#*unhealthy

[unhealthysmoke]

beautiful face, rosy red lips, smoking will hurt your complexion.

[dearest-painter]

imagine if Valentino had a young daughter, probably like 7 or 8 and basically he didn’t even care enough about her to teach her how to use her wings and was overall just a bad dad, but at one point Angel Dust just sees her on the street and is just like “you’re coming home with me” and basically just adopts her. But she looks a lot like her dad so he kinda knows she’s his daughter but at the same time she’s a sweet kid and can’t imagine her being related to him, but at one point Val comes to get her and he hits her in the process so Angel just gets ready to murder him.

idk, I just had that idea for a while and was hoping you could write something like that? If not it’s okay.

love your writing 💕

CAN WE PLEASE HAVE MORE OF THIS ANON!? I LOVE YHIS IDEA! Also, Husk and Nifty is in this because why not? I made this Yandere but if you didn’t want it then I can fix it! I want more of Valentino’s daughter!reader so much!

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive behavior,abusive relationship, Valentino’s bitch ass, Valentino, Valentino about to get jumped by the whole hazbin hotel, tell me if I need to add more

Summary: Angel Dust doesn’t take kindly to those trying to hurt his family

Angel Dust was on his break, Husk and Nifty had came with him as they wanted to spend time. Angel Dust smiled as you walked around him happily babbling about something random, for being the daughter of his boss you were a sweetheart. You’ve been living with him at the Hazbin hotel for a while and have been calling him mama and husk dad which was a surprise but hey, he doesn’t mind.

You were babbling about new ideas for Nifty’s roach show. Angel Dust smiled as he held your hand as you all walked. You all sat down at a table, you and Nifty got coloring books as if you two didn’t get separate one’s chaos would ensue. “Mama! ‘M be back! Gonna use the restroom!” You announcement to Angel dust. “Okay sweetheart, do you remember where it is?” You nodded your head as you and Nifty left.

You two were inseparable. Angel Dust and Husk talked but the two of them immediately started looking around as you two were gone for a bit longer. Angel Dust stopped as he saw Valentino yelling at you, but once he raised his hand Angel Dust ran and tackled him. Nifty then started to bite Valentino while Husk held you as you cried.

You all left. Valentino stared in surprise as Angel Dust coddled you, Nifty was going manic as she kept shouting she was going to avenge her best friend while Husk was whispering to you. They took his daughter yet you don’t care. Angel Dust actually harmed him to the point he almost coughed up blood. Valentino was speechless…what just happened?

[makeamericaeatagain]

Keep making excuses

I want to hear them all. Every single attempt to rationalize and shift the blame for why you've turned into a massive fatass.

You've got a slow metabolism

It's your genes

It's your parent's fault

It's the fast food industry's fault

It's society's fault

You had a rough day and deserve a treat

You've just been too busy to exercise

You're too tired to cook healthy tonight

You'll get to it tomorrow

Plus healthy food is too expensive

You're healthy enough, a little more food couldn't hurt

Exercise makes you too sweaty and tired

Diets don't work anyway

You'd hate to give up your favorite foods

Besides, you're not *that fat*

Anyway, a little extra weight is fashionable these days

Keep them coming. Any excuse that will keep you sedentary and stuffing your face. Whatever it takes to avoid the deep truth: you're a glutton and always will be.

[scr4n]

Homemade cheesy pasta 🧀

[lilfatboy100]

Junk Food Addiction part 1

It didn't take long for you to stop wanting to gain clean. At 200 pounds, you had a thin layer of creamy fat on your body despite stuffing yourself all day every day. I warned you about health problems, which only flustered you, and I warned you about your early death, which you didn't care about. The next morning I woke up much earlier than you did and threw out all of your usual food, going to the store and replacing it with garbage. You woke up to the sound of greasy bacon frying in a pan and hurried out to the kitchen where two boxes of the biggest, heaviest donuts I could find were sitting at your spot at the table.

You quickly ate them all and happily accepted the pile of bacon I made for you as well.

"Gaining like this is so much better already!" you exclaimed, your stomach still rumbling.

You made your way to the fridge and found it filled with everything you dreamed about having: heavy cream, candy bars, fatty meats, soda, cake, and more, and when you looked in the freezer it was more fattening delights: all manner of ice cream and frozen food I would bake for you if you asked. You grabbed a tub of ice cream and sat down at the couch with it, quickly polishing half of it off in front of the TV.

Throughout the first day, you ate anything you wanted and everything I put in front of you, which led to your stomach gurgling and churning all the junk it wasn't used to as well as bloating. You paid it no mind, you were more excited that you'd eaten over 5000 calories in junk instead of 3000 in clean food easily.

In only a couple of weeks, you started gaining like a pig pumped full of grease, gaining 10 pounds in two weeks. You'd never had a gain that big before, and it pushed you to keep pushing yourself to eat past your limits every single day in hopes to keep eating more and more calories. Your gain eventually slowed down to three pounds a week, but you were still gaining steadily.

To keep your gaining up, I made you stay on the couch as long as possible each day, where all you had to do was ask and I'd bring you food, whatever and however much you wanted. You were very greedy and always asked me for food, so I brought it to you. Obesity found you very quickly, and you kept going further and further in the pursuit of more flab to play with when you got bored.

It worked and you blimped, swelling to 310 pounds over the next year. For Christmas, you met my family, who were fascinated at your appetite more than concerned at how fat you were. You had your first major health issue at this point, because you had been so lazy your leg muscles atrophied and were swallowed by fat, meaning you could barely waddle without wheezing. You took this as a reason to never move unless you absolutely had to, and the fact that you had finally grown too fat to do much of anything excited you.

I found out about two weeks later when I asked that you wanted to be *more* unhealthy than you were, and that you were excited to start having real health issues. You asked me to make you gainer shakes, the unhealthiest I could think of, so I came up with a sweet shake. It was made of sweetened condensed milk, corn syrup, heavy cream, ice cream, milk, sugar, and some soda to thin it out, and it was packed with unhealthy calories that would clog your insides. You loved to chug it as often as you could, and you started blimping again. You also asked to have all of your food fried and all of your drinks to have extra sugar mixed in, both of which I obliged to.

Your first doctor's appointment after you started gaining led to recommendations for weight loss programs, personal trainers, and diets to make you healthier again and to lose the pure fat you had put on.

"Ha! Like I'd ever lose an ounce of any of this lovely lard!" You said once we got in the car, slapping your belly.

You gleefully chugged two pitchers of sweet shake when we got home after glutting yourself on McDonald's on the way, finally sitting yourself down with a tub of ice cream while waiting for me to give you the plate of fried food you asked for.

