#I spent over $170...

[lauradoesthingssometimes]

I want to get better at doing loose, but my tendency is toward detail. At least until I get lazy.

[faetealights]

...

[sugarkisses]

I neeeeeeeed my friend to break up with her bf RIGHT FUCKING NOW I hate him so much it's not even funny. She's so radiant and beautiful and pure hearted and he's destroyed her self esteem so much. Also not to count dollars and cents but she spent $450 to book them a yurt in a scenic resort in Vermont during peak leaf-peeping season and he couldn't even buy her the $50 silver bangle she wanted for her birthday. I actually spent more money on her bday gift than he did, and I wasn't even trying to. He still splits their checks after nearly a year of dating.

[writerbee-ffs]

SoftBoi Erik x Reader (Uriah)

Summary: Loosely based off on “Spend it” by Summer Walker.

Uriah is a soft girl but Erik pissed her off sooo she spends Erik’s ✨munyun✨. With all the Sinners fics I HIGHkey been missing Erik lil thotty ass.

Furious wasn’t even the word to describe Uriah’s mood. She was in a full-blown psychotic state. A part of her seriously considered having a full Angela Bassett Waiting to Exhale moment with his clothes. Erik had pissed her off one too many times, and she was done.

She stormed out of his house and returned to her condo in the sky—because seriously, who the fuck needed Erik?

They’d gotten into another heated argument—this time over his feelings for her. Or rather, his inability to express them. And of course, Erik brushed her off like always, claiming she was “tripping” and that she should already know how he felt. But she didn’t. Sure, he bought her things. Said “I love you” occasionally. But she needed more than that. She wanted to hear why he loved her. Why her. Was that really too much to ask?

Uriah was done. Or so she told herself. Meanwhile, Erik wouldn’t stop blowing up her phone with calls and texts. Honestly, she was shocked he hadn’t already shown up at her door, banging to be let in.

Ding.

Another text. Erik was relentless.

“You done acting like a brat?”

“Call me when you’re ready to talk like an adult.”

“You miss this?”

That last one came with a picture of his dick. Typical.

He was the childish one, not her. If he could just be honest about his damn feelings, all of this would blow over. But instead, she was thirty-something, ready to settle down, while Erik still wanted to play games.

Fine. She could play too.

She fired back a single text, ignoring the garbage above it:

“Give me the last four of your credit card. Buy back my love—you can keep your heart.”

The bubbles popped up instantly.

“0004.”

Got him, she thought, smirking as she closed the app.

She wasn’t usually the type to buy lavish things, but Erik was. And she couldn’t wait to piss him off with all the extra charges when the statement hit.

She spent the afternoon deciding: elevate her “earthy girl” aesthetic or redecorate the condo she’d practically abandoned after getting serious with Erik. She opted for both.

Givenchy, diamonds, and pearls—three months’ worth of rent spent in a single spree. She knew Erik would be livid when the notifications started rolling in. That was the point.

Every purchase? Overnighted. Or, at minimum, express shipping.

She didn’t want sweet nothings anymore. She wanted to be spoiled. Pleasured.

Uriah stretched from her spot on the couch, got up, and packed her small orange duffle for a solo dinner followed by a luxurious two day staycation—spa, massage, the works. One more purchase wouldn’t hurt, she thought as she stepped out.

⸻

“No, I still haven’t heard from him.” Uriah mumbled into the phone, balancing it between her shoulder and ear while turning the key into her front door.

It had been three days since Erik’s last call or text. At this point, she was convinced it was over. And she might just have to sell her ass—and toes—to pay off all the damage she did to his black card.

She dropped her duffle and turned on the foyer light.

“FUCK!” she yelped.

There he was. Erik. Sitting in the middle of a sea of her packages.

“Ma, I’ll call you back,” she muttered, placing the phone down, eyes never leaving his.

“Erik, what are you doing here?”

He sat wide-legged in her chair, arms stretched over the sides like a king on a throne. Silent. Watching.

She scanned the room—most boxes were ripped open, contents sprawled across the floor and couch. Her heart pounded.

She stood frozen, like a child caught doing something bad.

“Baby?” she whispered, tucking a loc behind her ear. “I missed you.”

When in doubt, butter him up.

She eased her way between his legs.

“Silk Chanel scarf, $550. Givenchy blouse, $1,650. Pearl studs, $170…” Erik read from his phone, tracking her approach.

He stood, towering over her.

“Spend it on me?” he quoted from her message. “How you feel, Princess?”

His smirk brushed her ear like a whisper.

“I—I…”

Words failed her. The spite had melted into something softer, more vulnerable.

“Speak, Princess,” he said.

He rustled through the chaos, finally pulling out a box. Savage X Fenty.

“I’m feeling generous,” he said. “I’ll let you pick.”

That grin again. Deadly.

She exhaled sharply—hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath.

No time to overthink. She chose something buttercream yellow, delicate. She smoothed vanilla-coconut cream over her cocoa skin and slipped the lingerie on. Her locs cascaded freely down her back, just above the swell of her ass.

“Sit.”

His voice carried from the doorway.

She obeyed, settling at the edge of the bed as he approached.

“Uriah went and spent Daddy’s money like the fucking brat she is,” he spoke, amused.

He opened a James Allen jewelry box and placed a single diamond necklace around her neck.

“You’ve got good taste, though.”

He kissed her neck. She shivered.

“Erik, I’m sor—”

“Nah, Princess.” He locked eyes with hers. “You’re not sorry. Stand on business.”

Her lips parted. Her body buzzed.

“Before, my love couldn’t be bought. But now… maybe that’s all I want.”

She crawled up the bed.

“Buy me more, Daddy.” She pinched a nipple, spread her legs. “You never talk. You just throw gifts at me. But never your love.”

Her fingers slid between her thighs. Roaming her wet opening.

“Do you love me, Daddy?” Uriah began to unravel without his help.

Erik grabbed her wrist, licking her slick from her fingers before replacing them with his own.

He knelt beside the bed, stretching her open. Her eyes rolled back. Her body trembled.

“Of course I fucking love you,” he whispered, kissing her temple.

When he pulled his fingers from her, she whimpered. He trailed kisses from her neck to her thighs before diving back in.

“I love you!” she moaned, legs shaking. He lapped her up like honey.

He hovered, pressing kisses all over her face, then aligned himself with her entrance. His thick length slid in slow, deliberate.

“I love you,” he moaned into her mouth. “I fucking love you, Uriah.”

His thrusts were unhurried.

He hadn’t cared about the money. He had plenty. What hurt was his own inability to say what he felt.

But this? This was how he showed it. Every soft stroke was a confession.

Uriah’s hips moved with his rhythm, tears slipping down her cheeks as he pushed her legs back for a deeper angle.

He had never touched her like this.

Her body gave in.

“Baaaaby—”

He stroked her through it.

“That’s Daddy’s princess,” he whispered. “I love how you take care of us. I love your mind. I love the way your nose wrinkles when you think. How passionate you are. The way you care for everyone without wanting anything in return. Your fire. The way you challenge me. Make me a better man. I’m in love with you, Uriah.”

She sobbed beneath him. “I love you so much, Erik.”

And with every word, every movement, his walls crumbled.

Later, as they lay tangled together, she teased, “Maybe I should spend all your money. You talk better when I do.”

Erik chuckled, fingers stroking her locs. “Princess, you can have whatever you want.”

His voice faded into sleep.

Fuck that black card, she thought, snuggling into him. He has my heart.

[four-alligators-in-a-trenchcoat]

What do I do without a smartphone?

When I got a dumbphone/flipphone, I immediately started living a super cool super fulfilling life! I travelled a ton, ran a marathon, immediately got good at art, read 4 books in a day, and now have 22 close friends! Thats exactly how it works, i'm not lying AT ALL, trust me ;)

...ahhh okay you got me, thats not actually what happened.

Yes my life did change, and all for the better! I do have a cooler and more fulfilling life now, but not like that, I just started living a regular life? This little post is about what that looks like these days (for me)

First, a little bit of math. My screen time with a smartphone was 5.5 hours on a good day and almost 9 on a bad: about an average of 7.25 hours a day. Ive been smartphone-less for a little over about 5 months; just about 170 days.

Average 7.25/hrs a day x 170 days = 1232.5 hours total/24hrs

51 full 24-hour days I got back.

ALMOST TWO MONTHS OUT OF THE FIVE

- Alright, i've never done that math before, holy shiitake mushrooms thats insane. Back on topic, oh my god I would have spent 2 months out of the past 5 entirely on my phone

What do I do instead? What consumes the hours? Or the in-passing minutes?

I live normally, just without a phone honestly, it didn't make me suddenly want to run a marathon or just turn into Picasso day one. It just gave me back the opportunity to live.

I turned to my hobbies, like ceramics, reading, journalling to bring the simple joys back into my everyday!

I stopped being able to distract myself from how icky I felt when I didn't move my body, so I slowly started swimming again!

I started to blog a little! Thanks for reading :D

I got bored at home, so I started seeking out social spaces and hanging out in person with friends and prioritizing making them!

