I am as a person, I wasn’t ever the one initiating these touches, because I was too nervous. But Isaac seemed to like it when my hands were on him. And I liked it to.
And so it became normal for Isaac to put my hands on his gut after a big meal and I’d lightly run my hands along his bloated belly, taught after a binge.
But what we didn’t do was talk about it.
*
Until I walked into what seemed like a fairly tense conversation.
“Why am I always the bad guy when I’m trying to look out for you?” John hissed, a whisper that was scathing in its intensity.
I stopped short of coming into the doorway of Isaac’s office, shocked.
“You’re not the bad guy, I’m just sick of your nagging. I don’t need it and I don’t want it.” Isaac’s reply was calmer, but still intense.
“Jesus christ.” John sounded like he’d begun pacing, letting out exasperated sounds as he did so.
“You’re my oldest friend. You should support me, fat or thin,” Isaac said quietly, and his voice sounded so… sad.
I knew I shouldn’t be eavesdropping but it felt too dangerous to try and back away now that they’d gotten so quiet.
John let out a wounded noise. “It’s not that I’m upset you’re fat. I love you, no matter what you look like. But you’re not letting me help you get this weight under control. And that hurts.” It sounded like a tired argument, like John had been trying it for some time now to no avail.
“I’m gonna be late for Catherine,” Isaac said coldly, a clear dismissal.
I panicked, and slowly inched backwards, trying to act like I’d just rounded the corner.
Isaac walked out of his office right as I approached, and I forced a casual smile onto my face.
“Hey! So, I was thinking we could try this Indian place? I read they have really good deals on Thursdays,” Isaac said, perfectly normal. As though nothing happened.
“Sounds great,” I said.
Later, after Isaac had eaten his fill of butter chicken and naan, we went back to my apartment.
It wasn’t like that. We hadn’t been doing anything more than kissing. And Isaac seemed good with that. He hadn’t asked, let alone pressured me like I’d expected he would after a few dates. I wondered if I should feel mad that he hadn’t. Maybe he didn’t find me attractive?
But, sometimes when we hugged, I could, ah, feel how attracted he was to me. So that probably wasn’t it.
I put on an action movie and we snuggled close. He carefully draped my arm across his belly, where it puffed out under his chest. I squeezed in closer and he laughed softly over my head.
The movie was terrible, but in a really awesome way. The protagonist had just strutted away from a collapsing building as it blew up behind him when Isaac spoke.
“Would you judge me if I said I was hungry again?”
I wet my lips, feeling overwhelmed.
“No,” I said. That seemed like a safe answer. Then I realized I was being a bad host. “Would you like something? I have some girl scout cookies, or if you want something more I have frozen pizza rolls?”
I could hear my mee-maw’s voice in my head tutting at me for not having anything freshly baked to offer my guest.
“I could go for both, if that’s okay.”
I squeezed Isaac tighter and then let go to get his cookies and pizza rolls. My face and neck were probably visibly red from arousal and embarrassment. I felt like a kid who’d just been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. But I wasn’t. I was just putting pizza rolls into my air fryer and getting cookies out of my cupboard.
I grabbed a can of sprite out of my fridge, because he probably wanted something to drink. And well. Soda had bubbles. It’d make Isaac a little more bloated… I need professional help.
“Samoas! My favorite! I’ll totally buy you a new box, don’t worry.” Isaac quickly opened the box and shoved a cookie into his mouth.
I smiled, didn’t trust my voice to say anything, and turned back towards the movie. I snuggled in close, but didn’t wrap myself around Isaac like I’d been doing earlier so his hands were free to eat.
It was strange that I loved touching Isaac when normally contact with other human beings made me feel gross. I’d yet to fully understand that.
But anyways, Isaac stuffed his face with cookies, pausing to drink his soda and letting out little burps as he did so. He’d always mutter, “Excuse me,” when he did. I shifted, feeling something stir inside me. I wanted so much it was making me antsy.
Then the pizza rolls were done, so I put them on a plate and came back.
I saw the empty cookie box and smiled to myself.
Isaac was looking very bloated. His big ol’ gut was puffed out, and it drooped a little into his lap. He still had those crazy big shoulders, but they looked proportional. His arms had softened up, a little flabby. I rested my head on one and sighed. I could hear, feel, and see Isaac steadily eating his way through the pizza rolls. He was groaning a little. Clearly full, but desperate for a little more.
When he finished, he tried to reach over and put the plate down on the coffee table, but he couldn’t quite get there with his big bloated belly so stuffed and tender, so he gave up and set it down next to him on the couch.
“God, thanks. No wonder I’m getting so fat. Been eating like a damn fiend lately.”
My face was most definitely beet red, so I just nuzzled under his arm and put myself back into my old position. Isaac let himself be maneuvered until I was comfortable.
“I’m…” Isaac started but then trailed off. The movie was ending, the protagonist kissing some sexy twenty-something as a pop rock song came on.
“Mmm what?” I asked drowsily. He was so warm and soft. His tummy was gurgling, trying to digest.
“I’m not reading into things am I?” Isaac paused and I waited for him to continue. “You like this too?” He patted the side of his belly.
I leaned away from him to look at his face. It was pink, but he held my gaze unflinchingly.
I took a breath. “No, you’re not reading into things.”
Isaac broke out into his signature grin.
“Thank fuck,” he said vehemently. I smiled back, feeling relief and simultaneously immense panic.
“So, you- you are gaining weight on purpose?” I asked hesitantly.
“Er, yeah.” Isaac scratched at his neck. “It’s like. Well. We should probably just be honest, huh?”
He looked nervous, I realized. I’d never seen him like that.
“Yeah. Honest.”
He nodded. “So, I’ve always wanted to get fat. I mean, I was a little chubby as a kid, but then I got into sports so I kind of had to stay in shape. But now that I can afford to, you know, buy tons of food and new clothes…” He laughed sheepishly. “I figured why not? So I started like, doing stuffings and. Yeah. I like it.” Isaac’s face was a little pink but he was beaming.
I didn’t quite know what to say.
Isaac nudged me. “What about you? Is that why you didn’t go on a second date with John? Because he’s a toothpick?”
His words had some humor to them but I could sense genuine curiosity underneath.
“Yeah, I mean. I wasn’t, um, attracted to him. Or, really. Anybody. Until you.”
It felt like a huge admission. Isaac rubbed my back and I felt better.
“So, I guess we should discuss, like what things we’re into? And what we aren’t.”
That seemed very sensible so I nodded.
“For me,” Isaac said. “I want to keep gaining. I don’t have a goal weight or anything right now, but I know I’m not fat enough yet.” He smacked his belly for emphasis. I tracked the movement, felt my face heat. He watched me, and it was like some invisible wall was down and I knew that he knew I was hot all over at the sight. “But I’m into stuffing, obviously. I would definitely be down for you to stuff me, if that’s something you’d be into.”
“I-I would definitely be into that,” my mouth said without my consent. But Isaac thought my reaction was funny, or cute. He was smiling at me indulgently.
“Alright. So you like watching me eat, you’d be interested in helping me eat… What else?”
I took a second to think.
“I think maybe like, trying on old clothes? Keeping rough track of your weight. Like, maybe occasionally taking measurements, but mainly just having you weigh yourself sometimes to see your progress…” I realized as I started speaking that these desires had been brimming under the surface for such a long time. I’d never been able to imagine I’d ever get to do any of them though.
“Alright, that’s very doable. Any hard limits?” Isaac asked.
“I don’t want to be, you know, mean to you. I know some people are into degradation but, um. No, I won’t do that.”
Isaac nodded. “Not a problem. I think it’s the same for me. I want to be carefree, let my gluttony run wild.”
“You seem to be doing well at that so far,” I said and patted the biggest part of his belly.
He laughed and hugged me close to him.
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you like me like this,” he whispered, a little serious.
I melted into his embrace. “Me too.”
*
CHIRS: how’s it going with ur boytoy ;)
ME: good!
ME: I think we’re very compatible.
CHRIS: when do i get to properly meet this man
ME: Idk i'll plan something soon and let you know
*
We planned to have a big stuffing day on the weekend. Isaac said he wanted to test his capacity at eating all day. And I suggested we keep track of the calories so we’d know how much to aim for next time.
I was freakishly excited about it.
I got a ton of calorie-rich groceries delivered – store made cakes, frozen pizzas, premade dumplings, and tons of snack foods. And we planned to order takeout periodically depending on Isaac’s cravings.
I had a journal ready where I was going to jot down everything Isaac would be able to eat that day. Maybe it was a little Type A of me, but hey, for once my neurotic brain was working with me.
Isaac picked up a dozen donuts on his way to my apartment that morning, and by the time he arrived on my doorstep, he’d already eaten two.
“Sorry,” he’d said but I shushed him.
“You’re a growing boy.” I watched Isaac’s eyes glaze over a little. I quickly ushered him to the couch where he’d spend the majority of the day.
Now, the real fun could begin!
*
The day was off to a wonderful start. I was, possibly for the first time, truly letting myself look at Isaac the way I wanted to.
Lustily, adoringly.
He’d always had an imposing figure, with his height and abnormally wide shoulders. He was naturally big. And of course his new weight was extenuating these features quite nicely. His belly was the most obviously pudgey area, but I noticed that his jaw was softening and his arms, while still looking well-muscled where they poked out of his t-shirt, were looking softer as well. Likewise his chest had lost definition, but not mass. I wanted to straddle his lap and let my hands sink into those soft mounds above his belly, really feel how fluffy they were getting.
I felt surprised at my own reaction, how bad my body wanted. God, Isaac made me lose my head a little.
Isaac got comfortable and proceeded to eat half of the dozen donuts, sipping on some whole milk to wash them down, before he took a short break.
We were watching some legal drama on TV and I rubbed his belly a little, which was jigglier than usual. Probably because it was the morning and he hadn’t eaten enough for it to be taut and full. My hand looked comically small in comparison to his big tummy.
After a while Isaac went back to the donuts and somehow finished another three in quick succession. The last three were more of a chore. He was pretty full and the donuts were dense.
“Just a little more,” I said, and pushed bites past his lips.
Isaac groaned, but dutifully ate bite after bite until they were all gone.
We kissed for a while after that, and he tasted like donuts. His hands were latched around my waist. It made me feel unreasonably hot when I realized how big his hands were on my sides; his fingertips were nearly touching where they curved around my ribs.
But after about a half an hour Isaac said he was no longer completely full and so I got him some chips and salsa.
“Hmm, this is really good,” Isaac said between bites.
“Let me try one,” I said. It was pretty good. Salty chips and sweet salsa that had a slight kick once you swallowed.
I got up and grabbed my notebook.
12 donuts
Half a bag of tortilla chips & salsa
“It feels a bit like you’re studying me for science when you write like that.”
I glanced up, blushing.
“Sorry,” I said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
“I don’t mind being a science project. At least, not when you’re doing it,” Isaac said with a shrug.
I felt warm and fuzzy inside.
By now his belly was filling up, not really a true bloat just yet, but getting there. I put a frozen pizza in the oven.
“Seemed like this would be easier,” Isaac said, leaning as far back as he could. His belly was pushed out and he rubbed the sides of it consolingly. “I feel like I eat a ton normally, but having so much so early in the day is making me feel like a total blimp.”
I hummed and made my way behind the couch, put my hands on his shoulders and started gently massaging them.
He sighed in contentment.
The oven dinged and I hopped up to get the pizza out.
“You don’t have to eat it all now,” I said, handing Isaac a big plate filled with pizza.
Isaac groaned but started eating dutifully.
“Yeah I do,” he said between bites. “Won’t taste as good reheated.”
I laughed.
I watched, transfixed, as Isaac shoved slice after slice into his mouth. His belly bloated bigger and bigger.
Isaac paused to drink some water. “Salty,” he muttered.
“Let me,” I said as I reached to unbutton his jeans. He looked relieved as I pulled the zipper down and his belly was able to spill forward a little. It wasn’t big enough to really hang down, but Isaac spread his legs anyway. Gave himself a bit more room.
Isaac rubbed the red line where his jeans had been cutting into his belly a little, and then went back to eating.
He couldn’t possibly be hungry at all. In fact, he’d looked like he was getting to a point of overfullness where he looked a little queasy.
“Fuck me,” Isaac groaned when he picked up the final slice.
I ran a soothing hand over the dome of his belly.
He finished the slice.
Isaac fell asleep when I went to wash some of the dishes. He looked so cute with his shirt pulled up to his belly button, jeans open, and head tilted back against the couch.
I felt a fluttery feeling in my chest and I knew I was in trouble.
I made myself a sandwich and cleaned up a bit, trying not to be a creep and just watch Isaac sleep. But I did glance over often. He was just so cute.
Isaac woke up around 3 and I put out some snacks, trail mix and pretzels, which Isaac grazed on a little.
For dinner, I ordered chinese.
Isaac got crab rangoons, kung pao chicken, and lo mein. I got garlic chicken.
“God, I’m still stuffed. Haven’t been hungry since 9 this morning,” Isaac groaned. Still, he loaded up his plate and sat back.
“You’re doing so well,” I said supportively. “Eating a lot at once probably takes some practice. You know? Just like anything else.”
Isaac eyed me. “You’re saying we should do this more often? For training, of course?”
I blushed but nodded at him.
“Good with me,” Isaac said.
He slowed down by the time his first entree was gone. He’d eaten about half of the crab rangoons.
I was finished with my portion, had put the rest in the fridge for my lunch tomorrow.
I let myself do what I wanted to do all day and swung my leg over him, got onto his lap.
Isaac seemed surprised but not at all bothered to have me in his lap.
“Let me,” I said, taking the plate from him. I filled the fork and lifted it to his lips.
“Mmm,” he mumbled into the bite. He relaxed further, let me keep putting food into his mouth until he groaned for a break. I put the plate aside, felt his bloated belly. It was thick with all of the food he’d eaten. Puffed out and stiff under my fingers. I was gentle as I ran my hands along his stomach.
He burped into his fist a few times, which I think gave him a bit more room.
“I can take more now,” he said.
I fed him bite after bite until it was gone, until he’d eaten everything. I got up to put the dishes in the sink. When I came back, Isaac was huffing and groaning.
“Oh god,” he moaned, holding onto his belly like his hands were the only things keeping it from splitting open.
I bit my lip, felt my insides heat at the sight.
“I’m never getting up again,” he whined. “I think I’m going to live on your sofa forever. Hope you don’t mind.”
“I really don’t mind,” I said, voice like honey. He looked up at me, blushing beet red.
Eventually Isaac wanted to get vertical, and I helped him up and into my bathroom so he could take a shower.
I used that time to update my notes.
12 donuts, 290 cal each = 3,480 total calories
Half bag of tortilla chips = 980 calories
Two cups of salsa = 134 calories
Frozen pizza = 2,269 calories
About a cup of pretzels = ~300 calories
About two cups of trail mix = 1,386 calories
Crab rangoons = 732 calories
Kung pao chicken = 781 calories
Lo mein = 897 calories
Total =10,959
“Holy cannoli,” I murmured to myself.
Isaac walked in shortly after, his hair was wet and he’d put on some comfy sweatpants.
“You ate almost 11,000 calories today,” I said without preamble.
Isaac sighed, rubbed his big belly.
“Yeah, feels like it. Do you mind if I stay over?”
I’d offered when we had planned this. But it was still nice to be asked, to double check that it was alright.
“Of course.” He smiled a little. “Just, just for sleeping,” I clarified. I was suddenly very embarrassed.
But all Isaac said was, “Good with me.”
That night, when Isaac was completely passed out in a food coma in my bed, I laid wide awake. Once Isaac had fallen asleep, it was like I was alone. Even though he was a few inches from me, I felt totally alone.
I had been so happy and present in my body while we’d been doing it, when I’d been watching Isaac eat and feeding him myself. But.
But now I felt like a black hole had opened up inside my chest.
I found myself questioning this whole thing. Is this ethical? Feeding someone? Making them fatter? Even if they want it, there was probably more to it. Was it objectively bad? It didn’t feel like it should be bad but…
I scrolled through my phone, which ended up being a horrible idea. Because I came across some stupid click-bait article about how some young healthy guy had dropped dead after sitting still for too long. A blood clot went to his lungs after a 3 day bender of playing video games and not moving.
And that was the end of that. I threw my phone onto my side table and sat up. I paced.
Didn’t want to wake Isaac.
But I also really wanted to wake up Isaac. Because what if he had a blood clot? What if him sitting on my couch all day, and then laying down on my bed all night, was going to kill him?
I knew I was being crazy, but I was actually about two seconds from losing it, and so I woke Isaac up.
I shook his shoulder.
“Mm?” Isaac mumbled, stirring a bit.
When his eyes opened I was entirely mortified.
What was I supposed to say? I’ve been having this irrational fear that if you don't stand up and walk around for a bit you’re going to die.
No. No, I couldn’t. But now he was looking at me with concern, his brows pulling together in concern.
“I,” I began but nothing else was forthcoming.
“What’s wrong? Catherine?”
My ears were buzzing.
“Um,” I said. And promptly started tearing up.
“Shit, c’mere,” Isaac said, pulling me into his arms.
I allowed this for a moment, because being against his soft body felt nice, but the anxieties were still there, brimming under my skin.
“No,” I said, pulling away. “C-can you, yeah come,” I said, disjointedly, but Isaac allowed himself to be pulled to his feet by me.
“Okay, what are we doing?” Isaac asked. I intertwined our arms and started dragging Isaac towards the bedroom door. He was being a remarkably good sport about all this, I noticed. If someone had woken me out of a dead sleep, started crying on me, and then 30 seconds later was tugging me around their apartment, I would probably be livid.
“Walk with me,” I said instead of actually answering. I led him around the perimeter of the living room, like it was a track.
“So, is there a reason I’m walking laps instead of sleeping right now?” Isaac asked. There was a lightness to his tone, but it couldn’t completely disguise his worry.
Seeing him, up and about, acting fine, made me absolutely mortified at my overreaction. But it was also so relieving. See, brain? He’s fine.
“I, well. I get like this sometimes,” I started. My palms were sweaty. I wiped them on my pajama pants. “Like, I have stupid thoughts and I don’t know how to shut them up. So, um, we’re walking so I can prove to myself that my brain is actually wrong and you’re fine.”
It was more than I meant to say, but Isaac hummed, kept walking with me. He seemed to be letting my words marinate.
“Did your brain convince you that I was in fact, not fine?” Isaac asked after a moment.
I shrugged helplessly. “Yeah.”
I saw Isaac nod in my periphery. “And what made your brain think that?”
It was a fair question. Isaac was taking this pretty well, all things considered. I mean, if he dumped me after this, I would understand. But for now, he was still walking with me. Still had my arm in his.
“It’s, you were sitting all day. And, well. I don’t want you to get a blood clot.” I mumbled, getting quieter towards the end of my sentence.
“I see,” Isaac said. “So next time I should get up and walk a bit when we’re doing stuffings. Do you think that’ll help ease your worries?”
I stopped walking and Isaac did too. I looked up at him. I was sure my face was red but I didn't really care.
“You still want to do this again?” I whispered.
Isaac smiled. “Course. But I would like to make sure you don’t get so worried next time.” He ran his hands down the sides of my arms reverently.
I felt my eyes water, with exhaustion or emotion, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t trust my voice, so I just leaned in to hug him.
“Okay. Do you feel better? Think you can get some sleep now?” Isaac asked, rubbing my back.
I nodded into his chest.
He ushered me back into bed, pulled the covers over me, pulled me into his arms.
“You still like me, even though I’m sort of crazy?” I asked in the dark. It was easier when I wasn’t able to see his face.
Isaac exhaled a soft laugh.
“You’re not crazy.” I huffed in disbelief and he amended, “Not actually crazy. An understandable sort of crazy. And why would that make not like you? Have you seen you?” Isaac tsked and I couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t like I didn’t know Isaac was attracted to me, but it still left me a little breathless to hear him mention it.
“I guess that’s understandable,” I huffed.
I felt Isaac kiss my forehead.
“Go to sleep.”
So I did.
*
Isaac had told me in college he’d been about 170 lbs. He’d gotten a little fluffier over the years, putting his best estimate at being around 190 when he’d been first introduced to me. But since then, he’d started gaining on purpose, putting on almost 40 pounds from October to December. I recalled how noticeable that gain was, how it seemed like so much difference in such a small amount of time. It had been evident in his big belly, how it rounded out in front of him. But still, at 6’3, 227 lbs wasn’t all that much. He’d just looked beefy. A sort of imposing figure softened with a pudgy middle.
But that wasn’t the case any longer. Isaac had graduated from dad bod firmly into chubby territory. By March, Isaac was sitting at a solid 269. And boy did it show.
Ever since my mortifying spiral, Isaac had been so insanely accommodating of my illogical worries, it made me feel simultaneously like crap and also feel so amazingly warm. And he’d talked me down from a few freakouts since then. Mostly it had to do with me thinking that Isaac was going to get sick and die (he did neither). And Isaac reassured me by getting a checkup (he had a clean bill of health) and eating lots of vegetables (because I remembered scurvy existed).