When you reached 500 pounds in another year, you had diabetes, hypertension, and an early stage of fatty liver disease, as well as having atrophied and drowned your muscles in flab and bring barely able to move.

[sunsetschloe]

    I gave my body to the fire;

    Gentle flames lick at my neck,

    Nip at my ear, run a hand through my hair.

    I don’t fight the smoke either;

    Seeping into my lungs along with your lovely promises,

    Sweetly suffocating and softly strangling.

    You fed me wine and lit me aflame,

    I hope I burned brightly enough for you.

    Everything fights to enter my body,

    And my last remaining thought is:

    Maybe there will be something in me to love,

    Now that I’m no longer empty.

    Love is the ashes that remain at your feet.

[momentsbeforemass]

“Not one of those Christians”

(by request)

I got the saddest compliment yesterday.

Someone had found this blog and read a bunch of posts. Then messaged me to let me know that one of the posts had been really helpful for them. That it spoke to something that they were struggling with from their childhood.

I thanked them for letting me know. And told them the truth – that if it’s good, it’s all God’s doing.

They went on to confide in me, about how they grew up in a church where Jesus was used as a weapon. About all they had done to get away from that church, from its culture of division. And from its angry, hateful God.

About how they were struggling to have healthy relationships, with others and with God.

Then they thanked me for “not being one of those Christians.”

I’m still struggling with how to respond to them.

My heart breaks for the child that was abused. It may not be as visible as physical abuse, but spiritual and emotional abuse also does lasting damage. 

Part of me wonders if the people who did it even realized the harm they were doing in the name of God. It made me think about something that Justin Martyr (today’s saint) said, about what it really means to be a Christian.

“We used to hate and destroy one another and refused to associate with people of another race or country, with people different from ourselves. Now, because of Christ, we live together with such people and pray for our enemies.”

That’s what we’re supposed to be doing, if we mean it. If we’re really trying to be Christians.

Understand that Justin is saying this in the mid-100’s, during a Roman persecution of Christians that would go on for a decade. And would lead to the deaths of many of the early martyrs, including Justin.

We’re supposed to do that, even when there’s every reason not to. And not just to our enemies, but first to each other. To our family, friends, and fellow Christians. Whether we think they deserve it or not.

Anything less – like closing our hearts to God, weaponizing our beliefs, or remaking our Lord in ways that suit our fear and our anger – isn’t living the Faith. It’s selling out the Faith.

As Justin put it, “those who are not found living as He taught are not Christian – even though they profess with the lips the teaching of Christ.”

May God grant us the grace of “not being one of those Christians.”

Today’s Readings

[unhealthysmoke]

the woman looks still gorgeous, but smoking endangers your health

[dearest-painter]

Oooo Yandere platonic Batfam x neglected and abused batsib reader with spider powers x Yandere platonic Miguel, Jess, Peter B and spider-society!?! Reader finally done with the abuse runs away and gets found by Miguel all beaten and bruised and takes them in and him and the others raise them? (Batsib is 12 at this point when Miguel takes them in). Years later Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian find reader with Gwen, Miles and Hobie fighting an anomaly when things get out of hand and Reader calls Miguel, Jess and Peter B for back up!?! Oh the chaos!!

Yeah, they call Miguel dad when they become 14. Miguel is so happy to be called dad, Lyla is Titi Lyla, Jessica is Auntie Jess, and Peter B is Uncle Pet. When the batfam sees Spider-Bat!Reader(aka abused and neglected reader bc it helps sort my stuff) fighting with three other teenagers they feel so happy to see them…until Bruce hears “TITI LYLA! PLEASE GET DAD AND THE OTHERS! SHITS GOING SOUTH!” You..replaced him…Jason is happy you replaced him as your in a good happy family. He knows he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness as he didn’t help you but it’s good to see you happy.

Soon Miguel and Jessica and Peter B arrive, they help you all out. Once it’s done you see your family…bio family, you grabbed Miguel’s hand scared, your supposed to be tough but seeing your bio family scares you. Miguel saw your family and immediately hands you to Jessica so she can calm you down. Bruce and Miguel get into a screaming match, your Bio brothers are blocked by Gwen, Hobie, and Miles as they know all about your history with them. Only Alfred is allowed to see yoy. Bruce wants you back but Miguel is plotting to murder him.

[makeamericaeatagain]

A fast food/healthcare conglomerate that profits from fattening you up and then profits from treating all your health problems. For every new health issue you're diagnosed with they offer big discounts on future fast food purchases.

[reality-detective]

A woman confronts Taco Bell for using bleach for their hot sauce. 🤔

[bigkingxl0]

Tomorrow

A built god splitting logs in the backcountry of Vermont, glistening with sweat. Muscles rippled from his swift swing. He drove the axe head down and added the wood to the pile. He was nearly done collecting what he needed to fire up the wood stove through the rest of the year. A dream life built from the blood, sweat and tears of one ambitious man, on acres of land nobody else could say they owned. Far from civilization. Andy was surprised his phone even had reception at this part of his sprawling property. He was even more surprised to see Mom's contact photo staring back at him -- when did she ever call? -- but rested the tool against the chopping block and answered.

"Hey, what's up?"

"We need to talk."

Exactly what you want to hear from your mother. He offered to talk later but she rejected him, insisting they talk right there and then. He gathered up the flannel he'd discarded, phone pressed to his ear, and made his way back to his cranberry colonial.

She spoke sternly but vaguely. At first he didn't understand what happened and why he had to be recruited, at first. Sure, Andy lived through his shut-in gamer phase too, years ago, so he kind of understood it. He had his time with a carpet full of crumbs and 2 liters filled with piss. And other disgusting things. Lazy summers where WOW came first and everything else second. His parents had reacted the same way then. He grew out of it. Maybe it took a couple threats of military school and disownment, but he went to college and got his life together. Now look at him. A successful property manager and agricultural scientist who lived his truth and sold it to the masses. He wanted to laugh. Fly across the country and tell his brother to put up the controller and invest in deodorant? It was comical.

Arlo would grow out of it. He wanted to crack a joke about sending him off to the army, but Mrs. Menconi was not one to call and ask for anything. The subtle desperation got the best of himIf he didn't recover his brother from the dark side, he would lose access to the most powerful network in his life. Her image was on the line. It was also the least he could do was repay his dear mother. It had been a long time since he'd seen Arlo, too, so it was only fair. Half a decade of globetrotting for work, and his busy life had gotten in the way of things more than once before. He hadn't actually spoken to his sibling or anything in all that time. He'd be lying if he said he'd noticed, and that shook his reality. Too many years passed and not enough time spent together. No wonder his brother rebelled. Poor bastard probably hated his life. Now he had nothing in his upcoming schedule and his mother was practically begging him to intervene. He had to go.