Those are huge things, really big, hour by hour things that take up my life now. I am still a student, in a demanding major, who tries to study 5 hours a day, and I work part-time. Is that the most prominent change? Absolutely, but in the minutes passing between tasks, before I leave somewhere, waiting for something there is also a little mojo added back into my day. I would have been spending those little snippets of time pacifying myself on a quick scroll, 20-30 reels on IG that I would never remember. Instead those morsels are spent...

Doing nothing! Sitting around is a forgotten joy, don't be afraid to be alone with yourself, its the only way you will get to know you.

Sudoku! If i've got 5-10 mins waiting somewhere and feel up for the task, a quick sudoku from the little book I carry around is great.

Tidying up/cleaning! I mentioned this in a past blog post, but it's easier to keep the space around you tidy when you reclaim those little minuets while your breakfast is cooking or your waiting for the water to boil. Bagel still in the toaster? Why not give the kitchen a quick sweep! Coffee is steeping? Wouldn't you know it, thats how long it takes for me to unload the dishwasher! (still a student living at home, that dishwasher is a FULL 4-person dishwasher man)

People watching, takin' a quick ol' gander at your surroundings. Make sure you haven't forgotten what life looks like, or what the general population is up to.

I still spend some time on Tumblr, Reddit, and Pinterest, its not like I went cold turkey or that I'll never see social media again. Its easier to live your life when you have the time, and its easier to have the time when you don't have a monster algorithm in your pocket built to addict you. You can do it! Do it at the pace that is good for you, but get those two months back!

☆ a photo of my cat for good luck ☆

[taevescence]

Poème | Kim Taehyung

Summary: For centuries, Taehyung has roamed the world, trapped in an eternity he never truly desired. Desperation led him to accept an offer of immortality, a gift that quickly turned into his greatest curse. Once a hopeful young man dreaming of a future with the love of his life, he now wanders through time burdened by regret, forever mourning the one he lost. No amount of power, beauty, or wealth can fill the void left by you. If eternity means living without you, then what is the point of living at all? Author’s note: Hi again! I hope everyone is well ^^ I know I had said I was going to focus on GAS? but…. Tae vampire came to my head and demanded to stay until I managed to bring him to this world :) Soooo, I don't know if most of you read this but I seriously, seriously need your help for this, I really don't know how to move it forward :(( so please, if you have any ideas on how to move it forward or any scenes you'd like there to be, send me an ask or a dm, I'd really appreciate it <3 Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Human!Reader (female) AUs: Vampire!AU Word count: 4.6k Status: Unedited Permanent Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee @angellekookie @madussthougths Dividers by @the-aesthetics-shop and @strangergraphics

What would you do if you were given the option to live for all eternity? If someone offered you the secret behind immortality and eternal youth, would you accept? Would you be capable of leaving everything behind just to avoid facing death?

Taehyung wished with all his heart that he had asked himself those questions before saying yes to the beautiful woman in the elegant dress who offered him a second chance at life—one without sickness or poverty, a life filled with luxuries and privileges he could never have had as a mere villager in the Victorian era. Something he could have never even dreamed of when he was still human.

When desperation consumes you and you don’t know what else to do to avoid falling into the clutches of death, you… accept the first offer placed in front of you, no matter how risky it may be. That was exactly what led Taehyung to an eternity of regret, suffering, and torment.

He had been blessed with eternal life, but what was the point of living until the end of time if he was alone? What was the use of existing for centuries, watching people be born and die as if they were nothing more than tiny toy soldiers with an expiration date set by a child who had decided it was time to discard them, believing he was too grown up to play with them anymore?

He refused to live an endless life if you weren’t in it.

But you had been gone for so, so long, and he could never forgive himself for it. He could never turn back time and reject the offer from the one who was now his creator. He would never see your smile again, hear your laughter, or smell the soft scent of flowers, of the forest, of you. If only he hadn’t left home that night, if only he had waited a few more minutes… If only you had gone with him, perhaps… Perhaps now, the two of you would be living a long life together, enjoying each other’s company until the end of time.

But that wasn’t how things happened. He left his home that night. He didn’t wait. You didn’t go with him. And now, his fate was sealed. He couldn’t die, he couldn’t be harmed, he would have eternal youth and an ethereal beauty that could make any human give him anything he asked for with just one look. He could have everything—everything except you. And that, without a doubt, was the greatest torture anyone had ever inflicted on him.

That had happened over 170 years ago, and he had spent each one of those years tormenting himself. When he was still human, he had been vibrant and full of life, a social butterfly who, even without the seductive abilities of a vampire, could charm anyone with a single smile. Now, he was nothing but the empty shell of the man he once was.

During that time, he met many like him—those with whom he managed to form something close to what he could call a "family." Jiah was his mentor, the woman who had turned him and helped him through the difficult transition from human to vampire. Chaeyoung was the second oldest, a cheerful and optimistic young woman who had been a vampire for over a thousand years. Sooah and Hoseok came next, both turned in the 15th century. Then there was him, Jiwon, and Jimin—the three of them transformed in the 19th century, all saved from the brink of death by the compassionate leader of their small group.

They had been his family until now, and though he loved them as much as he was still capable of love, his love for them would never amount to even a fraction of what he felt for you. Not even a hundred people could mend the wound in his heart, no matter how hard they tried.

He could still remember his life by your side, when his body was still warm and his heart beat in a rhythmic melody, reminding him that he was alive. The two of you met because of Taehyung’s father’s work—you were a young lady from a wealthy family, and he was the son of a tailor who barely had enough money or resources to live. Yet, you noticed him—his smile, his playful jokes, and his flirtatious charm, reserved only for you.

You weren’t supposed to be together—you both knew that. But neither of you wanted to give up, you didn’t want to lose the only real thing in your lives. So, you ran away. With no money, no place to stay, only the hope of finding a place in the world where you could live without regrets or judgment.

It was his selfishness and foolishness as a teenager that led you both to that situation.

He should have realized it was madness, that there was no way you could survive in the outside world with dreams and hopes coated in sugar and honey. This was the real world—it was cruel and ruthless, showing no mercy to anyone, no matter their age or gender.

The first few months on your own were peaceful. You traveled from town to town on horseback, living freely, loving each other with all your hearts, talking about your dreams for the future, and how exciting it would be to have a family together.

You had managed to stabilize your life—Taehyung making elegant garments for high-society ladies, and you painting beautiful portraits under a pseudonym, which he promoted and sold with his natural charm.

For the first two years, life had been peaceful. Until smallpox arrived. That was when everything fell apart. No matter where you went, how much money you had, or which doctor you saw, once you were infected, there was no escape.

You both caught it at the same time. He did everything he could to keep you both from falling into death’s hands, but it was a fatal disease—there was no cure, especially with their limited resources.

It was on a dark winter night that everything changed. You were starving, and Taehyung was determined to find something—anything—to feed you. Despite his weakened, trembling body, he walked through the dark streets of the coastal city until he reached a shop. But his body was on the verge of collapse, and he fell just a few meters away from home.

He clung to the last bit of strength he had, trying to crawl back to you if necessary—anything to avoid dying far from you. He didn’t want you to think he had abandoned you, didn’t want to make you suffer when you found out he had died in the cold, damp streets, all for the sake of bringing you something to eat. He didn’t want to die without you by his side.

That desperation was what made him accept so quickly the offer placed before him by a complete stranger. “Just one drop, and you will never feel pain again.” And he accepted. He drank whatever she gave him, clinging to the hope of surviving a few more minutes. Then, everything went black for a moment—until he opened his eyes again.

Everything felt new, as if he had been reborn and was rediscovering the world. He felt good, healthy, strong, and maybe a little thirsty—but alive. And that was all that mattered.

When the initial shock passed, he begged the woman to do the same for you, to save you just as she had saved him. She smiled kindly and let him lead her to your small home.

But she stopped before entering, giving him a look of pity and compassion. At that moment, he didn’t know that he could hear a human’s heartbeat from a distance. He didn’t know that, even before stepping inside, she already knew that you were no longer in this world, and nothing could change that—not even her blood.

Taehyung may not have died that night, but his heart… His heart shattered into a thousand pieces the moment he laid eyes on your pale, lifeless body. His body had survived death—but his soul never would.

For a long time, his life had become a series of meaningless events that only served to make his desire to die grow stronger. He knew it was foolish to feel this way when he had what many would kill for; his eternal life was a miracle that tormented him every damn day, and he knew that would never change.

It took him 138 years to get over you—if that was even the right word to use in this context. Perhaps a more accurate way to put it would be, well, trying to forget you through other people. 138 years of solitude, where his only company was six other vampires just as reserved as he was, each keeping the scars of their previous lives a secret, each too afraid to open up to the others and relive memories of a past they all wished to forget.

The first time he tried something with a girl was because of Jimin, who insisted that he should look at someone else besides your portraits—the ones he himself had painted back when he had wanted to immerse himself in your world. He went to a stupid bar, too loud and filled with drunk and high people looking for something casual. But he didn’t want something casual. He wanted something lasting. He wanted you.

Hours passed before a rather beautiful girl approached him. Her shy smile and flushed cheeks seemed endearing, but nothing inside him stirred the way it had when he first met you; her eyes weren’t like yours, her essence wasn’t like yours. He didn’t like her, but still, he forced himself to try.