We still hadn’t had sex.
But at this point, I was waiting for Isaac to bring it up. It felt like I’d let it go too long without saying anything and now it would be awkward to bring it up…
Still, I had never even thought that I could find someone who would like me once they got to know me. Or more accurately, that I would be able to feel attraction for someone who felt the same about me. And so really, sex with Isaac was as terrifying as it was exciting to think about. I would be alright if we held off a little longer.
*
“And then Isaac made me watch this movie with him, oh gosh, it’s so funny, I can’t even remember the name of it, but you’d love it. I’ll ask him later and text you the title.” I was rambling about Isaac. Had been for the last 10 minutes, I knew, but as I was folding my laundry before 6 in the morning, I was too tired to care.
“So I take it you and Isaac are doing pretty well?” Chris asked, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah,” I hummed rather dreamily. “We’re exclusive now, did I tell you that?”
“Um, no you certainly did not!” Chris gave me his best disappointed dad look.
I laughed. “Well, we are. An item that is. I should be like, carving our initials into a tree at this point.”
Chris barked a laugh. “You really like him don’t you?” Chris teased, but his gaze was far too knowing for comfort. I don’t know what my face did, but it only spurred Chris on. “Oh my god, you’re falling in loveeee.” He sang, clutching boxer briefs to his chest dramatically. At least they were fresh out of the dryer.
“Shut up,” I mumbled, but I couldn't keep a grin off my face.
“I need to meet this guy. Like, meet him as your partner. Because, I know I met him. But. Really, it’s gone on long enough, I need to give him the shovel talk. You should take him out this weekend, I have a gig at Celia’s.”
It was tempting, if only because Chris, or Moxie, as was his stage name, was a really good performer. And I sort of did want Isaac to meet my friends. Who all happened to be gay in some way. Huh, I wonder if that factored into my ability to connect with other people somehow. I was weird as heck, a girl whose sexuality was basically ‘bellies’. But well, the LGBT+ community had always been a kind of haven for whomever society deemed to be outcasts or weirdos…
“Yeah, I’ll ask him today,” I said, and Chris squealed in delight. He was way too chipper for 5:47 am if you asked me. But, he also hadn’t gone to bed yet.
“Ask him,” Chris said, giving me a warning finger pointed my way. He stuffed all his clothes into his basket without folding them. Ugh, such a guy.
*
After almost 3 months of dating, Isaac and I attended our first work banquet together. You know, as a couple.
“Does this tie make me look like an asshole?” Isaac asked.
I watched as Isaac fiddled with his collar in my bathroom mirror. It was a bit tight where his neck was getting thicker, a double chin imminent. I focused my attention on the tie. It had four leaf clovers on it.
“I think it’s fun,” I said. I was straightening my hair, trying to get my hair to lay flat, but it wasn’t going as well as planned. I probably needed an actual silk press, but who had time for that?
“Well, if Catherine thinks it’s fun, it must be,” Isaac said.
I shoved Isaac’s chest playfully. My hand sunk a little bit into his plushy flesh and I bit my lip.
“Almost ready?” he asked. Isaac’s eyes were dark, and his arm wound around my waist. I nodded, not trusting my voice.
We arrived at the banquet on time.
The banquet was a lot more fun with Isaac at my side. I never realized how isolated I had made myself at these events. I thought it was because I didn't want to make small talk, but I don’t think that was true. I just didn’t feel comfortable. But with Isaac there, it was easy. He knew everybody. Everyone seemed to like him. And by proxy, they liked me because I’m Isaac’s girlfriend. As the night went on, I talked more, opening up and chatting with new people. I hardly talked to Layla at all, and I honestly didn't miss it.
Dinner was another mediocre affair, roasted potatoes and a small filet of salmon. But Isaac had hit the appetizer tables pretty hard before, so I figured it would do.
“God, this belt is killing me,” Isaac whispered to me once his plate was clear. I glanced at his belt, and sure enough, it looked tight. Tighter than it had earlier this evening.
“Can’t you loosen it?” I asked.
He shook his head. “It’s on its last notch.” Isaac’s face was a little proud.
“Oh,” I muttered. My face was probably pink, so I took a sip of water. Isaac laughed a little and placed a big hand on my back.
I was relieved when we left, though I noticed Isaac had been avoiding John all night. I didn’t want to pry, but they were close friends. I wondered if they’d fought again. But Isaac didn’t tell me those sorts of things. The only reason I suspected it was because of my accidental eavesdropping. Maybe Isaac thought knowing he and his friend were arguing over his weight would make me worry unnecessarily.
“How far is Celia’s from here?” Isaac asked once we’d started walking. The March air was brisk, but it felt sort of nice.
“Five blocks,” I said. “Did you eat too much?” It hadn't seemed like it.
Isaac shook his head. “Hardly. It’s this fucking belt. Feel like it’s cutting me in half.”
I pulled us to the side of the walk way.
“What’re you doing?” Isaac asked when I reached for his pants. I said nothing but smiled in a way I hoped was attractive.
Though it wasn��t easy, eventually I was able to unhook the belt and pull it off.
Isaac laughed. “What, I’m supposed to carry that all night now?”
I shook my head. “It won’t fit ever again, right?” I asked. His eyes glazed over a bit, and he shook his head. “Right,” I said, and tossed the belt into a trash bin.
“Ready to go?” I asked innocently. Isaac kissed me hard.
The bar called Celia’s was disgusting. But also very very cool. The floor probably contained diseases unknown to modern medicine, but the atmosphere was so fun and energetic, it hardly even mattered.
“PEACH!!!” I had hardly made it through the threshold, but somehow Sid had already spotted us. I gave Isaac a sympathetic glance and tugged him towards the bar where Sid and our friends were standing.
I could hardly hear over the music, but somehow Sid’s voice still boomed.
“Oh my god, Peach I’ve missed you! You get a boyfriend and all the sudden you’re not free every weekend to hang out. It’s so sad! Oh, and you’re the boyfriend,” Sid shouted, looking from me to Isaac. He wasn’t slurring but he was most definitely drunk.
“That would be me,” Isaac said. He was taller than mostly everyone, and he just seemed to take up so much space in the crowded bar. It was hot, I had to admit.
“Awww, he’s so cute! Guys, look how cute Peach and her boyfriend are,” Sid cooed.
Amy, Ty, and Jinx all mumbled their agreement in their various stages of intoxication.
“How long until Moxie comes on?” I asked Sid.
Sid checked the time on his phone. “Like, two minutes ago!”
We both cackled. These gigs never stayed on schedule.
“Do you want a drink?” Isaac whispered in my ear. His hand hovered protectively over my hip, and I leaned into him.
“Just a coke?” I said.
Sid scoffed. “Our Peach is so responsible. I always try to get her drunk at a bar but she refuses.”
Isaac glanced down at me, amused. I huffed, indignant.
“Who wants to waste $9 on some fancy shot when I could make my own for a fraction of the price. And I could drink it at home where I know I won’t get knapped!”
Sid full on cackled at me.
“You’re the best Peach, oh wow. I love you!” Sid breathed, pulling me in for a sticky hug.
Isaac returned a few minutes later with my coke and a beer for himself.
Jinx leaned over to me and drunk-whispered (meaning everyone in a ten mile radius could probably hear them), “You’re dating like, the hottest bear I’ve ever seen.” The way they said it suggested they were well versed on the subject.
I felt my cheeks turn bright red.
“Shut up, you’re the worst!” They just laughed at me.
“Ohmyygod, everyone stop, here she comes!” Sid said, grabbing anyone he could reach. This happened to include Isaac’s arm.
I shrugged in apology, but Isaac seemed only charmed by it.
The lights on the small stage came on and Moxie was there in all her glory.
She had on a leotard and fishnets, seven inch heels, and a wig big enough to be seen from outer space.
Then a Brittany Spears song came on and Moxie started dancing and lip syncing. She was strutting around the stage like she owned it, and whipping her wig all around. It was so fun to watch. The crowd screamed anytime she looked their way. Sid was the loudest, yelling, “THAT’S MY BABY!” so loud it made me wince.
Moxie ended up doing five songs before introducing the next queen and exiting.
“What’d you think?” I shouted to Isaac. He had to bend over to hear me over the music.
“She slayed,” Isaac said stone-faced.
There was something absolutely hilarious about someone as heterosexual and male as Isaac saying ‘slay’ that it made me absolutely weak in the knees. I nearly fell over laughing.
Moxie came out from backstage to mingle with us after a little while. It was fun seeing Isaac have to look up at Moxie, since her heels gave her a height advantage over someone as tall as Isaac.
“You’re an incredible performer. Um, you have a lot of stage presence,” Isaac was saying.
Moxie absolutely ate it up.
She turned to me, pleadingly.
“Cath, please keep this one? Pretty please?? I like him so much.”
Isaac gave me a smug look, like yes I charmed your friends, of course they love me.
“Wasn’t planning on getting rid of him,” I said, snuggling up under his arm.
A chorus of, “Ahh, look at them, they’re so cute! Babies!!!” followed.
*
“Your friends are way cooler than mine,” Isaac said on the way home. We were huddled in close as we walked to Isaac’s apartment.
I giggled and leaned into his side.
The air was charged when we reached Isaac’s building.
I felt a pull from the pit of my stomach. Isaac seemed to feel it too in the way he was avoiding looking at me. His cheeks were pink but I didn't think it was from the cold.
“Um, do you have a shirt I could borrow?” I asked once I’d gotten my shoes off. Isaac was unbuttoning his collar and it was unreasonably attractive. He nodded and I watched his chin double with the movement.
“You’re gonna swim in it but here,” Isaac said, handing me a t-shirt. I peeled off my clothes and pulled the shirt over my head. It fell to my mid-thigh.
“Thanks.”
A loaded silence followed.
“You tired?” Isaac asked. It was after 2 a.m.
“No.”
Time seemed to be moving very fast, but it also felt a bit like it was moving slow. Like pouring molasses in January, and also like watching a YouTube video at 1.75 speed.
Isaac pulled me flush against him, and his belly pressed against my small torso. He cupped my head in his big hands and tilted his face down towards mine. Our lips touched, like they had many times before.
Nothing about this kiss felt like those though.
Isaac’s tongue invaded my mouth and I couldn’t hold back a tiny whimper.
“Cath…”
I pushed my face against his chest, breathing hard. My face felt like it was on fire.
“Do you…?” Isaac asked.
Now or never, I thought.
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” I said. Isaac pulled me to his room so fast we almost fell over.
*
Sex was different than I’d imagined it. I don’t know what I thought it’d be like. Maybe some kind of childish delusion was coloring my expectations. ‘True love or stars colliding. But the real version was better. It was flesh on flesh, sweaty and hot. It was laughing when your bodies made a weird squelching noise. It was seeing pores and moles and other imperfections.
It made me appreciate that I was physically here. That I was with Isaac carnally and he still wanted me. He wanted me so much we went at it twice before dawn.
We ate leftover Chinese food as the sun came up and it was so perfect. So absolutely astoundingly perfect.
I had the most awful, terrifying thought as I watched the sun shine onto Isaac’s curls. I love him.
It was horrible and gross and awe-inspiring and amazing and disturbing and great. I felt like my chest was full to bursting.
After that, Isaac and I grew closer in a lot of ways. For one, we started having sex a lot. Like four or five times a week. Sometimes more.
For two, Isaac and I got closer emotionally. I learned lots about him as we lay together at night, cuddling naked in the dark.
Isaac’s mom is Catholic and his dad is Jewish. Isaac’s grandma makes the best lemon bars. Isaac doesn't have siblings but his cousin Tyler is basically like a brother to him.
And Isaac learned about me as well. That my sister Ciara is sort of a mess even though she pretends she’s not. That my dad left when I was 7. That my mom is the nicest person in the world and she deserves everything.
That I love Isaac.
His face was awe-struck.
“I love you too, Catherine,” Isaac said. And I had already sort of known that. But it still lit me up inside.
Isaac hit 300 lbs in June.
It was a huge milestone, and he’d worked hard for it, eating loads to try and put on weight faster.
“I think I finally got my metabolism to slow down a bit,” Isaac confessed to me. And it was true that he was gaining faster as of late. He’d had to get new clothes. His build was decidedly top-heavy, with his belly easily being the largest feature. It stuck out in front of him, wide and thick and when he sat, it rested on his thighs. His sides started to acquire rolls where his love handles melted into his sides. His face was puffier, with the most kissable cheeks.
It was endlessly attractive to me.
It seemed like everything was going really well for me. At work, I got a promotion that came with a nice raise. I was happier than I’d ever remembered being.
Maybe I should have figured that it couldn’t last.
*
“Cath, hey! I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately!”
I knew that voice even though I didn’t look up from the bathroom sink where I was washing my hands.
“Hey Layla. Yeah, it’s been a busy few months,” I said, plastering on a smile. When I glanced up, I saw her in the mirror a few sinks down.
“Oh sure, sure!” Layla dried her hands on a paper towel. “I was meaning to ask you, how are things with Isaac?”
I paused, hands still wet. “Good, we’re. We’re good.”
Layla smiled easily. “That’s great. Really, I am happy for you. You know, it was strange when John and I started seeing one another, but I’m so glad you found someone. And John’s best friend no less! Why haven’t we done a double date?”
I felt something twist in my stomach. “I-I don’t know. I suppose you’d have to ask John and Isaac.”
Layla nodded sagely. “Between us, I don’t think they’ve been getting on very well lately.”
I knew this, on some level. Isaac hasn’t been going to the gym with John like he used to. He hadn’t even brought John up in weeks.
“Oh?” I asked because with Layla, playing dumb usually meant getting the scoop.
“Yes, it’s quite sad really. Apparently John was worried about Isaac’s weight. Well, you know, he has gotten rather uh portly. I’m sure you’ve noticed that,” Layla said with a knowing smile. I shot a strained one back at her so she’d continue. “And I know John maybe went about it the wrong way, but he does have a point. It can’t be healthy, gaining so much weight so fast.”
My eyes burned.
“It’s not really John’s business.”
Layla seemed surprised by the surliness of my tone.
“Of course not.” Her tone was placating. I left the bathroom without a goodbye.
All throughout the rest of the work day, I tried putting Layla’s comments out of my mind. She was just saying that to justify John’s judgmental comments.
But there was probably some kind of truth to what she was saying. Isaac was gaining loads of weight in a short amount of time. It was over 100 lbs at this point in about a year. But Isaac was keeping his strength up with weights. He was building muscle too. He was a big guy to begin with, and his frame could carry the extra weight without issue.
I tried to think rationally about it, but my brain, as usual, wanted to sabotage these efforts.
Later, Isaac and I went back to my place. We picked up middle eastern food and I watched Isaac eat two entrees and an impressive amount of pita bread.
I tried not to let it bother me, but I guess it was showing on my face because Isaac asked, “What’s wrong?”
I pushed a piece of shish tawook around my plate.
“Uh, well. Layla said something to me earlier and it’s just… you know how I get,” I said with a self-deprecating smile.
Isaac frowned.
“What did she say? Exactly?” Isaac’s voice was hard. Not angry exactly, but close.
I shrugged a little. “Just, you know. That you’d gained a lot and that it couldn’t be, er healthy.” I glanced down at my lap where my hands were picking at my pants nervously.
“Catherine. Come ‘ere.”
I looked up and Isaac was pushing his seat back from the table and gesturing to his open lap. I couldn’t help but smile as I got up and let him pull me onto his lap.
“You know I’m healthy. I got a clean bill of health at my checkup.”
I nodded because I did know that. I just needed reminding.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
Isaac rubbed my back and I felt better almost immediately. I was like a cat; if I could purr, I probably would be right then.
“So it doesn't matter what Layla says. Because you know that I’m healthy. And we both like how I look now.”
I felt a wash of self-hatred at that moment. I was constantly needing Isaac’s reassurances. He was the one gaining weight. He was the one who’d have to deal with the judgment of others. Not me. And yet her I was, needy and sad after one comment. It was horribly pathetic.
“I’m sorry,” I said into his neck. Isaac sighed.
“Don’t apologize. I sort of like that you care so much about it,” Isaac said, a little lighter.
I smiled despite myself.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You actually give a damn about my health. Some people would probably get off on me eating like a fatass and then run for the hills if I got a health scare. So, yes. I’m glad you’re like this.”
I felt myself grin and I swatted his arm lightly.
“Shut up.”
Isaac’s laugh made his belly shake a little against me and god it felt so nice.
*
Everything fell apart one weekend in July.
“Come on, it’ll still be here on Monday,” Isaac said from the chair beside me. Our office was empty but for us and the custodian.
“The report’s supposed to be in before 8:00 am on Monday,” I whined. I rubbed my eyes freely since I hadn’t even put on makeup. It was horrendous that I’d received the data sheets so late, but some of the higher ups were always putting off their work until the last minute. Meaning I usually ended up staying after hours to get things done. Vienna had offered to help, but since she had plans with her family this weekend, I waved her off. I was sort of regretting it now, though.
Isaac stood slowly. He’d gained another 15 pounds and it showed. His belly jiggled more, his face was rounder, and his arms were feeling flabbier than ever. He put his chunky hands on my shoulders and rubbed a little to ease their tenseness.
“How much more do you think? It’s almost 7.”
I glanced at the report, which was about 80% done, and back at the clock.
“Maybe another hour?” I said. “You don’t have to stay, obviously.”
Isaac smiled like what I’d said was funny. “Okay, how’s this? I’m going to run across the street to that Italian place we like. I’ll get a mountain of takeaway. And by the time I get back, if you’re done with the report, I’ll let you feed it to me.”
I felt my cheeks heat.
“You’re bribing me with feeding sessions now?”
Isaac laughed, a deep, unself-conscious sound. “No, I’m incentivizing you. Do we have a deal or what?”
I glanced at his belly, imagining how swollen it’d look after three huge entree portions.
“Deal.”
Once Isaac had kissed the top of my head and left, I got to work.
I took a deep breath and focused on my report. I tried not to rush myself, because that might cause me to make mistakes, and fixing mistakes would take longer than doing it correctly from the start.
I worked, hyper focused, more intently tuned in on my report than I had been able to be all day, for the next forty minutes.
The custodian told me he was leaving and then asked me to set the alarm on my way out, and then I was alone. I finished the document, attached it to an email and was cc-ing my boss when Isaac walked in. He was carrying three heaping bags full of steaming-hot food, which he put down on a nearby desk with a heavy thunk.
“Done?” he asked with an excited eyebrow raise. I finished typing out the address, looked over the email one last time, and hit send.
Yep!” I leaned back in the office chair, pushing away from my desk and getting enough momentum to send my chain spinning in a lazy circle. I smiled at the ceiling in relief. My body felt boneless, as if the stress was the only thing that had been keeping me together all day.
“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Isaac said suggestively. I caught myself with a hand on my desk to keep my chair in place so I could meet Isaac’s eyes.
“What’d you get?”
Isaac tore the first bag open and started pulling out styrofoam containers.
“Cheese ravioli for Catherine,” he said with a wink. “Mushroom risotto, piselli e guanciale,” Isaac said, absolutely butchering the pronunciation. I laughed at him but he ignored me. “Aaaaaand, veal parmesan.”
I glanced at the last bag, which was unopened. “What’s that?”
“Garlic bread and antipasto salad,” Isaac said. “Where should we start?”
I squirmed in my seat. I was actually quite hungry, since it was 8 p.m. and I hadn’t eaten since lunch. I figured I should eat my food before I got carried away with feeding Isaac. And salad was a bit hard to feed another person. I didn’t want to get lettuce and cheese and salami all over the place.
“Eat the antipasto first while I eat my ravioli,” I said.
Isaac smirked. “Aye aye, captain.”
It was a little weird to be sitting in an empty office building on a Friday night. It was one of those places where nothing seemed real. Most of the lights were off, just the blue glow of the computer homescreens and the security lights near the door gave the room an odd aura of timelessness.
While we got started on eating, it was quiet to the point of awkwardness with TV playing in the background like we’d normally have on at one of our apartments, and so I put some music on my phone for some ambience. I inhaled my ravioli with single-minded focus, and ate a piece of garlic bread to sop up the sauce leftover. Isaac seemed as hungry as me, as he’d nearly finished his entire salad by the time I ate my food.
“What do you want next?” I asked, standing up and stretching a bit. My back was sore from hunching over in my desk chair all day.
“Hmm,” Isaac considered, glancing at the spread of containers littered all over the available desk space in my cubicle. “Risotto. It won’t be good if it gets cold.”
I nodded and got it opened. Isaac was scooping the last of the antipasto into his mouth and I waited until he’d finished before taking the empty container and tossing it in the trash.
Then I started to climb into Isaac’s lap. It was a tight fit, since his love handles were brushing the armrests of the chair, but I shoved my knees in and settled myself over him.
“This feels scandalous,” Isaac said with a playful smile. I shrugged. Our office security cameras were only faced towards the doors, and rarely did they even get checked.
“It’s sorta hot though, right? Me feeding you at work?”