Andy caught the soonest red eye with nothing but his laptop and farm clothes, unprepared for what faced him on the West Coast.

He hesitated at the bare condo door. He didn't actually know what to say to the kid. It wasn't like they had much in common. He shook his head and knocked, the charisma of a salesman taking over. If he could do it for work he could do it for family.

After several minutes, the door creaked open, and the stench hit before he could say hello. Andy tried not to screw his face up too much, and forced a smile at his younger sibling. "Hey, lil dude.”

"Oh... hey bro," Arlo groaned, caressing his stretchmarked gut. "Long time, no, URP, see. I hoped you were Domino's."

There was no life to his voice. He started his waddle back into the dark, dank house. Andy watched the sweat roll down his curves and drip from the ends of his greasy hair. Arlo plopped into his groaning gaming chair and pulled his headset on.

"Not even a how are ya?"

"I'm literally in a game, bro!"

He started to remember why they hadn't talked much in the past six years.

Stepping out with a phone call, he questioned what he was even doing there. What could he even do? Clean up after him until he decided to become a man? He dialed his mother but she didn't answer. At the end of the voicemail he left a text that said "Please." dropped in and knew he couldn't leave her hanging. He sighed and hung up the phone.

Andy slipped back into his brother's rotten, rent-free apartment and gently stepped around the landmine field that was the den. Heavy footsteps went into the kitchen, bags crinkled, then Arlo came in with an arm full of family sizes.

"We can hang out now, I guess.”

He dropped onto the disgusting couch with a groan. The greasy pile of take out boxes on the coffee table matched the swollen lard around his middle. He reached for the clicker and put on some annoyingly loud cartoon. The TV fueled his dead eyed stare.

"Arlo," he started, eyeing the blotchy, bloated sphere that was his brother. The words fell away from his lips without a sound.

"Yeah, dude?" His brother said it like the words were foreign, head too full of pretty TV shows too even listen.

"It's great to see you."

"UURRRRRAAP. Yeah..." His voice trailed off, thick with disinterest. His eyes were locked on the screen, only this time he brought chips to his mouth. "Same to you."

With his mind racing, Andy tried to figure out how deep he was and where the hell the shovel was. He rested on the arm of the couch, the most visibly clean surface in sight, and tried to seem as comfortable as possible. Part of him wanted to see the rest of his apartment. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stomach it. He watched along with the dumb cartoon his brother occasionally chuckled at between dabs and blasting videos on YouTube and Tiktok at max volume. Not a word said for an hour until the eldest brother broke the vocal silence.

"So much for hanging out huh?"

Arlo rolled his eyes. "Bro literally... toxic vibes for real."

Andy sucked his teeth. "Nothing you say actually makes sense, you know that?"

"Honestly bruh, we aren't, like, hanging out." Arlo lifted his leg and let out a bassy fart. Andy was afraid to breathe in the toxicity. With a satisfied look he continued. "You only came 'cause, like, I blocked mom."

"I came because you're my bro and I love you. And care about you."

"Uhuh, 'bro'", he said, air quotes and all. "You lie for a living and you're trash at it? You're such a beta."

"First of all my business is very successful-" he was interrupted by another reeking fart and a giggle.

"Yeah, that was a good one, mother fucker!"

Andy could feel himself losing brain cells. He fiddled in his bag for his airpods but they were dead. Typical. He sank angrily into the armrest and then stiffened just as quickly. God only knew what his hand hit in the cracks of the seat. He steeled himself, trying to muster as little judgment as possible, just like he'd been asked.

Not everyone cleans as rigorously. Not every tidies. He eyed his brother, trying to mask his disgust - not that he'd notice. Not everyone showers regularly. Or at all. His face crinkled at the scent wafting off Arlo. Pungent BO, old food, and stuffed farts. He wasn't sure what smelled worse, him or his festering apartment.

He added more to the list and actually felt his prejudices wavering. Not everyone eats healthy. Not everyone watches educational programs. Not everyone makes something of themselves -- and can be content with it. By the end of his list of "not everyone" he didn't have a single thing left to judge.

Andy knew then that the next few months would be very, very long. His brother had fallen asleep sitting there, one hand in an empty dominos box, the other on his dab torch. There was no clock in the house, his Apple Watch had died in the airport, his phone done then, too, and he felt tired in the darkness. He didn't even realize his eyes were fluttering. Tomorrow he would make a game plan, just like he would for his business. Break down exactly what went wrong, where, and what the comeback would be. It might take some time, but nothing was impossible with enough hard work. Satisfied, he dozed off.

---

That didn't go as planned. Arlo slept at bizarre times, which gave him time to look through the rest of the house. He thought it might be a good time to clean, but the trash was so dense that it seemed nearly impossible. Arlo didn't even seem to own any trash bags, and even after buying a box, Andy couldn't throw a tenth of the mess in the overfilled dumpster in the parking lot.

His clothes were covered in mysterious trash juices and food. Dirty and exhausted, he tried to shower, but there was no soap, shampoo, conditioner, not even a washcloth. He damned TSA for their liquid rules. This was already the trip from hell and it only compounded with every minute.

Andy found acceptable clothes in the depths of the grungy apartment. They weren't anything he'd choose to wear--a graphic tee with some game he'd never heard of and a pair of sweats obviously too small for Arlo--but they sufficed. He wasn't going to buy real clothes to ruin in this cesspool. He figured he could just go into goodwill later and get some throwaways to tide him over if necessary.

It didn't work like he planned, not unlike everything else he'd planned so far. He'd taken an uber from the airport to Arlo's, with the idea of borrowing his brother's car for the week or even renting one. He came to find there was no car rental place for miles with a vehicle available, and his brothers beaten 90's Civic was long overdue for services and remained unstartable.

It felt like now, or never. Originally he'd planned to work during this whole debacle but he saw that was nigh impossible. He left a quick memo to his remote workers that he was taking an emergency leave and to continue any major projects and manage themselves for a little bit. He knew they were up to the task.

The next few days went that same, Andy bagging up as much trash as humanly possible until he was too weary to continue, and Arlo piling it up just as fast. It was fruitless, much like the kitchen fridge, and Andy felt as though he might genuinely lose his sanity holed up in the trash den.

They went back and forth with each other a hundred times over the weeks over this. Sometimes as friends and sometimes mortal enemies. Sometimes it seemed like his brother was coming around. He could get him to clean up after himself. Then he was cooking meals instead of ordering them, shaving, showering. Normal people stuff. Andy even got him to cut down on dope smoking and gaming. But he could never get anything truly clean or put together or even decent. It was always kind of cluttered, bad, stinky, or some other awful thing that drove Andy nuts.

"I'm going to take you out."

"Like, kill me?"

"Out to a bar or something! Around people your age."