That night was the first and last time he attempted to move on with someone else. There was only a kiss, a brief brush of lips that the girl gave him as a thank-you for walking her home. That night, he cried like he hadn’t in years, clawed at his lips with his nails until they bled, and his screams were so agonizing that everyone in the house had to check if he was okay, because it sounded as if someone had just run a blade of iron straight through his body.

Taehyung felt that kiss exactly like that—like someone had just plunged an iron sword into his heart and desecrated his body in every possible way.

Sooah called him dramatic. Jiwon even mocked him for making such a fuss over a simple kiss. But it was Jiah who ordered them to be quiet and stayed by his side all night, comforting him as his tears fell ceaselessly down his cheeks.

After that day, he resolutely refused to go out with anyone else for the rest of his life. He didn’t need a replacement—he was much better off living with your memory than trying to forget it.

That was exactly how he managed to slowly overcome his pain—by treasuring your memory through the works of art he created, reliving every one of his feelings for you with each brushstroke on the blank canvas, until there was no trace left of the pain he had once felt. Now, all that remained was peace and a beautiful memory that he would keep deep in his heart for the rest of eternity.

It took him 175 years to achieve that peace—175 years in which he held onto the one thing he had left of you: your last painting, the one of a young wealthy woman standing alone in the middle of a grand ballroom. The soft tones and the contrast between the setting and the woman in her simple pastel dress gave off a strange warmth. It wasn’t one of your best paintings—he knew that better than anyone. You had created true masterpieces, works that your clients back then would have died to own. But this one… this one was simple, more discreet, with much less detail—mostly because you were already unwell when you finished it. But your essence, your touch, the feeling you poured into it… all of it was still there. And that made it the most important piece you had ever created.

That was why, as the last act of love he could offer to you and your memory, he traveled to Paris to present it at the Musée d’Orsay. The meeting with the museum’s curator was far more pleasant than he had expected, and he even considered making a generous donation after they agreed to exhibit the painting.

The inner peace he felt when his eyes saw the painting hanging on those cream-colored walls, among hundreds of other paintings from important figures of his era… was something he could never put into words. For the first time, his heart felt at ease—it did not beat, it did not pump blood, he knew that. And yet, for a second, Taehyung felt as if he had come back to life.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent around him. Despite the years, there was still a faint trace of you in it. And though it hurt to think that he would never again hold you in his arms, never again breathe in your scent, he felt happy.

Happy for you—because finally, one of your works bore your real name, because at last, people could see the incredible talent you had. This had been your dream, and somehow, he had made it come true for you.

He wondered if there was something after death, if there was truly a paradise in the afterlife. He knew that if such a place existed, you would undoubtedly be in heaven—in a paradise unlike any other, shining like the brightest star the world had ever seen. If that place was real, were you watching him from above?

What would you think of him right now? Would you be afraid of the fact that he was no longer human? Or of the fact that, in his first years as a vampire, he had taken the lives of many?

Would you still love him from that place so far away from him?

He prayed every day to a god he wasn’t sure existed, just to hold on to the hope that the answer was yes.

"How are things going over there?" Jiwon asked through the phone.

Taehyung’s feet carried him through the museum for the sixth time that afternoon. He still wasn’t in the mood to leave, and it’s not like anyone needed him at home at the moment. He would probably head to a nearby bar, have a glass of wine, and wander around the city until the sun rose again.

"Fine, I guess," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the paintings displayed in front of him. He had seen many of them online, but seeing them in person… it was definitely something completely different. Noticing the brushstrokes, the old traces of a brush over the oil paint, the colors, the size—everything was a new experience. It was like meeting the same person a second time; the feeling and the first impression could never be the same if you only saw them through a screen.

"So expressive, Kim." Taehyung rolled his eyes at Jiwon’s mocking tone. He wasn’t in the mood to be expressive, and it’s not like he was obligated to be.

"Anyway, Jiah is pretty worried. You know how she is, especially when it comes to you."

Taehyung nodded in silence, even though he was aware she would never see the gesture. Jiah was… she was like a mother to their small family. She was the one who turned them, the one who took care of them and taught them how to maintain their composure, always patient and loving with everyone. Taehyung couldn’t recall a single time when she had ever raised her voice at any of them.

He had always known, just like the others, that she had a certain weakness for him, something he associated too much with the fact that she had witnessed him fall apart upon finding you lifeless that night. She was the one who worried about him, who paid to give you a proper funeral, who helped him get through his sleepless nights, and who showed him a completely new world. She was the mother Taehyung never had, and he was grateful every single day for everything she had done for him, despite all the trouble he had dragged her into.

"I’ll be back soon, I just… I just want to say goodbye properly."

He stopped again in front of the painting he had submitted. That small pang in his chest had returned and, although for a few seconds he regretted it, the weight lifted when he saw someone else stop in front of your artwork to take a photo. He had managed to immortalize your memory—that was all that mattered.

At last, he would no longer be the only one completely in love with your art.

There were a few seconds of silence in which neither of them seemed to know what to say. The stillness was broken by Jiwon's soft and—unusually—understanding voice.

"Are you really okay over there, alone? We’re all a bit worried about you."

Taehyung let out a soft chuckle, lowering his head to glance at his elegant brown oxford shoes. When he was still human, he had longed to wear a pair like these, and now that he could afford them, half of his wardrobe revolved around them. You would probably be just as enamored with them as he was.

"I’ll be fine, Jiwon. It’s just a few days, it’s not like I don’t know what I’m doing."

He made his way toward the museum exit, but not before giving the painting one last look. This would be the last time he saw it—this was the final farewell. He sighed, running his tongue over his dry lips.

"Besides… I need to do this alone."

"Alright, okay, I get it. It’s your healing process and all that cheesy crap you love." Jiwon let out a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. Even miles away, Taehyung could feel the worry in her voice. A part of him was touched by it. It was nice to see that, despite everything, she still cared for him.

"Just… call us if anything happens, okay? Jimin is about to lose his mind."

"Jimin is always about to lose his mind," he chuckled under his breath, politely nodding to the guards watching the entrance.

The first thing he saw upon stepping outside was the sky, painted in pastel hues, with a faint trace of stars beginning to emerge, preparing to turn it into a beautiful nocturnal canvas with the moon as its protagonist.

"I’m going to hang up. I need to go somewhere else before heading back to my hotel."

"Alright, I get it, you’re bored of me." Even without seeing her, Taehyung knew she was smiling on the other end of the line.

"See you."

And with that, the call ended, leaving him alone with his own thoughts once again.

He wished that becoming a vampire had meant his emotions—like his heart—simply stopped functioning. Life would be easier that way. Carrying the weight of his emotions would be… probably a little more bearable.

The soft sound of Taehyung’s footsteps echoed through the dark streets of Paris, faintly illuminated by the streetlights surrounding the small, quiet alley he had chosen to escape the bustling crowd—and, in turn, his own thoughts. He had stopped by the bar he had wanted to visit for so long, but after spending a couple of hours sitting at the counter, sipping a drink he could barely taste… it was dull not being able to savor it the way he once did.

He gazed up at the night sky stretching above him, noticing how the stars seemed much closer, as if they had gathered there just to shield his eyes, rather than simply existing as part of nature’s design.

Tomorrow, he would probably buy a ticket back to Korea, still debating whether to purchase a first-class seat or a regular one. Jiah had given him more than enough money to indulge in any luxury he desired, but he didn’t want to take advantage of her generosity. He had his own savings, and not just a small amount—old trinkets he once considered worthless centuries ago were now worth millions, a fortunate advantage for all of them.

A soft melody from a nearby radio pulled him from his thoughts. He hadn’t noticed the old record store beside him, still open for some reason. It had a distinctly vintage, understated charm—exactly Taehyung’s style. He studied its exterior, noting the yellow sign with red lettering perched atop the roof, reading: Le cœur de la musique.

In the display window, several vinyl records from the ’70s and ’80s were neatly arranged, among them the famous Can’t Help Falling in Love with You by Elvis Presley, the very song now enveloping the alleyway with its gentle notes and romantic lyrics.

Taehyung truly loved that song. He closed his eyes, letting the music seep into more than just his ears—letting it settle into his body as well. With graceful movements, ones that seemed almost ingrained in him, Taehyung began swaying to the melody. He had been a great dancer in his youth. When you were both just children, you had asked him to be your dance partner so you could practice. The two of you had ended up falling completely in love with the warm, intimate feeling of it. Even when your bodies had grown cold, even when death gnawed at your bones and drained your souls, neither of you had ever stopped dancing.

His memories of you returned, vivid as always; he could almost feel the soft scent of your skin against his nose, the sensation of your hair brushing against his rough fingertips, your forehead resting gently on his shoulder, your breath against his chest. It was almost as if you were still there with him, dancing in the empty streets of Paris, in front of an old record store, your hearts swaying in perfect harmony beneath the stars.

His feet continued moving across the pavement until a soft click snapped him out of his trance.

Instantly, all of his senses sharpened. He halted his movements at once, scanning his surroundings for whoever had made that sound. He knew it was a camera. And he knew it hadn’t been close—if it had been, he would have smelled the person’s blood by now, wouldn’t he?

His dark eyes flickered with a brief glint of alertness as he surveyed the alley. That’s when he finally noticed her. At the far end of the alleyway, a young woman stood frozen in place, her face still partially hidden behind the camera lens aimed directly at him.