Isaac nodded and opened his mouth when I held up a forkful of risotto. His hands were on my hips, not doing anything suggestive, just resting there, but for some reason the feeling of being caged in by his hands had me blushing.
He ate the risotto quickly, and I patted his tummy, which was getting a bit bloated, as he finished off the last of it.
“How old is this shirt?” I asked, teasing at the buttons which looked a bit strained. Not indecent, but they were pulled tight enough across his gut that the fabric between was puckered.
“Uh, about two months?”
Isaac was blushing now.
“I like it,” I said. “Veal next?”
Isaac nodded and so I stood to grab the next container. Thankfully the meat was cut. It would have been hard to slice with plastic cutlery.
“Getting full?” I asked when this entree was about halfway done.
Isaac hummed, chewed, and swallowed. “Yeah. I still have room though, don’t worry.”
He did have room. He ate the rest of the veal and then had a break where he ate some bread and drank water. Then he decided he was ready for the pasta.
The peas and the pancetta in the piselli e guanciale were a little cold, but Isaac didn’t seem to mind. I forked up heaping mouthfuls and Isaac ate them dutifully.
He was really getting stuffed by the end, but he still had a solid ¼ of the meal left. He was making those adorable little grunts and moans that indicated his stuffed state. I put the container down to rub his sore belly.
“That feels amazing, Catherine,” Isaac murmured. I kissed the top shelf of his belly over his shirt. It was bloated and thick-looking. He’d indulged a lot in the last hour.
“More?”
Isaac took a deep breath and nodded.
I fed him a little more, but then he begged for a break.
“Fuck, I’m… shit I’m so full,” Isaac grunted. His belly was looking huge, and god I loved it.
“Just a little more. Come on, you can do it,” I said. Isaac opened his mouth. “That’s it, eat a little more. You know you want it,” I teased, knowing Isaac did want it. He loved to push past his limits. I was getting turned on, which was loosening my tongue a bit. “Yeah, eat more. I know you can. I know you want it. Just two more bites.”
“So full,” Isaac moaned.
I pushed another forkful into his mouth.
“Good, you’re doing so good. One more and then you’ll be done.”
Isaac opened his mouth again for me, and as I was putting the fork past his lips, I heard a smacking sound that nearly had me falling off of his lap in surprise.
Standing in the doorway was Layla.
I had no idea how long she’d been standing there. My music was still playing, and I’d been so focused on feeding Isaac and talking him through his fullness that I hadn’t heard her come in.
I was mortified.
It was so obvious what we’d been doing. I was sitting in Isaac’s lap, where he looked absolutely stuffed. We were surrounded by empty food containers. If she’d heard what I’d just been saying….
“Oh my god,” I mumbled. I wanted to sink through the floor.
“Layla, wha-what are you doing here?” Isaac asked. His chubby cheeks were bright red, and he was still out of breath from fullness. Belatedly I realized I should be getting up off his lap. This was unprofessional enough as it was.
“I left my planner here earlier, I just stopped by to grab it,” I saw the planner at her feet which she must have dropped, which explained the smack sound I’d heard, “but Cath, what the–what were you… I thought he was on a diet.” Layla said, her nasally voice accusatory. I felt sick just hearing her tone. “Isaac, you’re letting her do—-whatever this is—to you?”
Isaac took my hand in his. “I wanted her to.” His voice left little room for disagreement.
Layla sputtered. “Catherine, you are enabling his binge eating disorder! Don’t you realize that! I thought you of all people would care about his health.”
I instantly felt nauseous as her words took root.
This was what normal people thought of what we’d been doing. I’d let Isaac lull me into thinking this was normal when it clearly wasn’t. It wasn’t just strange, it was disordered. Layla had just said it was. And how hadn’t I seen it sooner? Isaac wanted to eat as much as he could in one sitting because it scratched some type of itch inside of him? Because he felt compelled to binge?
And I had been enabling it.
“Catherine, don’t listen to her,” Isaac was saying, but blood was rushing in my ears. I was going to throw up. This was all of my worst fears. Being caught, being outed as a freak, putting someone I loved in danger because of my weird fetish. I wasn’t putting his health first like I’d been trying to do. I was getting off on his messed up eating habits.
I pushed off of Isaac’s lap. He tried to hold onto me, but I didn’t let him. He was too full to get up after me anyway, and that made me feel even more sick.
I grabbed my purse and booked it past Layla, who was talking to me, but I tuned her out. I got on the elevator, shaking and numb all over.
I made it to my apartment like a zombie, and I collapsed on my bed in my clothes. Only then did I let myself cry.
*
CHRIS: have u talked to isaac yet??
I glanced at my phone from my spot on my bed, burrowed into the blankets like a burrito, before locking my phone and putting my comforter over my head like a dramatic 12 year old.
I had called Christ last night after I’d cried out my embarrassment, my panic. And it’d been, well… an awkward conversation to say the least.
Chris had been worried (obviously) as I’d called him crying, so I started trying and failing to explain what Layla had interrupted without mentioning the feeding situation.
But well. It made no sense. We weren’t having sex in the office, or anything like that. Really, there was no reason for it to have been a big deal. So what I got caught sitting on my boyfriend’s lap? It was awkward, sure, but there was no reason for my reaction if I didn’t explain the–the food stuff. The health stuff. My anxiety stuff.
And so with my censoring, Chris was totally lost.
But this was, well, Chris. My best friend, the most accepting non-judgmental person I knew. If I couldn’t tell Chris about my preferences, I couldn’t tell anyone.
So after a few minutes of his voice in my ear calming me down, I had to bite the bullet and explain, yeah so remember how I never used to like anyone? It’s because I only like fat people. Fat guys, actually. Which Isaac is one. In case you hadn’t realized. Um. Oh and that awkward encounter Layla walked in on? I was actually just sitting on his lap feeding him Italian food. Because I’m a freak. And my insane brain was already on the cusp of breaking down at any given moment over the fact that Isaac could possibly be sick, or hurt, or… or something. And so when Layla insinuated that I was enabling an eating disorder I.. well. I believed her.
Chris had been quiet while brokenly explained that Isaac liked eating and getting fatter and I liked watching it happen.
Chris was silent for a moment but he accepted the information without any fuss, which I appreciated.
That was last night. His reassurances no longer had much effect.
And so now, those dark thoughts had time to grow and festered over the course of a day.
I was even more reluctant to reach out to Isaac today seeing as he hadn’t even attempted to call me. Obviously it wasn’t his responsibility. I was the one who’d ran off and left him there. And the guilt was eating at me a bit, to be honest. But still. I was used to Isaac constantly wanting to comfort me. Coddle me. And now that he… wasn’t, I found myself unable to cope.
So I continued to ignore Chris’ message and wallowed in self-pity some more until I heard a knock on my apartment door in the early evening.
I had migrated to the couch with a cup of tea by then, but I still looked like a mess. My face was blotchy from crying, and I hadn’t showered. My pajamas were oversized and worn in. Surely my hair was a mess as well, but.
I stood up and looked out my peephole anyway. Part of me had expected Chris to come do a wellness check before he left for the club that night, but a secret, smaller part thought maybe Isaac would be there.
But when I looked out into the hallway, it was neither of them.
John stood outside my door, awkwardly shifting his weight and fiddling with his wrist watch.
I yanked the door open.
“John?”
John looked startled.
“Catherine. Hi, um, I was hoping I could speak with you,” John said. I kept my body in front of my partially-open door.
I frowned. “Why?” I asked.
John scratched the back of his neck.
“Look, I… I talked to Isaac. And Layla, and I just. I know this situation is fucked and I know you might not be wanting company right now but,” John left the sentence unfinished, but turned a more pleading expression at me.
I swallowed heavily. John fidgeted under my stare for a moment.
“Um. Okay, come in,” I said, sliding out of the way so he could come inside. Luckily my neat-freak tendencies had kept my apartment from looking too rough. Aside from the pile of blankets on the couch, my place looked the same as it normally would.
I was the only thing that looked like a mess.
I sat down in my blanket nest and John took a seat in the chair.
“So.” I kicked my leg absent-mindedly. “Why are you…?”
“Here?” John guessed. I guested in confirmation, only feeling a little rude to be asking. He took a deep breath. “Catherine, I came here because I needed to say, well. I know we went on a date. And you weren’t into it.” His smile was self-deprecating. I started to protest but he didn’t let me. Which was fine, it’s fine. But surely I ignored some red flags when Layla asked me out directly after setting me up with you, her supposed friend. I mean, at the time I didn’t know she was like…” John searched for a word. “Like that.”
I nodded because I did know that Layla was in fact ‘like that’.
“And when Isaac asked me how I would feel if he started pursuing you, I was honestly skeptical. I thought.. I thought you’d go out with him once and never again. Like you had with me.” John smiled wistfully. “But when you kept seeing each other, I was happy for him. Truly.”
I felt myself blushing for some reason.
“Are you and Layla, um, broken up?” I asked tentatively.
John nodded, scratched at his thighs nervously. “I broke it off with her after I spoke with Isaac, but it. It was a long time coming,” he explained.
“Oh,” I said dumbly.
“But, Catherine, I’m not here to talk about my breakup. I,” he scrubbed his face with one hand. “I wanted to talk to you because I think you need to hear this from someone who isn’t Isaac.”
His words made my eyes snap to his. He was stiff, serious, but clearly sincere.
John took a breath. “Isaac told me a while ago that he wanted to, erm, to gain weight,” John said.
I instantly regretted having this conversation. My stomach twisted uncomfortably.
“And I didn’t understand. Still don’t really. But it doesn’t matter. Because it’s his life, it’s his choice how he wants to live it. And that misunderstanding, my lack of acceptance, put a wedge between us. I hardly saw Issac this past year. And you’ve got to know, Catherine. I love Isaac. He’s one of my closest friends. To not have him in my life was. It was awful,” John said. “And so when Isaac called me last night, I.” John paused. I found myself staring at my hands in my lap. His voice was raw, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable. But I continued listening. “He called me and told me what happened. And then I heard the same story from Layla. And you want to know something, Catherine?”
I reluctantly met his gaze.
“Isaac told me that he’d screwed things up with you. Because he wanted to protect you from getting hurt. And he thought he’d failed at that. He was beating himself up about it.” John scoffed. “Isaac is one of a kind, isn’t he? You want to know what he didn’t tell me, but Layla did?”
I didn’t really, but I figured John wouldn’t have come all the way to my apartment for no reason, so I nodded anyway.
“She said that after you left, Isaac kept eating, shoving all the remaining food in his mouth like it was some act of defiance,” John said. He smiled fondly. “Isaac wanted her to know that it wasn’t you forcing him to do anything. Because you weren’t. You might already know that, but in case you need reminding, Isaac wanted to get fat with or without you. And I honestly don’t understand it. But it makes him happy, so,” John shrugged. “Isaac thinks he f**ked this up between you two, but Catherine… It’s no one’s fault. Maybe Layla’s for opening her big mouth but.”
I swallowed heavily.
“Thank you for, for saying all that,” I said.
John nodded. It was odd, how one conversation, one honest conversation with John, could make me understand why he and Isaac were friends. John was considered, reserved, but ultimately he cared about things. Cared enough to come all the way to my place just to make sure I wasn’t going to spiral so hard that I’d hurt Isaac forreal.
That was a good friend.
*
Isaac opened the door slowly. His t-shirt was ill-fitting, clinging to his tubby belly in a way that made me want to reach out and feel that supple flesh between my fingers. His brown curls were a mess, like he’d been running his hands through them, or maybe he’d just recently lost a pillow fight.
His eyes widened when he saw me standing in the hallway.
“Catherine?” he mumbled, surprised.
“Hi. Can I come in?” I asked. After John had left I showered and put on some real clothes, still comfortable ones, but an outfit that was suitable for outdoor wear.
Isaac stepped aside so I could walk in. His apartment was a mess, but I wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t as neat as me anyway.
We stood there in the foyer staring at each other for a few seconds. Isaac bit his lip, so I opened my mouth to speak.
“I’m sorry. For running away,” I said.
Isaac frowned. “No, no it’s, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Isaac said. I smiled but shook my head slowly.
“It is. I’ve realized just how much you’ve done to-to help me. With my issues. You’re, god, you’re freakishly accommodating,” I said, smiling humorlessly. “It’s like, you’re perfect. For me, at least.”
Isaac’s eyes were very wide.
“Do you know why I don’t like when people touch me?” I asked.
Isaac shook his head.
“I avoid being touched because I’m scared of being a real person. I’m always so scared that if someone touches me with-with any kind of tenderness, then I’ll simply fall apart. I-I spend so much time trying to hold myself together that I always knew that if I ever let anyone in, that I would crumble. I’m not, I’m not good at this, Isaac. I’m,” I put the heel of my hands into my eyes. “I’m terrible at being in a relationship because I never let myself be vulnerable with anyone before. Not my family, not my friends, not. Not anyone. Until you.”
I pulled my hands away to glance up at Isaac. He was staring at me like he’d never seen me before.
“Catherine, can I…?” Isaac’s hands were hovering, like they wanted to pull me in for a hug, but he waited until I nodded before he did.
Being hugged by him was. It was.
I felt so safe.
“You’re not bad at being in a relationship,” Isaac mumbled into my hair. “Whoever told you that is stupid. You’re, god, you’re everything to me,” Isaac said.
I felt my eyes welling up with tears.
“I think I should go to therapy,” I whispered. It was a thought that I’d avoided for years. I was scared of anyone ever getting close enough to know me. I didn’t like thinking about myself, my childhood. I actively pretended that I was normal, that I was fine when I clearly was not.
“Whatever you want,” Isaac said.
Epilogue: Three months later
“Mom, you’ll see me for Thanksgiving….Yes, I’m bringing Isaac….I know….I love you too…. Oka, bye.”
I hung up and sighed.
“How’re things back home?” Isaac asked from the kitchen. He was making a bowl of cereal even though he’d had lunch only an hour ago. His appetite was impressive, and as of yesterday, he was tipping the scales at 356 lbs.
“Fine. My family is just. They’re a little too excited to meet you,” I said exasperatedly.
“Well I’m excited to meet them too. Especially the famous mee-maw,” Isaac teased. I rolled my eyes.
Isaac and I were planning to move in together after Isaac’s lease ended, but he practically lived here already.
I watched Isaac devour his cereal and pour himself a second bowl.
“You’re gonna spoil dinner,” I complained, knowing that it was not possible. We were going to a new restaurant tonight with John and his new girlfriend Grace. Isaac was bound to be ravenous by then even if he ate the whole box.
A few months ago I might’ve worried about the amount of sugar Isaac was eating, but after starting therapy and being prescribed antidepressants, my cycle of worrying was less intense. That’s not to say that it didn’t happen. But well. It was more manageable. It helped that Isaac was willing to get checkups frequently, and he’d resumed going to the gym to keep up his health while he gained.
I stared at Isaac as he ate. He really was so handsome. With those shiny brown curls, those dimples when he smiled, his chubby cheeks and double chin…
“See something you like?” Isaac asked when he noticed my staring.
“Maybe,” I said with a grin.
The end
#weight gain story#weight gain fiction#bhm fiction#male wight gain story#bhm/ffa story#chubby kink#belly kink#my writing#naivemlnd#maybe it's you#feedism story
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
Aesthetic Indian Indie Music deserves so much more love! 🫶🏻
- By Preetika Mehta
In the past few years, I’ve noticed this tread of ‘aesthetic’ music playlists making rounds across social media platforms, particularly Instagram and Youtube. And I absolutely love the concept, the idea of music curated for specific vibes and moods is a wonderful thing, especially for someone like me who has music playing all day. Having playlists that match your mood or vibe makes your environment so much more in tune with yourself and creates a better headspace to live in. It’s like background music in the story of your life.
But one thing that slightly disappointed me was the lack of Indian songs curated into these indie aesthetic playlists, even ones curated by Indian people. I don’t mean to say that there are none, Advait is one such artist and curator who has created some amazing Indian artist based playlists and wonderful edits and remixes. I highly recommend checking out his Youtube page, you’ll have a really good time.
But that doesn’t negate the serious lack of appreciation many indie artists and songs get. So, this is my small initiative to start appreciating them more and sharing them with you all as well. I’d also like to talk about the songs on the playlist and highlight stuff that makes the songs so beautiful and deserving of more attention.
List of 10 Indian Indie Songs that will give you serene vibes 🎶
Main Aur Tum By Rono
This song is a beautiful acoustic track with amazing lyrics that’ll instantly touch your heart. Rono has penned down words and emotions that every individual has felt and turned it into the perfect track to just sit with and feel. This is one of my go-to tracks on lonely nights when I miss people I’ve lost connection with. It’s a beautiful introspective melancholy that you sit with.
Tu Jo Kahe by Udbhav & Vedang
If you’re looking for a song that you can just vibe with and play on nights you silently drive on empty roads or just while staring out of your window. The production itself is very interesting, a fusion of modern beats with a traditional tabla. This is a song perfect to simply create a very chill vibe while you take a pause from life.
Ab Jo Mai Hoon by Jaynt
This one is sadly a shorter track that highlights the perspective of who you are in simplistic lyricism and catchy beats and beautiful guitar melody. It’s a track that is perfect for long drives leading to nowhere and moments where you just want to spend some peace and quiet with yourself.
Khayal by Hasan Raheem, Abdullah Kasumbi
Now this track is one that brings in a very expected vibe that one would think of when they think of RnB chill music. The song does have really good lyrics too, for those who are looking for more in a song that just the musicality of it. This song is one I’d recommend to people who prefer RnB and lo-fi beats to play in the background.
Fitoor by Karun
This track too is a blend of strings and RnB productions that is still pretty simplistic to highlight the vocals and rap of Karun. I generally prefer playing this on quiet drives and as a background for when I’m working on something. It’s one you’ll probably like if you liked Khayal or Tu Jo Kahe.
Kya Tum Naraaz Ho? By Tanmaya Bhatnagar
With a very raw quality using just an acoustic guitar in its production, this song is just sad. The lyrics are an apology for hurting someone, asking them to let it go, and promising to be better. Tanmaya’s voice is beautifully haunting and makes sadness simmer in your soul.
Parinde by Ratnang Singh
This one is a more positive and optimistic track, an almost wistful longing for your dreams. The song really is very beautiful and perfect for dreamers who look forward to their future. I prefer this song on happier and more optimistic days and peace that comes with loved friends around.
Tum ho Yahaan by Abhilasha Sinha
This is probably one of the most upbeat songs in this playlist with a more complex production using many instruments. Abhilasha’s voice is so melodic and something you’d expect to hear in the mainstream, with a slightly more pop sound. This song makes her voice stand out so beautifully that you can’t help but appreciate it. While most of the other songs I prefer in quieter nights, this is one I play on happier mornings.
Pehlu by Yoshi & Tarun
Another upbeat track that one would expect to hear in the mainstream, this song brings in beautiful vocals along with a really cool rap verse. A friend of mine describes the vibe this song brings as similar to that of memba, which I can’t deny. The song puts you in a happier mood and is also perfect for sunny days where there is optimism and hope in your heart
Khush To Hai Na by Osho Jain
This is once again a song for the lonely heart but with a very bright and optimistic ukulele instrumental. The production is very minimal and entirely acoustic with Osho’s beautiful voice in the spotlight. The song itself talks of missing someone and hoping that wherever they are, they are happy. Which makes the sadness have a positive glimmer of hope and acceptance. I love the feeling that the song communicates, it brings some happiness to the loneliness.
I hope this little playlist brings you a song or artist you fall in love with and that these artists get more recognition for their wonderful work. Do let me know if you found your sound among these songs or if you have some similar ones you’d like to recommend.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
24th July 2013
Dear Pete.
Harry Day. Of course in the real world it is more commonly referred to as 'Wednesday'. Given that therapy is stressful, I gave myself permission to take a long lunch and try to alleviate some of that tension before willingly attending an appointment that would involve being forced to talk about my deepest, darkest secrets.
Telling myself that starting tomorrow I will eat healthy and save money, I had just devoured four plates of chicken sushi and then squeezed into a brand new dress purchased specifically for dinner with The Czech, when I rounded a corner outside Ellie's Boutique and literally crashed into PT Patrick. He was standing there, muscles rippling, skin deeply tanned, and grinning from ear-to- ear with the knowledge that he is insanely good-looking. Dripping off his arm was a tiny blonde probably half my age. Well, maybe not half as that would make her jailbait, but she definitely had more of a Hannah Montana childhood than Mickey Mouse Club.
Stumbling over my words and generally making a fool of myself, he introduced her as Catie.
"It's with a 'C', you know, my parents are hippies," she giggled and rolled her eyes in a manner that plain confused me.
"Oh!" I say with an enthusiastic nod even though I seriously have no idea what the fuck she is going on about.
Looking me up and down - I'm wearing skinny jeans and awesome boots so he can bite me - he asks, "So, you on your own?"
Cheeks burning bright red at what he's insinuating, I look down only to notice that I managed to spill rice from my sushi on the front of my shirt.
Awesome.