"I'm good with that, chief," Arlo said, shaking his head.

"It's celebratory, and mandatory," Andy waved his hand. "No get out of jail free card."

"And walk there?" "I connected with some of my people and arrange a private transport to a-"

"Fine. But you're picking up the tab."

"I planned on it, turd," he said, the eldest brother snark returning as if they were kids again.

The way Andy saw it, a chick would steer Arlo on the right course, fast. That had worked for a million guys more than once, him included. What he hadn't expected was that most of the single ladies wanted to talk to him instead. He tried to distance himself from his brother and blend in with the crowd, but the bar was small and Arlo could spot the cowboy talking from a mile away. In the end, two drunk Menconi boys with a single plus one. She tangled herself around the chiseled body of the eldest brother, with half an outfit less than what she started with.

Andy woke up still drunk with a dead phone and no other belongings. He could tell it was afternoon from the sun through the blinds, but this was not Arlo's place. A mangled charger in the kitchen brought his phone to life and he escaped with an Uber, careful not to wake his new friend, who was sprawled out on the floor in front of the door.

Arlo had left the front door unlocked. Disgusting slapping and plapping and moaned nonsense echoing through the house when he walked in. Arlo, naked except for VR headset and headphones, tugging on himself and surrounded by take out boxes. He slammed the door shut and covered his mouth, turning away from that grotesque sight and running into the hall.

He couldn't get the picture out of his mind. Rolls wobbling and the squelchy fart noises and whorish groaning... he rubbed his eyes but it didn't help. All he wanted to do was lay on the couch. As far as he knew that was now all contaminated, not like he wanted to be in the house right now anyway. He slithered back into the elevator and made way to his rental car, kicked back the seat and slept his regrets off.

When he awoke again he felt sober enough to tackle that ordeal. Bounding up the steps and opening the door to a quiet house. He looked from side to side. It had never been quiet in here, between TV looping, gamer shouting and fat dude snoring. He listened and at the edge of his hearing he heard crinkling. He looked for the culprit under his feet or among the garbage and found nothing. Then he heard the heavy footsteps of Arlo and a belch that confirmed it.

"Got something for you broski," he said, coming from the back room. "But I gotta test it first."

"What? And look, about earlier-" Andy started but trailed off when he saw Arlo loading a familiar looking bong. He took a hit as if in example and ripped a fart as he stepped closer.

"This might be more your speed dude. Remember this shit?"

"You're joking-" he was interrupted by another reeking fart and bong rip.

"pffprprPRFRBFFTBT--nyeahehehe, smoke it!"

"Okay, you're not joking," he said, mouth watering with nausea but too shocked to move. "How the fuck did you get this?"

"I was nine, I wasn't dumb. I hid this first and then told mom about your stash." "You told them!?"

"Old news bro, just smoke."

"It's not time to smoke! I need to-"

"It's ALWAYS the time to smoke," his pothead brother blew a lungful of pen smoke in his face. "C'mon, like, relax!"

He hadn't done anything like that since college, and he wasn't sure he wanted to start again. He eyed the glass piece like it might blow up in his face.

"Arlo, you know I'm here to set you straight right? To get you off of this... stuff? Make you an adjusted member of society like the rest of the family?"

"Bruh... don't be a loser."

"You have to understand how worried everyone is-"

"C'mon, bro, like," he exhaled more smoke. "You're not even gonna, like, take a big rip? With your bro?" His tone was both inviting and mocking.

"Arlo, you're kidding, you can't just expect me to smoke weed of all things, at this point in my life-"

"Bruh, if you ain't hanging, you're not welcome. I don't G-A-F about an intervention," He let out a drawn out fart that smelled acrid, and took another hit. "Smoke, or go."

"Fine, yeah, okay... bro," Andy said, mom's voice spinning around his mind.

The faster he gained his brother's trust, the faster he could get on the redeye flight back home. Not to mention, Arlo hadn't exactly been welcoming - was this his way of bonding? Was this him letting down his guard? Andy rubbed his eyes and took the bong. "One, and that's it."

Arlo put a cap over the chamber and intense hot smoke entered Andy's lungs, making him cough and gag. He stopped immediately, hacking and spitting and snotting. He choked out some obscenities.

"Let's goo!! Hit that shit man!"

"What the fuck," he said between gasping coughs, spittle flying. "Was that even weed? Fuck is that!?"

"Moonrock, broski....weed and wax rolled in kief."

His head swam in circles. He must have sat there for an hour, infinitely sinking into the disgusting cushion of the disgusting couch. His mind was everywhere else but paying attention to how disgusting it all really was, and he almost understood how his slovenly brother had gotten to this point.

"Jesus H..."

"One more! One more!" His brother handed him the piece again, hot and ready to go. Somehow he felt that Arlo was influencing him, and not the other way around. He figured if he smoked enough he could just go to sleep and try again tomorrow.

So he smoked, coughed, smoked some more, floating through spacetime and drooling on himself while his brother played videos that soothed him. In his brain he was out on an undiscovered frontier and afraid of what he might face. In reality he was potbrained and glued to the couch while Arlo fed him chips and baby talked him.

"Poor dude. You're probably thirsty too, here bro," and let him drink coke, "sorry, bro, forgot you probably got the munchies, sorry I got you couchlocked," and gave him scraps of food. "Damn bro, you look totally boofed right now."

Andy couldn't figure out what that meant. He could see his brother's lips moving and he could hear this noise that really sounded like Arlo, but nothing made sense to him.

"What the fuck, dude?" Is what he wanted to say, but it came out as a groaning moan that his brother just laughed at.

"Aww don't worry dude, this won't last forever. I love being blasted... it doesn't last long enough! BRRAAAAAP. It'll all be over tomorrow."

Through the distortion he could understand that his brother was comforting and caring for him. It was the most emotion he had really shown towards him the whole time he'd be there. Plus, like Arlo said, his head would be attached to his body again by tomorrow.

Andy couldn't stop smiling. That might have been the weed making his head spin around the room. It felt nice either way.

---

The more Andy warmed up to his brother, the more often days ended like that. In one way or another. They were closer than ever. They no longer fought, but Andy didn't push him as hard either. He felt bad pushing him too much... it always ended up with a fight and more stress, and how could that possibly be helping?

It was also easy to lose track of time. Easier to give in to cravings with junk always available. He forgot about his disciplines slowly but surely, until he was only a more put together facsimile of Arlo. Though that whittled away too, as his slobbish tendencies grew and he picked more things up from his brother.

It was bound to happen.

It was impossible to escape.