Before he could even think, his feet carried him forward, ready to demand why she had captured such a personal moment without his permission. But then, the delicate scent of strawberries and roses reached his nose. And right after—her blood.

Sweet. Addictive. More tempting than any other scent he had encountered in his 175 years of existence.

For a fleeting moment, Taehyung swore his heart beat again, just from the sheer intoxication of it. His gums began to itch as his fangs pressed against the inside of his lip, the thirst for blood growing exponentially with every step he took. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the overwhelming urge to feed suffocating him, clouding his mind.

Until she lowered the camera.

Until he saw your eyes.

Large. Bright. Filled with life, staring at him from the end of the alley.

His heart—still lifeless, still incapable of pumping blood—felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. And though he had no need to breathe, he swore the air caught in his lungs.

Did that make sense? Of course not, but you—standing right there, smiling at him as if you hadn’t died in his arms over 170 years ago—didn’t make sense either.

And yet, there you were.

The same eyes. The same lips. Your hair was different, yes, but everything else… everything else was exactly as he remembered. Exactly the same as the day death had stolen you from him.

Was this some kind of punishment? Retribution for the countless lives he had taken in his early years as a vampire?

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” you blurted out the moment you noticed the man standing just a few feet away from you. A soft, warm blush quickly spread across your cheeks—not only from the embarrassment of being caught photographing a complete stranger without permission but also because that very stranger, the one now standing before you, was breathtakingly handsome. And now he was looking directly at you, so intensely that you could feel his gaze burning into your skin.

“I-It’s just that I was on my way back to my hotel, and I saw you dancing alone. You had this melancholic expression that was just so captivating from here and… I’m sorry, that’s no excuse for what I did, I’ll delete the photo right away!”

As you fumbled over your apology, nervously gripping your camera once again, Taehyung took the opportunity to examine you—every detail of your face. You had the same beauty mark beneath your left eye. The same faint scar between your index and middle fingers. Even your voice—one he remembered as if it were his own—was exactly the same.

Your clumsy way of speaking.

The pink flush on your cheeks.

Your long eyelashes.

There was no doubt in his mind. The young woman standing before him was you.

“I…” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “What’s your name?”

He watched as your eyes lifted to meet his. He couldn’t help but notice how your lips parted slightly at the unexpected question.

Ah.

He still remembered the way your lips moved against his—soft yet intoxicating, slow yet sensual, always keeping him on edge. He remembered the way you used to smile whenever he playfully nibbled on your lower lip.

He missed it.

He missed you.

“Oh! S-Sorry, how rude of me,” you chuckled nervously, carefully lowering your camera so that it hung freely around your neck. The strap dug slightly into your exposed skin, but it was the safest way to carry it without accidentally dropping it. “I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Y/N,” he murmured, savoring every letter of your name.

He knew it. He knew it. It was impossible for you to be anyone else.

His eyes began to sting as the reality of what was happening finally settled in.

After 175 miserable years—

You had come back to him.

Looking exactly as you had the last time he saw you.

“The pleasure is mine,” he said softly, reaching out to take your hand in his own, gently, fearful that the moment his fingers brushed against your skin, you would disappear.

But you didn’t.

You were still there when his lips pressed lightly against your knuckles, inhaling your scent as discreetly as possible.

So this is how you smelled when you were full of life.

Without an illness slowly stealing you away. Your blood had the sweetest scent he had ever known, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes at the steady, rhythmic beat of your heart echoing in his ears, proof that you were alive, proof that you were here.

Taehyung had never believed in God, but now, with you standing before him— he could only describe this as a miracle.

Masterlist.

[sherrylephotography]

A letter from Bernie Sanders. Bernie Sanders is a senator in Vermont USA.

I’m getting a lot of calls from people who are not only upset about what’s happening, but are wondering how we best go forward.

My response: We must be smart. We must be organized. And we must fight back - effectively. This is not a time for wallowing in despair and hiding under the covers. The stakes are too high. We’re not just fighting for ourselves. We’re fighting for our kids and for future generations. We’re fighting for the future of this planet.

Further, we must not become overwhelmed and think that Trump has some kind of extraordinary mandate and an inevitable glide path into the future. That’s what the right-wing mouthpieces want you to believe, but it’s not true. Trump won the election because Kamala Harris and a very weak and out-of-touch Democratic Party received 5 million votes LESS than Biden did in 2020, not because Donald Trump or his agenda were popular. His agenda can be defeated.

So, where do we go from here?

First, we’ve got to understand what, in fact, is happening around us right now.

Second, we need a short-term strategy. What do we do tomorrow and the day after that?

Third, we need a long-term strategy. How do we build a grassroots movement that gains political power?

In terms of what is happening right now under Trump I see three key elements. President Abraham Lincoln, at Gettysburg, talked about a government “of the people, by the people, for the people.” Under Trump we are seeing a rapid move toward oligarchy in our country — a government of the billionaire class, by the billionaire class, for the billionaire class. And it’s not being done secretly. It’s right out there for all to see. Two weeks ago, Donald Trump was inaugurated for his second term as President of the United States. Standing right behind him were the three richest men in the country – Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg — men who have become $242 billion richer since Trump was elected, and who are now worth a combined $932 billion. This is more money than the bottom half of America — 170 million people.

Not surprisingly, Musk, now a key part of the administration, spent over $277 million to get Trump elected. Bezos and Zuckerberg both kicked a million each into Trump’s inauguration fund. Bezos, who owns the Washington Post, rescinded the Post’s editorial board’s endorsement of Kamala Harris. Zuckerberg had his Meta corporation settle a lawsuit with Trump for $25 million. These three multibillionaires are working with Trump because they understand one very important reality. Trump‘s policies are designed to make the very richest people in this country even richer.

But it’s not just oligarchy that we should worry about. This country, under Trump, is moving rapidly toward authoritarianism. The rule of law and our Constitution are being undermined.

Just a few examples: in violation of the Constitution and federal law, Trump attempted last week to suspend all federal grants and loans. That means he blocked funding for Medicaid, Head Start, community health centers, homeless veterans programs, etc., etc. Tens of millions of Americans, including some of the most vulnerable people in our country, were impacted by that decision. Fortunately, Americans all across the country stood up in outrage and said NO. And with the help of the courts much, but not all, of that freeze in funding was rescinded.

Trump is intimidating the media with lawsuits against ABC, CBS, Meta and the Des Moines Register. His FCC is threatening to investigate PBS and NPR. If Trump does not like what the media does, he goes after them — undermining the First Amendment, dissent and freedom of speech.

Trump pardoned the January 6th insurrections who injured 174 police officers at the Capitol. Now, he is investigating the FBI agents who helped bring these violent criminals to justice. His goal: condone violence and turn the FBI into a national right-wing police agency.

That is a very broad overview of where we are today.

In terms of a short-term strategy, we have got to mobilize as strongly as we can against Trump’s dangerous proposals.

And let me just say this: Yes, the Republicans control the House and the Senate, but don’t forget, their majorities are small. In the House, a body of 435 members, they currently have a three-vote majority. That is a razor-thin margin and their legislation can be defeated or modified — if we fight back.

There are a number of Republicans who won by small margins. And, let me tell you, these guys do respond to phone calls and emails. So, if there is a piece of legislation you disagree with, get on the phone and call the Capitol switchboard at 202-224-2131.

And what is some of the legislation that we should be concerned about?

Republicans right now are working on a budget reconciliation bill which would provide massive tax breaks for the wealthy. This gift to the rich would be paid for by large cuts in Medicaid and other programs that working families and low-income people desperately need. At a time of unprecedented income and wealth inequality, when so many of our people are struggling to put food on the table, we must not savage programs for working families to provide huge tax breaks for billionaires.

We must vigorously oppose Trump’s efforts at mass deportation. YES, we must strengthen our borders. YES, we should deport people who have been convicted of serious crimes. But NO, we cannot destroy families who have lived and worked in this country peacefully for decades. Not only is Trump’s mass deportation program immoral, it will have a severely negative impact on our economy.

We are seeing extreme weather and devastation in our country and all over the world related to climate change. Think about Los Angeles. Think about North Carolina. We must vigorously oppose the absurd “drill baby drill” doctrine, which will only make an incredibly dangerous climate situation worse.

And those are just a very few of the issues that are coming down the pike.

But we cannot just play defense. We have got to be on offense. Please, never forget, the agenda that we are fighting for is widely supported by working families all across this country. And we must continue to fight for that agenda.

The American people do not want cuts to Medicaid and the privatization of Medicare. They understand that health care is a human right, not a privilege. We must continue the fight for Medicare for All so that every American has the health care that they need. That’s not a radical idea. That’s what Americans want.

The federal minimum wage of $7.25 an hour is a starvation wage. We must raise that minimum wage to a living wage, at least $17 an hour. If you work 40 hours a week, you should not be living in poverty.

All over this country, we have a major housing crisis. And it’s not just the 800,000 who are homeless. It is millions of working families who are spending 40, 50 or 60 percent of their limited incomes on housing. Instead of spending almost a trillion dollars a year on a wasteful and bloated Pentagon budget, we have got to build millions of units of low-income and affordable housing. And when we do that, we put large numbers of people to work at good-paying union jobs.