It's okay though. I'm breathing. It's only a few grains. It's not the end of the world. A few grains in no way suggests that the world has been falling apart since he sent that early morning, soul- destroying text message on my birthday. Then Catie (The 'c' seems fitting...) looks at the Ellie's Boutique bag in my hand.
"Did you get something good? They never have anything that fits me! Such a shame." She looks at me with these big, dopey eyes; like a slobbering Doberman waiting for a pat on the head. So gentle and genuine is her manner, I actually feel guilty about wanting to slap her and even feel obligated to apologise for the store's lack of clothing designed to fit toothpicks, as if this flaw in their supply and demand calculations is somehow single- handedly my fault.
What the hell!
Wanting to avoid further awkwardness, I excuse myself, turn, and promptly walk into a pole. Honestly Pete, if I put this stuff up on my blog no one would believe me. This is my life. My. Life.
Patrick rushes to my aide. Taking my arm and leading me to a bench, he proceeds to tell me how worried he's been about me as he can tell I am obviously not taking our break-up well. Given that I'm wearing food and a welt is quickly swelling to life on my forehead, the futility of arguing is tragically apparent. To further add to my embarrassment, he pulls me in tight for a hug, pats my head and tells me, "Just hang in there, little Liv. Your man is out there."
My head is spinning. There's a thumping starting in my brain making everything fuzzy. A damp sensation tickles at my forehead where I smacked the pole. Oh no. I've split my previous head wound open and blood is trickling down my face from my thunderous impact with the pole. Patrick takes his shirt off and uses it to wipe the blood. His perfect abs are within touching distance and I am reminded why I stopped eating for three whole weeks at one point while we dated.
Do not touch the abs, Olivia. Do. Not. Touch.
Bobble-head Catie is smiling at me sympathetically because compared to her I am old, fat, and uncoordinated. She's seemingly finding it amusing that her new boyfriend is forced to comfort me, and I suspect she was also incredibly impressed with the fact that I just rendered myself out of contention for potentially winning his heart back.
Would it kill her to act just a teensy bit threatened by me though?!
It’s important to remember at times like this though that she knows more about my relationship with Patrick than what I do. That’s the role of the girl who comes after you, isn’t it? She heals him and hears about everything you did wrong - all that stuff he never had the balls to tell you - and you are left standing there looking like a heartless wench who tore his soul apart. The worst part of that is that if he had actually had the decency to be honest with you about where the relationship was at, you may have been able to salvage it. Instead they find another girl to tell their tale of woe to, and it’s not until the two of them break-up that she realises nothing at all has changed between the way he treated you and the way he treated her, and maybe his complaints were less based on you being the Queen of Hell than on his inability to communicate.
To make matters worse, later told Harry of the incident and he near wet himself laughing. This is my therapist. This is the man I am paying a small fortune to help me get my life back in order. Not entirely sure that his reaction to the world falling apart is one that justifies the handing over of my credit card every week and getting myself further into debt. I'd rather have new Nike Frees. Or a root canal. The tears running down his cheeks were just unnecessary.
Ten minutes later, once Harry had regained his composure, we talked about the date/non-date with The Czech. He seemed perplexed as to how I knew The Czech wasn't interested in me. Told him about the text message and the lack of physical contact at the end of the date but he remained unconvinced.
Recounted all this to Christopher in the hope that he would offer words of comfort.
"That is classic! Tell me again," he said from the living room where he was doubled-over with laughter.
"Thanks. As always your support is appreciated." It is never a good idea to chop vegetables with a large knife whilst angry but I was doing it anyway.
"No, really. Start again at the part where he gives you a pat on the head and act it out."
"I'm ignoring you because you are a jerk."
When he finally regained his composure and wiped the last of the tears away, he made a weak attempt at being supportive. "You know, maybe Harry isn't the best therapist. Maybe you should think about seeing someone else?"
That was the closest to sympathy that I knew I was going to get and was also when The Czech messaged to ask about dinner on Thursday night and whether I might be interested. He even joked that it would be okay if I wanted to do my hair this time.
Back to Harry. He was very impressed that I have stuck to the letter writing (Ha! Take that high school guidance counsellor who said I'd never amount to anything). He asked about the content and seemed less impressed with how "superficial" it seems. I questioned what he meant by that but he was reluctant to elaborate. Suggested I keep it up and see if over time more layered conversations come out. I did point out to him that it is very difficult to have a conversation with a pen and a piece of paper. Conversations by definition are two-sided (and just like that my student debt justifies itself).
Honestly, Pete. When you get home I am never paying for another therapy session again. Just because you are a therapist yourself does not mean that you know what you're talking about when it comes to me needing assistance to sort through my problems.
Harry was also unimpressed at Buffy having a girl name. I'm learning to live with small-minded people judging my dog and I vow to love him all the same, as long as he eventually stops eating my shoes. Particularly those ones that I had been planning to wear with the new dress to dinner with The Czech.
Oh, made the mistake of mentioning the gym experience at work and now Miranda is insisting that I write an article on it for "our fitter readers!" She is so excited that I'm lost as to how to tell her that she is insane. Why would I want to put in print and basically advertise that my ability to walk has been compromised by a so- called snatch. As if there aren't enough vile rumours floating around about single women my age.
Gotta go. Have a dog to kill.
Liv x
0 notes
Note
Taking my BL hat off for this question and putting my corporate one on. Please indulge me for a moment! I know it’s a niche question.
Before I ask, this is not a complaint about Viki- I’m not privy to their strategy, so can’t really comment. But… I’ve noticed they have at least three different translation models on at the moment. Semantic Error is coming out later in the day, but at 100%, You’re My Sky is getting close to 100% quickly, while others are taking days and days (I see you First Love, again). Now it could be different priorities and different sub teams, but the optimistic part of me hopes that it’s A/B testing and they are modelling the impact of different ways. It appears to really impact the buzz around each show. I promise there is a question here- this has got me thinking about the different distribution models- not just Viki but across the different production and distribution companies. What kind of an impact do you think the different kinds of distribution has in the success of a series (and how do they even define that) and why do they distribute a series knowing their model has a direct impact on less viewers? Why do they take so long to release subs (and not at all internationally for some series) knowing that a series without quick subs will be either ignored or people will turn to grey and illegal sites? Surely maximising their customer base would be a goal.
Viki’s Strategy on Subbing
Honestly, I don’t think there is one.
Your speculation is interesting, and it's kinda sweet that you think they are that organized and intentional, but I get the impression it’s a chaotic mess over there. Crowd sourcing will do that to a platform.
Someone commented on one of my older posts about how Viki sub teams worked. I don't know if they are still around and following me but *waves* perhaps they will weigh in again?
Thai dramas often get early subs because they are acquired with subs in place. Or, the Thai teams at Viki are very fast and efficient. Or they just have less to do (Viki doesn't actually have much Thai stuff compared to other languages.)
Sub-Team efficiency depends on the usual: how good is the top down coordination + how enthusiastic are the volunteers + when did they get the original assets. Also flow throttle, is there a bottleneck at some stage in the process because it requires one specific member? (Like final stage uploading.)
There’s certainly no split testing. Can you imagine them being that good? Oh what a glorious world...
I don't think Rakuten even knows the meaning of the term. I've never seen them roll out an AB on any of their platforms, even the really massive ones.
Viki is pretty small for them. Not as tiny as Kobo. But nothing on their mobile, banking, or e-commerce subsids. I've actually been to one of those massive Rakuten corporate events and I think Viki had 3 reps there? Tiny.
Okay, maybe Rakutan Insight has done some split testing, but they mostly operates in survey data, and not the roll out testing sphere.
Frankly every direct sale business should have a bucket testing strategy, but I've yet to onboard with a company to find one in place. (I think the exceptions to this would be Amazon, Google, and TikTok. And I think they are running them on us constantly. To great effect.)
Honestly, one of the blessings of my job is realizing how much more manipulative big corps could be with stats and data but just aren't because of a basic failure to understand how these things work to their advantage. Plus (of course) a profound unwillingness to implement a strategy that requires more work now for less work later.
(This is the primary basic requirement of AB testing - produce 2 of something to decide which one is better in the future. Keep doing this until you understand the pattern and have enough data to aggregate. Then use that data to stop producing everything comparable that does not have draw.)
It's my job, so I tell them to do this all the time.
But I promise: they pay me well to then completely ignore me.
This should come as a great comfort.
42 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello, this is the first time I’ve come here and I’d like, if possible, you could place my order, I don’t remember if I already placed that ask or something, so if yes, sorry to bother you...
I can order something with Yandere! Vampire with a Vampire Slayer! Reader, please...
Welcome in!
Well yes boo, you did make a very similar request, and I'm sorry if it took me like a long time to answer you (at least to me it feels like a whole month has passed, time has been so slow and so fast somehow-) it's just that I'm dealing with a lot of stuff outside of Tumblr and although I try to not think about it, it does affect my performance in writing. Also you're not bothering me at all boo!
Also I just realized something, normally when I write I put really mean remarks about the reader but it's not supposed to be taken seriously by you guys, as it's mostly either an look into the perspective of the ocs (normally the bullies who are very mean and cruel-) or even an exaggeration on the reader's current mind state (if the reader feels dumb about a certain action they have chosen, I try to make them sound very exaggerated since I don't want any of you to take it personally, y'all are beautiful okay? Don't worry about the snarky comments and rude remarks that I may write).
I'll try to make it more obvious that it's mostly a character's exaggerated perspective next time, or maybe put trigger warnings about degrading language/mean comments.
TW/Tags: mentions of addiction (to blood) // male x male // male reader // vampy vamp // monster(vampire) x (human)reader // mentions of death // unofficial OC/just a random character I decided to create for this specific piece // captivity/kidnaping // mentions of torture/infliction of pain // mind control/gaslighting/manipulation and stockholm syndrome // being drugged/poisoned // kinda sadistic but not so much so cause I like giving y'all some softness.
🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭
True love is found in small bites [Yandere!M!Vampire x M!Vampire Hunter!Reader - Headcanon]:
Who doesn't like a little one on one with an immortal creature in a fight filled with sexual tension? Who wouldn't want to prove their worth to their dad who is a lonely vampire hunter?
Your dad had hunted vampires all by himself for years now and he won't stop until the day he drops dead, or at least that's what he told you.
He taught you everything that you needed to know, and honestly- You probably know a lot more than some of the guys who are paid to do this every month, Hell, your dad hunts them basically every week! That's kinda the reason why he won't accompany you this time, too busy dealing with vampires in a neighboring village, some rumours of some high profiled vampires coming into your hometown… He was very concerned for your safety before deciding that whenever these rumours were true or not, he needed to check them for himself regardless.
You decided to go on a hunt on your own, hunt one down and prove to your man that you'll do just fine all by yourself.
However, you have the knowledge from the books you read and from what your father taught you, but you don't have personal experiences in fighting vampires. So that's why you're finally going to take down a vampire all by yourself.
It took you some time to find the right target, but after hearing complaints about some odd things happening in the less wealthy part of town, you thought you had a pretty clear picture of what happened. You thought that maybe some vampires have been attacking the poorest people in town to not cause a bigger panic in the population, and sadly enough, you were right.
Apparently the vampirism started to spread uncontrollably as the newly transformed vampires weren't accustomed with the new malevolent power. Some would get addicted to blood and to the power they hold against humans, and start to bite more than what they can chew on.
You found someone who was acting suspiciously, a commoner who was acting more aggressively towards his neighbors and family, he had created a lot of enemies in only a couple of days after being transformed, as he was now acting like "royalty" surrounded by peasants. The poor bastard was out of his mind, and sadly you needed to take care of him before he would hurt more people.
The work of a vampire slayer (or at least, one who works on their own accord) isn't as glamorous or "pleasant" as most may think, it involves you constantly questioning yourself and your morals, the guy you're hunting has a family but from what you heard and from what you have seen as you observed him from afar- He is clearly gone, consumed by the addiction of human blood, he would end up hurting his own family if you didn't intervene.
You had to stalk him for basically the whole day, collecting information and waiting for a good opportunity to strike him- Sadly enough, you didn't know that someone else was also interested in killing him.
It was pretty quick now that you think about it- You were about to tackle him when someone else got to do it before you. You didn't know about vampire society's inner relationships but you are aware that there is some form of hierarchy, and that those who were transformed into vampires were considered to be closer to the bottom than those who were born into it. The bottom of their social structure being those who they could all feed on, so in other words humans.
As you have already prepared yourself to attack the blood addictic, this guy who seemed to have come out of nowhere has already noticed that he wasn't alone, you wouldn't be able to hide yourself at this point and running wouldn't be an option considering how fast he moved.
The only option was left was to fight this vampire who was clearly way too powerful for your newbie ass. It was a pretty tough fight, and even if you have lost- You did manage to prove that you weren't just a random human who found themselves in the wrong place, in the wrong time.
You were very well prepared- Idris was pretty impressed by your resistance, but from his eyes, you were lacking a lot in the intelligence department. You were a good brawler, but not a decent vampire slayer by far- He would question you about your level of skill constantly, even mocking the idea of you being an "newbie" at this job.
Idris had won in the end, making you his prisoner who he would bring back to his clan to be used as an easy food source while also giving them info about other vampire slayers. Of course you wouldn't give them anything, no matter how bad your situation was you would still fight to the very end.
Idris had used one of his abilities to bring you two to his clan's hideout in a blink of an eye, you weren't expecting it to be so quick. You were tied up and inside an "abandoned" mansion filled with vampires, you were sure you wouldn't survive this at all- Yet you had promised yourself to not give them any information about other vampires slayers, especially your father.
You have met them, all of them- All of the Nox clan of pure vampires (or at least the last of them), in one single place. They were all so eager to jump in and start the "fun" with you. To torture you, drink from you, control your mind so you would spill all that you know, they tried to but you wouldn't stop squirming and fighting their touch- However, your attitude has only helped to aggravate them.
Idris was in charge of taking care of you- And by that they meant he was the one who would be screwing with you the most. He would keep you alive with your bare necessities but would also be the one to punish and torture you to speak up.
Interestingly enough, Idris wasn't interested in violently taking the truth out of you- Oh no, boo- He was much more sadistic than that.
He saw you as a plaything, like a cat he would see you as something he should toy with before devouring- He would try to push you to your limits verbally, trying to trigger some sort of wound you may have. You were stronger than he assumed, he should have known you weren't so dumb to give in to his insults and threats.
He would still bite you though, hey, a man needs some blood before continuing his private interrogation, right? It's not his fault you're both his snack and the one being interrogated.
You were strong minded, you weren't feeling too awful about being taken as a prisoner, since you felt as if deep down you could still escape this- So the effects of the poison that he would inject on you weren't showing up at first, but after sometime of being under this terrible living condition with only him to talk with, you started to feel some type of weird way around him.
It could be the poison finally taking over, but you have started to notice some… Particular choices that Idris took when interacting with you. Again- It could be all some magic shit in your mind, but you could swear that the lingering touches from him weren't rough or painful as his threats.
Idris was never physically harmful towards you, even to his peers dismay as they would constantly scold him for being too soft. He was indeed very off putting and sadistic- But could he be hiding something deep inside his literally cold exterior? You started to think so… Well, you started to hope so.
See, although the poison is already making your mind dizzy and making you feel some kind of weird attraction towards Iris- It wasn't completely just your mind playing tricks on you, Idris has been trying a new tactic with you and it was working.
Maybe you haven't noticed yet, but for the last few weeks he has started to flirt with you more, touch you more and whisper less concerning things into your ears, and you were eating it all up due to your isolation and his poisonous bite.
The more he sucked your blood, the more enamoured you were with his softer "side", the poison becoming stronger with each bite. But everyday you two spend time together, Idris can't help but feel just as interested in you as you are to him. He may play it off as a sadistic manipulative (which he kinda is-) vampire who is above you and his own feelings- But whenever it's just you and him, he just feels like there is a bigger connection being formed.
The more you two get to know each other the more he'll start falling for you, to the point he doesn't know if he is faking empathy and care or if he actually likes you in a weird way. He has started to feel very satisfied whenever you start acting clingy, desperate even for his attention (again- He is the only one willing to even talk with you before biting you and sucking your blood), the sensation of power he feels is a little bit overwhelming- But very much appreciated.
You have started to feel some side effects from losing so much blood everyday, which has made Idris concerned and incapable of drinking from you for at least some time while you recover from it. But since you need some time to rest without being injected with more venom from fangs, which will cause you to start waking up from your brainwashed state and remember that A: It has been months since you were gone, your dad is out there looking for you and it's possibly thinking you're dead; B: You're trapped in a mansion filled with the last vampires of a powerful clan which has been massacred by vampire slayers like you; and C: You were starting to catch feelings for the one who brought you here- Regardless of manipulation and freaky vampire shit- You were indeed falling for his charm.
Whenever that happens, it will be obvious that you'll start trying to fight them and escape again, even if you're very, very weak from all these months without proper training and healthy eating habits.
You may try your hardest dear, but you'll need a better plan than just going feral on Idris. He is a lot stronger than you, especially since you can't even stand up on your own, and even hurting him makes you feel oddly awful- You had relied on him for so long, that it feels like you would be betraying him if you actually do hurt him, it seems like some of the effects of so much time under his manipulation are still present.
You can't hurt him, but you can still try to sneak out. You should still try to escape!
You would eventually come up with a plan to run away while it was still morning, even if it was a very flawed plan considering that the only place you knew in this entire mansion was Idris's room and bathroom. For some miracle reason, you would find a way to sneak out, it was pretty hard considering you have no strength in your legs, yet luckily no one seemed to be aware of your sudden movement around the corridors- Apparently the whole clan is composed of heavy sleepers.
Your escape was successful, but you wouldn't be able to reach safety anytime soon in your condition- And you knew that eventually they would wake up again and Idris would find you soon. Yet as you had promised yourself and your father, you weren't going down without a fight.
Idris is responsible for you, so whenever he notices that you were gone- He would first assume one of his kind has took you, but considering how everyone else in the clan considers him to be a nuisance and incompetent, he couldn't possibly ask around where were you. If he did, they would end up yelling at him and take you as their personal blood bag- He couldn't let them know that you have escaped.
He would search for you and be honest to god thankful that you weren't dead yet- He would be pissed but more concerned about your current state, after all you were supposed to be resting from losing so much blood and yet here you are: Trying to survive the wild nature around the mansion in a stupid attempt of escaping the vampires.
Idris would have to bite you more often while also giving some days off so you could rest, but doing in a way that you never lose the effects of the poison- He can't stand to see you fighting him so much.
I mean- He thinks that it's pretty attractive how fiesty you are, but he needs you to stay still in his bedroom and to start giving him those confused yet passionate eyes again- Idris doesn't know whether or not you're in love with him or is just acting in instinct considering your current position, and he soon will find himself begging for you to truly give in to this weird fantasy he has built around you two- But for now, all that he wants is the smallest affection that may come from you, even if it's not as true and morally correct as true love is supposed to be.
🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭
#yandere#sheep's stuff#yandere oc#yandere vampire#yandere x reader#yandere vampire x reader#yandere male x male reader#yandere male#male reader#yandere male x reader#yandere monster#yandere headcanon#yandere oc headcanon#special delivery headcanons#special delivery request
315 notes
·
View notes
Text
One of Us is Lying: Episodes 4-6 Thoughts
TWO Olivia Rodrigo songs!?!?!?! My FAVORITE two Olivia Rodrigo songs!?!?!?!
Maeve is so badly adapted. I’m sorry. The girl who did the police’s job for them is not THIS. She’s just not.
I don’t hate the Maeve/Janae ship.
I do hate that Bronwyn and Maeve are not the close sisters they were in the books. They’re never on the same page, they fight so often, and they keep so many secrets from one another.
This is all probably because they wanted to emphasize a ‘bad girl/good girl’ clash in the sisters, because it is suggested that Bronwyn was such an overachiever to make up for Maeve not being one, but sis this is not the way.
I am glad that the Simon storyline led to Bronwyn telling him off to his face though.
Evan had abs.
Why were Nate and Bronwyn not more mad about Addy telling the police about the computer? There was never any real confrontation. And I guess there wasn’t much room for it, because next time they see her she has this whole stalker thing to deal with.
And look, I want the four main characters to be besties. One of the things I wanted most from this adaptation is for them to have more interaction. It’s just that a lot of their interactions are negative, which is understandable given the circumstances. But here’s the thing; If any relationship is hit with too much drama, but not enough of just chilling and vibing with each other, it’s gonna start to feel like there’s too much baggage there for what it’s actually worth.
I do like Addy and Nate’s friendship though, even if he does forgive her for talking to the police off-screen.
Here’s hoping that we’ll have Addy and Bronwyn actually bonding next week, because the way they ended up friends and really respecting each other in the book was great and I really want to see it here!