Arlo was getting worse, and so was Andy. Daily. Weekly. Monthly. Forever. He'd slipped enough to make a habit of smoking again, but that wasn't the worst vice he indulged in alongside his brother. The mind-numbing channel surfing, the screen-casted tiktok thirst traps, the mountain of artery-clogging fast food they consumed daily... the worst part was the fact that Andy was enjoying it. A lot. He couldn't stop getting high and he couldn't stop stuffing himself. He had never gained weight this fast in his life: every meal stretched his stomach, grew his capacity, and made him greedier for more. He reasoned that as long as he wasn't as big as Arlo, it was okay.

In reality he'd basically polymorphed into his younger brother. His beard grew much faster than Andy's and he hadn't cut it, same with his greasy hair. His midsection was bloated with salt and even when it wasn't it was bigger than it had ever been in his life. His fingernails were dirty with resin. He'd blown up so many sizes he'd graduated into Arlo's old clothes.

"Wanna smoke again, bro?"

They shared the same glassy eyed look at the TV. What was one tolerance shredding dab going to do? He was already in too deep. He took the piece and ripped it like a pro, never taking his eyes off the tiktok thot his brother was obsessed with.

"I've followed her onlyfans, PRRFFTTT, like, since she made it," he said like it was an accomplishment. "She even shouted me out for like, bRRRAP, donating. Talking all sexy and flashing her titties."

"SHE shouted YOU out?"

"Yah, bro, I'm like her highest dono," he giggled at that, smoke oozing from his mouth. "And her highest sperm dono..."

Andy mindlessly rubbed the ice cold can of coke across his sensitive nipple. It was hard to think... and every time he noticed how hard it was to think his mind would drift to how hard he was. His thoughts thickened quicker than he had.

"She... she shouted you out...? For donating money?" He said his words like they were too thick.

"That's her job, dude, to like, get us off."

"Why am I so horny?" He thought, but wondered if he said it aloud.

"Yeah bruh, it's lit," Arlo said, winking.

Andy had never been into the whole scene. Okay, yeah, old playboys and stuff when he was younger, maybe some old school DVDs. When he really became successful he just didn't have time for it. He had real sexual encounters with real women that had real interest in him.

This still felt kind of real. He looked on at the TV, the only thing that made a lot of sense in his clouded head, and felt his shorts tent more.

"Dayummm she thick!" A glint of self recognition; he sounded just like Arlo. Then Ms. Tiktokverse bent over and he was thinking with the other head again.

"Facts bro... Don't worry, I'll leave you two alone. I got her snapchat so I've seen every sfw angle like a million times."

His brother scooted a lotion closer to him and waddled back to his room, farts and moans leaking out of him every other step. Andy could see his grimy tented shorts too, and knew his brother would be busy for an hour or two.

Andy watched the livestream, ignoring the thousands of comments pouring in. Months ago he wouldn't have believed he'd ever sink this low, yet here he was, ogling some girl that didn't even know his name, doing the most sex-adjacent things she could on a PG site.

"Heyyy Arlo, thanks for the donation, sweetheart.This one is for Arlo's brother...Hey, Andy!"

Correction, she did know his name. He eyed the comments that joked about his inceldom, needing his brother to get this girl's attention for him, but quickly went back to ogling. He reached down into his shorts he'd outgrown, but his arm was too fat to fit comfortably. He settled for sliding them down slightly and exposing his growing fatpad.

"Mmm, Andy, I hope you're enjoying every minute of this~"

She winked and smiled, before saying she needed to end the show because there weren't enough donations. With the screen blank, the reality of what he was doing hit him, even with his weed addled brain.

"What the hell am I doing?" He asked aloud, as if God himself might answer. There was no answer though. The only sound he could hear was his pounding heartbeat and the videos his brother blasted at all hours of the night. "Tomorrow... I'll fix this tomorrow."

Tomorrow he could start again, buy a handful of garbage bags, and cleaning supplies, and recruit Arlo into his own rehabilitation. Get his shit together and stop having fun. Since when do businessmen have juvenile fun like this? Never. He needed to get back to Vermont. He would finally be able to get back to work.

Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. His business!

Fuck, how many weeks had passed in this fever dream? He hadn't looked at his work email in ages. After a few failed password attempts, he opened the minimalist mail app, which overflowed with hundreds of emails from clients and coworkers alike. Probing about his return, wondering if he and his family were okay, curious if he'd quietly quit his prolific position. His fat fingers danced on the keys, brain working overtime to try and make an intelligent reply. Nothing came out except a run-on sentence filled with "bro" and "dude". Shit.

He closed the app without sending a single reply.

Tomorrow, he would try again.

---

Oh no. His heart pounded as he shifted on the couch as fast as he could, which wasn't fast at all.

"FRRRAAAP, nnyah."

He wiggled, wobbled, and rocked side to side, resembling nothing more than a bowl of pudding.

"Shiiit, BRRAAAAAP, URRP, nngh nnnnghhh,"

He couldn't fucking reach. He tried so hard but couldn't fight the weight of his fat long enough to do anything.

He looked at his phone with unfocused eyes and forgot what he was doing, but still trying to satisfy the twitching between his thighs. He let out another nasty burp that made him twitch harder.

He looked over at his brother who was groaning in hedonistic joy. Although he was censoring himself with his excess flab, Andy could still hear the buzzing of the toy underneath. His moobs jiggled in sync with the rocking motion he made and Andy wished that was him instead.

"Alexa, can you, like, BRRAPunghhh, order a vibrator?"

"I have found multiple orders in your previous history-"

"Order it!" He barked, trying to reach once more and finding himself red faced and spent.

Blinking blankly at his phone screen again, he suddenly remembered what he needed. He opened Twitter and scrolled more and more. He felt so brainfried, jaw hanging low and staring at flashing gifs. His eyes were too unfocused to read captions anymore, but he needed more.

"BroooAAAPPPP, we should order Doordash... Like a lottafuckingfoooooodnnnngh!"

It was half request and half orgasm. Andy's neck burned hot with desire and jealousy, then anger as the vibe kept purring.

"Dude, take that thing out, burrp, it's distracting as fuck."

"Dude, I can't fucking BRRAP reach it anymore, nyeheheh."

Andy twitched some more, feeling so close to the edge mentally. He wanted that so bad. Constant pleasure. He was so addicted to chasing dopamine. No more natural happiness like sunlight and exercise. Only artificial substitutes like smoking, gorging, and watching pretty girls do disgusting things on Twitter. What happened to him, and so quickly? He felt a pang of fear in the back of his mind but quieted it down with a big fat cloud.

This was the life he was meant to live.

Maybe Arlo had been right all along.

...

SUPPORT MY WORK/MAKE ME FATTER. CLICK FOR MY SOCIALS & DONATION LINK! THANK YOU.

[mettatons-fat-doughy-asscheeks]

Made my first audio post! The decadence of the great Pharoah Ankha!! Bow before her and bring lots of burgers and butter!