I could go on and on, but let me conclude by saying this. The United States is the wealthiest nation in the history of the world. If we stand together and oppose right-wing efforts to divide us up by our race, our religion, our sexual orientation or where we were born—if we stand together, there is nothing that we cannot accomplish. Yes. We can provide a decent standard of living for every man, woman and child. Yes. We can lead the world in combatting climate change. Yes. We can end all forms of bigotry.

Yes. We can create a government and an economy that works for all, not just the few.

Let’s go forward together.

In solidarity,

Bernie

[charliegyrth]

Fat for a Day - 3 of 3

The Day After Christmas

Read Part 2 here.

Christmas Day was entirely devoted to sex and feeding. The sex wasn’t anything like I’d expected. I thought that a guy of my size would have all the control, but with my limited mobility, Olly absolutely dominated me.

And the feeding? Well, I wasn’t expecting that at all. But when he brought in cookies and cakes to feed me while he stimulated all my areas, I just gave in. This was Christmas. Why not?

Except for the time Olly took me into the shower to wash between all my creases, I stayed in bed all day. Being pampered. Being adored. I knew that he had an ulterior motive, of course. He wanted me to decide to get fat for real. He wanted to show me the hedonistic joy of being worshipped and fed, so that when I got back to my normal size, I’d let him keep feeding me.

Well, it was incredible. This was truly the best, hottest, most blissfully erotic day of my life, but I wasn’t going to change my mind. Part of the fun was knowing that this was temporary. There’s a reason Christmas only comes once a year.

Deep into the night, once we were both exhausted and spent, we snuggled together and watched The Santa Clause again, ready to drift off to sleep together. Olly lazily rubbed my belly.

“You’re already deflating,” he said.

I couldn’t feel it, but I trusted him. He knew every inch of me.

And that seemed about right. In the morning, I’d be 170 again. As I slept, all my temporary fat cells would dissolve away. I was excited to get back to normal, but I knew that I’d miss this, too.

Who knew that the day I was fat would be the best day of my life?

***

I opened my eyes. Olly was still snoring quietly. His muscular arm was draped across my chest and one leg was curled over me.

I stretched a little, careful not to wake him. I felt so much lighter. Breathing was easy and the constant claustrophobia of being encased in fat was gone.

My body was back to normal. The realization filled me with relief, though I couldn’t deny a tinge of wistfulness.

I crept out of bed and walked into the bathroom. As I walked, I felt parts of me rub together. I didn’t know what that meant. I was still half asleep.

Then I saw my reflection and screamed.

Olly immediately woke up and ran into the bathroom. “Arthur? Are you—?” He froze when he saw me. “Arthur?”

I was a pile of skin. All my fat was gone, but my normal, athletic body was buried under hanging curtains of loose flesh. My belly skin hung halfway to my knees. My upper arms sported thin, papery wings of fat. A waddle dangled under my chin. And my moobs—oh God—those hung disgustingly low.

“What happened to me?” I muttered.

He wrapped me in a hug. “It’s okay,” he whispered into my ear. “We’ll go back to Temporary Body Expansions and see what went wrong.”

“Okay,” I said, though I did not feel okay. I pulled on my pants and the same loose shirt I’d worn yesterday. Olly dressed just as fast as I did and together, we hurried back to Temporary Body Expansions. We were planning to go back anyway to return the wheelchair. Olly was pushing it, but I felt so uncomfortable walking that I sat in it and drove myself.

When we arrived, the same smiling receptionist greeted us in the lobby. “Welcome back! Thanks so much for returning the—”

“Stop talking,” I snapped at her. I jumped out of the chair and jiggled my arm flab. “You said this was temporary!”

Her smile faded. “Sir, you signed all the forms. You knew…”

“Temporary!” I screamed again.

Olly didn’t say anything. I hated how he was just standing there, staring at his feet.

With a sigh, the receptionist pulled out the thick pile of papers that I’d signed. She spread the papers across the counter and waited for us to approach. I trudged forward, feeling my belly skin flop against me with each step.

“I’m so sorry if you’re upset…” she started.

I scoffed. That was a non-apology if I ever heard one.

“But look at this page, please.” She pointed toward a series of paragraphs with the heading “Skin Stretching Side Effects.” In plain English (not contract-speak), the paper explained that any temporary gain over 30 pounds could result in loose skin. Any gains over 50 pounds virtually guaranteed it, as the human body isn’t able to expand that much without affecting skin elasticity.

The receptionist pointed to the last line on the page: “Temporary Body Expansions strongly encourages clients to limit their gains to 30 pounds maximum and takes no responsibility for negative effects if said client chooses a higher weight.”

“Do you see how this sentence is underlined?” she asked. “Do you remember when I explained all of this to you?”

“Uh huh.” I remembered half-listening as she spent minutes on end talking about the effects of stretching my body. I specifically remembered her underlining that sentence, too. It just didn’t sink in at the time. I was so excited to surprise Olly, and so blinded by the word “temporary,” that I didn’t register that signing these papers meant I was signing away my thin body forever.

No wonder I had such dark, angry-looking stretchmarks. The fat wasn’t permanent, but those marks definitely were.

Olly grabbed my hand. “Arthur?”

“I… I…” I didn’t have any words.

The lady tilted her head. I think she felt sorry for me. I know she thought I was an idiot. “Listen, we’re a new company, and we’d hate to have a customer leave unsatisfied, so…” She reached into a drawer under the counter and pulled out a small red card.

I took it. “What’s this?”

“It’s a gift certificate for another day of fatness. Valid for us to 50 pounds.”

I had absolutely no use for that. Another day of fat wouldn’t fix me.

Olly grabbed the card, though. “Thank you, ma’am.” He turned to me. He knew the same thing I did: There was nothing else we could do.

As we walked back home, hand-in-hand, he tried to calm me down. “We’ll get you some compression shirts this afternoon. If you want.”

“I am so stupid,” I mumbled.

“You’re not stupid. You were just excited.” He stopped walking to look me in the eyes. “I think you look great. You’re not fat, but there’s still a lot more of you to play with.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “I hate how I look, Olly. I’d rather be fat than, than floppy!”

He smiled. “You’d rather be fat?”

“Yeah. That would be a thousand times better than this!” I grabbed my drooping pecs through my shirt.

“If that’s what you really want, then… I can help you.” The morning sun shined behind him, lighting up his edges in a golden glow, as he stepped forward and grabbed the skin hanging over the sides of my waistband. “You have a lot of room to grow. For real this time.”

***

I sat shirtless on the couch, casually chewing on a gingerbread man. Even though it was Christmas Eve, the air conditioning was on full-blast. At my size, I needed it.

Olly should be back any minute. He said he had an early present that he needed to pick up. Knowing him, it was probably a couple cheesecakes to feed me.

I reached for another gingerbread man from the platter at my side, but they were all gone. Dang it. There were plenty more cookies in the kitchen, but I didn’t have the energy to push myself off the couch. Without any food to keep me occupied, I focused on the TV and rubbed my own belly.

Now that I was really fat instead of fake-fat, I couldn’t stop giving myself belly rubs. It felt good, of course, but I think I did it mostly because I was proud of myself. This gut wasn’t a temporary thing that I’d paid for; it was a massive lump of fat that I’d earned. Olly helped, of course. I couldn’t have gotten this big in a year’s time without his constant encouragement. But I was the one who ate. Rubbing my belly was a way to honor all the hard work.

Finally, the door swung open and Olly marched inside. He didn’t have a present with him. He was the present. He had a brand-new beer gut poking proudly out of his red sweater. Throughout our countless feeding sessions, Olly hadn’t gained a pound. He was a 100% encourager, and I was a 100% gainer. And now…

“Surprise!” he said. “I cashed in that gift certificate we got last year.”

I pushed myself to my feet. I had to. Then I waddled over and hugged him. My belly squished into his.

He looked incredible. Total ex-jock. Mostly muscle, a general layer of fat, and an absolute beast of a belly. Of course, his circular glob of belly fat was nothing compared to my massive, hanging apron, but it was still impressive, especially on him.

“Did you do the full 50 pounds?” I asked.

“Sixty!” he proclaimed. “I paid a little extra.”

“You remember what they said, right? That anything over 30 could lead to a bit of stretching.”

He raised his shirt, showing me just how wide and round his stomach had gotten. He traced his finger along a single, telltale stretchmark running up to his under-moob fold. “I’m aware. And I’m ready for it.”

I kissed him.

That night, he fed me a massive amount of cheesecake as usual. But for the first time, I fed him in return.

The End.

Thanks for reading! You can buy the full ebook (plus a bonus story) here. And please let me know if you want me to write more sci-fi stories like this one.

[seat-safety-switch]

"Are you chilling enough, citizen? Being mindful?" the heavily-armoured soldier asks me, before giving me a not-so-playful shove with his truncheon and continuing on his patrol down the promenade. We have been occupied by the positive self esteem movement now for over 170 days, and I am beginning to feel less hopeful about feeling less hopeful the longer it goes on.