This is gonna go into some stuff from eps 1-3 because I’ve had more time to think over them. Addy’s arc is suffering because of how Jake is characterized. I said last week that I really had to look hard to see him as controlling. In the book, it was more obvious, specifically with this scene where he tells her to put on a bikini for the beach even though she doesn’t want to be cold. In the show, we have him coercing her into going to the wake, him ghosting her over school break, the imagery in that swimming scene, and I guess him wanting to have sex with her when they should be going to school. But all of that came off very cute and sweet, so I came to the conclusion that he was just very good at manipulating her and making himself seem super sweet.
The thing is that we characters like Nate or Janae that go on about how much of an asshole Jake was, and how Addy is better without him. Maybe it’s to show that Jake only seems like the perfect boyfriend and it takes an outside perspective to see that, but like…. I just don’t see how it could be that obvious to other people.
Maybe if we saw more of Addy being a brainless beauty next to Jake so that the contrast of her without him is more noticeable. I think a good opportunity was the Janae thing. Jake cut off the interaction, but after they break up the bathroom scene happens. Except Addy was clearly so uncomfortable by the first confrontation, so what else should Jake have done?
It really hurts Addy’s character because it makes the arc look more told instead of shown. She cuts off her hair to feel stronger but that’s about it so far. And it feels a bit late to make Jake’s douchebaggery more obvious so a lot of the empowering material they can use in future episodes might not feel as impactful.
It’s very clear that Addy is still able to be manipulated by Jake, given the dance scene, so I hope that next week there’s something akin to the scene where Jake starts to be interested in getting back together with Addy, he takes her to his house, but decides she doesn’t need this and leaves. It will feel less earned but I still want to see it.
A part of me is scared the show itself doesn’t care about Addy as much. That thing where she kept saying ‘believe women’ kind of feels like a mean-spirited way of saying ‘look how dumb this blonde chick is’. When Addy is so much smarter than people give her credit for. And you know, she was right to be pissed that no one besides Nate showed up when she called a meeting. (Again, could have been an opportunity for Bronwyn to at least criticize Addy for spilling about the computer but no.)
Also, when Janae showed up at her door, her hair was down which was new, so I just saw a blonde girl and got so excited because I thought that Ashton had finally left her husband and come home, but no.
This is minor, but I hope that Addy’s bike riding becomes a lot more of a fun activity for her, and not just a way of getting from one place to another without friends.
I can’t be the only one who was blindsided by there being a dance. No one mentioned it beforehand, and I know that everyone has more important things to deal with, but I swear when episode six started I was convinced there was a time jump.
The dance sequence was so cringe. I’m sorry. I love Olivia Rodrigo. (That was where they played Good 4 u, right? I’m not going back to check.) I mean, I get it. Another picture of them together is going to be leaked, why not dance at this dance? But the sheer intensity they exhibit as they walk to the dance floor, as everyone stares at them is so cringy, I couldn’t deal with it.
Keely being in love with Cooper despite knowing he’s gay. I have to say, I want to see where it goes. Mainly because in the books, it was a very dramatic pair, so even though it’s changed it still feels true to the books.
The trading secrets thing, I like. Because in the book, it was all ‘Simon was never wrong!’ But…. How was Simon never wrong? I don’t think it’s ever explained how Simon learned the core four’s secrets, and I liked this being explained, because it added to the ‘omnipresent’ narrative, which was eventually lost when they figured the plan out, so we should have found out how he knew at some point in the novel.
There is no fucking way Janae was in on it.
Janae being the girl Nate sold drugs to is a much better reason for Simon including him, but he didn’t really need a better reason. In the book, you find out why Simon hated these four so much, and you’re just like, ‘Wow, that’s so petty!’ And that’s kind of the point. Simon is an extremely self centered person who blows tiny, mostly incidental slights against him to big proportions to the point that all this happened. So if the show wants to make Simon a more sympathetic character, I guess that’s just something that happens in adaptations, but that does take away from a major theme in the story.
Less thoughts than last week, but I mostly just want to see how it ends.
#cooper clay#bronwyn rojas#addy prentiss#nate macauley#simon kelleher#maeve rojas#jake riordan#one of us is lying show#one of us is lying book#one of us is lying#one of us is lying spoilers#oouil#oouil tv show#oouil spoilers#oouil peacock
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
Insufferable (pt.2)
request: Hi lovely, can you do Peter pevensie x reader imagine, please? The reader meets Pevensies in Narnia, but from the beginning she and Peter can't get along together, lots of arguments, while secretly and slowly developing feelings towards each other they don't want to admit, lot of sexual tension before smth happens but eventually they'll end up together. you can include some smut stuff. Thanks xx
part 1 | part 3
I woke with a start as someone pulled back the blanket. A pair of warm brown eyes were looking back at me, a soft smile on their face and their curly brown hair hanging down freely. “Who are you?” I asked, pushing myself up and away from the person. As I took them in, my eyes caught sight of two small horns sprouting on top of their head and just peeking out of their hair. “What are you?” I added, my eyes now wide in shock.
“I am Daisy, a faun,” she said, a soft smile on her face. “High King Peter has requested that I prepare you for breakfast today.” She put out her hand and I slowly took it as she led me out of my bed and towards another section of the room closed off by deep red curtains. My shock grew as I saw a pair of goat legs attached to Daisy’s human-like top, her hooves clicking on the stone floor. The faun grabbed a bucket of water that sat next to a tub that was already halfway filled with water. “Get undressed,” she commanded as she poured the rest of the water into the tub.
I hesitated, not wanting to expose myself to a complete stranger, especially a stranger that wasn’t human. “No,” I said, crossing my arms. The faun let out a sigh as she put the bucket back on the floor. “I can wash myself.”
“That is not what the high king wants. He specifically ordered that I wash and dress you.”
“Then I will take it up with him,” I said before turning around and making my way to the door. Daisy hurried to follow me as I entered the hallway, trying my best to remember the way to King Peter’s room.
“Miss, you don’t want to do this. The high king will be very upset,” Daisy started as I reached the double doors that were guarded by two men. The guards watched the scene unfold as I banged on the wooden door.
“I don’t care how he may feel. He has no right making me get naked in front of a complete stranger,” I replied. The door swung open to reveal King Peter who was only wearing brown pants, his top half naked. I did my best to avoid his toned body, but my brain still subconsciously noticed his strong arms and tight abs. I focused my eyes on his blue ones as I spoke, doing my best to concentrate on my anger.
“How dare you!”
“How dare I what?” he asked, an amused smile pulling at his lips as his eyes studied my face.
“Do you really think that I would be willing to undress in front of a complete stranger when I hardly even know where I am? I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
“There’s no need to be so angry, darling. This is only routine for visitors of the royal family. And if your hair is any indication of how you take care of yourself, I do not think your claim is as true as you believe it to be.” My hands flew to my hair, combing my fingers through the knotted locks. King Peter let out a chuckle at this before leaning on the side of the doorway, his arms crossed. We were only inches away now and I could feel his body heat radiating off of his bare skin.
“Well I,” I started, getting slightly distracted as I felt his eyes watch me intensely. “I don’t need someone to help me take a bath. At least let me do that by myself.”
“Alright,” he said to my surprise. “You can do that by yourself. But let the faun dress you at least. You need to look somewhat presentable in public.”
“Fine,” I said. I turned around to face Daisy, taking a few steps toward her before stopping. “Daisy,” I said, turning my head to face King Peter.
“What?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.
“The faun’s name is Daisy,” I explained. “It might do you some good to know the names of those who serve you, your majesty.” I turned my head back around before following Daisy back to my room.
Daisy waited in the area of the room with the bed as I bathed behind the curtain. It felt nice to wash off the dirt and grime that had accumulated from the night before. As I got out, I grabbed the robe Daisy had laid out for me, tying it tightly around my body as I emerged from behind the curtain.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Daisy said as she brushed my hair.
“Do what?”
“Tell King Peter my name. I’m not important enough for him to know my name.”
“That’s nonsense,” I said as Daisy put down the brush, her fingers working on putting my hair into an intricate braid. She would pause every now and then to weave white flowers in with my hair before continuing with the process. “You are just as important as a guard or even King Peter himself. Without you, the castle wouldn’t function as smoothly as it does. Just because you don’t wear a crown doesn’t mean you’re less than.”
“Thank you, miss,” Daisy said.
“Please, call me (y/n).”
“Of course, (y/n).” Daisy stepped back, handing me a handheld mirror so that I could get a good look at her work.
“Oh Daisy, it’s beautiful,” I said, my voice soft as I admired my hair. Daisy only nodded, walking over to the wardrobe where I had grabbed the robe the night before and pulling out a purple dress.
“I’ll wait by the bath while you put it on,” Daisy said, already making her way towards the curtain.
“Thank you.” I waited till she was behind the curtain to take off the robe and put on the dress. It hugged my curves before falling down to the floor. The material was so soft and light that it barely even felt like I was wearing anything. I let out a small grunt as I tried, and failed, to tie the strings on the back. “Daisy,” I called out. She peeked her head from behind the curtain. “Could you help me tie the strings on the back?”
Daisy made her way to me, expertly tying the strings, her fingers brushing my bare skin every now and then. “Thank you,” I said as she stepped back. “Do I go to join the royal family now?”
“Yes, I’ll lead you to the pavilion.” I followed Daisy down the hall and out of a door that led out to a beautiful garden. Butterflies hovered over flowers and green foliage spilled out onto the stone path that led to a small pavilion where a round table sat. The table was small, only allowing around five people to sit comfortably at it. I saw Edmund and King Peter sitting there, along with two girls. Daisy led me down the path. We came to a halt as we reached the pavilion.
“Thank you for bringing her, Daisy,” Peter said. I felt my heart warm as I walked to the empty seat between Peter and the girl with long, brown hair.
“It’s my pleasure, your majesty,” Daisy replied, a large grin on her face as she curtseyed before turning around and making her way back to the castle.
“I was starting to worry you weren’t coming,” Edmund said, a large grin on his face.
“I would never offend his majesty like that,” I replied, matching his grin.
“I hope there weren’t any other complications with getting dressed this morning,” King Peter interjected. I felt my face warm as the grin fell from my face.
“No, there weren’t.” Edmund looked at both King Peter and I quizzically, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m Susan,” the girl I was sitting next to offered.
“And I’m Lucy,” the other girl said. “It’s so nice to see that you’re okay. I was picking flowers in the meadow to make flower crowns and found you laying in the grass. I was afraid you were dead and ran to get Peter who carried you to the castle. I apologize for not checking in on you last night. I was waiting with Peter for you to wake up, but it was getting late and Peter made me go to bed.”
“Thank you for finding me,” I said, offering a small smile. “And there is no need to apologize, I would hate to have been the reason for you staying up so late.”
“Peter said you are from Earth, is that true?” Susan questioned before taking a bite of a strawberry.
“Yes,” I replied, stealing a glance at Peter who was watching me. “I didn’t realize you were all talking about me.”
“You are all Peter has been talking about,” Edmund said. Peter shot him a look before turning to me again.
“I wanted to assure them that you aren’t a threat,” he explained. I nodded.
“Peter, the king of Telmar is visiting next month. I have been writing to him for a while, but it seems he does not want an alliance with us. Perhaps you could talk to him for us and convince him,” Susan said. I was thankful that the conversation had turned away from me.
“Yes,” Peter said. “I’ve been thinking of what to do with Telmar. Maybe a marriage would be the best chance of peace with them.”
“You mean an arranged marriage?” I interjected. I wanted to laugh at the idea. “Surely you are joking.”
“Why would I joke about that?”
“Because marriage is supposed to be the joining of two people who are in love, not some political power move between two nations.”
“It’s politics (y/n). Not everything is going to be pretty in politics,” Peter said.
“It’s stupid is what it is,” I mumbled, playing with the food on my plate.
“Well then, let’s all be grateful that you aren’t a queen.” I glared at Peter who stared back at me. His bright blue eyes were slightly narrowed and a hint of amusement shone in them. Behind that amusement there seemed to be something else, though I wasn’t sure what it was. At first I thought it may be fear but that wasn’t it. No, it was curiosity. As a high king, nobody questioned him so now that there was a random girl in his castle questioning his every move he seemed intrigued, curious.
I looked away from his eyes as they had become too intense for me. My heart seemed to be pounding in my chest as my eyes flickered to his nose which was slightly flared, before traveling down to his full lips. They were a luscious pink and I subconsciously licked my own lips as I looked at his. I could feel his eyes tracing my own features as well, and I knew his siblings were still there but for a moment it was only me and him.
It was when I heard a fork clatter with a plate that I broke from the spell, ripping my eyes off of him, instead looking around the table to see both Susan and Edmund wearing large grins on their faces. “What is it?” Peter asked both of them. I turned to Peter to see his cheeks were a light pink. I then turned to Edmund and Susan, Edmund shaking his head as Susan took a long sip of her tea, her eyes darting between Peter and me.
“Nothing,” Susan finally said as she placed the teacup delicately onto the saucer.
#peter pevensie#high king peter#high king peter the magnificent#King Peter the Magnificent#peter pevensie fanfic#peter pevensie imagine#peter pevensie x reader#peter pevensie x you#peter pevensie x y/n#narnia#The Chronicles of Narnia#narnia fanfiction#narnia imagine#william moseley
334 notes
·
View notes
Text
Deja Vu
Part 1
Word Count: 2.3k
Summary: Kind of angst for now, backstory, arguments, and extremely slow burn. Also future poly
He’s insufferable
He’s arrogant. He’s rude. He’s annoying.
He is insufferable.
And I have to deal with him.
Of all the people Mrs. Moore could have partnered me with, she just had to choose him. It’s not like we even put a show on in public, and it’s sad but, everybody knows about the feud between us that started four years ago.
I had just moved to town from three states over, and I didn’t know anyone my age. After a few weeks of summer went by of not knowing anyone, my dad convinced me to join the district’s hockey team. He told me that it was because he wanted me to make some friends, but I knew that he really just couldn’t afford to pay a babysitter. And my mother, well, she wasn’t in the picture. So I ended up having to go through the lost and found at six different ice rinks in Minnesota in order to get all of my equipment. At first, I was wary of the idea, but my dad said that it was kind of like shopping, so I agreed to go with him. Originally, we would have only had to search five rinks, but I couldn’t find any skates that were my size. After almost twelve hours of rummaging through sweaty pads and broken sticks, I had myself a full set of hockey gear.
Now I was on to the next challenge: How To Skate. I had been ice skating a couple of times before for birthday parties, but I’ve never been able to skate at the level that I had to in order to survive during an entire hockey game. I thought maybe it would just come to me naturally after attending a few practices. Until I did some research at the school library. Apparently, it takes a person at least two months to learn how to ice skate. But ignoring the negative, I decided to focus on the positive. ‘I could at least balance myself...and besides, I probably would be on the bench for every game...and just remember, you’re doing this for friends.’ These were the only three things that ran through my mind on the way to the ice rink. I was honestly terrified. I was scared that the other kids would make fun of me, or worse, ignore me. Well, maybe being made fun of is worse, but at least then they’d acknowledge me. I had to stop myself from thinking about that kinda stuff. I haven’t even attended a single hockey practice yet, and now I’ve added at least four more stressors into my life.
When my dad pulled up to the building, my stomach was tingling. My hands were clammy, and my eyebags had definitely seen better days. I wanted to run so fast away from this place, and not move at all at the same time.
“Nerves,” my dad said. He must’ve noticed from my frozen state in the backseat of his minivan. “You’ll do great! Just don’t break any bones.” He chuckled at the end in hopes that it would come off as a joke, but that is definitely not how it sounded.
To my surprise, I was the first kid that had arrived. I didn’t know much about the team, but I did know that most of the other kids had been on it since they were five or six years old. I was almost the exact opposite, thirteen and just starting. I wasn’t really sure why I was the first person to arrive, and it only added to my nervousness.
I tried to brush it off as I saw someone outside in the parking lot leave a car holding a bag like you had. I could hear his muffled voice. “I’ll see you at six.” Whoever he was talking to must have responded because the boy spoke again, “yup, love you too.” A parent maybe. A mom? I could faintly make out a silhouette in the driver’s seat, but the glare from the sun blocked most of the car window.
Thank god someone else was here because at least now I knew that I was in the right place. But another problem arose. Now, different things were rushing through my head about what to say to the other boy. Should I make a joke, ask a question? Simply say ‘hello’? I didn’t know. So, I decided to settle on the most stupid thing anyone could ever say.
“Are you on the hockey team?” What kind of question is that? He has a bag, this time is cut out specifically for hickey practice, and he has a hockey stick with him. Why else would he be here?
He looked up from where he was walking and stared at me awkwardly. It was likely that he wouldn’t have even noticed me if I hadn’t said anything to him. But I did. Which I regretted.
“Oh, um, yeah.” He went to keep on walking but he stopped himself quickly. “Are you?”
I had to keep a laugh in because the boy looked genuinely confused. Or maybe I misjudged that for concern. Still, though, it sounded a bit hopeful. This kid was really hard to read. Either way, I was pretty sure that he thought I couldn’t play hockey.
“Yeah. My dad made me join to make some friends.”
Suddenly the boy’s demeanor changed. He seemed almost excited that there was a new kid on the team. “Well, I’ll be your first friend. My name’s Adam. Adam Banks. Walk and talk.” And then he started towards two big double doors.
My eyebrows rose at the sudden confidence, taken off guard, but at least he was being friendly. I adjusted your bags and followed right behind him. “So what’s it like here.”
He answered after struggling to open one of the doors, “Well it’s not so bad. It’s super cutthroat during the regular season but in the offseason, it’s pretty relaxed.” As I made myself around the outside of the rink, he kept rambling. “Especially during summer league. The kids who only play during that league have it nice. You’ll definitely survive.”
“Um, so what happens during the regular season?” The thought of angry yelling coaches wasn’t appealing to me, but I could make it work
Adam shrugged his bag up so it wouldn’t fall from his shoulder, “Well. Usually, coach yells at us, tells us that if we don’t win we’re failures, and everyone is constantly fighting to be a starter.” There was silence. “So that’s fun.” I just nodded my head, trying to take this all in. Adam didn’t say anything until he reached the locker room doors. Then he turned to me. “Yeah, but coach is a lot less lenient during summer because it doesn’t really matter for playoffs.”
I scoffed, “yeah, but I’ll eventually have to deal with him. Right?”
Adam’s expression flattened, “Wait, you’re doing winter league too?” He looked genuinely concerned, and now I was second-guessing joining hockey. If this boy didn’t think I could survive, then how could I? Even if I was just gonna sit on the bench, the way this kid was making it out to be was not sounding like the greatest way to make friends.
“Well, yeah. Is that bad?” I needed to hear him say it. Say that I should quit, or join dance, or something. Just so I could have an excuse to tell my dad in case the first day of practice goes awry.
He spoke fast, “Oh no, no. It’s just that--”
“That I’m not good enough…”
He didn’t say anything. Harsh. I was just trying to make a joke but, I guess that’s what he was really thinking. We stood in silence for a few more seconds, and then he finally thought of something to respond with.
“No. I just feel like you’ll get hurt… and, um.”
I started to laugh. I applaud Adam for trying to make it seem like he didn’t think I was bad, but he just couldn’t do it. “Don’t sweat it, I know I’m gonna be bad.” He started to laugh with me. “Hey, at least I’ll get abs out of it.”
He and I were actually pretty good friends for the most part. He was my first friend here in Minnesota. He taught me how to skate, and in turn, I offered him some sub-par jokes. He always used to laugh at my jokes even if they were awful. He was what I considered my best friend. He definitely wasn’t a best friend, I couldn’t confide in all of my secrets, and he couldn’t do the same to me, but Adam was the only kid I was friends with. We laughed hard, we fell on the ice together. He even told his mom that practices started to end later just so he could wait with me until my dad got off work and picked me up.
Not long after we bonded, I hato the ducks. At the time, I didn’t know exactly what happened. All my dad said to me was something about how the coach wasn’t that nice, and that he didn’t want me on his team. I didn’t really care since hockey wasn’t something that I cared about too much. So I said goodbye to Adam and explained that I had to go. I didn’t say anything about the coach-not-liking-me part because then I thought he’d feel bad for me.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to switch teams too, but I think my dads’ gonna see if I can stay on the team.” He spoke almost as if he was trying to convince himself. I thought it was a great idea to tell him why he had to go to the ducks.
“They don’t want you, Adam. Maybe if you go to the ducks, you’ll get a coach who appreciates you.” I didn’t know what was wrong with what I said to him until about a year later, but by the time I finished my sentence, he was fuming.
The situation afterward was a blur, and I can’t remember what all was said. I just remember Adam touching on the fact how I’m an awful hockey player, and that he only talked to me because he felt sorry for me. Now, if my old coach had told me that I was awful at hockey, I’d be completely fine. I already knew that, and coach is just...coach. But hearing it come from Adam? It wasn’t like he was just telling me how it is, he wanted to hurt me.
It took me two weeks to stop thinking about the situation constantly, and then it started to fade away. I never even told him the real reason why I told him what I did, but now I have to work on a history project with him. How am I gonna do that if I can’t even tell him the reason for our quarrel that we had three years ago? Let alone complete a whole project?
“The syllabus will be given tomorrow, and the deadline for this project will be written under the ‘AP History’ bulletin. You may get to work.”