Art by @fluffyfawxen on Twitter!

[serenexdreams]

FLOWER FROM AFAR | YANDERE! KAMISATO AYATO X READER | PT 1

Part. 1 Part. 2

IN TEYVAT'S BEGINNER GUIDE TO GROWING FLOWERS, it cites that all native flowers flourish and bloom in their respective regions of birth--rarely away from home, do they choose to open their buds and blossom.

Kamisato Ayato had believed, for a very long time, that the flower unwillingly plucked and thrust to his side had withered. However, he was pleased to find that was not the case.

--

A DOWNCAST, OBEDIENT GAZE. Neatly combed strands of hair entwined backwards into a traditional Inazuman-style bun; pinned up by deep blue chrysanthemums. A delicate, snowy white kimono draped over your poised figure, embroidered with a flowery azure blue print.

Ayato's pale violet eyes drilled holes into your skull, silently observing your every move. The rich, comforting scent of matcha tea wafted through the air, as you brewed the hot liquid. Apathy clouded your (E/C) eyes, rendering your emotions unreadable. A faint spark of interest ignited within Ayato, as he calmly watched you bend forward, pouring him a cup of tea.

Had it not been for your unnaturally sharp facial structure, and (H/C) hair that stuck out like a sore thumb, you could have easily passed as any common Inazuman noblewoman. But these distinct features were easy to tell apart from a crowd; they screamed of Monstadt. Of the fact that you were a foreigner.

"...My lord, your tea is ready." Ayato was snapped out of his thoughts, gaze flitting to the cup of tea you offered him. "Please be careful, for it is quite hot."

Ayato took a sip. The refreshing, almost bitter taste instantly woke him up. A faint smile curved across his lips. "Your tea-brewing skills have improved since you arrived, dearest. I take it that you've learned from an expert--perhaps Ayaka?"

"Yes. Lady Ayaka was gracious enough to educate me on the process." You made no attempt at conversation, as an awkward silence stretched out between the two of you.

Nine months. It had been nine months, since you had been shipped overseas, like a bag of cargo--only to be wed off to the distant, elusive Yashiro Commissioner sitting in front of you. The only time you both had interacted, was during the engagement ceremony, the wedding reception, and the brief kiss you had shared during the vows. So what was he doing here?

You discreetly gulped down the bitter tea, tongue protesting in pain, as a searing hot sensation rushed down your throat. You held in a cough, retaining your composure. "...My lord, is there anything that you require of me? I believe I requested that you simply send a servant instead of personally coming to me. I understand that you are bu-"

"Is it wrong of me to want to visit my dear wife? I hold my family quite close to my heart." Ayato smoothly replied, taking a sip from his teacup. "I haven't visited you in a while, nor had a proper conversation in ages. I missed you."

You internally cringed at the unnatural, sappy words pouring from the typically dignified Yashiro Commissioner's mouth. Lies. All lies. What was he up to?

--

THE FIRSTBORN DAUGHTER OF TWO MONSTADT ARISTOCRATS--distant relatives of the Gunhildr clan, and one of the few families spared during Lady Venessa's rebellion. Your parents had been relatively lax; constantly busy with work, unable to make time for you in their lives. To compensate, they let you do as you wished; as long as you made sure to uphold family values, and study well.

Thus, your life had been filled with days immersed in your studies as an aristocrat and chasing crystal flies through the shadows of Whispering Woods. A simple and balanced life, filled with both freedom and rules. You had never resented your parents; they provided you with everything you needed and hired a nanny who raised you well. You and your parents held mutual respect and an indirect form of affection for each other.

Yet that all came shattering down when news of a marriage proposal from overseas arrived. The prospects were excellent, and your parents had hastily agreed in your stead. Nothing could be done; you were now engaged to the head of the Kamisato Clan, a man you had never met.

THAT NIGHT, you had bawled your eyes out in the lap of your beloved nanny; before begging your parents, for the first time ever, to not be sent to a foreign nation. Where you would be alone, once again.

That was when you realized it; it wasn't that they were always busy. They simply didn't care enough to constantly stand by your side. A political marriage like this was enough to ensure that you would be well-fed and sheltered, so they were satisfied. Their job was done.

Beneath the pale white moonlight, shining through the gaps between the branches of your favourite tree in the Whispering Woods, was a wet patch of soil. Your tears continued to roll down the edges of your eyes; watering the soil and tree. You had tasted what freedom was; but now, it was being ripped away from you.

Perhaps it was the Anemo crystal flies that took pity on you--or maybe even Barbatos himself, who knows. Either way, the next morning, you woke up in the woods; eyes puffy and cheeks red with dried tearstains. Next to you, a green glass orb glowed brilliantly; casting its emerald light down upon you. A secret friend that would forever accompany you on your endeavours.

At first, hope had sparked through your body; the vision was proof of your ambition and worth. Would it be enough to save you from your lonely fate?

However, when you had gleefully thrust your vision into the gaze of your nanny, her gentle demeanour turned sour.

"Milady--where did you get this?.... Please do not joke around. A noble lady, especially one getting married to a prestigious overseas commissioner, should not desire such things. Please always be reminded of your responsibilities. There is no longer room for freedom."

Cracks had slowly, one by one, crept across the glass mirror reflecting your once-perfect life. At first, you had despaired; confining yourself within the darkness of your room--refusing to eat or dress up for guests. It got worse--to the point, maids had to drag you kicking and screaming to take a bath. What was the point?

Regardless of how much ambition or intelligence you had, everything boiled down to how marriageable you were. Everything revolved around your pretty face and blue blood.

But did it really?

There's so much to explore, in this world. Why not try to chase for the stars, little lady? If you don't have a lot of time 'til you're shipped off overseas, you may as well enjoy it.

Some words of advice from some retired adventurers, lounging lazily around the warmth of a fire in the Whispering Woods.

A sharp, numb, pang of realization rang through you. They were right.

There was so much to see in Inazuma, as well, wasn't there?

--

"I haven't visited you in a while, nor had a proper conversation in ages. I missed you."

YOU RESISTED THE URGE TO ITCH AT A SPOT ON YOUR NECK. A mere distraction. Moving too much would cause the tiny pins in your hair to fall out of place, and wrinkle your kimono. You resisted the urge to clasp your fingers around the bronze locket hanging around your neck; to feel the comforting pulse of your vision, hidden inside the flimsy metal.

"I see." You dryly replied, uncomfortably looking away. From the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar blond, who gave you a short bow. An awkward smile graced your lips, as you tilted your head in greeting.