At first, it was great. They shot everyone on the news on the first night, having determined that it was the centre of a lot of negativity in our local area. My dad really didn't like "Roger," who was their local sports anchor and kept trying to overstep his bounds by editorializing about his property taxes being too high. When the deed was done, my pop invited me over for a little party to celebrate his removal from the public eye. And, of course, by "party" I mean The Party, of which at least one representative was in attendance to make sure we didn't utter any doubtful thoughts or badfeels in public.

Keep that chin up, they told us. Be the change you want to see in the world! You can do anything! As a natural cynic, I doubted this. I spent a lot of time indoors, working on my little projects, knowing that my bosses would never risk something as karmically damaging as "firing for bad attendance" while everything was still up in the air. Better to just let me live my truth for a few weeks until the rightful government showed up and took the town back.

Being stuck in the house was probably what helped me to survive those first few months. Even the most social, go-getting, glad-handing salesman would eventually slip up and express some disbelief about a schedule, or a murmur of hesitation around a new project to go to the moon on thoughts and hopes. Someone would report them for bringing the mood down. Pow.

So, yes, I am getting a lot done. Or at least I would be, if I wasn't such a loud mechanic. I can't take the risk that a Party member or convenient snitch will be walking by my garage at the very moment I'm swearing at a recalcitrant ball joint or bent strut. Watch a lot of Netflix instead. Mostly children's shows, the kind that teach us about the power of friendship and believing in your dreams. We should have known they were up to something from the start.

[anony-man]

(Sequel to this post here… this will also be posted to ao3 as a second chapter)

Chubformers drabble #170!

Characters: Prowl & Optimus (G1)

Word count: 1.3k

There were donuts in the break room… again.

He hadn’t learned his lesson the first time they’d caught his eye, and he certainly wouldn’t be learning his lesson today. It felt strange, creeping around behind everyone’s back and stuffing his face with donuts that were technically for him, but Prowl just couldn’t live with it any other way.

Each week, there was another box of freshly baked donuts waiting for him, calling his name. Each week, Prowl would sneak into the break room and feast until he couldn’t any longer. He hadn’t quite learned from the first major embarrassment, but he knew better than to rush through shoveling mouthfuls of dough into his mouth for fear of being caught in the act. He took it slowly now, taking care to savor the treats and try to justify the fact that Optimus of all mechs had gotten him another box of his favorite flavors for him and him alone yet again.

Half the time it didn’t work. Prowl still felt embarrassed, and he spent the majority of his meetings hiding the soft, noticeable bulge of his full belly behind his arms, which remained crossed over his chest. If anyone poked at his seemingly sour disposition, it wasn’t because he was actually upset—he was just embarrassed. He was very, very embarrassed.

Optimus didn’t seem to mind. If anything, Optimus seemed happy that his little sweet offerings were taken so willingly, and because of that, the boxes of donuts that magically appeared in the break room when Prowl came in to prepare the table for their meeting were always, always there.

He liked it, he did. He just… he wished he wasn’t so ashamed of his growing paunch or the fact that the box of sweets was polished off in half the time anymore.

Prowl was several minutes early when he arrived that morning, and to his disappointment (and horror), Optimus seemed to have yet to arrive with his box of goodies. The room remained untouched, the door still locked, and inside, the small table at the far end was empty. No donuts meant no Prime, and no Prime meant the very, very real chance of running into him if he did come… or when he did come, more like.

Slag, this was going to be awkward. Prowl was already feeling agitated as it was.

Rather than stand around and wait on the inevitable, Prowl got busy and began preparing the room for their meeting. Getting an early start meant taking off and hitting up the mess hall for his daily rations, assuming he didn’t fill up on sweets before that, and the sooner he finished, the better. It was a relief not to push things to the last minute, and he savored his time spent alone readying their space just as much as he savored the little break in between spent munching on the perfect little pastries that were always available to him.

Leave it to Prowl to mess up the schedule and put himself up for an awkward confrontation with Optimus. The embarrassment was all on him, of course, but it didn’t make it any less easy to handle. When he heard the sound of the doorknob jiggling and the Prime’s startled sound, his spark had already begun pounding away inside his chest.

“Oh,” Optimus said, looking painfully out of place as he stood in the open doorway. As was expected, a little white box was held in his servos. “Hello, Prowl. I hadn’t expected you to be here yet.”

“Hello, Optimus,” Prowl returned with a cool expression and a curt nod. “Sorry for the inconvenience. There was a lot of work to get done today.”

To his surprise, Optimus seemed unbothered. He seemed comfortable, if not… pleased.

“I understand,” he said as he crossed the room in a few large strides. The box of donuts was set down in its usual place, and Prowl was aware of the Prime’s gaze on him the entire time. “Is there anything I can do to assist?”

“I’m fine, I assure you,” Prowl said. “It’s nothing new, just—ah, just—…”

The workload wasn’t new, but coming into the meeting room before Optimus had arrived certainly was. Interacting with the Prime on such a close level was also, though not unheard of, fairly new… and so was the sudden lack of space between them as Optimus slowly approached him from behind and wrapped a set of gentle servos around his middle.

“Are you certain?” Optimus asked again.

Despite his efforts, Prowl couldn’t produce the words to speak. They were caught in his throat, a sound that was slowly melting away as he melted against the Prime’s front. He tried to speak, then tried again, and again, eventually settling for a huffy sound that matched the flush of his cheeks as he met Optimus’ servos with his own.

“I seem to have a good eye for picking out your favorites, hmm?” Optimus teased, a servo gently brushing over the swell of Prowl’s empty belly. “I’ve been worrying that it would come off as offensive, but since you seem to take it so well…”

Typical Optimus, honing in on Prowl’s preferences before he could even figure them out himself. He couldn’t help the flush of embarrassment that warmed his faceplates, but the Prime’s gentle affection was well-received.

“You do,” he admitted.

And he should really cut back on bringing them around, Prowl thought to himself. The poor mech simply couldn’t help himself with such tempting treats lying around, and the assurance that they were all for him was certainly not all that helpful. Still, Optimus kept bringing them by… and he kept rubbing his servos over the soft pouch forming around Prowl’s middle.

“Well, take today’s box as another small show of my gratitude,” Optimus said. “You really do so much for us, Prowl. It’s the least I can do to thank you. On top of that…”

Gentle servos pulled away from his frame and reached for his arm, and despite his hesitation, Prowl followed. He was led to a chair and encouraged to sit, which he did, all while blushing madly behind his own servo held up to hide his face.

“I don’t want to cut things short, Optimus,” he stammered, left helpless as the Prime moved back across the room and grabbed the box of fresh, fluffy donuts. “But the meeting… I have so much to do, so much to prepare—“

“Good,” Optimus said as he pulled out a chair of his own and scooted it forward. Deft fingers propped open the lid of the box and dipped inside, drawing out one of several perfectly glazed donuts. “That simply means we will have more time to ourselves. Open up, Prowl.”

He wanted to protest. Really, he should have protested. He was in charge of working the meetings, in charge of preparing the paperwork, clearing the space, presenting himself as a responsible member of the team. Yet here he sat, mouth agape as the first bite of sugary sweetness was pushed past his lips. The soft, flaky glaze paired perfectly with the still-warm dough, and it took everything in him not to moan around the bite.

“I’ve taken the liberty of clearing both our schedules for the morning,” Optimus went on to explain between feeding Prowl bites of donut and patting the mech’s protruding belly. “I hope you don’t mind. A break from your duties has been in order for a very long time, and I’m afraid I cannot let you go any longer without it.”

Internally, Prowl protested the decision. He needed to work, and he needed to prove himself capable of carrying out his day-to-day tasks. Outwardly, though, he gave a hum of understanding with half-lidded optics and a mouth open for the next bite.

“You’re a good mech, Prowl,” Optimus said, his words merely background noise to the Autobot as he reached for the next donut in the box. “You deserve a break. You’ve deserved one for a very long time.”

[allfryam]

weight gain drive story

Shane had always coasted through life on his good looks. He was a popular football player in high school, and he somehow avoided the freshman 15 in college. His life was perfect until his girlfriend of 3 years, Ashley, broke up with him out of nowhere. It broke Shane. He didn’t come out of his room for a week, and he spent most of his days crying in bed.

but Shane quickly recovered and hopped back into his normal life. He wasn’t one to just leave a relationship though. He had to make Ashley jealous. He started going to the gym every single day. He always thought he was a little skinny and wished he was bigger. He was talking about it on the phone with one of his buddies when a strange man overheard him. “You tryna get big?” The strange man said. “Uhhh… yeah?” Shane replied. “Take this. You’ll be bigger in no time.” He tossed a small bottle to Shane and walked away. Shane examined the bottle. “GET BIGGER EVERY DAY!” Shane was skeptical, but he reluctantly drank the liquid and tossed the bottle.