I slumped out of my desk and started putting away my things that were on the table attachment. During this, I tried to think of what I was going to say when I went over to him. I almost decided on either trying to make a truce or just acting like he didn’t exist.
He was slouched in his desk, pencil in hand, avoiding eye contact with me. As I sat down my stuff on an empty desk near him, his words startled me. “So, 50/50?”
I just stared at him. For some reason, my brain could not process what Adam had just said. It took a solid four seconds for me to respond. “I don’t understand.”
Adam’s eyebrows rose while his eyes rolled, “Of course you don’t.”
I scoffed, “What, you’re just gonna say some numbers and you think I’m gonna understand what you’re trying to say?”
He was leaning forward in his desk now, “Well you seemed to be doing well in calculus, so, yes.” A small, mocking smile was now gracing his face.
I took in a deep breath to try and refrain from spewing whatever profanities came to mind. “Look, can we just set aside whatever this is so we can do this project?” He crossed his arms in response. “C’mon, I can’t afford to get a bad grade.” Still no response. If his goal was to ruin my life, he sure was on the right path.
“What do I get out of it?”
The audacity.
“I’m just saying. I’ll be fine with one bad grade, so what exactly is the payoff for tolerating...you?”
So there was a shiny glimmer of hope, but it would definitely come at a cost. “Anything. Anything you want. Just please, tolerate me.”
He brought a hand to his chin, acting like he was pondering his choice, “but will it really be anything?”
“Oh my god, you are so annoying.”
“Watch it.” His voice was stern.
“Okay, okay. Sorry. But yes, anything. You name it.”
Did he even know what he wanted? Or was he just trying to play this out? Either way, I’m about to have a conniption if we don’t start working on this project soon.
We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Of course, Adam had to change his thinking position almost every second, until he decided on what he wanted. “Okay, here’s the deal. I help you get your precious little A, and you have to get me a date with Charlie.”
#the mighty ducks#the mighty ducks imagine#the mighty ducks x reader#mighty ducks#mighty ducks imagine#mighty ducks x reader#adam banks#adam banks imagine#adam banks x reader
169 notes
·
View notes
Text
Diary Entry #36
Date: 04/22/2011
Location: Back at home
So as promised, here’s part of the interview I gave to Mr. Ember Skyes.
Me: What is your name and profession?
Ember: Well...any newspaper can tell ya that miss Page...buuuuut since it's on record...
Ember Skyes, my Friends call me Charcoal, on the team I'm better known as: 'Bombshell Skyes'. I'm in a word, Lead coordinator for the Pegasus Sky Fighting competitions that happen all across Equestria!!
(I’ve heard of that sport before. A fairly new sport that has quickly been gaining notoriety)
Me: What drove you to choose that profession?
Ember: Hm...well...BESIDES being super popular and being a cool athlete...flying runs in my family!! My mom was a famous uh...what she call it? ...fearless flying? And my brother does stunt shows too...I almost did as well but...I learned I was a natural flank kicker long as my hooves weren't touching the ground...so I began thinking up this like...way to coordinate that with flying...after a while I made a sport outta it.
Me: What is Flash Wind's relation to you?
Ember: He's my brother!! Or uh...well adopted brother I guess is the right term. We met when I was kinda young, I helped em out with some country guys who were giving him a hard time then let him stay with me and my mom and dad, and he became a member of the family after that!!
(Well then, more context to what Mrs. Skyes had shared with me)
Me: Any fun memories you have with your brother?
Ember: OH a bunch actually!! Me and Flash did all sorts of stuff together, more often tho it peeved off mom cause the trouble was my fault heh
Their was this one time I taught him one of my moves, the Free-fall Corkscrew, and he was just so eager to learn it!! One day while I was training him he accidently bumped me and threw off my concentration and I broke some farmers barn...mom uh...she wasn't too happy bout that... probably cause she had to pay the damages...
But it was a blast!!
(Hehe! Sounds like something teenage colts would do)
Me: Did you help train Flash in his flying, and any signature moves you invented that Flash Wind uses?
Ember: Oh yeh DEFINITELY!! He's a great flyer on his own but he has a tendency to bank too hard and his weaving is a little shaky, he always taps training poles, I taught em a few tips and tricks to help em out.
As for signatures...well...I came up with this move right? You fly super super high in the air, so high breathing gets a bit hard, then...you just PLUMMET to the ground, put the audience on edge. Then, just as you near the ground, you put a spin and launch with the momentum, puts a lotta speed on ya...I add a spin to it...I call it...the Corkscrew nosedive!! Fillies always go nuts over it, took Flash some time to get it but he got a handle on it real well...like he's made for that sort of stuff!!
(That must be what Flash did for the closing act in his air show I watched. Very daring!)
Me: Any sort of trouble you and your brother gotten into in your time of youth?
Ember: Uh...well me and Flash have gotten into a lotta things...mostly my fault since uh ..mom says I'm the Daring one between the both of us...but uh their um...was one moment
We visited some place a bit outta the ways of town and we ran into a winged lion den, the alpha attacked us... specifically me and Flash took the hit for me...ahem...nothing I couldn't handle though...it was strong but I was fast, a few well placed jabs sent the little kitty cat flying but uh...Flash nose dived into the ocean and um...I...couldn't save em...
(He must be referring to that winged lion that Mrs. Skyes mentioned to me. I assume Flash was rescued if he’s still alive. I wonder who saved him. I’m also noticing a bit of discomfort in Mr. Skyes expression. Maybe I should avoid asking further questions about that)
Me: What do you think is an interesting fact about Flash?
Ember: ...an... interesting fact? Hmm...
... interesting...fact...OH I got one!!
He's probably the bravest pegasus I've ever met!! I mean I'm no coward when it comes to facing something dangerous but...hey even I've got my limits...but Flash? He goes above and beyond for just about anypony who asks!! And don't get me started on some of the moves he's done during his shows.
(Wow! He keeps on reminding me of his father so much! This is exciting!)
After a while longer, I was able to gather all I needed. He was very curious as to why I had such an interest in Flash.
I wish I could tell him, but I don’t want to accept the risk of my Napfény finding out. I had to stay silent.
As for now, I must end here.
I made it home, and I have many things to write.
With Love,
Page
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Re-writing Toko’s character so her DID is represented better
Before I get with the writing, I want to make something clear: I am not a therapist or doctor. Everything that I’m writing here is what I’ve learned from articles I’ve read. I will gladly accept any criticism or corrections so long as they’re from people who actually have DID, because I don’t suffer with this and I don’t want to post any misinformation.
The article I’ve been using is here: https://www.webmd.com/mental-health/dissociative-identity-disorder-multiple-personality-disorder
It should be clear to everyone and their grandma that Toko’s DID is poorly represented and paints a bad image for those who actually suffer from it, so this is my attempt to re-write her character to try and portray her and Syo healthier. I hope this is good, and I hope you enjoy reading.
General headcanons
•According to the article, in 99% cases of people who suffer with DID they had to endure repeated physical, sexual, or emotional abuse. Toko as we all know, was abused by her dad and two mothers, even going as far as to lock her in a closet. I believe in this case, the closet treatment was repeated and would last as long as a few hours to a whole day.
•This brought Syo into existence. Most alters are not harmful, so I believe Syo would just be more energetic and hyper, trying to bring joy to herself and herself specifically with many different hobbies and fandoms (all of which had dark topics, but she never thought of harming anyone when watching these video games and movies. The girl just really likes horror)
•Syo is also really sassy, but not in a harmful way. She just acts like that to stand up to her abusers, such as Toko’s parents and bullies.
•Alters have their own way of acting, they can have their own race, age, sex, posture, heck they don’t even have to be actual people sometimes. But I imagine Syo is more fidgety and talkative, and will gladly ramble about her interests, whereas Toko is more shy and guarded. Syo is also guarded like Toko, but it’s less noticeable until you ask more personal questions.
•Toko can’t switch on command. Switching can take as little as seconds, to as long as days, so she can’t switch out with Syo on command. The closest thing to switching Syo in would be hypnotism since she could be eager to respond to the therapist’s questions depending on what it is, and certain types of music. But none of them are a guarantee.
•There are multiple ways having DID can alter a person’s way of living, but I think Toko would mostly deal with amnesia and identity confusion.
•Syo would definitely buy merchandise of her hyper fixation, all of which Toko has zero interest in, but Toko always feels compelled to buy that stuff. It’s as if she isn’t in control…
•Multiple other mental illnesses occur with DID, but I think Toko would only deal with anxiety and mood swings, along with slight depression.
•Writing is a coping skill for both her and Syo, but Syo is more interested in writing horror stories, whereas Toko wants to write romance to picture herself getting a happy ending
•Having DID really does hurt Toko sometimes, because she has to live with the fact that she’s was abused and unloved her whole life. But she tries to make light of it.
•She knows there’s no cure, but she tries different treatments to keep her mental health and Syo in order.
Killing game AU
•Toko’s mood swings would absolutely get worse in the killing game
•Syo is also kind of scared, and is less talkative whenever she switches in.
•The only reason they haven’t locked themselves in their room is because they both want to try and get with Togami-
•Speaking of Togami, they both try courting/approaching him differently. Both are aware of the dangers in the killing game, so they’re cautious when approaching him.
•Toko tries to bond with him over books, but is shut down by Byakuya immediately.
•Syo however is more open, and eagerly talks to him about the horror genre, which greatly disturbs Togami.
•He is interested in Toko’s DID however, so she gives him a basic rundown.
•He realizes he can’t weaponize it so Toko doesn’t get framed in the second chapter. Yaaaaaay.
•Togami still doesn’t like them though. R.I.P
•Toko and Syo are both really helpful in trials. Due to Syo’s hyper fixation on the horror genre and Toko learning about darker..things, for her books, they help sort out the murders easily.
•They don’t socialize with anyone but Togami, and he does suggest therapy for them. But it’s less of a “caring friend” way and more of a “you’re a crazy b!tch I hate you get your sh!t sorted out” king of way.
•Fuck Togami all of my homies and me hate Togami-
•Writing really helped Toko get through the killing game, since she was able to vent out all her pain and new trauma in her writing pieces. She even starts looking into the horror genre as well.
•When Syo switched in and analyzes her surroundings, she’s going to find out about Toko’s interest in horror and she’s going to be overjoyed
•After the survivors escape, Toko gets to become a official member since she’s no longer determined a danger! Yaaay!
•And that’s the power of accurately represented DID
#danganronpa#danganronpa headcanons#toko fuwaka#danganronpa toko#genocide syo#danganronpa syo#writing#trigger happy havoc#danganronpa trigger happy havoc#i tried#sorry if the info I got was wrong
15 notes
·
View notes
Note
hey!! i actually have a two requests, and one is a bit on the heavy side 😅 but i love your writing, and i knew that if anyone was gonna be able to write these, it would be you 🤍 (btw, i apologize in advance if this is a lil long lollll)
[ also, just a trigger warning for anyone reading: mentions of bullying, emotional/mental ab*se, SA, anxiety, depression, obsessive-compulsive tendencies & PTSD ]
basically, i deal with a lot of mental health issues that stem from bullying (emotional/mental abuse from kindergarten to sixth grade) & childhood SA, and it makes relationships feel almost impossible. while some people do understand what i deal with and try to help, it’s almost never done with true ease. like, i’ve always wished for someone who’d be able to pick up on my bad habits without me having to say anything and check-in with me habitually—basically, someone who’s in-tune with me like a second half/that knows me almost better than i know myself… if that makes sense?
so the first request is for like, a compilation of all the different times vinnie would notice/pick up on the reader’s bad habits, like biting her finger nails, picking at her skin, not taking care of herself (like hygiene-wise) when she’s in a depressive episode, etc. and then like maybe even one where they’re in public and he can she she’s trying to suppress a PTSD episode (like an uncontrollable twitch or something), so he asks his friend—who’s the host—for a room he could borrow, and just leads her there, where she’s both like “how’d you know” (and he’s like “i know you”) and “thank you for saving me, i love you”? and one where they’re in public again, but at a party and one of the guys is drunk and makes an insensitive joke, and vinnie tells him to cool it because he knows how that stuff affects the reader (who’s standing right beside him & can hear everything) and maybe looks at her and sees in her eyes that she’s uncomfortable so he takes her into an empty bathroom and just hugs her and is like “he’s just drunk, don’t worry about him. you’re safe with me.” before leading her back to the party, but to his close friends who he knows wont say anything stupid.
the second one is smut (lol ~shocker~) where basically, the reader’s 18 but is still inexperienced because she’s terrified of getting intimate, but she’s been with vinnie for a year (he’s like 20 in this) and she really loves and trusts him, and wants him to be the one to take her. and basically he’s hesitant because he knows how scared she is, but she cries and tells him she wants this, and so he assures her that she’s safe, that he loves her, would never judge her, etc. & does everything he possibly can to make her feel protected. like he constantly tells her “you’re safe baby” “i love you” “you’re beautiful” “i can practically hear you’re heart beating out of your cheat y/n… are you sure this is okay?” OH and she asks to keep as many clothes on as possible—like she keeps her t-shirt on—maybe even asks him to close the blinds so its as dark as possible? and basically she has to ask to stop a couple times to breathe and ground herself, and he’s just like “it’s okay, whenever you’re ready” & “we can stop whenever, just let me know” & like maybe she even tears up at one point, or has to stop because she’s crying and he comforts her (maybe even sheds a tear himself because he’s both hurting for her, but also so honoured that even tho its so hard for her, she trusts him enough to be the one to do it). // also, if you’d be willing to add it in, i’d love a specific addition of him going down on her and basically she denies him using his fingers because it’ll cause flashbacks, so she’s like “wait—no hands. you can use your mouth, but just…no hands. please.” and he just kisses her forehead and is like “of course. anything you want baby” // and afterwards he just holds her and lets her cry into him as she thanks him and tells him how much she loves him, before they drift off to sleep 🥲
ahhhhhh sorry that was so long—i just wanted to get as many details as i could in there to make them as realistic/accurate as possible for any other readers who go through these things cause there isnt many fics on here for us :’(
anyways, i’d really appreciate you considering my ask. it would mean so much to me (as a vinnie stan who’s life is a lil different than the ones described in most fics lol) to have something like these written!!! again, i love your work and i just wanted to say i hope you never stop writing for vin, because you’re honestly so talented 🤍🤍🤍
- 🌙 anon
first of all, let me just say i’m so sorry for the things you’ve been through and i hope you know you’re amazing as hell and i sincerely hope you are doing the best you can.
secondly, thank you so much for asking me to do this story and for trusting me with such a sensitive topic because you’re right - not a lot of fics dive into some of the more realistic parts of life, which i understand because they’re usually just lighter and for fun. but i know many readers would also appreciate the more realistic side of things from time to time.
i started writing in middle school and didn’t get into fanfic until recently. but writing has always been something that gives me an escape from the real world. it’s absolutely a coping mechanism for me, and i know that many people who read my stories read them for the same reasons that i write them. and to be able to give you and everyone else who reads my stuff a little bit of peace or escape from whatever bullshit is going on in their life, that means the absolute world to me. it gives me such a sense of purpose, even if it seems like this is just a silly little blog on tumblr.
i’ll split these into 2 different stories and get to work on them right away. the first one will be a series and the smut one will probably be a one shot if that’s okay?
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
After Midnight Pt. 2 (Feysand)
This part is completely in Rhysand’s POV, which was kind of challenging because I don’t really like writing ~sexy stuff~ while attempting to think about what the hell men are thinking about. HA.
Part 1
_________________________________________________________
~Rhysand~
All week long, Feyre--the client--keeps creeping in my head, making it damn near impossible for me to focus on anything at work.
Her full bottom lip, the taste of her skin, the soft little moan she doesn’t believe is sexy.
It’s not all depraved, male thoughts, though. I wouldn’t worry so much if it was, because that would just be lust, and lust is easy to fix.
But I also think about her smile, her bright blue eyes.
I think about the panic that came over her and what might have happened to her to cause such a deep-rooted reaction like that.
I know it’s none of my business, but I want to know what happened to her. I want to help her be more confident, help her with her intimacy problems.
Shoving what’s probably just my savior complex down, I tell myself her problems don’t concern me.
She’s a paycheck.
A beautiful, intriguing paycheck that I can’t stop thinking about.
Fuck.
I don’t have time to change after working at the bar, so I head to the hotel in dark slacks and a white t-shirt. You can see my tattoos, but it isn’t too trashy, so I don’t think she’ll mind.
Some clients are extremely particular about what I wear.
Sometimes so particular I end up getting a new suit out of the arrangement.
Feyre doesn’t seem like the type, but I doubt she’ll hesitate me to tell me if she wants me to look a little more professional. The thought makes me smile.
Do not tell me what to do. Ever.
I love how angry she got, how she didn’t hesitate to tell me off when I started acting like a prick. Little hellion.
Even if I was tempted to do exactly what she told me not to. Because gods above, the urge to tell her to do something with that beautiful mouth besides yell at me was fucking overwhelming.
I’m going straight to hell.
Clenching my jaw, I attempt to not think anything perverted as I walk into the hotel bar and spot Feyre sipping a drink.
But I could clench that shit hard enough to break my teeth, and it still wouldn’t keep me from noticing the way her hair catches the light, the way her black tank top dips in the front to show off the smooth skin of her chest.
I’m a fucking professional, I scold myself as I march over. And it’s just a collarbone, for gods sake.
“Hello, Feyre,” I murmur, sliding into the stool next to her.
Cloudy sky eyes look over at me, and I could swear they drift over my outfit appreciatively, lingering on my tattoos. “Rhysand.”
Something about hearing my full name makes this feel extremely impersonal, so I say, “You can just call me Rhys.”
“Oh, okay.” She shrugs and pushes her empty glass away.
“Do you want to get another drink, or are we going upstairs?”
It’s fucked up how happy I get when she says the latter.
I need to stop thinking about her as a woman and start thinking about her like a wealthy client I need to please.
Except that pleasing her sounds like too good of an idea as I follow behind her, my eyes watching her ass.
Client or not, she has a really great ass.
Once we’re standing across from each other in the elevator, I deny myself further thoughts of her backside and ask, “How was your week?”
We’ve agreed to only meet Fridays at the same hotel room, so it’s a casual enough question.
“It was alright. I work at the art museum on fifth street, and we have an event coming up soon, so I’m planning it.”
I nod, finding it easy to picture her in a museum, talking passionately about some old, overpriced piece of art. “I didn’t know being a curator was such a well-paying job.”
“Oh, it’s not.” There’s a brief flash of sadness in her beautiful eyes as she says, “I used to be an artist.”
“But you’re not anymore?”
Obviously, you idiot. She just said that.
Feyre shakes her head, looking relieved as the elevator door bings open. We walk down the hall in silence, and then we’re in the room.
“Anything specific you want to do tonight?” I ask, leaning against the wall and watching as she throws her bag on the bed.
It’s a pretty standard question, but it seems to make her nervous. She starts pacing, then looks down and frowns at herself and stops. “Oh, um... well...”
It suddenly dawns on me that she has no idea, because she doesn’t know her boundaries anymore. The realization makes me both sad and pissed at whoever hurt her.
“We could just make out,” I offer, shrugging to let her know it’s up to her. “See where it goes.”
She bites her lip and flushes, looking so adorably embarrassed I grin. Apparently not able to say the words, she just nods.
I don’t want to scare her, so I avoid the bed and head to one of the cushy, wide chairs near the window. Her eyebrows go up a little, but she follows me over, then sits gingerly on my knee.
She’s literally in my lap, yet I can’t even kiss her she’s so far away.
“Feyre.”
“Yes?”
“Is this not okay?”
She shakes her head. “This is good.”
I grab her hips and drag her toward my chest, muttering, “Then come here, woman.”
She laughs, the sound light and surprised. “Sorry. This is just... isn’t this weird for you? I feel like I’m a terrible person for making you do this.”
Is she serious? Making me kiss her?
“You’re not forcing me to do anything, and you’re not a bad person for wanting to enjoy yourself. We’re just... exchanging goods.”
Her mouth drops open, and I laugh.
“Bad way to phrase that,” I admit, still grinning. “But no, it isn’t weird. You’re a beautiful woman, and I was being serious when I told you I could kiss you all night.”
To keep her from arguing, I lean up and press my lips against hers. Her breath hitches, so I kiss her again, just a faint touch of my lips against hers.
Feyre’s sitting on me sideways, but when I wrap my arms around her, she leans into my chest. And then she starts kissing me back.
Her arms go around my shoulders, hands in my hair, and the position makes her breasts press against my chest. It’s a new, torturous distraction, made sweeter by the fact that I know she isn’t even doing it on purpose.
Everything about her is naturally sexy. She doesn’t have to try, and I can tell she’s just enjoying herself, not trying to put on a show.
One of my hands is on her back, the other is on her thigh, sliding up until the smooth curve of her hip fills my palm. I'm in the process of squeezing her closer when she pulls back abruptly.
I track her face for any sight of panic, but she’s completely calm as she shifts to straddle my waist, knees on the chair at either side of my hips.