After you had arrived in Inazuma, you were greeted by a blond-haired, emerald-eyed man; one of your fiance's trusted servants, Thoma. He was a good conversation partner; a former Monstadter, now serving the Commissioner. If you wished, you could reach out to him for comfort. He'd surely sympathize with a lonely little lady, faraway from home. But you knew that he couldn't be trusted with your little secret. You could see the burning loyalty in his passionate emerald eyes, that he held for the Yashiro Commissioner.

"...Everybody, please leave the room." Ayato's sharp voice cut through your train of thought, as you refocused your attention on him. His once plaint, calm demeanour had disappeared. Hearing his order, your handmaidens and the servants all instantly disappeared. You hesitantly shuffled, unsure if you should follow. "No, you stay, Y/N."

"...Yes, my lord. How can I help?" You replied, gnashing your teeth, as you fiddled with the hem of your kimono. What on earth did this man want? He had shown zero interest in you, in the past; always busy with 'work-related matters,' never bothering to show up to any birthdays or formal events, just like your parents.

Not that you minded. The western wing of the Kamisato residence remained practically uninhabited until you had moved in. All the handmaidens and servants working in your quarters were on your side, in this household.

You were a noblewoman too. One of the talents you had picked up was exerting your own influence. Within weeks, you had completely won the staff over--including the handmaidens assigned by the Yashiro Commissioner himself, to watch over you.

Ayato calmly set his teacup down, steel gaze flicking to meet your eyes. Goosebumps trailed down your spine. "I would like to ask you something, and I'd prefer if you were as honest as possible."

Panic flew through your mind. Did he find out about the secret stash of Guides to Freedom you had commissioned an adventurer to transport to you? Or the wind glider hidden in the back of your closet? Or perhaps...

Your Anemo Vision?

--

"...ARE YOU NOT FOND OF MY PRESENCE? HAVE I OFFENDED YOU IN THE PAST?"

A dull silence resounded through the room, as you froze in fear. His words slowly ticked through your mind, processing. Ayato tilted his head, amusement evident in his unreadable gaze. He leaned towards you, and you instinctively flinched, snapping out of your trance.

"...I'm afraid I do not understand your question, my lord." You replied stoically. "You are my husband. There is no reason for me to disli-"

"Really? Then I'd like to inquire why you decided to place your eyes upon Thoma, rather than me, your husband?" You stiffened, as those saccharine-sweet, sugarcoated words flowed easily from Ayato's mouth. "Tell me, my sweet wife. Since when did you begin to fancy my own servant?"

You felt your own typically-dormant temper flare. Since when did this man have the right to involve himself in your private affairs? However, you patiently gritted your teeth--a faux, thin-lipped smile of elegance curving across your delicate features.

"I don't know what you are talking about, my lord. You rarely visit me, and we've only spoken on a couple occasions, regarding formal matters. I apologize, but you have no right to inquire about my private affairs. " You bluntly replied. "I neither dislike nor favour you, my lord."

Ayato hummed softly, shifting slightly.

The eyes are the windows to one's soul. Scriptures from the Favonius Church cited this saying--that one's emotions and beliefs are evident, and can be identified by looking into their eyes.

But when you gazed into his eyes, it was like peering into a misty field, after a gentle spring shower. A thick fog veiled his intentions, yet Ayato's mesmerising violet irises were clearer than the waterfalls of Springvale.

He patted the empty spot next to him. "Perhaps I haven't been clear enough. We should have an amicable relationship, but I've been neglecting you. I apologize. WHy don't you have a seat next to me?"

You narrowed your eyes, watching his snake-like expression twist in amusement at your reluctance. What in Celestia's name was he planning now? Regardless, it appeared that the minor tantrum he was previously throwing, was over. You stood up, shuffling to his side. Your kimono rustled, the exquisite silk crinkling as you sat down next to him.

Unbeknownst to you, his gaze burned with vicious envy, as his mind formulated a plan.

--

THE GLOSSY FABRIC OF HIS GLOVES suddenly brushed against your cheek, as you steeled your unrelenting gaze--putting up an unfazed front. His face drew closer, fingers trailing to your shoulders.

You could feel it. His cool, indifferent touch crinkling the kimono--calculative gaze soaking in your every reaction. You nervously felt your teeth rake the edge of your lip--bruising it.

"...My lord, I'd like to ask of you to please maintain some personal space." You dryly commented, feeling your cheeks flush a rosy pink. You pursed your lips, forcibly yanking his wrists away from your body. The long, rigid fabric slid backwards, revealing the unblemished skin beneath. You watched as Ayato's eyes appreciatively soaked in the visual before him.

Suddenly, he chuckled. The smooth, elegant noise sent a shiver across your spine, as your stomach fluttered at the sound.

The man was heartless--you knew that more than anyone. Neither of you even bothered to try and hide the fact that your marriage was completely political. So why was he trying to get all buddy-buddy with you? You scowled, glaring viciously at him.

"...I had thought that you were withering away, due to lack of attention. But it appears I was completely wrong." He leaned forward. Your eyes widened, as alarm bells went off in your head. You shot backwards, mouth opening to hurl a line of crude insults at him.

"How dare you-"

--

AS MONTHS OF COLD SILENCE between the two of you fluttered by, Ayato had become curious; what was his new 'bride' like? He had, for a long time, assumed that you had resigned yourself to your fate; to live as a sacrificial lamb, for the sake of a political alliance--yet the opposite was true.

You were interesting. A delicate flower, desperately clinging onto your last hope, and against all odds, blooming in a foreign nation. He could still remember the first time he had seen you manipulate Anemo.

It had been a long, dreary evening of meeting after meeting. The hot, humid summer air sank into the thick, ceremonial white robes he wore, as beads of sweat trickled down his neck. The sky was a deep, midnight blue; slowly flushing into a glorious golden dawn. Another night, wasted away.

It was an accident. Ayato had merely been observing the back garden of the Kamisato compound, from his hidden sanctuary; a small fountain in a clearing, overlooking the western wing's garden. A faint flash of emerald green lit up the area.

His eyes widened, soaking in the view. In mere seconds, a figure had scaled the wall of the compound--darting effortlessly through the air, and landing with a thump on the other side. An intruder? Or perhaps an assassin-

No. That face looked familiar. Ayato watched, intrigued as your appearance morphed and distorted. Your long, (H/C) locks, once tainted with an unrecognizable dark brown colour, returned to their original state. Your facial structure changed, as did your other defining features.

Ah...Y/N was her name, I believe. He had almost forgotten about you--and the fact that you even existed. His memory flashed back to the submissive, weak gaze that you held when he first met you. Had it truly all been an act? From a distance, he watched as a handmaiden appeared from the shadows--placing a shawl around your shoulders and frantically whispering into your ears, before helping you brush away a few stray leaves from your clothes. Your lips curved into a dazzling smile, as you let out a breathless laugh, trying to catch your breath.