Shane took note of his starting weight. 155 pounds. He looked at himself in the mirror. “Hopefully this junk works.” He said to himself. the next morning, Shane rushed to the bathroom to weigh himself. 156 pounds. That shit only made him gain a pound. What a waste. He went about his week like normal until 4 days later. He checked his weight to see 160 pounds. Huh. A pound a day? That was a lot faster that he normally gained weight. He looked at himself in the mirror to see his midsection growing ever so slightly. There was just a thin layer of softness that was beginning to cover his abs. Shane didn’t notice however. He saw his arms getting slightly wider and he was ecstatic. He was finally starting to gain some real muscle.

a week had passed, and Shane was still gaining exactly one pound a day. He was up 13 pounds from his starting weight, and his friends started to notice. “Yo. Lay off the ice cream, tubby” his friend mark commented. Shane looked down to see that his gym shirt didn’t quite cover his belly all the way. There was a small but noticeable layer of pudge peeking out of his shirt. His face got red and he tugged his shirt down. “Maybe I should stick to the weight im at now.” He thought to himself. But the weight kept coming. Exactly one pound a day. 169. 170. 171. 172. It kept climbing. Shane was starting to get worried. How long would this spell last? Would he continue to gain weight forever? Shane was frightened, but looking in the mirror, he had never looked stronger.

after the first month, Shane was up 30 pounds. He hit 185 in no time. Sweatpants were all that fit over his round butt, and he wore hoodies to try and conceal his growing belly. That didn’t really help though. Mark was constantly making fun of his friend’s weight gain and poking Shane’s belly. Shane would even try to stop eating for a day, but the weight still climbed. Shane was ready to give up. What’s the point of eating healthy if you’re going to gain weight anyway? Shane decided to treat himself by eating whatever he wanted from now on.

after two months, Shane was ahead of schedule. He was supposed to be up 60 pounds, but when he stepped on the scale, he was up 70! He was still gaining a pound a day, but all of the pizza and ice cream he was eating was also making him even fatter. Shane almost didn’t recognize himself anymore. He had a double chin, his pecs began to melt and get saggy, his toned arms grew larger and softer. But his stomach was the worst of all. It was like having a beach ball under your shirt at all times. Not even his baggiest hoodies could contain the mass of his gut.

after 100 days, Shane was up 139 pounds. He almost hit 300! He was at 294. The spell seemed like it finally wore off, but what had Shane done to himself. His belly was huge! It hung over his tight pants and bursted through the buttons on his shirts. Shane’s entire body jiggled with each step, and he was constantly out of breath. But his arms were huge. He looked like he could lift a truck with his pinky. Shane decided the belly was a sacrifice he was willing to make to keep these bear arms.

thank you to everyone who participated in the weight gain drive! I had a lot of fun making it and I hope you have fun reading it. I may do more like this in the future so stay tuned. I hope everyone has a merry Christmas!

[yokohamapound]

Since tis Spooky Season, how about some wedding headcanons for our goth boys Bram and Akutagawa? :3

It might no longer be spooky season but goth bois are timeless. <3

Characters: Bram Stoker, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Contents: gn!reader, nsfw mention

Bram Stoker

Bram is certainly the marrying type. Once he’s found someone he feels he can spend the long years of eternity with, he’ll want to lock you down quickly and make it official. Dating is a foreign concept to him, but he will spend some time courting you. He’s very likely the one who proposed marriage, and like, you have eyes, so of course you were going to accept. Who doesn’t want to marry a handsome vampire lord?

It’s not enough to call Bram ‘old-fashioned’. The man is at least several hundred years old, (depending on whether his age is based on the actual Bram Stoker or Vlad Tepes, basis of the legend for Dracula). He’s between approx 170-600 years old. He’s seen trends become traditions and vanish entirely. The wedding would probably be some flavour of traditional, whether that’s a Western white wedding, or a wedding steeped in his spouse’s culture. If you really wanted to, you could have a historical-themed wedding to make Bram feel at home—just expect him to be finicky on the minor details.

“This is the incorrect type of date for this pastry.”

It might take some doing to find a priest willing to marry you to a vampire, or you can forge the documents and have a civil ceremony. It depends on whether or not Bram can actually set foot in a church. He’s probably relieved to discover civil ceremonies are a thing. 

Bram looks beautiful in a suit. Just imagine it. A suit tailored to his ridiculous, 6’5” height, possibly a tailcoat, with a cravat, his long hair tied back. 

You’ll have to bring him up to speed and explain that, apart from certain cultural traditions, dowries aren’t that common anymore, and that he doesn’t have to offer your father 50 goats for your hand in marriage. 

Bram’s a pretty romantic guy, but he always does it with style. He pulls out your chair, his hand is going to rest on the small of your back, and he takes the lead in the first dance waltz, no matter your gender.

The speeches will be short—he’s had to put up with too many of Fukuchi’s soliloquies to want to hear any more monologuing. The wedding dinner—feast, he insists on calling it—is sumptuous, although Bram doesn’t partake. (You’re his wedding feast and he’d rather enjoy that in private.)

Godspeed on your wedding night. Bram’s spent years without a lower half of his body and now he has it back, and a spouse to enjoy. He is…pent up, shall we say~

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Poor Akutagawa is still reeling over the fact that he’s getting married. I would say that either you proposed, or Dazai planted the idea in Akutagawa’s head that it was time for him to put a ring on it. If Akutagawa proposed, your ring is some beautiful antique with a large stone and a creepy story attached to it. Don’t forget that Akutagawa makes bank in the Port Mafia. 

Please, please, please plan a goth wedding.

Please remember that this is the same young man who said this when asked what he would give as a wedding present: “I'd gift them the enemy's freshly severed head decorated with bloody barren flowers.” Suffice it to say, Akutagawa should not be left in charge of either your gift registry or the flower arrangements. You will end up with a load of obscure antiques, knives, and bunches of rotting flowers “to show the briefness of our lifespans.” 

Maybe compromise with dried flower garlands or even black roses if you want to go full 2007 My Chemical Romance-core. (Look me in the eye and tell me Akutagawa wouldn’t look up if you played him a G-note on the piano.)

He hates being the centre of attention in the actual wedding, so he’s more than happy to deflect it all toward you instead. The moments he seems happiest are when he gets to see Gin wearing a bridesmaid dress, when Dazai stands up to make a speech (during which Akutagawa sits up like he’s in a school assembly while the headmaster is speaking), and during the vows, when he’s focusing on you and only you. 

He looks wonderful in his suit - let him have full tails and black tie and he'll be content.

Your wedding photographs look like one of those austere Victorian family portraits, save for Tachihara throwing up the bunny ears behind Gin’s head. 

Akutagawa has a secret sweet tooth he won’t admit to, which is why he tries to pretend that he hasn’t had three slices of chocolate cake. 

Either get Dazai drunk or put him in a corner with a plate of crab cakes to keep him occupied, because you really don’t need him making sly comments when it’s time for you and Akutagawa to climb into the car and head off for your honeymoon. His wedding gift for Akutagawa is an inhaler and a note saying, “You’ll need this! xoxo Dazai.”

[daisyofwaterdeep]

I just finished my resist durge routeeeee I'm so tempted to start on my next run, Gale origin) but it's 3:42 in the morning and i just hit my bedtime weed pen and i'm so sleepy

You know I just realized while typing this that I've never talked about my tavs and playthroughs on here? Guess it's time to whip out the readmore bc now I wanna talk about my babies

1. My first playthrough, my tav was Daisy, a sorcerer tiefling. The og girl who fell in love with gale immediately but due to a series of accidents, bad choices, and misreading things (it's a....very messy and long story lol) married astarion. (If ur interested in the long messy story let me know and I'll share that too lol) I spent about 170 hours my first run

Nevermind I'm too tired to continue this post it's suddenly 4:21 in the morning bc I keep getting distracted while typing so I might delete this when I get up or I might go ahead and finish it, we'll see how it goes

BACK AT IT AGAIN AT THE TUMBLR POST I decided to go ahead and finish it bc why not lmao

2. Madame Snarcus, my gnome barbarian. She's the ex wife of Barcus and married to Gale. My brother played this profile with me, his name was Dark'ness Nightmoon and he was a goth half orc monk married to Wyll

3. Daisy, my embrace durge. She was a tiefling rogue married to ascended Astarion

4. Sunnie, my druid who turned illithid to pursue a life with the emperor <3 (I don't have a pic of her before she turned, sobs)

5. Kreeminel, my bard. His run was solely to give Raphael the crown

6. Sm'ore, my githyanki wizard. This was my first attempt at an honor run, but unfortunately some bad decisions killed him in the blighted village.. rest in peace, Sm'ore :( you can also see my brothers character, The Jonkler lol

7. Propio, fighter. I just wanted to make a sexy dracula-esque treat for Wyll LOL

8. Resist Dark Urge, sorcerer dragonborn. I wanted to keep him default, but gave a pink sheen to his scales and some pink eyeshadow. I only have a projection pic of him bc he romanced Lae'zel

9. Gespepper, my half orc barbarian. I'm just there as a support character, bc its my other brothers game. I only hop in when I go over to his house or spend the night. I don't have a pic of her, but I have a pic of my brothers Tav, Gestalt!