Almost automatically, my hands fall to her backside and drag her forward until we’re flush together. Feyre gasps, and then her mouth is moving against mine in a more frantic pace.
I love knowing I’m getting to her like she is to me. I love the fact that she’s breathing heavily as I move to kiss my way down her throat. I love the little sound she makes when I suck on the place between her shoulder and neck.
I love that she can’t stay still, even if the little movements of her hips are slowly driving me insane.
Her hands tug on my hair, tilting my head back, and then she’s leaning away slightly. And blushing.
Which means she wants something else.
I raise an eyebrow.
“Would you mind taking your shirt off?”
My stupid lips won’t stop twitching at how polite she is. The urge to tease her about it rises, but I ignore it and drag my shirt over my head, then throw it on the floor behind her.
Watching her attempt to not look down is probably one of the best moments of my entire life.
Her eyes flit from mine to my chest, then to my abs, then back to my face.
I’ve grown used to women treating my like an object, and it’s adorable to watch her try to be so respectful.
“Pervert,” I tease when her eyes dip once again.
Feyre laughs softly, even as her fingertips start to glide over my skin, causing my muscles to go tight. She traces the lines of my tattoos across my chest, following them down my arms.
On a seduction scale of one to ten, it’s about a three.
And yet, my body reacts without question, heat flooding into my crotch like lightening.
Her gaze snaps up to mine and I offer an apologetic smile. Eyes wide, she practically jumps backward off my lap, standing in front of me and looking anywhere except my face.
And to be honest, I’m a little confused.
I was pretty sure my job description included having sex or some kind, and since she hired me, I’d figured that would come around sooner or later. So why is she so surprised I get an erection?
Especially when she puts that cute behind in my lap and kisses me stupid and puts her hands all over me?
Before I can ask, she says, “I’m going to take a shower.”
Out of everything I expected her to say, that didn’t make the list, but I still reply, “Okay.”
Only she doesn’t take a single step towards the bathroom. And after another long moment of silence, she murmurs, “I would like if you joined.”
Oh.
That I understand.
Smiling like a complete jackass, I nod and get up, following her to the posh bathroom. She reaches in and turns the shower on, then turns to me and shocks me yet again. “Turn around, please.”
“I thought I was joining you.”
“You are.”
I run a hand through my hair, trying not to laugh again. “Well unless we’re showing in our clothes, I’m going to see you naked at some point.”
“I’m aware of that,” she says sourly, hands on her hips. “But I can’t undress with you watching.”
Sighing, I turn around, not pointing out that the massive mirror next to us makes this entire request pointless. But I want to make her feel comfortable, so I close my eyes for safe measure. The sound of rustling fabric fills the silence, then the shower door opens and she says, “You can, um, turn around now.”
I do, then immediately regret it.
Because if Feyre in her clothes was alluring and sexy and beautiful, Feyre naked is downright sinful. I mutter a curse and she raises and eyebrow, but I’m too busy thinking about anything except what’s in front of me to care.
Which is pretty impossible, considering the sight of her tilting her head back and allowing water to run down her body is something no man could ever ignore.
I watch the water track all the way down to her toes, then slowly force my eyes back up.
Remembering I’m here for a job and am getting paid and that I should not be enjoying this, I quickly undress and step into the shower.
Standing close enough our breath mixes, we just stare at each other for another moment. And it’s just when I’m sure she’s about to tell me what she wants that she finally speaks.
“I don’t think I can have sex with you,” she whispers, shooting my happiness straight in the face.
She sure as shit seemed like she could a minute ago. Is seeing me naked changing that or something?
“Oh,” I say, looking down at myself in confusion. “That’s... embarrassing.”
“Oh gods! I didn’t mean it like that! This is so embarrassing. You’re.... I obviously find you attractive enough.” I look back up, and she has both hands over her face. “I mean that I can’t have sex with you tonight. I’m kind of freaking out a little, and I don’t particularly want to have another panic attack.”
Pride and manhood back in order, I reach out and gently pry her hands off her face. “It’s okay. I get it. You’re in charge, remember? Anything you want, nothing you don’t.”
She looks down at the part of my body that is most definitely ready for some action, then back up. “I’m sorry.”
Yeah, this’ll definitely suck, but it isn’t her fault. “So you just want to shower and stare at each other, then?”
Instead of answering, she kisses me. Apparently not.
Smiling against her, I pull her closer, causing our chests to collide in a slippery, intoxicating way.
Feyre eventually answers the question of what she wants when her hand takes mine and slides it down her stomach, then further.
“Will you-”
She cuts herself off as I make circles with my thumb slowly, sucking on her bottom lip at the same time. “Yes,” I murmur back.
And because I have the feeling this is all we’ll do tonight, I’m determined to make it enough. More than enough.
I nudge her feet further apart with mine and kiss her deeply as I slide a finger down her center, then push it inside, making sure to keep my thumb moving slowly.
She moans, and I have to close my mouth to keep myself from mimicking the sound because holy hell she’s...
If she feels this good against my hand, I almost don’t want to know how she’ll feel against other parts of me. The fact that sex with her is even a potential possibility tells me I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.
Her head falls forward against my chest, but I slide a hand in her damp hair and tilt it back far enough to allow access to her throat.
I don’t move lower, even though I’m dying to, because I want everything we do to be her idea.
“Rhys,” she groans, hips following the rhythm set by my hand.
She’s a client, she’s a client, she’s a client.
My name falls off her lips again, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard, so I move back to her mouth and attempt to eat it.
Her hands once again explore my shoulders and chest and abs, and I’m not sure which of us she’s trying to get off because I’m fucking addicted to her touch.
I pull on her lower lip with my teeth as I add another finger, and she makes a helpless little sound that does my sanity absolutely no favors.
All I can think about is how I want to drive her crazy. I want her to fall apart in my arms. I want to make her feel so good she goes weak in the knees.
I slow my rhythm down until she whimpers, hips moving restlessly, then flick my thumb over where it’d been busy drawing circles and push it down roughly.
Knowing it’ll be enough, I open my eyes to watch as she comes. And it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, hands down.
Her cheeks flush, eyes press shut, and lips open to let out a low moan that goes straight to my dick. Her entire body is tight, then she goes loose in my arms, leaning heavily against me.
Bright blue eyes peer up at me and watch as I bring my hand up and pull a finger into my mouth. I can’t help it, really.
And I definitely don’t regret it, because the taste of her on my tongue is enough to make my blood thrum.
I release it with a pop, then smirk down at her flushed face.
“Um, thank you.”
Unable to keep my hands to myself, I sweep her hair back and smile. “It was my pleasure, really.”
She rolls her eyes, then catches sight of what’s between us. “Are you going to be okay?”
Unless you count the fact that my balls will hurt like hell for a few hours. “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” She reaches out a hand. “I can-”
Pushing her hand away gently, I tell her, “I don’t want you to touch me. Unless you want to.”
The last fucking thing I want to do is make her feel pressured to do something she doesn’t want to. I have a feeling that’s the reason she has “problems with intimacy” like she said.
Feyre takes a step back, ignoring the shower spray directly in the back of her head. There’s a strange look on her face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was... embarrassed. “You don’t want me to touch you?”
Ah, fuck.
“No. I mean, yes. I mean-” I take a deep breath and tell myself how much of an idiot I am. “I didn’t mean it like that. I definitely don’t mind you touching me. I just don’t want you to feel pressured into anything.”
She raises a brow, so I keep going. “I mean, you said you have problems with intimacy. I’m here to help, not make them worse by demanding you jerk me off in the shower.”
I have a way with words, honestly.
Slapping a hand on my forehead, I mutter, “None of this is coming out right.”
But Feyre ignores that and laughs. Really laughs, for the first time. It’s a full, loud laugh that makes me chuckle, too. Her laugh’s the best thing I’ve ever heard, even if it is at my expense.
“I believe you,” she finally says when she stops giggling. “Thank you. You’re a good person.”
I roll my eyes because that’s the last thing I am. “We should probably get out of the shower.”
She nods and cuts the water off, reaching to grab us towels. Once we’ve dried off, we both start pulling our clothes on.
Normally, I rush through this part. Clients are usually either awkward or much too affectionate towards the end, and it’s a miracle to get out the door.
But with Feyre, I find myself taking my time as I pull my jeans and shirt back on. And I find myself watching as she does the same.
“I want to talk to you about next week.”
Something about her voice makes me a little nervous, but I still say, “Shoot.”
“My therapist suggested that I try ‘normal things’ to ease back into intimacy. Hence the shower. Before tonight, I hadn’t seen a man naked in over a year.”
“Okay...”
I have no idea where she’s going with this.
“I would like to ask you to stay the night next week,” she says quickly, like the words themselves make her nervous.
“What do you mean?”
She honestly looks like she might pass out as she murmurs, “I’d like you to.... sleep here. It won’t be sexual, but I am willing to pay you more if you want.”
My mind starts running a bit wild with that. She wants me to stay the entire night--something I never, ever do--but doesn’t want sex out of it? Why would that be something that makes her this nervous?
“You just want to sleep in the same bed?”
There’s a pause where I swear she’s going to say no. “Yes.”
I think back to what she told me a week ago. I have problems trusting men.
It makes sense, I guess. She trusts me enough this’ll be a challenge, something that pushes her boundaries enough to get her to open up.
“Okay,” I agree eventually.
“Really?”
“I’ll bring my jammies,” I joke, relieved when she cracks a small smile.
I know why she’s nervous, but I have no clue as to why I suddenly feel like next Friday is the biggest night of my life.
Pushing those feelings away, I finish getting dressed, kiss her on the cheek, and head for the door.
Turning back, I smile and say, “I’ll see you Friday for our slumber party.”
I’m sure it’ll be a night to remember, one way or another.
___________________________________________________________
Part 3
@trinitybailey2003 @zukos-simp @cursebreaker29 @sjmships @starrynightsbooks @lovemollywho @januarystears @perseusannabeth @bamchickawowow @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace
#feysand#feyre#feyre archeron#rhysand#rhys#feyre x rhysand#feyre x fhys#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acowar#acomaf#acofas#a court of mist and fury#a court of thorns and roses#a court of wings and ruin#a court of frost and starlight
215 notes
·
View notes
Text
Five Step Program
Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.
I stared at the contents of the envelope, a blue jockstrap, and a folded piece of paper. I hadn’t put much hope into this “miracle solution” to becoming a jock without any of the work. Of course there was a catch. “First 20 customers get their first shipment free of charge” was enough for me to fill out the form with my information. It wasn’t anything too revealing. Name, address, height, weight, age. A box where you could write what you hoped to achieve with this revolutionary five step program. That’s what they really were after, I guessed. Having people enter their dreams so that they can tailor their next scam better. I was even surprised I got anything in the mail at all, and now having opened it, it made even more sense.
I could see how sending a jockstrap to someone perhaps fulfills some legal requirement that the recipient could now look like a jock. It could be a way to avoid getting a federal fraud charge. But I hadn’t spent a dime on this, so it didn’t make any sense. The jockstrap looked like any other jockstrap, I guessed. I’d never owned one, nor worn one. The pouch was dark blue and made with two layers of some synthetic mesh material. The big waistband was light blue with the letters JOCK repeated in dark blue around it. There was a faint smell of synthetic material and detergent. I did a mental sigh and opened the folded letter.
Congratulation on becoming one of our first customers on the revolutionizing five step Jock Express program. As a thank you for signing up, this first part is totally free of charge. Should you wish to continue the program, as we are confident you will after having successfully completed the first session, simply use the URL at the bottom of this page to enter your credit card information and we’ll send you the next item as soon as the payment is confirmed. I’m happy to inform you that we can offer a reduced price for the entire program, should you chose to start it within five days. The price is only $100 for the next installment, and progressively higher as you advance in the program. There is no commitment to purchase so you can stop the program at any point. We’re confident you will want to complete all the five steps in the Jock Express program.
Fuck that! What morons sign up to this kind of shit?
Instructions: The Jock Express is the easiest and most user friendly fitness program ever developed. Simply drink a lot of water, put on the items included in each program step, as you normally would, and go to sleep.
I was even more confused. Why would that sway anyone to put out $100 for at best another piece of gym clothing? I put it all in my in-tray on my desk and let it slip from my mind. I had dinner, watched TV, answered some late emails and the usual Tuesday stuff. By bedtime I walked past my home office and had the sudden recollection that I had something waiting in the in-tray. Then I remembered what it was, and almost reluctantly decided to go ahead with wearing the damn thing. I was still convinced it was a scam, but was immensely curious to exactly how it would work. If nothing else I would get to feel what wearing a jockstrap feels like. I drank a glass of water, put on the jockstrap, and went to bed. The jockstrap was as comfortable as anything and I quickly went to sleep.
Apparently I slept through the first alarm, and jolted awake on hearing the more incessant buzz from the phone. I jumped out of bed and it wasn’t until halfway to the bathroom I realized I was naked. I wouldn’t say massive, as in cartoonish in any way, but my dick and balls were noticeably bigger than before. It took a few seconds for my still startled brain to put the pieces together. The jockstrap had disappeared and somehow affected the body. It hadn’t replaced any body parts, I could still recognize my dick, but it was for sure altered. Suddenly $100 felt like way too little money. I didn’t even put any pants on as I typed in the URL from the letter. Jock Express step #2 for $100 and express delivery for another $25. Annoyingly no option to order all four remaining steps as a package. I just wanted to have them all in my house as soon as possible.
By the time I had entered all my details, checked all the boxes, and clicked the final webshop button I was rocking a massive hard-on. The biggest one in my life so far, by far. I didn’t care right then if I would come late or call in sick, I just knew that I had to take my pre-cum leaking enhancement for a test drive, and slowly started to move my hand up and down the shaft. It felt better than ever, and lasted longer than I have ever before. I’m not really sure how long, because I zoned out a bit while wanking, and then exploded with an epic load of cum. I managed to tilt the chair back and catch it all on my body, but then I felt really spent and dozed off, only to be brought back with a text message from my boss. Sick day it is, I decided.
A more apt description would be a lewd day. I just cycled between laptop porn, wanking and showers, and combinations thereof. I loved the difference it made when wearing underwear. Even when flaccid you could tell here was action waiting, not just only wearing underwear, but while wearing jeans too. I took photos so I had progress photos to compare with.
The next day was a strange one. I worked all day in the glow of someone with confidence, as if somehow I had done some achievement. I kind of surprised myself with how much of a difference it made when dealing with the pileup of emails from yesterday. Big dick energy. I could make decisions so much faster than I was used to. I don’t know if I really had more confidence, or just didn’t care as much. I was for sure giddy with anticipation of what was yet to come by overnight delivery. I forced myself to stay until official end of office hours and then bolted and drove straight home.
Thank God there was a DHL box in my mailbox, or I don’t know what I would have done. I opened it on my way in, and it’s contents were similar to the first one. A folded letter and some folded cloth. Without opening the letter I unfolded the cloth, which turned out to be a plain, sleeveless, white cotton T-shirt. Had there been someone to high five, I would have done so. I’m not fat, but there is a bit of flabbiness I would love to get rid of, so I couldn’t wait for this part. I felt anticipation in my stomach and something else in my pants. I hadn’t had a wank since this morning.
Evening couldn’t come soon enough. The letter said basically the same as the last one. A new URL for the $400 Jock Express #3, which I immediately ordered, again with overnight shipping. Not really sure what to kill time with, I figured a jock would watch sport, so I just randomly put some football on. I hadn’t really paid any attention to sports before, so I wasn’t sure about who was who, what the series looked like, or really what happened on the field besides the obvious. I ended up masturbating to the football, which in my opinion made it better. By 9:30 I decided to drink a few glasses of water, strip, put on the sleeveless T-shirt, and go to bed. I tossed and turned in anticipation for quite a while. The T-shirt had a very loose fit, and the big holes for the arms made it even more mobile, though it was anchored by the crew neck. Finally at some point I managed to fall asleep.
I woke up before the alarm. It was dark enough that I knew I hadn’t slept through them all. Instead of getting up or turning on the light, I just slowly moved my hand to my chest under the sheet. My chest was about the same size, but felt firmer, I imagined. But more importantly I was naked and the shirt was gone. I moved my hand down and couldn’t contain my joy when I started to feel the faint square of abs. I jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom to have a look in the mirror. The effect was better than I thought from just touch. My torso not only looked fit as a model, with abs and V and all, but younger and with better skin. Perhaps an illusion, but it almost looked like my dick was bigger as well.
Having woken up early, after a wank and a shower, I was one of the first in at the office and quickly got ahead on my tasks for the day. I still had the anticipation I felt yesterday, but today it was more like I knew what to expect. It wasn’t just a one-off or a fluke, this was legit and it was happening. As I started early I decided to flex out early and rush back home. I spent the drive home fantasizing about different types of clothing. I was kind of wishing for those sleeves they use in basket, to amp up my arms, but there might be some scientific reason why they changed the body parts in a specific order. Who was I kidding? This wasn’t science. This was magic.
I ripped open the familiar package as soon as I was inside the front door. This time it was white under armour legging of some sort, ending just below the knees. I was considering strip down fully naked and put on the leggings right then and there, and wear them until it was time to go to bed, but decided against it. Even though the descriptions were vague and didn’t really say you couldn’t do that, I didn’t want to risk fucking up the process. Instead I found some underwear in the same color as the jockstrap and took a pair of scissors to an old white T-shirt to make it look like the one I put on yesterday. Then I put on those, and nothing but, and sat myself in front of the TV, determined to actually try to follow the game this time, whichever game I happened to see.
It might be I imagined it, perhaps because I’ve never really seen myself in a sleeveless T-shirt before, but it looked to me like my arms were a bit more defined than yesterday. I realized that I had just assumed only the parts under the clothes are affected, but that’s just something I made up. It could be that it just primarily acts under the clothes, or perhaps it was just a coincidence and the clothes really could change anything. In the end I let it go. It didn’t matter, I couldn’t prove it either way, and I couldn’t watch a game, have deep thoughts and masturbate all at the same time anyway. I was so into it I almost forgot to order the next package. A steep $1000 for whatever the next item was, but so far it was fucking worth it.
I really liked how I looked in the 3/4 leggings or whatever the fuck they are called. Just imagining how much better I would look the morning after made me go to bed with a big boner, despite being thoroughly wanked. I tried to calm myself by thinking of the last game I watched, and not give Jock Express a thought, and it kind of worked. I know I fell asleep pretty quickly and dreamt of football until the alarm woke me up.
“Fuck yeah!” was the first I could think when I saw myself. The thighs were about as large as before, but the line going down them made it obvious they were muscles and not jiggle matter. It even felt different just standing. I’m almost positive my dick had grown even more. Who the hell wouldn’t dish out $400 or whatever for this shit?
While the day started great it quickly became frustrating with all the corporate bullshit. I knew how to do my job. There were just so many fucking rules in the way of doing it in the best way. Perhaps the anticipation of the second to last package made me be in a bad mood. Whatever. I bolted as soon as I could, cranked up the volume in the car, trying to not think of anything until I got home. I almost punched something when I opened the mailbox and didn’t find an envelope. Instead it was just a note about DHL attempted to deliver while I wasn’t home. I could either call them to deliver tomorrow or drive to a pickup point. Like fuck I would wait another full fucking day.
I was furious when I got back into the car, blasting music as loud as I could, but I quickly calmed down. Perhaps this was a good thing? It might be a box with shoulder pads from football or hockey or lacrosse or whatever the fuck else looks hot. You know what else is hot? Michael at the DHL pickup point. I mean, I’m not homo or anything, I’m just saying he was a good looking dude.
The packet he gave me was a bit disappointing though. No way it could contain anything as large as shoulder pads. I didn’t want to fuck with my mojo, so I kept the same routine as before and didn’t open it until back home. Fucking cleats and socks. Another fucking leg day. And they smelled bad too, like distilled vinegar or some shit. As I entered the URL from the letter on my phone I got two more shocks. The price of the last package was ten thousand fucking dollars! And even worse, the delivery wouldn’t arrive until Monday. Two fucking days away. “This is bullshit” I shouted at nobody and threw the empty cardboard box into the wall to no damage to either.
I was still furious and went straight to the fridge, pulled out a cold can of beer, opened it, and downed half of it. It felt better, but I was still upset on the world in general. I looked at the phone screen again. $10k is a fuckton of money. There wasn’t a rush to buy it right now either, if they didn’t do overnight delivery during weekends. I emptied the can and crushed it against the countertop. It hurt my hand, which just added to my anger for being such a weakling. I pulled the rest of the six-pack out of the fridge and threw it in the living room couch on my way to the bedroom. I needed to get out of these stuffy office clothes and cool down with a cold one, or four.
I ripped off the tie and started to unbutton the shirt on my way into the bedroom, and once there opened the door to my wardrobe. I felt like a girl, not knowing what to wear. I hated everything my eyes fell on, and I hated feeling like that. I bunched the shirt into a ball and threw it into a corner, together with the tie. I climbed out of the pants as quickly as I could and threw them there as well. Then I stopped myself.