How had you done it? Curiosity overwhelmed his indifference, as he continued to observe the two of you slink back into the confines of the western wing. Your acting was on spot.

For the next couple of days, Ayato would remain perched next to the fountain, documents in hand, as he observed you skillfully creep in and out of the compound. Some days, you'd return with a beaming smile, unaware of his watchful eye. On rare occasions, you'd return dishevelled; with windswept hair, bruised and tired. The scent of the ocean accompanied you everywhere you went--but the couple times Ayato encountered you, while passing through the halls, the heavy scent of Sakura bloom perfume masked the salty sea breeze.

Whenever you returned from your nighttime adventures, it was like you had been rejuvenated with life. An ethereal, bright glow surrounded you in the morning; unbeknownst to Ayato, like a moth to a flame, he was slowly sinking into an uncontrollable obsession. Until he finally snapped.

One night, you didn't return.

Ayato remained motionless; gaze fixed upon the wall of the compound. The thick stack of documents sitting next to him, lay abandoned and forgotten. Perhaps he had forgotten; if you could leave so easily, why would you return?

His heart stung with hurt--was it because he had become so accustomed to watching you? To be so free, yet also poise as a restrained and delicate lady; you awakened something within Ayato.

"My lord, it is getting quite late." A warm, friendly voice echoed from behind Kamisato Ayato. It was Thoma. A warm blanket was draped across Ayato's shoulders. "You should head inside and get some rest. Are you still waiting for Lady Y/N?"

Thoma glanced worriedly at the Commissioner, whose unreadable gaze glittered with anxiety. "...Not yet. Just a little longer."

The sun continued to peer over the horizon, as the early morning slowly came. Ayato remained in the same position. What am I even doing? It was none of his business--he had come to an unspoken agreement with you; as long as you didn't cause trouble, you could do as you wish. He wasn't even against you taking a lover--or was he? In fact, had you?

The mere thought of it, now made his blood boil. He subconsciously felt a spike of insecurity, as the early morning birds began to sing.

Suddenly, a huge gust of wind billowed out to Ayato's position; ruffling his pastel-blue locks. In an instant, all of his worries vanished--before his eyes analyzed the situation.

--

YOU HAD RETURNED; BATTERED AND IN CRITICAL CONDITION. From far away, Ayato could see a group of servants rush to aid you to stand, before examing the bloody slash across the side of your ribcage. You staggered in pain, letting out a gasp as a damp cloth was wrapped around the injury.

Yet, why were you smiling? The brilliant, glowing smile on your face reflected the excitement of your nighttime adventure. Ayato narrowed his eyes. This wouldn't do. At this rate, rather than wither away, you'd be ruthlessly ripped apart by outside forces. The thought unsettled him. He had to do something quick.

--

"...You want us to trail Lady Y/N, my lord?" Ayato impassively stared at the pair of Shuumatsuban ninjas, looking up at him with confusion. "...As in, the lady of the house?"

"Correct. She needs the appropriate protection that a Lady of the clan deserves. Report every single detail about her day and what she does." His tone left no room for argument, as the pair of ninja at his feet bowed again. What sounded like protection, wasn't completely innocent. Ayato felt chills prickle down his spine, as the lonesome feeling of abandonment washed over his mind.

"We accept this mission."

Since when had he become so captivated by you? Ayato wasn't sure. But you were no longer just a scapegoat; he had firsthand witnessed how delicate and naive you were, of this world. Surely you didn't believe that he'd continue to let you risk your life all in the name of 'freedom?' You hadn't been able to even detect his presence!

You'd be safer by his side. After all, flowers far from home require extra assistance in order to bloom and remain healthy.

--

AYATO'S GAZE WAS UNREADABLE, AS ALWAYS. The Commissioner was unfazed by your sudden outburst.

In one swift motion, his long fingers ascended to the back of your head, holding you in place--sealing his lips against yours. You didn't even have time to protest, as you felt him snake his arm around your waist, pressing your body flush against his.

You had made a fatal mistake; you underestimated your enemy, believing that he hadn't noticed anything. Ayato let out a faint chuckle, violet eyes glittering with a deep obsession, as he wrapped his arms closer around you. You scrunched up your nose, a furious noise erupting from your throat as you tried to push him away.

Where had you gone wrong?

[momentsbeforemass]

Toxic People, Part 2

Think about who you have around you. The people that you interact with regularly. You took that job, and they’re the other people that work there. You went to school, and that’s who you saw every day. You moved in, and they were living next door.

Most of the time, you are surrounded by people who just kind of happened to you. Some of whom are toxic for you.

Since some of them are toxic for you, what can you do about it?

It starts by being intentional. Stop letting people just kind of happen to you. Part of dealing with toxic people is being intentional about who gets close to you.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus does just that. Jesus looks over His disciples. All of the people who follow Him for whatever reason. Or none.

Jesus looks at all the people who just kind of happened to Him. Jesus decides to be intentional about who gets close to Him. No one has a right to be close to Him. That’s His gift to give.

Jesus looks for people who understand who He is. People who are willing to help Him. People who will support and encourage Him. That’s who Jesus chooses.

Be like Jesus.

Stop letting people just kind of happen to you. Be intentional about who gets close to you. No one has a right to be close to you. That’s your gift to give.

Look for the people who understand who you are. People who are willing to help you. People who will support and encourage you. That’s who you choose.

The more you choose who gets close to you, the less room you’ll have for toxic people.

But that’s only part of it. Being intentional also means protecting who God made you to be. By separating yourself from toxic people.

Separating yourself from toxic people doesn’t mean that you have to have a big confrontation with them. You don’t have to tell them that they’re toxic. You don’t owe them an explanation. If they truly are toxic, you’d just be wasting your time anyway.

Sometimes separating yourself from toxic people can be as simple as ghosting them. Disappearing from their lives. Completely.

Sometimes separating yourself from toxic people isn’t simple. Especially if there are connections you just can’t break. Maybe you’ve got a child with them. Maybe they’re your parent. Maybe they work at the same place.

How do you separate yourself when ghosting them isn’t an option?

Step away. Little by little, start distancing yourself from them. Gradually spend less and less time with them.

They may try to draw you back in. They may hit you with a bunch of “shoulds.” They may try to appear less toxic when they feel you slipping away.

Don’t fall for any of it.

Keep stepping away. Be less and less available.

That shared connection doesn’t give them a right to be close to you. That’s your gift to give.

Interact with them when you have to. But do it on your terms.

Protect who God made you to be.

Today’s Readings

[canihavesomethingofmyown]

Well, if it's unhealthy then I don't give a damn

'Cause even if it kills me, I'll always take your hand

It's unhealthy, they just don't understand

And when they try to stop me, just know nobody can

You're still gon' be my man