10. Gale origin. I went ahead and started it lol, im only about 2 hours in and haven't decided who I'm romancing yet...I'm just gonna play it by ear

[aropride]

spotify's current price for premium in the US is $10.99/month, which is a dollar more than before they raised it for the first time recently. the average mcdonald big mac in america costs approximately $5.15. at the new price, you are losing the equivalent of 1 mcdonald big mac every 5 months, which is a tragic loss. however, if you cancel spotify premium, you will be gaining the equivalent of over 2 mcdonald big mac every month, or 25.6 mcdonald big mac per year.

you are a 14 year old tiktok user living in america. (no you're not, i know. we're playing pretend right now. come play in the sand with me. do you want to build a sandcastle). it just so happens that the 13th of april is your birthday, and you just had a birthday and got some birthday money. you've been getting really into [popular artist of ur choice], and you want to listen to them while you're on the bus to school, so you buy spotify premium. you start with the 3 month free trial and when it ends you remember how unbearable the ads are and renew your plan. you have this plan until you go to a four-year college, when you get the student plan. once you leave college, you split the family plan with 3 friends (you have 3 friends after leaving college, so you're already winning). you keep this for a year before becoming disillusioned with streaming services and cancelling your spotify premium plan for good.

in high school, you used spotify premium for 52 months, at $10.99 a month. in college, you used the spotify student premium plan for 48 months, at $5.99 a month. and before you began downloading music off the internet, you used the family plan for 12 months and paid one quarter of the price, $4.25. overall, you have spent $877.03 on spotify premium in less than a decade, not accounting for price changes. this is equivalent to over 170 mcdonald cheeseburger. if the average american eats fast food 1-3 times a week, and you mcdonald cheeseburger two times a week, that's 85 weeks of cheeseburger. 1.6 years of cheeseburger.

or let's say you're a tumblr user. you run a blog where you mainly post about various 80s and 90s rock musicians, and you enjoy listening to music. you've been thinking about getting spotify premium because you're using the free version and the ads are annoying. you figure even though it's $11/month, spotify premium is probably the better option.

a year of spotify costs you $131.88. five years is $659.40. a decade is $1318.80. 60 years is $7,912.80.

or maybe, you post about your desire for spotify premium and your tumblr mutuals immediately start keeling over and sobbing and writhing in pain. your friend stresses the importance of physical media and the fun of piracy, and you decide to believe them and you go to the nearest record store. the store i'm currently looking at online, which i won't say the name of because it's fairly regional, sells cds. most of them seem to be around $13 new or $8 used. you don't really care about buying things used as long as they work, so you tend to go for the used options, but you can be talked into a little treat every once in a while. you burn some CDs from your favorite popular artists, because you know they won't miss the $50 you just saved yourself, and then every month you buy yourself a cd or two from the record store.

after a year, you've bought 13 used cds and 2 new ones for a total of $130. after five years, you've spent $650. after a decade, $1,300. and in sixty years, when you're in your elder years, you'll have spent a grand total of $7,800. but unlike in the alternate universe where you spent $7,912.80, you own all the music you bought (or burned onto CDs). you can pass things down to your grandkids/pet fish/guy down the street who's really into vintage technology who will be excited to inherit them. or over the years if you're less interested in an artist's music you can sell them and get (some of, if not all of) your money back. and when spotify takes your favorite artist's music down or when your phone suddenly breaks, you can still listen to your music. music that you paid for.

you're an american. will you buy cheeseburger and rock and roll disc as god intended, or will pay the devil $10.99 a month to steal your soul?

[eponadolls]

BJD Sales

Hi everyone! I will have several big expenses over the summer (wisdom tooth removal, newer car, potential ADHD and pcos evals/diagnoses, etc) and I want to make sure they are as... least-impacting as possible on my savings, especially since most are medical and I have no idea how much my insurance is actually going to cover... so any reblogs and shares are always appreciated!

Most things will be cross-posted on Den of Angels, Instagram, and Facebook. Additional information will be under the cut. I ship from the USA and due to postal concerns, I can only send the large, high-value packages within the USA right now.

Allergen warning: I live in a pet-friendly, non-smoking household near a corn mill.

Harucasting Smile Maji head: She’s some kind of tan resin, but I don’t 100% remember which one. Her previous owner split the head and body so the coa went with the body. I remember her previous owners name & email, but I don’t recall their instagram handle. Maji has thankfully NOT been recasted so I do not worry about her legitimacy, but I wanted to be upfront about that detail. Her magnets need to be reglued and she still has faceup residue. As with any of my Harucasting dolls, in respect to Haru’s wishes, I will only sell his dolls to pro-artist/anti-recast individuals.

$100 + shipping

5stardoll Elf Elaine: She was painted by her previous owner and given a mani-pedi which is chipping as well as pretty purple body shimmer. Her face still has faceup residue on it. She’s really cute but I need to make room — I am willing to sell her head separately, though. According to her card of authenticity she was produced in late 2018. I believe she is in normal pink skin.

$170 + shipping

Latidoll Blue Yern:

Yern is a slim MSD sized doll and the Blue (MSD) line has been long discontinued. Yern still has her coa and Latidoll manual, as well as the emblem in and outside of her head. I am not sure of the specifics but her torso has had some kind of mod job for mobility reasons?

Yern is from early 2009 and has certainly yellowed, but her yellowing appears to be consistent. Yern would probably benefit from a restringing with thicker elastics but I can get her to pose and stand just fine. Her s hooks were replaced and she has traditional/standard bjd s hooks in her wrists and ankles. For whatever reason one elbow likes to stay slightly bent. Yern will be shipped UNSTRUNG so that would be a good opportunity for her elastics to be changed; she still has an o hook for her head.

Her faceup is holding up really well considering it is quite old but please be aware that it is old, has some wear, and it is not factored into the price I am selling Yern at. The biggest sign of wear I noticed as a small dark streak near her temple.

She has some damage near her foot/ankle. Considering her age I think she has been holding up really well.

$100 + shipping

Dollzone MSD Girl Body: normal pink resin. Arrived from Alice collections in late 2022, spent most of its time in the box. Asking $200 + shipping.

Harucasting Big Geuru: She is in neul medium tan. She has a face up by @tonocha331. She has an extra pair of hands and comes with her box and card of authenticity. She will come without clothes or eyes.

She has some small s hook scratches in one wrist from a previous owner and several small scratches on her belly. Her face up seems to be in overall good condition other than three shiny spots on the side of her head. $550 + shipping

Logandolls Primrose: Primrose in light tan (coffee) with additional heel feet (strung) and an extra pair of hands. She does not come with a company box but she has a card of authenticity and comes with a blanket that I believe logandolls made for her. Received in a trade from my friend @groovyblueworld! She will NOT come with a pair of eyes. If desired, I can ship her in an old Dollzone company box for extra protection. Ordinarily she would cost $480 new but I am asking $440 + shipping - you basically get the extra hands and feet for free and an extra $10 discount. I can also sell a Flower Primrose faceplate in Resinsoul normal for an additional $40.

$440 + shipping

[machiroads]

The number of neutered creatures in my household now outnumbers unneutered creatures 2 to 1 😎

Over 5 years after deciding I did not want to bear children, and almost 3 years in the Socialized Medicine queue for elective surgery, I finally got my tubes removed yesterday 🎉

I had to bring in a urine sample, and you don't realize how hot the human body is until you have to handle a mason jar full of fresh piss

The vibes of the hospital building itself were fuck-awful, which is approximately what I expect from a brutalist style building built in the 1980s. (Half the buildings at my alma mater were brutalist, I did my time in Concrete Jail.) Strangely dimly lit, beige af. I would have loved a splash of Children's Hospital Red.

The staff were all wonderful. The admissions nurse was like "Do you work in medicine? You sound like you know what you're doing." Which. Is very funny. Because I do not work in medicine, I have just done The Research. for My Fictions.

I randomly read a Reddit thread a couple weeks ago about getting the IV in on the first try, and I jinxed the anesthesiology person (I think she was a med student or a resident) by saying "Gonna get it in on the first try? :)" and she was like "haha of course :/" and then. She blew the vein in my left hand. After I told her and the main doctor that the phlebotomy people at the blood clinic prefer the right side, and after she spent like 2 minutes tapping around on my hand. My bad.

The first and last conversation I had with my mother on this topic was 5 years ago, she told me "don't do something you'll regret". Waking up, and still loopy on anesthesia, one of my first thoughts was a very teary "I'm free". In vino veritas.

The gas they inflated my abdomen with is actually more painful than the incisions themselves. Gum + hot tea + heating pad were my BFFs yesterday. I'm feeling a lot better today already.

I'm booked off work until next Monday and everyone has been very nice about my "minor surgery" and I feel kind of bad cuz it's like. There's not actually anything wrong with me, I'm getting elective surgery to sterilize myself. But regardless, it was nice to know they care. The only people I actually told what I was having done are my boss (who also doesn't have kids at 40+) and my tech (who is also on the fence about having kids). My in-laws also know, by virtue of proximity and my husband having to play chauffeur + chore boy on a long weekend lol.

My period is scheduled for next week so I'm glad I have the whole week off lol. We'll see how well tramadol does for cramps because they gave me 30 capsules and I definitely feel like I won't need that many for the surgical pain. It's actually kind of nuts how much cheaper actual opioids are than my stupid dermatologist-prescribed acne cream. 30 bucks for 30 pills versus like 170 bucks for a little tube of cream (before insurance).

I have a whole whack of YouTube videos and AO3 tabs that have been waiting for attention, so hopefully I can chug through a bunch of that this week 💪

Anyway thanks for reading my rambles, here's a bonus Nurse Scout giving 0 fucks that I have abdominal incisions