Everything I saw I really liked, I realized. The pecs, the abs, the thighs, and the generous bulge in the boxer briefs.I yanked off my socks and more deliberately lowered my boxers to let the dick and balls loose. I knew what I wanted from this junk selection of clothes, and opened a drawer with my athletic clothes and pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants. It was Friday and my dick and balls deserved some freedom, I thought, as I put on the sweats without any underwear. I picked up the sleeveless T-shirt from the floor by the bed and put that on as well. I felt so much better. A few beers, whatever game was on, and some more wanking, and perhaps this could turn into a good evening after all.
After two more beers, cum stains on sweatpants, T-shirt and the couch, and fuck knows how many games I zapped through I couldn’t wait any longer. Whatever bullshit the cleats and sock did, the sooner it was over with, the sooner I could move on with the final package. $10k was still a lot, but if I sold all shares I could buy it, keeping both house and car.
The socks went almost up to the knees, but weren’t any real soccer socks or anything like that. The looked more like something someone might have to the gym, or something a skater would wear. Skater was perhaps right, because they smelled like that vinegary acidic smell of really sweaty skater shoes. The socks were white with a wide black band around it near the top, and were a bit off-white on contact surfaces around the foot, as if they had been used in black shoes by someone. As if I would fucking care. I pulled up both legs of the sweats over the knees and put on both socks, pulling them as high as possible. The cleats were black and a bit banged up, but fit perfectly on my feet. I didn’t even remember having given out my shoe size. I was unsure how tight to tie them, so I went with comfortable without being loose.
It felt weird walking with them, like the shoes were pushing your forward. Not at all like my much flatter leather shoes. Somehow my test walking ended up by the fridge, so I grabbed another six-pack and returned to the couch for some more ESPN or whatever.
I had no idea what sport it was on the screen, but glancing out the window I could see that it wasn’t evening anymore. I must have fallen asleep, I realized, but I felt way better than I ought to, given the pile of crushed beer cans around me. I walked to the toilet to have a piss, and it wasn’t until I lowered the front of my sweatpants to grab my morning semi-stiff snake I realized I was barefoot. I was pissing for probably a good minute, aiming down with one hand. Holy fuck so much I’ve kept in while sleeping. I was pretty sure I had cleats and socks on when I fell asleep. I did a few bounces on the balls of the feet. It felt fucking great, and shook loose the last drops of piss from my dick. I dropped it back into the sweatpants, and broke into a smile from how fucking huge of a tent it made, despite being just a semi. I did a few more jumps, looking at how the flagpole in my front swung up and down. I really didn’t deserve to feel this great after yesterday, but I’d fucking take it. I felt so full of energy I felt I could do anything. I wanted to run just to see how it would feel.
I dashed into my bedroom and emptied the rest of the athletic clothes drawer on the floor. Some T-shirts, a pair of basket shorts, white socks and wiped down indoor and outdoor shoes. All of it was underwhelming, outright disappointing. And why the fuck did I keep the shoes here and not by the door? I grabbed the outdoor shoes and without bothering with socks started to mash my foot into it. It was clearly at least one size too small, perhaps several. Who the fucks know how shoe sizes work. I threw both shoes into the wall above my pile of office clothes. Fucking hell. Why do all days start out great and then go downhill so fast, I wondered.
I grabbed a pair of flip flops, the car keys, and pulled the credit card out of the wallet and walked out to the car. The car stereo startled me when I turned the ignition key, as it blared out some hip hop at max volume. I reached to turn it down, but changed my mind. It felt like my mood, as I was driving to my closest mall almost below speed limit. There wasn’t much traffic out anyway on a Saturday morning. As I turned into the almost empty parking lot in front of the mall I realized the fucking God damn shit mall would open for another 40-something fucking minutes. I wished I could turn up the music louder.
As I looked down on the cum stains on my shirt and tenting sweats I decided why the fuck not, and started to beat off in sync with the music.
40-something fucking minutes later I entered the sporting goods store in the mall. Johnson’s or Dick’s or Willy’s or whatever, I don’t care. I picked up some proper compression clothes, like the leggings I had earlier with a matching top. I got myself some outdoor Nike’s, a few proper tanks, some jocks, boxer shorts and socks, new flip flops, and a snapback cap. On the way to the cashier I decided to pick up a wooden baseball bat and a regulation size football as well. Back in the car I ripped off all the stickers and shit and put on something I could run in. The sneakers, jockstrap and shorts, a tank top, and the snapback. I left the car and just ran.
It was a revelation. The first time I tasted ice cream or coca cola, or the first time I discovered I could do something else with my dick besides peeing and hitting it too hard. I felt like a good damn terminator. Like as long as I kept the pace below sprinting I could run for hours. Trickles of sweat running down my face, my arms, my back, wetting the fabric of my clothes where it could, cooling the skin with the breeze my motion generated where it couldn’t. I have no fucking idea how long I actually run. When I finally ended up back in the car I was steaming and real fucking hungry.
I felt like a shower was in order, but I was too hungry to do that first. I went by Five Guys and had a bacon cheeseburger with fries and a peanut butter milkshake. As I started eating I realized I wasn’t anywhere near tired. It was probably enough running for today, but I wanted to do more. Halfway through the meal I decided I would visit the gym we had a company membership at. I had only been there a few times since the introduction walkthrough. I wasn’t even sure I had the card in my wallet anymore, or if it was in the bowl of stuff in the kitchen.
I made a quick stop at home, unloaded my car, found the card, and set off to the Pacific Wellness Center. The dude in the lobby had a pissy attitude and asked me if I was wearing indoor shoes. I asked him what they looked like, and he let me in. Such a shame, because he was kind of good looking.
Inside the gym the results were mixed. Squats, lunges, planking, and abductor machine all went excellent. It was fun, even. But everything involving arms went miserably. I could only lift a pathetic load, and after a few reps I would be tired. I even embarrassed myself in front of two massive gym buddies. One of them had amazing arms. You could see how strong they were even when he wasn’t lifting, but fuck me what beautiful ‘ceps when loaded. And tanned too. It was lucky I had the jockstrap on, because that body was smoking hot.
I could only stand a few more failures after that and then sped back home, still with hip hop at max, in a mix of emotions. I got naked on the way to the bathroom, and there I spent perhaps an hour in the shower, getting the grime and sweat off me, and wanking twice, thinking of the arms of the hot dude. As I dried myself on a towel I knew I had to buy the last package. Ten fucking thousand fucking dollars. I had to use the laptop to access my bank, and once I had put in the sell order for my stock portfolio I saw the pornhub tabs I hadn’t looked at since Wednesday.
The big-busted bimbos I had wanked my way through the Wednesday suddenly didn’t seem as interesting. I clicked around a bit until I found a muscle stud fucking a Latino girl. How quickly the taste can change, but except for pathetic arms, I’m was now the muscle stud. I quickly entered the URL from the Jock Express #4 box and ordered the last package. The delivery date was still Monday, so come Tuesday the muscle stud would be me. Only one fucking week.
Since I was out of beer I threw on my old shorts and a T-shirt, and had a walk to my nearest convenience store and bought one six-pack for each hand. I was feeling a bit stiff from the training, but it was much better than it ought to be.
As I opened the door back at home the warm smell of gym clothes, sweat, and feet hit me. I did the responsible thing and threw everything in the washing machine, opened a beer, and started to watch whatever was on.
Sunday was just a boring-ass filler day. I woke up at a decent time, had a long run. I passed through the park, but didn’t engage with any of the groups playing football or beach volley there. I could wait two more days to get my arms sorted. I did some cleaning up and domestic shit back home. Then I went to the gym again, but this time I pretended it was leg day, so I didn’t have to embarrass myself. After dinner I had an evening jog as well, and only had a few beers before bedtime.
Same thing on Monday. Woke up pretty early and went for a long run. When I was almost back home I got a text message from my boss, saying we needed to talk about my performance over the last few days. My answer “Suck my balls” probably summed up the conversation much better than any in-person meeting. I found that the best way to find porn with muscle studs in them was to search in the gay section. Just because you like to watch big arms and strong backs doesn’t make you homo. I jacked off to the videos until it was time to eat lunch. By 2 pm I was climbing on the fucking walls in anticipation, and every minute felt like too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t arrive today at all? I heard the mailman at 2:18 and rushed out wearing only shorts and snapback.
The mailbox was stuffed full with a big, soft envelope. I tore it open on my way back inside, kicked the door shut, and emptied the contents on my kitchen table. A big black something fell out, as well as something small that rattled across the table. Ignoring the letters, as usual, I unfolded the cloth. It was a big, black hoodie in sweatshirt material, with the print “STRONG” on the front. Finally arms! I picked up the small plastic box that almost fell off the table and opened it. It contained some sort of advanced mouthguard mad in blue, white, and transparent plastic of different hardness and flex. The kind that football players use.
Not knowing what to do next, I went to the gym and spent a few hours just randomly doing low weight, high rep stuff. I was trying to catch a glimpse of everyone else who worked out to see what their arms and legs looked like. Once I felt it was too obvious I wasn’t doing anything serious I drove home, but instead of going inside I started to walk and walked for hours just looking. It felt good just to be in motion. I didn’t return back until the sun started to set, and it was almost fully dark when I walked through the door.
I decided to just go ahead with the last piece of transformation. I stepped out of my sneakers and pulled off my damp socks. It didn’t smell of strawberries. I pulled off the T-shirt and stepped out of the basket shorts, but kept the compression shorts on. I grabbed the hoodie from the table and put it over my head. Perhaps it was me, but it smelled of musky sweat inside while I put it on. I poured myself a big glass of water and downed it.
I walked with the small plastic box to the bathroom and had a look in the mirror. I didn’t really look that different. The big hoodie hid my newly athletic front. The legs and feet looked strong, but who ever notices that? My big bulge in the compression pants was however a change from the past week that couldn’t easily be hidden. I opened the box and put the mouthguard into my mouth. It fit snugly and didn’t change my appearance much either. Not knowing what to do with the hoodie I put it up over my head and pulled it tighter with the drawstrings so all but my face was gone. Then I turned off all the lights and went to bed.
It was still dark when I woke up. Instantly I knew it had worked, because I couldn’t feel the mouthguard in my mouth, though it felt different. As if the ghost of the mouthguard was still there, prying my mouth open. I felt some sort of pressure on my head, as if I was wearing a hat or a beanie or something. I was about to feel my head when I realized moving my arm felt different. Not wanting to fuck around any longer I went straight to the bathroom again to have a look in the mirror. I stared at my reflection with open mouth. The difference was breathtaking.
First of all I wasn’t wearing any top, so my abs and pecs were on full display, but they were also bigger than before. Everything was bigger. My shoulders were much bigger, my entire upper body looked wider than before, and everything about the arms were huge. My face was still my face, but there were lots of small changes. “Fucking dope” I said with a much deeper voice than what I had before. I smiled a smirk and flexed the arms in different poses. I couldn't wait to show up at the gym doing an arm day. I just needed to have another shower. My dick needed service, and I felt sluggish, as if I hadn't really wakened up yet.
187 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Freedom of Expression Ep 25 - Installation of statue kneeling in apology to comfort women statue.
K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru starting this week's episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome. Well, this show..im sure the viewers will realise this, but this show has a super low budget.
J, T: Hahaha
J: You're admitting that? Finally?
T: You noticed slightly.
K: Um, we usually record three episodes at once, but for the first one, it takes ages to get the recording started.
T: Hahaha
K: Like, (*imitates trying to fix equipment*) 'Huhh?', 'Oh, come on!'
J: Thats right.
K: They can't get the setup sorted at all, and we three are always just sat here waiting.
J: Yeah, I mean, its getting there, but it does take a while.
K: I mean, look at this! There isn't even a mic stand! You have to place it directly on the desk, and its fallen over how many times since just then!?
J: Its a rare sight these days.
T: For sure.
K: Well, anyway, this kind of analogue is what we have..
J: Yes, yes...let's get on with it and put our hearts into it.
K: Yes, lets do it. Um, also, today..we're recoding this on August 2nd..
J: Yes, and..
K: Tomorrow! Well, really its only in about ten more hours. Well, its on here too...(*gestures to board set up on the desk featuring new single info*)...Dir en grey's new single "Ochita koto no aru sora" will be released.
J: Congratulations
K: Well, its a digital release...(*mic falls over*) ..Look!
J: Oh, that. That was quick!
T: Amazing, it happened like magic!
K: Hahaha
J: Its like it was trying to.
K: Its because I touched the desk. Anyway, the single will have been released. I'd like everyone to listen if they can.
J: But its the first digital release for Dir, right?
K: Yeah, the first digital only release.
J: Digital only, yeah...as a result of the effect of corona.
K: Well, when we first announced it, stores were trying to implement self-restraint and stuff, so people wouldn't be able to order copies in store, and we didn't know how long this would go on. There would be people who would have to go directly to the store to pick it up, so in order to get it to everyone who wanted to hear it, we thought we should release it digitally. So its only digital.
J: Is this like a message from the band that you are still gonna release material even in times like these?
K: Yeah, like, we could have waited until we were able to release it with packaging, like postponed it without announcing it, and just released it after everything had calmed down, but as a band, we thought that keeping active, and making new material will give is that link to the future. So we decided to release.
J: The message is just recieving the song, right? I think its really important that the band stays active, so thats the basic message, right? Of course we want everyone to have a good listen to the song.
T: It was cool.
K: Oh, did you listen already?
J: I've listened too.
K: Oh, thank you.
T: The B-side was also cool.
K: Thank you. Ok, well, for today's theme, can I ask you Joe?
J: Yes, well its this news, it appeared in the news at the end of July. In the north east of South Korea, in the province of Gangwon-do, there is a place called Pyeongchang. Its been reported that in the S.Korean Botanical Garden there, a statue seemingly imitating Prime minister Abe kneeling in apology in front of a comfort women statue, has been installed. So, this has become news. After this was reported, Chief Cabinet Secretary Suga said at a press conference on the 28th of July, 'We have not confirmed any actual connection', as well as, 'Its unforgivable in terms of diplomatic relations', and other such strong comments. On the other hand, the S.Korean foreign ministry made the general statement that, 'There is a need to consider international relations in terms of foreign leaders'. They do not support the installation of the statue, but did not outline any specific counter-measures against it. Appearing as a commentator on a TV talk show, lawyer Hideki Yashiro pointed out his opinion that as it gets publicity, being in the Botanical Gardens where the public are free to enter, the statue cannot be viewed in the same way as a private garden installation. He pointed out that failing to intervene when an action to damage diplomatic relations takes place in such a facility, is seen as if its the state's own view, and that the government refusing get involved due to the land being privately owned is unforgivable. Well, this really is 'Freedom of Expression'. The owner of the Garden used his own money to make the statue, but internationally it can been seen as quite offensive. This has become quite a talking point in Japan and online, and similarly, it also has in S.Korea too. Those who think that Japan should be made to apologize, and those who think this is bad timing and could end up worsening relations futher. Even in S.Korea people are split about it in this way. This is the news.
T: I see
J: This is a difficult issue, isn't it.
T: It is difficult.
J: In what way should we consider this issue? How do you see this news, Kaoru?
K: Hmm, its extraordinary isn't it?
T: Absolutely...but this place Pyeongchang, it was in the news during the Pyeongchang Olympics. There were those 'Bullet Men' statues put up all over, depicting the perfect male form. It became news, like, is this art? What is this? So, this is also in Pyeongchang, so I wondered whether its just Pyeongchang culture or something?
J: Saying like, Pyeongchang makes a lot of statues?
T: Yeah.???*1
J: I see. But the head of this garden created this with his own money, surely there isn't much of a sense of it being art. Persisting with creating this message and putting it in the botanical gardens, doesn't necessarily mean it was made by the state, and I think it would be quite difficult for them to order the removal of the statue. Saying 'You have to remove it', even though it was built with private money, would be quite difficult. But on the Japanese side, Suga san was saying in regards to diplomatic relations 'Why are they deliberately making our country's Abe kneel in submission like that? Well, Suga has said that if this is true, it would have a severe effect on Japanese/S. Korean relations. He's making quite strong comments about this, but I think this may be a performance on Suga's part to maintain support for the increasingly unpopular Abe administration, by criticising S.Korea. He's moving away from freedom of expression to try and maintain his own popularity. So when you ask 'what is the core of this problem?', as soon as it blows up like this online, it becomes difficult to tell. There was a similar occurrence at the Aichi Triennale, and it also blew up online then too. Before you could really get to the bottom of the question of freedom of expresion, it kept on blowning up into completely different issues.
T: Yeah.
J: First it was all about Tsuda Daisuke's blonde hair.... This type of thing came up at this kind of time again, and I somehow thought it would've been better if a proper debate had been able to take place. Well, because there various ways to feel about this.
T: But in the end, I think this will end up hurting S.Korea, cause I know there are various opinions about this, but if they really want Abe or Japan to apologize, if they do it in this way, it may cause a gap to open up between the two sides. I don't think they've thought about it that far.
J: I see.
T: Conversely, it won't end up with any national benefit to the S.Korean people. It seems like it might hold back progress.
K: Well, but..
Kami: Uh..Isn't this quite subtle?
J: Mm, whats your view, Kami?
Kami: In my view, well, Japan and S.Korea don't have a great relationship, do they?
J: Yeh, they don't. Relations are continuing to worsen.
Kami: Because state promises were not kept, thats natural. I agree, that promises should be kept, that goes without saying. But the kneeling statue is probably Abe, right?
T: Well, yeh.
Kami: I think Abe has a lot to apologize for to the Japanese people too.
T: I see
J: Ahh
Kami: But no-one gets angry about that. Breaking promises is sickening, but like, its probably Abe kneeling on the ground right? If this was the Emporor, the symbol of Japan, that would be really bad, wouldn't it? It would be making a fool of all Japanese.
T: I see
Kami: But its Abe, isn't it? Haha.
J: You're really coming down from above today aren't you, Kami?
K: He's really emphasising this, isn't he?
J: He is.
Kami: But all those lies about the Sakura Party, giving money to his friends, using tax money to do it...
T: I see, I see.
Kami: Doing that type of thing, really, he should apologize for it to the Japanese people, I think.
T: I see.
K: But I bet if Kami was invited to the Sakura Party, he would go.
J: He would.
K: He'd recieve money and stuff..he'd go.
Kami: Of course I'd go.
J, K, T: Hahaha
Kami: I'd do the V-sign and get a photo together.
J: Kami, you're trivial!
Kami: Yep, I'd soon be won over.
J: You change a lot, don't you, Kami?
Kami: I'm affable.
K: Affable? haha
J: Such positive thinking, right? haha.
Kami: I'd want to give off a favourable impression.
J: He has quite a way with words, being able to express that in an affable way.
T: Affable, haha.
J: They do say that these kind of fence-sitters are unprincipled. He said he was affable! Next time Im asked, I'll say Im affable.
*mic falls off desk* Ahh, eventually!..The mic just naturally falling here. Essentially, I think he does have things to apologize for to his citizens. And Suga san at the press conference, for sure, there is the problem of how this case will affect international relations, but in regards to the anger of the citizens of this country, he should apologize for things that are slightly different. He should make time for it.
T: Well, there is that too.
J: I started to want to say that. Kami's anger is also quite right.
K: Oh yeh, as for our conversation, I just wanted to go back to what we spoke about previously, in our live broadcast before, we wanted people to ask things to Kami.
J: What was all that?
K: I think we talked about it.
J: What were the questions?
K: What were they?
J: Oh, is it this? *points to a section in his notes*
K: Ah, can I ask?
J: Questions for Kami.
Kami: I'll slip up if im put on the spot too much.
K: Oh, please slip up.
J: We want to see you slipping up.
Kami: Ahh.
K: Q) Kami, how can you become a god?
Kami: A god? Thats easy.
J: Do you have to study?
Kami: Use a voice changer.
J, K, T: Hehehe
J: How do you respond to that?
Kami: Yeh, of course the timing of your jokes is important.
K: We kinda already knew that.
J: Well, yeah. I feel bad that we couldn't get this point rolling more.
K: But the viewers probably found it interesting. They'll be wondering what a voice changer is...
Kami: No, they are not in the position of a god.
J: For sure, they may wonder about why a voice changer..But some people might be like, Ahh, I see.
K: Well, they'll probably be drawn into it. Like, 'I just have to change my voice?'
J: Yeh, yeh, yeh.
K: Ok, well I'd like to finish here for today. Please subscribe.
J: Please do.
K: Ah, also, please check out the new single. Thank you very much.
J: Please excuse us.
T: Thank you.
*1 Couldn't catch.
* Sakaura Party refers to a dubious annual Spring party Abe used to invite all his cronies to.
This is a touchy subject, so do please let me know if you think I've gotten anything wrong.
12 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
cornudosoy
Cuckold en Español | Cornudo
maybellanime
3 Missing Narwhals
sunshinexscrubsx-blog
Robin Marie
lostlense
nexishome
dentalhygieneschool-blog
Dental Hygiene School